she'd been lucky.
the carrion was a choice find -- deserted by a larger predator earlier in the day, not yet spoiled. the scent lingered but it was stale enough that the sighthound did not fear its return.
the sight of her limping to the creature was enough to dispell the majority of vultures and kites that had claimed their share -- her fangs enough to frighten away the rest.
alkmini had eaten worse and would likely eat worse again.
there was not a hint of disgust, only a satisfied rumble as she stripped stringy meat from the carcass. winter had been hard and any means of conserving energy was a win the she-dog's book.
April 28, 2024, 10:52 AM
the smell of sour-stale meat put a dour on his mood.
the man was inspecting a stricken tree, its charred remains repelled any green life in its radial area, an isolated dull reality amid a growing forest.
it had once lit, shuddered with electric power, a reminder of the divine above—
he turned away once he couldn't find the right word to complete his thoughts, thinking he would pass his time inspecting the natural activity of the area when he could.
an half an hour of wandering or so later, he come across a cross between something feral and domesticated, entirely mongrel, with the shedding curves that told of a womb who was missing a hummingbird heartbeat.
she was albescent and content and unassuming; she reminded him of his all-time lows, flocking with carrion-scavengers alike; so he decided not to startle this one, and chuffed lightly a distance a way.
the wraith's head lifted at the sound, pale tongue rasping along her grime-stained chops as she assessed him.
her first thought: he was storm.
alkmini watched the roiling greys as they billowed and undulated over him -- other or trick of the light, she did not care. stone, shadow, murk, depth, smoke.
the second: that they were opposing sides that belonged to the same coin. twins in the violence that branded their flesh.
a blink when she realized that she did not know how long she'd watched. a corresponding straightening.
if he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd not have alerted the pale hart to his presence. and likely -- would've rushed her by now.
even so, there was premeditated stillness that did not leave her as she dipped her head in inclination.
not quite doe, but stag. waiting -- ready for the flee. or for the need to lower its antlers and charge.
another shift, an invitation. if he was hungry, the dog would not turn him away.
her first thought: he was storm.
alkmini watched the roiling greys as they billowed and undulated over him -- other or trick of the light, she did not care. stone, shadow, murk, depth, smoke.
the second: that they were opposing sides that belonged to the same coin. twins in the violence that branded their flesh.
a blink when she realized that she did not know how long she'd watched. a corresponding straightening.
if he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd not have alerted the pale hart to his presence. and likely -- would've rushed her by now.
even so, there was premeditated stillness that did not leave her as she dipped her head in inclination.
not quite doe, but stag. waiting -- ready for the flee. or for the need to lower its antlers and charge.
another shift, an invitation. if he was hungry, the dog would not turn him away.
May 30, 2024, 08:58 AM
archiving as she's inactive!
he seemed to be a lightning rod for all the misfits in the world, but he wasn't some altruistic philanthropist who necessarily wanted to hold a cue card cross-legged on a steve wilkos stage and peel them back to their central fibrous core.
the way she appraised his dreadnought appearance, the satyr couldn't help but reference the pilfering eye of one too many an underfed rogue.
he turns away.
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