06-14-2022, 03:51 AM
A. OPHELES
✯ — SOME DAYS I CAN'T EVEN TRUST MYSELF
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There was a finality in things like these, just as there was finality in death. Some kind of fucked up fate that had him on the edges of death's door. Not that his master would come. A knew that, deep in his soul. His master had abandoned him. He was not doing his job well enough. He was a disgrace to all grims. They all deserved to die, he would show them that he was the best among them, he had only been betrayed by his master was all. The others didn't deserve the beautiful deaths that he could deliver to them.
The day no longer mattered, nor did the bone-deep pain that dredged through his veins with every step. Everything in it hurt, the beast carried so much physical pain that it half wondered if it's master had intended for it to have a mortal body here and now. Each step was a different kind of pain, a different kind of rich agony that seeped through its pores. It enjoyed this, pain didn't stop it. It didn't know if it liked the pain or if it kept the beast from a rampage, like a dog on a leash. But when did the leash run out? When did the hand that fed it get bit?
It knew its body was covered in multiple injuries, as it knew that some of the injuries were running the risk of going bad, but it couldn't find it within itself. He didn't want to fight for control again. He didn't want to fight the beast to look after his own body. It was a parasite when it drove him to lose control. It was a monster and he hated it.
Heavy paws brought the beast of silvers and pitch through trees, following a prey path, the american lion body covered in many wounds, a leg walked on awkwardly with low growls escaping it. It was present, it was awake, it hated him. It could feel him trying to press it back but it was angry and the kitsune hadn't been enough. It would never be enough until the one who was the cause of its anger was dead. It couldn't kill him, he was gone. There was no trail to hunt anymore. Now it wandered, taking out its unending anger on the innocent. Was it a justice? It was a way to release its fury. It was 'healthy' to do.
Coming to a halt now, the beast would look up at the tall trees and the lines of cord it could make out. 'Ziplines' he so helpfully provided, making it curl its lip. A child had almost been hurt badly because of these, where it's first home was. It didn't like them so much anymore despite never having gone on any. Limping forward, the great beast would settle in the shade of a tree, settling to groom its paws, ears swiveling for those around it. It wouldn't be caught off guard if it could do anything
non described injuries atm but the major wounds are a head injury and a broken foreleg //
attempting to write him in a different style, it may change ///
Mentally stable/aware of self - he/him & unstable/loss of sanity - it/its ////
The day no longer mattered, nor did the bone-deep pain that dredged through his veins with every step. Everything in it hurt, the beast carried so much physical pain that it half wondered if it's master had intended for it to have a mortal body here and now. Each step was a different kind of pain, a different kind of rich agony that seeped through its pores. It enjoyed this, pain didn't stop it. It didn't know if it liked the pain or if it kept the beast from a rampage, like a dog on a leash. But when did the leash run out? When did the hand that fed it get bit?
It knew its body was covered in multiple injuries, as it knew that some of the injuries were running the risk of going bad, but it couldn't find it within itself. He didn't want to fight for control again. He didn't want to fight the beast to look after his own body. It was a parasite when it drove him to lose control. It was a monster and he hated it.
Heavy paws brought the beast of silvers and pitch through trees, following a prey path, the american lion body covered in many wounds, a leg walked on awkwardly with low growls escaping it. It was present, it was awake, it hated him. It could feel him trying to press it back but it was angry and the kitsune hadn't been enough. It would never be enough until the one who was the cause of its anger was dead. It couldn't kill him, he was gone. There was no trail to hunt anymore. Now it wandered, taking out its unending anger on the innocent. Was it a justice? It was a way to release its fury. It was 'healthy' to do.
Coming to a halt now, the beast would look up at the tall trees and the lines of cord it could make out. 'Ziplines' he so helpfully provided, making it curl its lip. A child had almost been hurt badly because of these, where it's first home was. It didn't like them so much anymore despite never having gone on any. Limping forward, the great beast would settle in the shade of a tree, settling to groom its paws, ears swiveling for those around it. It wouldn't be caught off guard if it could do anything
non described injuries atm but the major wounds are a head injury and a broken foreleg //
attempting to write him in a different style, it may change ///
Mentally stable/aware of self - he/him & unstable/loss of sanity - it/its ////
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THE FLOWER BURNS