Post by kingpenguin on Aug 6, 2012 21:36:51 GMT -5
Atár
The salty air bit at his nostrils as he fervently pawed the wet sand into a mound, leaving a small ditch next to it filled with grainy water. The browns mixed with the white foam of the waves that struck over the forming hole before receding with the edges of his work, their walls crumbling in upon themselves and leaving him to once more dig out the ditch. If time were measurable by the position of the sun on that day it certainly would not be from this spot of the beach, a thick layer of cloud giving the alluring guise of golden candy floss draped across the heavens. Though hours had definitely passed. Two hours to be exact. Two hours of Atár padding up and down the edges of the surf, wading in as far as his chest before having to skillfully dodge out to dry land to avoid being engulfed by a wave above his height. His tail swatted from side to side with each flimsy thought about current circumstance, each tentative poke of his maw to the ground to retrieve a stone, or to examine an oddly shaped shell.
Usually by this time boredom would have claimed him and seen him hunt, fauna may not be abundant in the sands but he was sure to find a crustacean of some form if he ventured to more rocky areas. Instead he wandered around the emptiness of his own imagination, retelling himself several stories he might regale the pups with upon his return to the packs territory. Oh how he would ravage their youthful minds, shaping their own imaginations with each lyrical word, engraving upon them all the epics a budding youth might find useful in a world of adventure.
His thoughts wandered off from him, their reigns tugging at his subconscious knowledge that he had more reasons to come to this lonesome place than to simply rehearse stories. No, Atár had much more imminent issues on his brain, albeit that they were thoughts he had been incapable of making heads nor tails of since his childhood. As another wave jolted over his hole he caught a brief reflection of himself through the foam, the sand on the wind battering against his fur and sticking there as a shiver ran through him. A cold eye stared back at him, the side of its face smashed in, the eye socket visible through the fur matted with blood, burnt at the edges as if a hot poker had been used to cauterize the wound unsuccessfully. If not for holding his breath at the sight he would surely be hit with the scent of rotten flesh. A maggot caught his eye, the eye that was non-existent according to his reflection in the sandy pool of seawater. It wriggled furiously through the cavity before beginning to feast upon the juicy offering of his neck which too, gruesomely, bore a necrotic feast of infectious sights as he gave it his attention.
This was of course a hallucination, he knew it to be fact that his body was not necrotic in the slightest. It did not however stop this view from scaring him witless. If he thought on it he could probably blame this on any of the plethora of issues that plagued his waking world. Maybe it would never cease, the collage of wounds, the seething carrion that picked him empty each day in his subconsciousness. Damn, this had to stop, somehow he needed to find an outlet that did not leave him with the mental capacity to think anymore. The pups! That would do, surely. Focus on their gleeful expressions as you awe and shock them with legendary tales. Do not think of them as half-dead carcasses strewn across the den floor, their heads cocked to the side and tongues rolling from side to side with their vacant eyes glaring knives at you.
If there were much in the manner of mercy, be it ephemeral or scientific, it did not grant release for the Beta. All the responsibility in the world could not halt him from his psychotic tendencies. He lowered his cranium to the pool, never letting his gaze leave the maggot that invaded parts of his body no female would ever even become familiar with. He furled his top lip, teeth brimming in rage and desperation.
"Kiath?" The word left his throat with bitterness, this was no common breakdown after all he guessed. The pattern with which that maggot moved reminded him of the way he had witnessed the spasms and contortions of pain in an ancestors vision to him. There was only one demon in his life that liked to push his buttons so regularly.
Kiath was a small wolf, too young to be so twisted. Though when one took into consideration the era in which he had lived, at least over 70 years anyway, he was far older than Atár and deserved at least a modicum of respect. He was shorter, lighter and much thinner in pelt than his descendant, he also was missing a leg. A feature that did not affect the sultry manner in which he prowled over to Atár, his breath hot in the chill air, yet leaving no white mist with which his physical presence could be ascertained.
"I was bored y'know?" His voice was just as effeminate as his gait, and god how it frustrated Atár to notice the fact that this was no warrior, no legend to tell the pups about, he was a misogynous bastard at the best, and a common crook at any other. The single vestige of honor that he held was that he had single handed tricked a group of outsiders into abandoning their aims to join the pack. Especially honorable considering they were disease ridden, a fact his own spiritual powers had helped him recognize. The story reminded Atár that having friends with powerful resources could never be sniffed at lightly.
"It does not concern me if you are bored, messing with my head is a sure way to get yourself a decade of being ignored." Trying to hold back disgust whilst being respectful is an art that should not be underestimated, especially not when dealing with a sociopath. "Try me Kiath, I will seriously banish your bones from my body." He bit back the flick of his tongue that should have come naturally with the revulsion, realizing he did not truly know who the sociopath was in this situation. Anyway, it wasn't as though Kiath had summoned himself here, Atár knew that to be impossible, meaning one way or another he had chosen to bring the repugnant creature forward. He'd make sure to reprimand himself later.
Words: 1148
Muse: Linkin Park ~ Figure.09
Note: Seriously...first post and I can't resist a halucinatory ancestor, this guy is gonna be fun.
