he lost it.
it's gone gone g o n e...
he is empty
b r o k e —
he is seeking blindly in the dark, fingers wanting needing to brush against something familiar. a feather. the fur of the suns of his life. the stars
fingers touch nothing. curl around empty air.
the salty seabreeze is relentless as it batters around him but it is a fierce comfort. scarab clutches it 'round him, swimming first in the ocean — cold so cold; to bathe. to repent — and then rolls around in the sand. it is the closest he comes to wrapping it around himself as a child wraps its favorite silkie close. this place is empty.
empty empty empty
but healing.
the sound is his home.
absent his lost petrified sandpiper, separated from his family ( of his own doing, he knows ) and covered in sticky seawater and grating sand he shivers his way up the moontouched beach, leaving blue will-o-wisps in the water as he steps, seeking the heart of the sound and further the grotto that rests beneath it.
A figure darted through the woods, brushing past the towering, anicent trees. Tail flicking along, Helen was racing against no one, just for the thrills of speeding. Where was she? She had no idea, except that the trees looked nothing like the snow-capped pine trees back in Alaska. They were much, much more taller, and intimidating. The intrepid one was out there seeking for an adventure, leaving her frosty homeland way behind her tracks. The further she ventured into the forest, the taller her fur pricked upwards. She swooped aorund from time to time, checking to see if there were eyes watching her. Somehow, this place gave off a rather mysterious vibe.
Her pace slowed to a slow creep, when the uncertain feeling had escalated till it was slightly unbearable. This had to be the heart of the forest. It was so eerily quiet around here, surrounded by these wooden guards and a toothy cliff overhead. Nose twitching, Helen took in the fresh scent of evergreen fragrance of the trees, with a tinge of another wolf's scent. Her honey eyes narrowed, focussing on the ever-secluded beach in the distance. Cautiously approaching the water's edge, she looked up ahead at the other shore, or bank, or who knows maybe another island. Under the dim-lit moonlight, she watched as a silhouette splashed its way up to the other bank.
"Wait!" she called out to it, curosity getting the better of her. Realising that it was too late to turn back, Helen dipped herself into the salty ocean and paddled her way up to the other side. As she crawled out onto the shore, she shook the dripping water off her tawny fur, and approached the stranger. He was a cinnamon-coated lad, with a thin flank. "Sorry, I mean," she spluttered, panting away heavily from the swim. "Hello."
wait!
wait wait wait
a voice rises from the cluster of trees; desperate? pleading? ghostly? lapis lazuli gaze searches searches searches and does not see the source of the voice. unfamiliar. imagined imagined imagined
and then he is startled when she appears from the foamy, bioluminescent touched waters of the shore. he turns around to face her wild wild wild; pupils round as saucers nearly swallowing the jewel blue whole. ghost? real? scarab's seawater and sand crusted hackles bristle; uncertain even as she sputters and pants out an apology.
hello.
only moments ago he's yearned for company. hadn't fingers reached for something someone and returned grasping empty cold air? still, scarab cannot be sure sure sure. was she wish fulfillment of his fractured mind? of the fever and the sin sin sin he had committed to survive during the famine?
scarab's lips part and a small cracking croak comes out instead of a word. he doesn't remember the last time he spoke. months. does he remember how? he tries to mimic the word he knows and understands in his mind with his mouth, with his tongue but neither appear to want to cooperate.
After the momentary awkward silence that followed, she watched as the he-wolf opened his mouth, but no words escaped from his gaping jaws. Instead, a soft, hoarse-sounding croak forced its way out of his throat. Muffled by the salty sea breeze, the barely audible voice died off in the wind. Helen's ears twitched slightly.
What followed was more silence, as Helen tried to gather her thoughts as quickly as she could, wondering how to apologize for her abrupt appearance. From his size and built, her guess was that he was half her age. Her thoughts shifted to what he was doing here. Or maybe he lived here. Her gaze landed on the pristine sand surrounding them, and then to her paws as she shifted them in the ticklish matter.
When she finally looked up again at the chestnut-brown he-wolf, she murmured her apologies: "Sorry if I startled you." She dipped her politely, adding: "I'm Helen. I, uh, nice to meet you."
there is no embarrassment. there is only frustration.
work work work
neither mouth, tongue, nor vocal chords wish to cooperate. sounds still fails him, words do not translate from his mind understood and dissected to the parts that give voice to them. lost lost lost. lost his voice. lost the ability to speak. lost ...everything so many things.
the gods are cruel and they punish punish punish him.
it takes some effort to refocus upon her, to realize that she is speaking once more. scarab hesitates visibly at the fact that she finds it necessary to apologize to speak speak speak. stop talking. stop doing what i can no longer do! he wants to ask plead scream. more frustration washes over him drowns him. he's drowning drowning drowning. burning burning burning in sudden and fierce jealousy.
stone visage cracks for a moment, cracking fissuring splitting and then it mends mends mends. he is stone. a name, he registers vaguely. she has given him her name. useless to him. he cannot say it, cannot return with his own. so he stands there, empty missing envious broken and does what he can do; stare.
This time there was complete silence, not even the softest whisper could be heard. The pair of piercing cyan eyes seemed to study her, accompanied with the perpetual empty look on his snout. Although unsure of what she had seen, Helen had noticed the slight hesitation in the he-wolf as he seemed to be fighting against something. The words seemed to have gotten stuck somewhere in his throat, or maybe forcefully taken from him.
