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+--- Thread: Blackfoot Forest come be the new string on my broken guitar (/showthread.php?tid=40319)
come be the new string on my broken guitar - Hathor - March 24, 2020
Plunged under the cover of darkness, even with the illumination of the moon and reflection of the snow, the forest remains dark. Hathor is on edge, if only due to the high-pitched wails that echo across the forest—she swears she sees something in the corner of her eye, yet every time she looks, there is nothing.
‘Paranoia,’ she reasons, for it is rare that any would hunt a lioness, even alone as she is.
‘Paranoia,’ she reasons, for it is rare that any would hunt a lioness, even alone as she is.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Taylor - March 24, 2020
Wretched and wounded, Taylor muscles his way through the forest, his strides quick and unnatural. Smashing the plates into the dishwasher, slamming the door shut on his way out, filled with an erratic rage spinning towards entropy— driven by dollar signs and the thought of being seen.
More and more, the dark coming back. Be quiet, Taylor.
burn sear pain tick tick tick
Taylor is a silhouette in the night glow, hunched over, a dying fox under his hands. A gaping hole in its chest, like seeing a .45 caliber bullet wound from the other side. It screams and screams and the noise fills his head. Bouncing off the walls.
His face is what can only be described as utter calm. He wipes blood off of his cheek. The fox has just died or it has been dead for several minutes. He struggles to grasp onto time.
More and more, the dark coming back. Be quiet, Taylor.
burn sear pain tick tick tick
Taylor is a silhouette in the night glow, hunched over, a dying fox under his hands. A gaping hole in its chest, like seeing a .45 caliber bullet wound from the other side. It screams and screams and the noise fills his head. Bouncing off the walls.
His face is what can only be described as utter calm. He wipes blood off of his cheek. The fox has just died or it has been dead for several minutes. He struggles to grasp onto time.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Galena - March 25, 2020
The open Downs spilled into the adjacent forest and lulled Galena from open terrain. She treaded quietly -- alone with her thoughts -- while bright copper eyes reflected the last bit of fading light. Her jaw clenched, sensing an uneasy stillness to the wood. It was very quiet... until a ruckus fast approached. A wolf moved erratically through the trees... a terrible screeching. Galena's ears prick, and she advances (slow at first, and then swiftly), belly low like a prowling lioness. She smells the blood before she can see it -- most everything cast into night -- and looms ominously, pupils wide like dinner plates, to spy upon whatever discord has passed.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Hathor - March 27, 2020
A candle snuffed out, the screams of despair halt. Hathor, too, freezes. At first, she’d been sure the wails were nothing more than a fox in heat, screeching akin to her own species—how much they confuse the two-legged ones with their haunting screams; they expect a murder scene.
Dread pulses through the forest, a thicker eerie aroma washes over. The blood drains from her body, figurative compared to the marred fox that lay at the feet of it’s captor. None of which the lioness sees, none of which she knows. Only the scent, the cease of screams, and the sense of paranoia growing.
She hesitates for a moment, before continuing on her way.
Dread pulses through the forest, a thicker eerie aroma washes over. The blood drains from her body, figurative compared to the marred fox that lay at the feet of it’s captor. None of which the lioness sees, none of which she knows. Only the scent, the cease of screams, and the sense of paranoia growing.
She hesitates for a moment, before continuing on her way.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Taylor - March 28, 2020
It is only after the fox is long gone that Taylor begins to realise this one had a family. It had a mother and a father and maybe it was even loved. When he thinks maybe it even had a brother, his face twists. He tosses it to the side, and it ragdolls over to a foot of a tree.
And so begins the long and arduous process of burial, which he only completes a quarter of the way before he sits down and puts his face in his hands.
A beat passes. A close-up of Taylor looking up, and even in the darkness, we see the just-healed scar on his neck.
He is unaware of the mountain lion passing nearby.
And so begins the long and arduous process of burial, which he only completes a quarter of the way before he sits down and puts his face in his hands.
A beat passes. A close-up of Taylor looking up, and even in the darkness, we see the just-healed scar on his neck.
I see you,he croaks, squinting at a vague greyness in the black. The world is thrown into a black and white lithogram. He's washed out in silver, and the blood on his legs, on his chest, looks almost black.
He is unaware of the mountain lion passing nearby.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Galena - March 28, 2020
Hothooorrrrr ;_; I am sorry I scared the Kitty away!
The forest's silence thickened, predatory and supernatural in tone. Galena becomes convinced they aren't alone. Her hackles rise autonomously while moonbeam gaze turns towards the emptiness, blood pumping a little quicker. She watches... waiting for a calamity that never comes.
I see you, the man rattles hoarsely, breaking Galena's fixation on the wood. She smells the recently tilled earth... the blood... the fox's death-scent... and wonders if she's stumbled upon a seance. It's orchestrator is young-looking and handsome, but disheveled and manic with a haunted expression contorting his tired face. Blood and dirt cakes his front end like a troubled Macbeth at the McKittrick Hotel, sat wretched in a bathtub after a murder... stained shirt still on, sleeves rolled up. Her eyes narrow as she pushes closer to the solider, oddly quiet and steady in contrast to his unhinged state.
