06-10-2020, 08:17 AM
cw: parasites, emeto/vomit
AND HE LAPS UP THE VICE LIKE A WOLF IN THE NIGHT
Dirt had spent the better part of the morning vomiting up worms, in great heaves and gags. It was... not a pleasant sensation, but it was what happened, when you were a host of... well, an army of parasites. He was having a weaker day, all shaky, his fur more unkempt than normal, exhaustion set on his face. All he wanted to do was sleep, now, after that ordeal.
He could feel himself grow sicker by the day. Perhaps soon, would be a good time to attempt to purge the worst of the parasites within him, before things festered a little too long.
He chose a nice, shaded place to lay, not far from the edge of the Bloodbath River. He couldn't wait, to finally see it for its namesake one day. A beautiful red stain in the water, like a fresh kill, or someone bleeding out within the current. The idea of it was intriguing to him. He crawled a little closer to the riverbank, dipping his massive paws into the water. Starving the larvae embedded in his flesh of air, sure. If their lives mattered, there would be less of them, twisting in their burrows between his pads and toes. Making his paws swell and ache horribly.
For all his talk of The Pitt being weak, perhaps there was some irony here, of his energy levels being laid low by a bundle of worms, of not being able to eat properly, of larvae between his toes, making walking painful. And yet... this was a measure of control for him. His suffering was on his terms, his infection and infestation were simply that. A choice. They were only drawn to him, because he chose to bloom like a corpseflower, reeking of rot and dead flesh and stagnant, foul water. If his body fell apart, it would be by his own hand, his inaction, his inability to control the spread of pestilence that he'd allowed within.
He was walking a delicate balance, every day of his life. And soon, he would find himself teetering very close to that edge.
Dirt's ears flick, and he hears another approach, not far off. He turns his great head towards the other, tilting it in curiosity. Not many outright approached him.
"Come to rest by the river too?" He asks, his voice much more hoarse than he expected.
He could feel himself grow sicker by the day. Perhaps soon, would be a good time to attempt to purge the worst of the parasites within him, before things festered a little too long.
He chose a nice, shaded place to lay, not far from the edge of the Bloodbath River. He couldn't wait, to finally see it for its namesake one day. A beautiful red stain in the water, like a fresh kill, or someone bleeding out within the current. The idea of it was intriguing to him. He crawled a little closer to the riverbank, dipping his massive paws into the water. Starving the larvae embedded in his flesh of air, sure. If their lives mattered, there would be less of them, twisting in their burrows between his pads and toes. Making his paws swell and ache horribly.
For all his talk of The Pitt being weak, perhaps there was some irony here, of his energy levels being laid low by a bundle of worms, of not being able to eat properly, of larvae between his toes, making walking painful. And yet... this was a measure of control for him. His suffering was on his terms, his infection and infestation were simply that. A choice. They were only drawn to him, because he chose to bloom like a corpseflower, reeking of rot and dead flesh and stagnant, foul water. If his body fell apart, it would be by his own hand, his inaction, his inability to control the spread of pestilence that he'd allowed within.
He was walking a delicate balance, every day of his life. And soon, he would find himself teetering very close to that edge.
Dirt's ears flick, and he hears another approach, not far off. He turns his great head towards the other, tilting it in curiosity. Not many outright approached him.
"Come to rest by the river too?" He asks, his voice much more hoarse than he expected.
code by spacexual
[table][tr][td][/td][td]
"the maddened illusion that hides the sick squirming reality of what i am. of what we all are, when you strip away the pretence that there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. that love us in their way."
- MAG 032
[/td][/tr][/table]- MAG 032