The Bracken Woods disappear from everyone i hold so close to me

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: mature topics. tw for discussion of rape.

He couldn't stop. Even as he felt the fight leave Runion, he sought to tear deeper into the flesh, teeth working cruelly through various soft tissues — he didn't want to think about it. It registered, at some point, that he was holding his brother by the throat. Right as he felt something loosen, and with one last fierce toss of his head, came away with his prize —

The air fills with the thick, choking scent of rot, and between his teeth the flesh softens and turns rancid. His grasp loosens, followed a moment later by a sickening fleshy thud against the forest floor. His eyes snap open — both of them, clear and bright and golden as they've always been; he's uninjured, and he knows something is wrong. Orange eyes, burning through his chest like twin flames — orange, until they darken and shrivel and liquefy and pour from their sockets. His throat tightens, gorge rising, and his horror forces itself from his mouth in the shape of a word —
Eris, He chokes on her name, and the skull collapses in on itself, stark bone fragment peering through oozing dark rot. It's not fair — it's all wrong, it shouldn't be her. Why? The word slips out like an afterthought, barely a breath on the breeze, and the air chills around him.
Because we're cursed, baby boy, His sister's head croaks, splitting into a bloody, too-wide grin, and the pieces of her skull shift from where they've collapsed inward, blooming quickly like a grisly flower. The voice comes wetly garbled this time, mocking and venomous: Or are we the curse?
No, no, no — You killed her, you killed her, you killed her, you killed her, you killed her you killed her you killed her you killed her YOU KILLED HER YOU KILLED HER YOU KILLED HER YOU KILLED HER YOU KILLED HER YOU KILLED HER YOU —

It's not real. It's not real.
His limbs move almost before his eyes flutter open, shooting straight out and curving around something cold, something hard and unforgiving like stone. He pulls it close to his body, feeling its coolness against his chest fur, and shifts a little. His back stings, his neck stings — where is Ulf?
But it doesn't matter, really. He's alive, he's alive and he never killed Eris (at least not directly) and the past will stay where it belongs. Except... his forelegs tighten instinctively around the skull, horror washing over him as it registers fully. In a moment he's on his feet, violently emptying the scant contents of his stomach a few feet from where he'd flung the skull in his haste. His head pounds, and his eyes ache even as the heaving subsides. He closes them, breathing slowly, and all he can do is exist for a moment.

He was lost and he had thought that perhaps ingesting a few leftover treats (read; Athris ate some feel good plants because why wouldn't he?) from the incoming cold would help guide him back to where he needed to be. Yet no one spoke to him. Not ghosts, not ghouls, not even the face in the moon had decided to help him. So he was stranded and a little intoxicated. Oh, and paranoid as fuck. Every whistle of wind sent his hackles flying up and a submissive grin sprawled across his features.

He had really messed up this time.

Then there was an awful sound. He had made the same sound before, heard it from others. The acidic smell only further proved his point. And in his dazed, bad decision making state of mind he decided to wander closer to the sounds and smell of a disgusting action.

Yet he spotted something that caught his attention. A wolfish skull that made his gut twist and turn. Was it looking at him? Was there actually life in those sockets or did some shadows and lighting just really fuck with his mind? He did not need this. Not now, not ever. He crawled backwards in a panic and ignored the vomiting figure just in the corner of his vision.

His rear met the ground with a thud, willowy front legs spread out wide in front of him. Fuckfuckfuck. He mumbled quickly.

He doesn't even notice the other wolf's presence, not until he hears the quiet fuckfuckfuck and a snorted laugh forces itself from his burning throat. He opens his eyes, gaze fixing to the source a moment later — a silver wolf, young, red-eared and green-eyed. Cute, he thinks, seeing hints of Delight in the delicacy of the boy's build, but the thought passes as quickly as it strikes him.
Yeah, He croaks, voice wry. You know, he got that reaction when he was alive, too. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels bad; the kid is obviously spooked, and... maybe there's something wrong with him, too.
Um, are you okay? He tries, taking a few steps closer to get a better look; there's an odd familiarity to the stranger's features that he can't quite pinpoint, and it makes his skin crawl.

The stranger's words didn't soothe any of his nerves. In fact, they electrocuted the nerves and his fur fluffed up at every place possible. It was obvious his body was dying to look bigger than the small frail child he was. What the fuck? He asked with the clearest look of concern on his face. He wanted to vomit to now but that would leave him vulnerable to this bone collector.