Her ears tick and tock, admiring such a dark and morbid stage. She is entranced by this curiosity, and feels alive by proximity to him. Just a wolf's length away, now, Galena notices the healing wound on his neck. Her gaze drops to the shallow pit in the ground. She reaches out a paw, nails just running over the earth as if to say, I can help you dig.
The forest's silence thickened, predatory and supernatural in tone. Galena becomes convinced they aren't alone. Her hackles rise autonomously while moonbeam gaze turns towards the emptiness, blood pumping a little quicker. She watches... waiting for a calamity that never comes.
I see you, the man rattles hoarsely, breaking Galena's fixation on the wood. She smells the recently tilled earth... the blood... the fox's death-scent... and wonders if she's stumbled upon a seance. It's orchestrator is young-looking and handsome, but disheveled and manic with a haunted expression contorting his tired face. Blood and dirt cakes his front end like a troubled Macbeth at the McKittrick Hotel, sat wretched in a bathtub after a murder... stained shirt still on, sleeves rolled up. Her eyes narrow as she pushes closer to the solider, oddly quiet and steady in contrast to his unhinged state.
Her ears tick and tock, admiring such a dark and morbid stage. She is entranced by this curiosity, and feels alive by proximity to him. Just a wolf's length away, now, Galena notices the healing wound on his neck. Her gaze drops to the shallow pit in the ground. She reaches out a paw, nails just running over the earth as if to say, I can help you dig.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Taylor - March 29, 2020
If he was Macbeth, bloody and ruined in the porcelain U of his bathtub, then the stranger was a voyeur in her Venetian mask, shrugging out of the audience and into the stage to get a better view of whatever depravity was happening in the bedroom, the bathroom, the ballroom.
She walks closer and closer— Taylor withdraws, but his back is to a tree, and he only succeeds in hunching up further. Whatever's on her face, fear or intrigue or hostility, he wouldn't be able to tell. He's too far gone.
Her nails make a tick tick tick sound against the forest floor. He stands, his face still bowed towards the ground, the posture of a dying tree, of someone asking for repentance. He wouldn't be able to tell. He's too far gone.
And so resumes the process of burial.
She walks closer and closer— Taylor withdraws, but his back is to a tree, and he only succeeds in hunching up further. Whatever's on her face, fear or intrigue or hostility, he wouldn't be able to tell. He's too far gone.
Her nails make a tick tick tick sound against the forest floor. He stands, his face still bowed towards the ground, the posture of a dying tree, of someone asking for repentance. He wouldn't be able to tell. He's too far gone.
And so resumes the process of burial.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Galena - March 30, 2020
The boy recoils, but Galena's head tilts to one side when she receives no direct response except for a vacuous expression. The addled stranger resumes his chore despite her presence... He is a man possessed, bewitched by some ghoul -- past, present or future. The northern woman enjoys her voyeuristic, center-orchestra, seat and observes for a moment. A small smile presses her lips together... this one lived up to her standard of most men: weak-minded creatures who could barely endure any great amount of trauma.
Despite that, Galena presses forth, enjoying their "one-on-one" and starts to help him dig. Baleful eyes flick back and forth between the grave and its keeper, hungry to see where his story takes her.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Evien - March 30, 2020
Very casually slides Evien in.
It was wholly by chance that Evien was in the woods that night. He hadn't meant to be out overnight, away from the territory, but he'd been caught up exploring and searching for herbs. The boy had managed to find some - western redcedar and sword ferns. Both invaluable assets to the pack; Evien had grabbed as much of them as he could manage, carrying the redcedar bark within the ferns that he'd arranged in a sort of carrying bag.
Suddenly, the smells became much more... complicated. Big cat and familiar wolf and unfamilar wolf and blood that made Evien's blood run cold. Dropping the herbs and taking off at a pace that was surprisingly quick for a wolf with only three usable legs, and he only paused when he was able to take in the scene.
Fields was bleeding, standing in front of a woman. Actually, cowering was a better word for it. Evien bristled automatically and hurried to get in between the two as best as he could manage, teeth bared at the offending woman and tail raising furiously. He wasn't sure if she was the aggressor, but she was making Fields uncomfortable and Evie was honestly not okay with that.
"Back the fuck off," he snarled, lips pulling back away from his teeth.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Taylor - March 30, 2020
A single bead of sweat races down the highway of his nose. The monotony of digging was comforting, and the minutes pass through him like he's a sieve. What was that quote, about shivering when someone walks over your future grave?
This woman is full of restlessness. Skyrocketing electrons. Taylor can almost hear whenever she tilts her head, or looks back-and-forth, like some spectator of a grandmaster chess game. Always a spectre, always a standee. It was possible she had other intentions, intentions that involved a knife being put somewhere in his person, but they're digging, and they're nearly done.
The snapping and jangling of twigs— for a second he's plunged into panic, and it takes him away like vertigo, but he looks back and it's Evien, snarling.
