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+--- Thread: Tuktu Hinterlands trauma is tough [m] (/showthread.php?tid=38890)
trauma is tough [m] - Noctum - January 17, 2020
Feel free to jump in! Or just read because it is my attempt at a masterpiece hahaha (I hate the ending but what can ya do)
Trauma. It's a funny thing. It creates you. It can destroy you. Trauma was all the male had known since birth. Upon eyes first opening, his sisters and brothers barely even a few minutes old was crushed between powerful jaws. The jaws of his demonic father, with cries from his poor, foolish, defensless mother. Their innocent blood spilled upon the unholy ground where his putrid family laid, his horrid family. Tears that used to stain a beaten body found themselves no longer able to fall, physically held back by a need to appear strong. But soon that 'need' no longer existed, it was natural. A cold casing had developed around a broken heart, barely holding it together but allowing the pieces to rest in its cold base."Mother? Why is father so angry? Is it my fault?" A small voice meekly inquired, large eyes peering up at a tired and aging face. The question seemed to physically age the she-wolf, she wilted like a lovely rose in its last days of life. "Oh no, my little love... he is not angry because of you, you are wonderful... you are perfect..." Noctum had never known, and would never know, a gaze so pure and so full of love as that of his mothers. Before she could continue, the air shifted into something for sinister and for once in his life the pup recoiled into himself, afraid. His tiny body pressed against his mothers, trembling with a low whimper in his throat. The hulking form of a wolf rumbled into the den, each step trembling the very ground beneath the pair. "What kind of sh*t are you putting into his head?" A deep voice bellowed, causing Noctis to bury his head into his mothers neck. "He is your son! He deserves your love-" His mother was cut off by a swift and brutal blow to the head, sending her sprawling. "You are nothing! Don't you ever forget that!" The male growled, sending his attention to the little pup in front of him. "D-don't you dare hurt her!" Noctis cried out, his body trembling along with his attempt to be strong. "And what are you going to do about it, you worthless piece of sh*t." The creature snarled, moving closer to the pup until their faces met. A warm breath encircled the young male as he stared, wide-eyed, into the gaze of his attacker. Suddenly Noctis was falling, falling into the mouth of his father, drowning in the tears of his mother. He couldn't breathe, and then he was switched to a less sinister place.
But his body was no longer his own, he could feel his fathers blood coursing through his viens and his thoughts circling his mind. They were not seperate anymore, rather cut from the same cloth and bound together by needles which pierced their hearts.
A yawn escaped the hulking males maw as he stepped from his den, eyes narrowing at his bustling Empire, was it his or his fathers? Noctum could no longer remember. Seeing a male slowly waking from the warriors den Noctis barked in disapproval. He padded down from the large rock, leading into a huge cave, that he called his den. "Get back to work, lazy scum!" He snarled, grabbing the wolf by his scruff and tossing him to the ground. Noctum stepped on the males throat and looked into his pleading eyes. Licking his lips he smirked, oh how wonderful it would be to kill this wolf... but his pack could disapprove... ah to h*ll with them! He grinned and bent down, placing the males exposed throat in his jaw. "please~" Was the only word the defensless thing managed to get out before Noctis pulled upwards, ripping out his throat with a prideful smirk. Licking the blood from his maw and teeth, Noctum looked at the members staring at him in horror. "Well? Someone clean this up! Get back to work!" He barked before padding back up to his ledge, looking over the empire. "Once that worthless mutt is out of my sight you are all to gather to receive your assignments for today." Impatient as ever, the male sat down and watched over his Empire as a prideful smirk spread upon his alluring features.
Then another transition this time he found himself in space, staring at his own horrificly beautiful face. The stars around him whispered horrible words, "murderer", "b*stard", they cried.
Then he awoke, fear upon his features which quickly morphed into anger. He stumbled to his paws, leaning upon a nearby tree for support. 'What am I doing here?' He thought for a moment, confused before remembering his reasons for being here. He was here to prove himself, start an empire all his own. He needed other canines, although not a wolf of eloquence he planned to trap others in his web of words, respected and feared was his need in life. He feeded off the fear of others, using it to fuel him in all his actions.
Standing up straight, the behemoth male continued upon his search for other canines, prepared for anything.
RE: trauma is tough [m] - Riley - January 17, 2020
Not once had Riley looked back. Easthollow was leagues behind him. @Laurel was leagues behind him. They could live the rest of their lives in that sequestered, stagnating piece of stone for all he cared. Riley was on his own adventure.
He wouldn't admit it, but at night he found himself missing Charles. It wasn't the kind of fraternal love that was typical of siblings, but he found himself cradling a stick all the same, smiling in his sleep as the days morphed into weeks, and his frame grew thinner.
Awoken abruptly, Riley came to attention with the sluggish reactivity of a beast accustomed to nothing threatening him. His gaze focused on a dark wolf, ranging ahead as if searching. Riley himself was not a creature inclined to be extroverted: he watched the man as he drifted closer, but did not move from his roost under a sheath of douglas fir. The stick, still cradled in his paws, began to spin -- all the while, Riley watched the interloper studiously.
Nothing came of the man's presence -- he was neither noted nor greeted as the goliath lumbered by. For that, Riley was perhaps lucky. There were often few things worse than a stranger darkening ones' doorstep at night.