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+--- Thread: Bearclaw Valley CAULIFLOWER IS TRADITIONAL (/showthread.php?tid=38843)
CAULIFLOWER IS TRADITIONAL - Pygmalion - January 15, 2020
He couldn't go back. That much was clear. Not to Ibis, to Lolita, to—he retched—Bhediya—retched again, and stumbled, falling to his knees. He'd wound up at the opening of this oblong valley, the walls rising up above and around him. He was only vaguely aware of markings along the edge.
Pyg's sides heaved, blood-spattered body trembling with fear, anger, exertion. He drove his black nose into the dirt and wished he could disappear, wished he had never come here. Wished for it all to go away.
Except it wouldn't, would it? Rage had come before, though not so acutely as this, and not as blinding, either. His love for Bhediya, his frustration over Bhediya, had fueled something within him he didn't know lie dormant. He was a beast, a monster, a savage. He was a killer, and he couldn't take it back.
And—God!—he wanted to plunge himself into it again. More sex, more struggle, more death.
But he also wanted to sleep, and felt exhaustion tugging at him after days of restless wandering.
Wandering. (to where?) Waiting. (for what?) Watching. (for whom?)
Tired. Sleep. Blood. Bhediya.
RE: CAULIFLOWER IS TRADITIONAL - Astara - January 16, 2020
astara had never considered caiaphas would return to bearclaw, and yet, here she was..
only it wasn’t her, but the scent that had rippled off her like a violent miasma. astara would never forget — could never forget — that scent.
she followed the trail at a distance, remembering the warning the crone had given them. perhaps the wretch had some last moments of mischief before her demise — either way, astara cursed the creature and his ilk as she stepped after him, noting the scent of blood along the snow.
and then it came to her — the recognition she knew this man. a growl notched in her throat as she came up behind him, her eyes hooded in a critical stare of distrust.
RE: CAULIFLOWER IS TRADITIONAL - Pygmalion - January 20, 2020
The growl brought him to his senses, despite the exhaustion, and he shifted to look over his shoulder. He froze, catching sight of dark fur, a slight build.
Bhediya. There could be no one else, not in his current state of mind.
I'm sorry,he sobbed, tears coursing down his cheeks.
I didna mean to — they just weren't you — they just weren't you and never would be you —He cried like a child, curling up into a ball, tail tucked between his hind legs.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. . .
She would offer no forgiveness, he knew it. He was damned. Even if he had done it all in her name, he still was damned. He was a monster of her creation, but it would be him to live with his crimes, not her. Him to live alone, not her.
RE: CAULIFLOWER IS TRADITIONAL - Astara - January 20, 2020
astara fought the urge to recoil as the male turned around to face her, his spine rounded in ether pain or shame — or both. revulsion crept in spiderthin legs across her features, her lip curling in response.
she had no answer for his sobs or sniveling. no correction for his assumed misidentity. instead her only goal was to lure him from her home — from merrick.
astara approached in swift strides, as if to kindly greet him — but then, snapped her teeth near his hunching form, and drove off through the snow in a long-strided gallop.
she lead him away from merrick, from her home -- for every time the white ghost lagged, astara rallied him -- until at last he was well from the heart of bearclaw, and deposited into a cold wilderness astara deemed reasonably safe from her home.