This woman is full of restlessness. Skyrocketing electrons. Taylor can almost hear whenever she tilts her head, or looks back-and-forth, like some spectator of a grandmaster chess game. Always a spectre, always a standee. It was possible she had other intentions, intentions that involved a knife being put somewhere in his person, but they're digging, and they're nearly done.
The snapping and jangling of twigs— for a second he's plunged into panic, and it takes him away like vertigo, but he looks back and it's Evien, snarling.
Kastner,he calls out. His voice feels like a stranger's in his own throat.
It's alright.Don't shoot.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Galena - March 31, 2020
The pair dug and dug -- Galena in her right mind, Taylor transfixed. Excitement built in the woman's chest, wondering if he was going to bury the fox next or simply throw himself into the pit. Or, perhaps, the man intended something else for this ritual. A morbid curiosity cause the thunder-colored hair on her back to prickle and peak in anticipation.
Unfortunately, their magick work was interrupted when a battle-snarl cut through the silence. Instinct tore the woman from their project and she side-stepped away like a black cat with its back arched. She turned towards the interloper (who had put himself between her and the Luminary) and flashed her fangs defensively. With a quick assessment, Galena knew she could take a chunk out of the pair if they continued their harassment: the small, compact brown male was a cripple and the lanky blonde did not appear to be in a fighting state... but, it was not in the best interest of a lone wolf to fight over such meager stakes and risk injury. She, instead, glowered disappointingly, nose crinkled in contempt for the chestnut boy.
With half a mind to leave, Galena was surprised when the blonde managed to utter an interruption... and, even more surprised, that his words were an attempt to pacify his ally. The woman stood in limbo, with one foot out the door, but hesitated to leave. A dispersal wolf was meant to make connections, after all, and she hated to depart before these two determined if they were friend or just foe.
Unfortunately, their magick work was interrupted when a battle-snarl cut through the silence. Instinct tore the woman from their project and she side-stepped away like a black cat with its back arched. She turned towards the interloper (who had put himself between her and the Luminary) and flashed her fangs defensively. With a quick assessment, Galena knew she could take a chunk out of the pair if they continued their harassment: the small, compact brown male was a cripple and the lanky blonde did not appear to be in a fighting state... but, it was not in the best interest of a lone wolf to fight over such meager stakes and risk injury. She, instead, glowered disappointingly, nose crinkled in contempt for the chestnut boy.
With half a mind to leave, Galena was surprised when the blonde managed to utter an interruption... and, even more surprised, that his words were an attempt to pacify his ally. The woman stood in limbo, with one foot out the door, but hesitated to leave. A dispersal wolf was meant to make connections, after all, and she hated to depart before these two determined if they were friend or just foe.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Evien - March 31, 2020
Well, color Evien confused. The boy looked between the two larger wolves, green eyes still narrowed and body still tense. Upon closer inspection, the blood on Fields was not his own, but instead just clinging to golden fur, and it did not even belong to a wolf at all. There was no injury to be found, but something was still wrong. Evien had just judged incorrectly.
Cheeks growing rouge and hands shoved into his pockets, Evie was the picture of sheepish. Apparently, he'd been wrong, driven by emotion and overreaction. "Um... I'd like to apologize," he began, turning his attention to the ashen woman. Logically, she would be able to take him down swiftly, for Evie was skinny and didn't have the muscle built up like most in Ursus. If he were honest with himself, he had no business trying to fight like that. "I may have misread the situation." And may have wrecked their fun.
Oops.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Taylor - April 01, 2020
Evien's small brown face in the dark with small shapes cut out by moonlight pulls him halfway out of his neuroticism and then fullway. Things are clearer now. The air which had been heavy and wet and almost too solid to breathe is now thinning out and cooling down and the moribund synapses in his skull, they spark and begin a conversation with the millions of others.
He pulls down his sleeves. Smooths out his shirt the best he can.
Half of a dead fox juts out of the dirt. He thinks good enough, he nods thank you to the stranger with yellow eyes, and walks over to Evien, bumping his shoulder, saying let's go home.
He pulls down his sleeves. Smooths out his shirt the best he can.
It's ok,he says, and his voice feels like his own. The grey woman has one foot out the door and she has snagged her coat from the rack on her way out and worried herself into her shoes. He thinks let her leave.
We were nearly done anyway.
Half of a dead fox juts out of the dirt. He thinks good enough, he nods thank you to the stranger with yellow eyes, and walks over to Evien, bumping his shoulder, saying let's go home.
RE: come be the new string on my broken guitar - Galena - April 04, 2020
Faddeeee!
Galena's crinkled expression ironed out like a crisp dress shit when the chestnut boy's tune changed to a bashful apology. The blonde consoles him, lucid now, and sends a look of something like gratitude across the dark space between them. The stormy woman responds with a slow blink as she fixes her collar and lowers her veil, smiling to herself, and slips away into the night. Friend, she decides.
Galena's crinkled expression ironed out like a crisp dress shit when the chestnut boy's tune changed to a bashful apology. The blonde consoles him, lucid now, and sends a look of something like gratitude across the dark space between them. The stormy woman responds with a slow blink as she fixes her collar and lowers her veil, smiling to herself, and slips away into the night. Friend, she decides.