Qeya River do you don't you want me to love you?

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Implied sexual violence

In life, she had been beautiful. A dark coat, a shimmering mocha in the sun. Not that anyone could tell, now, in its current bedraggled state. Just a still, slight form, waterlogged and broken.

The world had done her violence—or at least, a creature born of the world. Funny, that. . .how good and evil bloom from the same source. But perhaps it's foolish to think in terms of good and evil at all; rather, the correct way is to perceive the world in myriad shades of gray.

Even the most innocent of silvers have a touch of darkness in them, just as the charcoals hold the barest bit of light.

Her scent, and any others associated with her, was gone, washed away by the river. Even the air was too cold for her to rot. Instead, she lie frozen in the shallows, staring sightlessly ahead. The ebb of blood between her hindquarters had ceased, as had the crimson tide from her mangled throat.

The beast who'd slain this beauty hadn't even the decency to break her neck, give her a quick demise. She'd struggled, suffered. . .succumbed.

To all who knew her, she had a name, but no one knew her here. She was just one of many travelers, seeking a home for winter. She'd fallen into the wrong embrace, the wrong set of jaws. She hadn't even been naive, just trusting. Not foolish, just kind.

Now her home was here, on the banks of the Qeya River. Soon, it would be within the belly of a scavenging creature.

Written by Miryam

Something smells funny... did you — His eyes go wide, words cutting off abruptly as he catches sight of a dark lump along the riverside. He sucks in a breath, though the sound is lost under the rush of the river, and takes off without another word, leaving @Phillip in the dust. There's something exhilarating about his sudden flight, something satisfying about the speed with which he finds himself at his destination, though he has no time to linger on the feelings. The scent of death is in the air, and the ragged mass of fur near the water looks disturbingly wolf-like from here.
His heart stays in his throat until he comes skidding to a halt a few feet from the corpse, and the first thing he registers is that it is not Helios. His shoulders sag a little in relief, though he finds himself fighting the urge to gag at the smell. It's hardly any different from the smell of days-old prey in a cache, but that's what makes it so disgusting. His stomach rumbles slightly and he turns away abruptly, retching as hunger gnaws at him and begs him to creep a little closer. The worst part is, he's slightly tempted.

Did I what? Phillip, who had been following from behind, stopped next to Zephyr only to have him burst into a sudden sprint. H-hey! He took a step forward, but froze when he smelled something metallic and rotting. Though unpleasant, it wasn't an unfamiliar stench and yet it frightened him. It was just too much. It seemed to wrap around him, close him in. Wait for m-me!

He runs to the silver boy's side, coming to an abrupt halt as soon as he spots what lies in the shallows. Zeph? He doesn't want to believe what he's seeing, but those shapes and curves were all too familiar. This was a wolf, frozen and still. He whips his head towards Zephyr, then back at the deceased. Oh god... w-what happened? Are they ok? Oh Zephyr, I... I think I'm gonna be- Phillip's eyes begin to flutter and he abruptly stumbles to the ground

He scarcely notices his friend's arrival, only registering about half of the words thrown at him. Zeph, he muses silently as he pukes, feeling a strange, detached sort of calm wash over him, he gave me a nickname. He coughs as the gagging subsides, fighting the urge to start again when he notices the foul taste of bile lingering in his mouth, and casts a sideways glance to where Phillip's voice had come from — just in time to watch him crash to the ground.
Phillip! He turns toward him and takes a few steps, immediately feeling sick again. He's dead too, he thinks, panic filling him, and bile rises up his throat again. He just died, just like that, and I'm probably next. He almost vomits again, until he realizes he's looming over the other boy now. A-are you dead? The words slip from him thoughtlessly, and he immediately feels stupid, knowing the question is pointless and dumb. He just can't think of anything else to say.

He lays completely still for a moment, much too ill and scared to look at the body again. Death was not a concept that he was knowledgeable of. He was somewhat aware of it, what predatory creature wouldn't be? But that was different, it was just something you cast aside in order to survive. But this sort of death, the death of his kind, was otherworldly and wrong, thus he refused to believe it.

He was pulled away from his daze when Zephyr cried out to him. Phillip blinked and slowly pulled himself up. N-no it's ok. I'm—Twig?! Twig! As the boys were freaking out, the little owl had swooped down from the sky. Now she picked at the body without a care in the world.

Leave them alone! Phillip rushed towards the water, sending the owl up in a screeching fury. He slowly looked down at the wolf, who practically lay on his paws. AAAAAAA!! He quickly retreated back to Zephyr and began to shake furiously. W-w-what's wrong with h-her? Please tell me she isn't dead.

He's not sure whether he's more relieved or embarrassed when Phillip responds — clearly not dead — but, thankfully, he doesn't get much time to ponder it. He's almost grateful when the boy starts to yell about twigs, though it takes a moment to connect the dots as he takes a few quick steps back to avoid a collision with the other. His eyes are wide as he watches in silence, but he thinks he knows what's going on by the time Phillip returns to him. Twig must be the bird, he realizes — and Phillip must not know what death is.
She's never going to get up. She's dead. Probably got murdered or something, His gaze is solemn as he addresses the boy. Realizing that might be a little too blunt, he adds: Don't worry, I won't let anyone murder us. Part of him wants to try to comfort Phillip more, but a bigger part is curious about the manner of the woman's death, so he moves toward the body after a moment. He sniffs cautiously as he nears the corpse again, relieved when his stomach stays silent throughout the inspection. Her neck looks gross, like someone chewed on it.

He says exactly what Phillip hoped he wouldn't say. No, she can't be... But she is, no amount of denial would change that. She was a corpse, frozen and left to rot like some foul meal.

What could do such a thing? Phillip would rather not think of the possibilities, but Zephyr's promise prevented him from dropping the thought. Murder, how could that be? There was nothing he knew of that was large enough to take down a wolf. But he refused to believe someone could do something so horrid to their own kind, so he couldn't pin the blame on anything but some unknown beast.

His eyes widened when the other boy stepped closer to the body. What are you doing? Don't touch her, it might be dangerous! It was too late. Zephyr was already examining the wounds on her body. But who could've done such a thing? And why? It's so horrible.

Ashamed as he is of his own moment of weakness, he can't find much sympathy for Phillip's dramatics. Still, he tries not to sound annoyed; he does feel some measure of protectiveness over the other boy. I've seen it before, Too casual, before he remembers where he'd seen it before. He swallows and steps away, tone suddenly going flat. She's not dangerous. Not anymore. We should leave, though. Whatever killed her might come back.

You have? he asks, disbelieving. This should be a rare oddity, no, this shouldn't happen at all! And Zephyr spoke like it was an everyday occurrence, something that shouldn't be concerning. Phillip didn't know what to make of it anymore.

He was joyed by the suggestion, even more so when Zephyr alluded to the culprit's return. He shook his head quickly and already started backing away from the river. Y-yeah. You're right.

archive with your post? <3

He ignores Phillip's disbelief and gestures for him to follow, turning away from the body without a second glance. Do you think your bird would eat us if we died? He asks when Phillip presumably catches up to him. Anticipating a horrified reaction, he casts a slightly mischievous glance at the boy. He doesn't really want to scare him or anything, but he needs something to cheer him up after staring at that corpse, and he can't help finding some amusement in how high strung his soft-hearted companion can be.

Phillip lingered for a brief moment, watched his friend walk away, turned towards the body, felt a bit of bile burn his throat. He quickly jogged to Zephyr's side, just in time to hear his jest.

What? he gasped. Of course she wouldn't! Would she? Well.. W-we're not going to die, so it doesn't matter anyways. And he'd keep trying to convince himself of that as they walked.