DESPERATION - open; tanglewood capture

[MORIBUND]

"I-I don't know. I didn't even mean...."

one head cocked to the side in utter confusion. what did they mean? the capture had been an accident? had it not been customary to be joyful of such an endeavor? moribund's two heads did not know of valkyr's internal conflict, but they could see the disturbance flickering across their face. and oh, did they notice. such an odd thing. when they had been expecting of pride and accomplishment, the child in place, could only find troubledness.

valkyr's response unsettled them more than anything. interactions were always so complex-- left them drained and puzzled more than before. all moribund had thought they had known and learned on sociality was fragile; fit to be torn down at the slightest unexpected reaction.

axle’s revival from the abyss of consciousness was unexpected. moribund had thought the capture to be soundly subdued. but they weren't-- spotted the flickering eyes far too late, the building growl in the canine's throat until suddenly, the sheep dog was leaping upward in a clumsy frenzy.
a wild, unbidden snarl as loud as the crackle of thunder to the sheep’s ears. sent a lancing, burning spear that sank through their body, shredding down to the spine. the left side visibly shuddered, feeling the sheer unsteadiness settle into their limbs. quivering in tandem to their heart.

though the right bared their own teeth in turn. a brave mask. an uncanny and unseeming ferality in a wild, frenzied gaze. one meant to protect and defend themselves. they were always the guardian.
moribund could not ignore the innate calling biological response to a meat eater's wrath.

axle was a predator. they needed to get away. don't touch us.

they could hear their shared hearts, thudding a symphony in their heated ears. the child’s chest was aching. they were surprised their skull had not shattered yet, nor had their fragile little ribs which the heart was thundering against with each beat. adrenaline spiked. panic fluttered against their ribcage, cloying senses.
axle’s sudden movements helped none either-- it reminded them far too much of looming bodies, teeth bared into pearly, malignant grins that weren’t really grins at all. wedged into far too small corners, back against the wall. cowering and waiting for the blows. touches that hurt. waiting for pain.

mori’s left head tasted bile. they wanted to wretch.

moribund startled. the youth’s gangly limbs skittered backwards, finding the nearest warm body, seeking comfort-- even after their bitter, forced self dependency, they still sought solace in another. it was herd sentimentality, and it was pathetic.

but it worked anyways, and quill's presence aided in calming the juvenile down. after realizing their shameful act, they tore themselves abruptly from the direhound's side, too shocked to speak.

[glow=grey,2,300]･ﾟ✦ —— tags[/glow]