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+--- Thread: Fox's Glade in my heart, in this cold heart (/showthread.php?tid=35317)
in my heart, in this cold heart - Svalinn - June 20, 2019
set after this thread; being vague w/ injuries
There was a waning commotion overhead as a flock of songbirds made a gossiping exit, and from the bedside of a babbling creek, a gold-cloaked wolf lifted his broad head to peer intensely over his shoulder.
He stared for a while; chestnut eyes wide with a sense of burgeoning urgency; stricken immobile by a feeling that something was amiss...
It took him a long, dumb moment to process that it was her blood he was smelling— even with the wind blowing directly in his face. His only saving grace was the fact that his body had reacted much quicker to this realization than his thoughts could: causing him to run before he could process the reason why.
Even at a distance, he could tell @Caiaphas was badly wounded. Her awkward gait saw to that. And though he saw no immediate pursuers, Svalinn knew from her dogged forward pace that she was being chased. "Ma!"
His heart pounded as he came upon her; his actions becoming confused as he tried to both assess her injuries and herd her away from the area. "Fuck, Ma, what happened to you?" He whined as relief, fury, and a newfound anxiety flooded him all at once. "Come on, let's go— we gotta— oh fuck," he breathed as his eyes fell onto the worst of her wounds. "C'mon, there's a stream this way," he finished in a steadier breath.
RE: in my heart, in this cold heart - Caiaphas - June 28, 2019
the harpy came upon her son wearied and eyes white-rimmed; an obscene flush of scarlet dousing the stark white of her coat. her blackened skull was held stiff, the freshly knitted scar on her neck laid bare where cerise fluid pumped freely. she sought the lowlands as compromise to her limping gait, and it was here the siren met her agitated son.
she did not slow as she rounded upon him. svalinn’s earnest inspection was met with a feral snap of her wicked fangs, and a low snarl glutted in the chambers of her throat. her golden child’s worry and inquiries went unanswered, yet bullish and hobbling, caiaphas bent her form in the direction of the stream her aureate companion had mentioned, slowing her maddened clip only when the glittering banks came into view.