SUNSHINE // intro

[MORIBUND]

SO WEAK AND POWERLESS { .:*・°☆ } ———

they are the abandoned. the black sheep.

a family unto themselves. they are the two. no, they are the one. that is all they will ever need to be.

they are the filth of this world. the grime and the muck. they are cursed unwanted. what does it mean to be loved? they do not know. they have been abandoned; that is all they know. it is all they deserve. perhaps the little lamb does not belong anywhere. what would have been rich coils of ebony fur has been matted with sweat and blood. cuts. bruises. scrapes. signs of a person unloved.

the two headed being, strung along on a rope; a lamb to the slaughter. there was no fight. a quick, expert lunge of ivory, saliva-tipped jaws against the throat, pressing against their youthful body with the might of a ferocious beast. suffocating. shoved against the gritty, heated dirt and already weakened by a starved body from moons of wandering amongst the wilderness left to their own devices. it's a wonder they've survived this long. perhaps it would be better for them to die at the hooves of their family. at the hooves of a dam that never loved them. it was all over for them the moment the pittian crossed paths with them. now this is their fate.

the left head stared in wonder and misplaced awe at the strength of the bring before them while the right snorted it's head derisively. oh how they had longed to be that powerful; how they longed for the deadliness of the predator; and oh, did they long with a twisted sense of need. they were weak and soft, but the one that had captured them? was not. the left head's maw twisted open in silent wonder.

there was no time to dwell upon that. the beastly child is captured, and unsure of what cruelty may await them. but they are used to brutality-- the agony. there's something hauntingly poetic about being 'freed' from the clutches of a volatile family only to once more be captured again.

the two shove the concern deep into the pit of their stomach. steel themselves with iron resolve and come along quietly. feeling is useless, and they have long ago learned to numb themselves to the ruthlessness of the world. who would care of the misery of a freak? it is what they deserve, they tell themselves. shed no tears or expend no fear for those who would care none for their wellbeing and would rejoice in their unfortune.

alien. they feel like an alien. they are numb and hollow and silent as they are ushered into the lion's den. their tongue sits thick and dry. heavy in their mouths with disuse and lack of water. parched lips. dry skin and chapped horns. they are the epitome of ragged and disheveled.

polycephaly heads press together in silent reverence and awkward, quiet comfort. if they are to die, let this be their final destination. death would be a mercy. especially unto one such as themself.

"look at this twisted looking cud-chewer," a gruff, feminine voice, like sandpaper againsy stone. there is a tight jerk of the rope. the nameless child (mother never did bother with giving them a name. they were cursed) stumbles forward and half-kneels into the dirt. crumpled and too exhausted to stand again. the heat has already beaten them. it is merciless as it slowly but surely saps their strength.

"reckon we can put em to good use?"

the first head averts it's glazed eyes, while the right one lifts it's cranium in mute defiance. silent. calculative. attempting to absorb it's surroundings with smoldering eyes. yet there was a detached presence about them. instincts urging them to stand brave in the face of danger.

they did not know much of the civilizations of this world. they only knew isolation and the privacy of themselves. two brains. one whole, and it never occurred to them of the possibility that there were far weirder things out there. things that were just as cursed as they.

// ayy intro for mori who has just been captured into the pitt as a slave. feel free to feed, tend/talk to, show them around, put them to work right away, or whatever