When they decided to get closer, Athris throws himself backward a bit further. The anxiety the oozed off him was almost tangible. He is not okay with this. Any of this. He's actually the opposite of okay. The effects of whatever he ate earlier seemed to be revolting against his sudden energetic mood swing. Which would have likely been enjoyable had it been a good mood swing.

Am I okay? He sputtered out like a dying car. What kind of question was that? The skull had looked at him (he was pretty damn positive of it now), he was not totally stable in general (not that the stranger knew that, or maybe they did), and now this damn bone collector was trying to get close. No! He finally shouted wide-eyed and obviously frenzied by all of this.

Honestly, he should have totally expected this reaction — but it'd slipped his mind, somehow. Or maybe he's just gotten so used to living with the fact that he's a murderer that he forgets some people still care about those things. Still — Okay, look — I know what it seems like, but — He stops and swallows hard, gaze averting from the stranger. Fuck.
I'm not going to hurt you — I don't even want to be here, and — A crushing throb in his head cuts him off, and he sucks in a sharp breath. The barest hint of a whine accompanies the slow exhale as the throb fades to a dull ache. He moves without warning to kick the skull away, still unable to look at the stranger. There, it's gone. He says, quiet and tired — it's gone, and he's still a murderer.

The stranger's words didn't even make sense to Athris. He could practically feel the words shooting in one ear and out the other. The skull, the skull, the sKULL — his brain frantically screamed. It was the proof that this male would hurt him. No matter what words were slipped between his ears. His attention was reborn when the ashy, tattered male kicked away the skull. Even if it wasn't looking at him now, the image had been burned into his skull. The smell of fresh bile was forgotten about, the stranger was forgotten about. If Athris awoke tomorrow and did not remember all the little details he was guaranteed to remember the skull that had stared at him with piercing void eyes.

Th-that doesn't change anything! It was still in the vicinity and the damage had already been done. Granted there was no knowing the weight of his words that might be thrust upon the stranger. Why? What did they even do? He wheezed out as he backed himself up against a tree, stomach clenching with the temptation to release his own stomach contents.

The words almost feel like being physically struck — no, he'd have preferred that. He swallows hard, and considers turning away; it's obvious this interaction is lost. But then he registers the boy's question, and something bitter rises in his throat. He raped my mother, The words taste rancid sliding off his tongue. He almost chokes on them, but some cold energy drives more from him, some strange manic need to spill the vile truths he's lived with these last months. And my sister. He tried to kill me — The words catch in his throat and he swallows hard. For a few seconds it feels as if the air is pressing in around him, the world shifting and tilting.
He was my brother, He says after a long moment, chest tight. Runion.

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: TW for incest and rape mention.

The world was cruel and impossibly unusual. There was no way in hell and yet the words seemed to punch him in the gut. The contents of his stomach were quickly disposed into the space in front of him. Whatever he had digested before arriving here must have been wilder than he had originally though. He must have been hallucinating, in a nightmare or simply mishearing everything.

No no nononono. He finally spoke as his body seemed to finish torturing him. No. Athris tried to sound firmer but it seemed to be an impossible task. His voice wavered and shook as he squeezed his eyes shut. This isn't real, it isn't. It can't be.

What were the odds two strangers shared a similar horrible history? Athris was willing to bet that the odds were pretty damn low. At least he was hoping it was. How many incestuous raping monsters were there out there? Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? He asked in a hoarse whisper, terrified of the answer that would follow.

The stranger is suddenly vomiting, and something lurches hard in his chest. He sucks in a shaking breath, guilt-ridden until — no no nononono, and inexplicably the blood in his veins turns to ice and his throat feels tight and this isn't real and he doesn't know why this boy suddenly seems familiar and it can't be and who are you and why are you doing this to me? Why why why why why why —
Alarian, His lips move but they feel numb, he feels numb. Why is he so still? Why is everything so still but it feels like screaming, like falling, like he needs to be anywhere but here right now but his legs won't move he won't move he can't move he can't Who are you?

He felt sick to his very core, he had to leave. Yet his limbs felt heavy and weighted him down to the spot.

Alarian.

He wanted to vomit again but nothing would come out of his stomach. Athris. He answered in a broken whisper. His green eyes focused on the pile of bile that rested just in front of him as if he might read some answer from it. The skull had looked at him. It had bore into his soul just to remind him. Even after death Athris would be faced with the burden of an awful father. He was my father.

"I am his son. His filthy, lowly, cursed son."