A part of her pondered about the possibility of the younger he-wolf escaping to this quiet place, in search of the peace of being alone in this silent night. Maybe her presence was ruining it. Helen lowered her ears, wanting to apologise once more, but held her tongue. If she apologised more than once, she didn't know if that would make him feel even worse. Maybe she should just walk away then, and let him enjoy the tranquility of the sound alone. Maybe that was what he was hoping for, just that he could not form the words to tell her off.
After letting silence to pass a little longer between them, Helen finally decided to ask: "What's your name?" Tugging her tail between her legs, Helen tried to make herself look less frightening, while patiently waiting to see if he would respond.
the tuck of her tail betwixt her legs does not go unnoticed. mute mute mute scarab might be but he still has eyes can still see. gods, he can see see see. it makes her smaller but scarab far from afraid of her mistakes it for submission submission submission. once it mattered to him. rank rank rank. power power power. he knows a different sort of power now. raw and sinful sinful sinful. he has dined upon wolf flesh and was fed by the life force left in their husks. he has known the gods of the melonii clan; sithis, most intimately.
moon moon moon of his life ...
he betrayed her too, in the end. trading her for the suns of his life, briefly, so they might warm him from the inside. there is no warming him, no thawing out what darkness and ice have stolen away.
scarab blinks slowly, feeling his annoyance rise rise rise as she continues to ask questions. like he can answer. he doesn't try to make his mouth and tongue and vocal cords work. they are useless. useless useless useless. his patience has been worn to a hairsbreadth and his tail rises over his back; flagging. a warning to accompany the curl of his lips back from his teeth in a silent snarl.
get lost. this, he can communicate with his body at least. not totally useless yet. it is unfair, this woman does not deserve his ire ire ire; not really ...but scarab is broken empty lonely and months spent in total isolation except for the whispers of the dread father have turned him feral.
Wrong move. Her attempt at seeming less frightening came across as submission. Her mistake had flared up to the seethingly growling beast before her. Growling but there was no sound either. The awkward silence had escalated to a tense one in a second. Helen instinctively took a pawstep back, her amber eyes widening at the sight of the dominating figure.
In response, however, Helen could not bear to have her pride hurt so easily. How low had she stooped to? Her shy tail uncurled and pointed straight upwards, as she exchanged a gutty snarl through her gritted teeth. His sudden aggression ignited fury from deep within her. "Look here!! I didn't do anything! Stay back or I'll-" she snapped impatiently but caught herself from pouring all of her anger out onto him, hopefully before it was too late. Although lean, his athletic build enabled him to simply pounce onto her without a moment's notice. While she had agile legs, Helen could not count on them to completely remove her from harm's way.
Her heart was pounding against her chest, as she contemplated about fight or flight. In an area as secluded as the sound, if anything were to happen, no one would come to her assistance. Maybe it was best to flee. Then again, the sign of his dominance was most probably caused by her overly submissive act. Not wanting to repeat the same mistake, she didn't let her tail down, but her expression softened. It was her fault for intruding. She opened her mouth to say something but left it hanging as she swallowed her words. Instead, she swooped her head back and forth, her eyes asking if she should leave.
if the arching rise of her tail is of any indication she does not take kindly to his assumption of her submission. scarab doesn't care doesn't care doesn't care. he feels no remorse. he feels no regret, no sympathy, no anything. he is hollow hollow hollow. at least of the things he should feel. compassion and acknowledgement of his mistake. the hollowness is filling only with ire and envy and the high of power. filling too quick, like a dam ready to burst. a rush of flames along a trail of gasoline. burning burning burning. drowning drowning drowning.
her attempt to persuade him, to tell him that she did nothing wrong — correct — falls upon deaf deaf deaf ears. he hears only the roar of the ocean. the roar of his own blood surging thru him with the rapid sprint of his heart in his chest. that broken and wretched thing that has kept him alive. functioning despite how twisted and monstrous it has become.
he stalks forward, attempting to crowd her. attempting to chase her off ...and if she doesn't take the second warning this time he will snap his teeth in attack.
The frustrated brute showed no sign of backing down, but instead marched right up to her. The nearer he drew, the more overwhelmed she was with mixed fear and anger. The spark of fury could be seen in her eyes, as the dim moonlight hit and reflected off its gleaming surface. However, her lividness was not particularly directed to him, for she knew she was at fault for approaching him out of nowhere against his will. The sound seemed like a place anyone would go to for the comforting alone-ness it brought, and she seemed to have ruined that very atmosphere.
She hated how the situation had escalated so quickly to this point. The moment she took another pawstep back from the ferocity in front of her, her ego took another agonising blow. However, there was no point in fighting. Although Helen was the older one, she knew her weak build was no match against his much stronger one. Nothing good would come out of fighting either. Helen had no intention in fighting for a territory for she was a wandering soul. She had to admit she was extremely intimidated by him, her ears flattened against her head.
Mustering whatever courage she had left, she swallowed and gave an abrupt nod. While she was quivering like a leaf, her tail remained lifted, in a last display of her not wishing to submit enitrely. With that, she was off, seeking out for an adventure as her heart had always desired for.