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+--- Thread: Witch's Marsh well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer (/showthread.php?tid=38747)
well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer - ThE nArRaToR - January 11, 2020
Mature Content Warning
This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Gore, sexual violence
Newly dead. She was breathing, just minutes before. A pretty dark she-wolf, trim and small. Vivacious, in her life. Utterly still in death. . .as we all shall be.
The marsh had been her undoing. She'd gotten lost in the shadows, taking wrong turns, unable to find her way out. Someone had offered her help, safety, and comfort. She had taken it, at her wits' end.
There was no help, nor safety, nor comfort to be found within a stranger's arms. There was only this, a grisly scene: thighs splayed, blood ebbing from a throat torn asunder.
And standing above her, pelt spattered with crimson—
Written by Miryam
RE: well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer - Pygmalion - January 11, 2020
Fuck,said Pygmalion, with feeling.
It all came back to this bloody marsh, didn't it? The place where he'd bonded with Bhediya. Where Uaine Gorsedd had initially meant to settle. This dank, dark, ugly place. And he had managed to befoul it further.
He hadn't meant to—not really. It was just that. . .this woman wasn't her. None of them had been. None of them could replace Bhediya. Anger had taken over, he'd blacked out—
Only to come to his senses and realize what he'd done. This, though. . .this was too much. Too close to home. Too close to the mountain where his lover had dealt the cruelest blow.
Pygmalion sucked in a breath, feeling himself begin to hyperventilate. He took a step back, then another, splashing through the sucking mud. He gritted his teeth, spun around, began to kick dirty snow upon the body. And then began to kick the body.
Goddamn it, you bitch,he sobbed, the stone-cold visage below replaced with a face not currently present.
Why'd you do this to me, you beautiful, horrible bitch. . .?
RE: well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer - Fern - January 11, 2020
the marsh is a dismal place, and she regrets entering it almost as soon as she does so. it's grimy, cold and gross; a fact accentuated by the snow and slate-grey skies. but the wolfdog's never been the best navigator, and in here, it's all too easy to get turned around.
a voice, then. low, irate, and then a dull thump. it's enough to draw her close, though she has the sense not to go charging towards the sound. the mud sucks at her paws as she wades through semi-dry land towards the sound; best-case, the owner will know the way out. worst case—
well, worst case is suddenly spread before her. it's a male, pale and splattered with grime and blood. he's swearing, speaking to, at, a woman in the mud. she'd dead, she realizes rather swiftly, and is convinced for a moment that her heart is stopped beating, to. "oh my god," escapes her maw, shaky and underlined with fear. "she's—is she—she's dead. you—you didn't—." stammering, she stares into the man's face, cold fear making it impossible to move, to breath, to do anything but stand there and stammer like an idiot.
RE: well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer - Pygmalion - January 15, 2020
Oh my God—
Pygmalion turned, half-dazed, to find a speckled young woman (strange markings, he noted detachedly) gaping at him. Heart pounding in similar fashion, he rounded on her, head held high and dark eyes flashing.
Shut up!he snapped, voice a strange, hoarse whisper that cut through the air like a whip.
Shut—up!
He continued to look down upon the girl, teeth chattering.
You—you say anything of this, to anyone, and I'll k-kill you, too,Pyg stammered, fear waging a hellish war with violence. He licked his lips and found fresh blood there, a reedy whine escaping his lips.
Ye ken?! Now get tae fuck.
His whole body shook, terrified adrenaline racing through his veins. He could only hope that the girl would not make a scene, that she would go in peace—that no more death would be upon his paws.
RE: well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer - Fern - January 16, 2020
shut up she does, but a low whine starts in the rear of her throat and begins the steady climb out of her maw, gaining in strength and pitch. ears are tucked so closely to her skull it almost appears as if she's lacking them, eyes wide and glazed with terror.
desperate eyes fix on the woman as again he speaks, the bitter taste of bile held at bay only by a very thin level of constraint. "maybe—maybe she's not, you, you don't know—" run, you fumbling idiot. shouts her brain, but her limbs seem quite cut off from the rest of her nervous system and remain rooted in the filth. she vomits into the mire.
maw opens, closes. that woman is dead dead dead and she's going to be next. abruptly, her legs decide to reconnect to the rest of her body, and she pivots with such violent force she falls into the mire. she rights herself after a brief struggle. "you're not, you can't, I'll—" and then she's gone, tearing through the marsh with more desperation than she's ever felt, tail curled tightly to her side and fear carved into every tendon.