The salty air bit at his nostrils as he fervently pawed the wet sand into a mound, leaving a small ditch next to it filled with grainy water. The browns mixed with the white foam of the waves that struck over the forming hole before receding with the edges of his work, their walls crumbling in upon themselves and leaving him to once more dig out the ditch. If time were measurable by the position of the sun on that day it certainly would not be from this spot of the beach, a thick layer of cloud giving the alluring guise of golden candy floss draped across the heavens. Though hours had definitely passed. Two hours to be exact. Two hours of Atár padding up and down the edges of the surf, wading in as far as his chest before having to skillfully dodge out to dry land to avoid being engulfed by a wave above his height. His tail swatted from side to side with each flimsy thought about current circumstance, each tentative poke of his maw to the ground to retrieve a stone, or to examine an oddly shaped shell.
Usually by this time boredom would have claimed him and seen him hunt, fauna may not be abundant in the sands but he was sure to find a crustacean of some form if he ventured to more rocky areas. Instead he wandered around the emptiness of his own imagination, retelling himself several stories he might regale the pups with upon his return to the packs territory. Oh how he would ravage their youthful minds, shaping their own imaginations with each lyrical word, engraving upon them all the epics a budding youth might find useful in a world of adventure.
His thoughts wandered off from him, their reigns tugging at his subconscious knowledge that he had more reasons to come to this lonesome place than to simply rehearse stories. No, Atár had much more imminent issues on his brain, albeit that they were thoughts he had been incapable of making heads nor tails of since his childhood. As another wave jolted over his hole he caught a brief reflection of himself through the foam, the sand on the wind battering against his fur and sticking there as a shiver ran through him. A cold eye stared back at him, the side of its face smashed in, the eye socket visible through the fur matted with blood, burnt at the edges as if a hot poker had been used to cauterize the wound unsuccessfully. If not for holding his breath at the sight he would surely be hit with the scent of rotten flesh. A maggot caught his eye, the eye that was non-existent according to his reflection in the sandy pool of seawater. It wriggled furiously through the cavity before beginning to feast upon the juicy offering of his neck which too, gruesomely, bore a necrotic feast of infectious sights as he gave it his attention.
This was of course a hallucination, he knew it to be fact that his body was not necrotic in the slightest. It did not however stop this view from scaring him witless. If he thought on it he could probably blame this on any of the plethora of issues that plagued his waking world. Maybe it would never cease, the collage of wounds, the seething carrion that picked him empty each day in his subconsciousness. Damn, this had to stop, somehow he needed to find an outlet that did not leave him with the mental capacity to think anymore. The pups! That would do, surely. Focus on their gleeful expressions as you awe and shock them with legendary tales. Do not think of them as half-dead carcasses strewn across the den floor, their heads cocked to the side and tongues rolling from side to side with their vacant eyes glaring knives at you.
If there were much in the manner of mercy, be it ephemeral or scientific, it did not grant release for the Beta. All the responsibility in the world could not halt him from his psychotic tendencies. He lowered his cranium to the pool, never letting his gaze leave the maggot that invaded parts of his body no female would ever even become familiar with. He furled his top lip, teeth brimming in rage and desperation.
"Kiath?" The word left his throat with bitterness, this was no common breakdown after all he guessed. The pattern with which that maggot moved reminded him of the way he had witnessed the spasms and contortions of pain in an ancestors vision to him. There was only one demon in his life that liked to push his buttons so regularly.
Kiath was a small wolf, too young to be so twisted. Though when one took into consideration the era in which he had lived, at least over 70 years anyway, he was far older than Atár and deserved at least a modicum of respect. He was shorter, lighter and much thinner in pelt than his descendant, he also was missing a leg. A feature that did not affect the sultry manner in which he prowled over to Atár, his breath hot in the chill air, yet leaving no white mist with which his physical presence could be ascertained.
"I was bored y'know?" His voice was just as effeminate as his gait, and god how it frustrated Atár to notice the fact that this was no warrior, no legend to tell the pups about, he was a misogynous bastard at the best, and a common crook at any other. The single vestige of honor that he held was that he had single handed tricked a group of outsiders into abandoning their aims to join the pack. Especially honorable considering they were disease ridden, a fact his own spiritual powers had helped him recognize. The story reminded Atár that having friends with powerful resources could never be sniffed at lightly.
"It does not concern me if you are bored, messing with my head is a sure way to get yourself a decade of being ignored." Trying to hold back disgust whilst being respectful is an art that should not be underestimated, especially not when dealing with a sociopath. "Try me Kiath, I will seriously banish your bones from my body." He bit back the flick of his tongue that should have come naturally with the revulsion, realizing he did not truly know who the sociopath was in this situation. Anyway, it wasn't as though Kiath had summoned himself here, Atár knew that to be impossible, meaning one way or another he had chosen to bring the repugnant creature forward. He'd make sure to reprimand himself later.
------------------------------
Words: 1148
Muse: Linkin Park ~ Figure.09
Note: Seriously...first post and I can't resist a halucinatory ancestor, this guy is gonna be fun.