Siqsa lifted a heavy paw and placed it heartily on the breast of the bird, ignoring the pecking and sqweaking sqwacking it was doing, his eyes flittering between nonchalant and emotionless.
He pressed down, shifting the slightest bit of his weight onto the frantic bird. It's motions sped fanatically, plumage flared and feathers beginning to flutter around him and land in the crackled grass they were on.
Another press down, and it stopped moving so intensely as he tilted forward a bit. It struggled to breathe, and he could feel the pressure he cratered on it's breastbone.
An inch more forward, and that very same breastbone snapped, and beady eyes looked up at him as he involentarily stared down at it. It was a pretty bird, nice and whiting while the autumn began to colden the world around them. It twitched as it's lungs had been punctured, and a dribble of red rose between the nasal orafices of the bird and out of the place where the chirps and sqwacks began. They dripped, and stained the sea of dead grass with a lovely red.
Taking his paw off of the still twitching bird, he watched it feebly try to stand before some gurgling noise inside forced it back fown in it's own garnet filth. Shaking his head, he spoke to the dying avian, his blooming baritones trying to unravel what confusion he had in him.
"Not everything is how it is meant to be. You weren't accepted, you have no family which cares about you, and your pack grows wary of what you really are. " But was he really speaking to the bird?
Or to himself?
Molten irises watched the bird as it fought so hard to align itself, but the now red-dappled thing resigned to lie, and wait for the darkness to come.
Eventually, the bird took it's final agonized breath with wet heave, and moved, no more.
He needn't bend down to grab the bird, or rather he chose not to stretch further; his nares had picked up a new scent. A low-hung head of dark navy blue-ish black turned to find another dark wolf weaving with precision through the plains.
And directly for him.
Was it one of the remaining Nightmares? No; it couldn't have been. They had all perished in Slade's wrath.
So then who was it?
He readied himself, bulky body swaying uncaringly as he dug dark nails through the crisp flesh then soft loam of the world.
And he waited.
He pressed down, shifting the slightest bit of his weight onto the frantic bird. It's motions sped fanatically, plumage flared and feathers beginning to flutter around him and land in the crackled grass they were on.
Another press down, and it stopped moving so intensely as he tilted forward a bit. It struggled to breathe, and he could feel the pressure he cratered on it's breastbone.
An inch more forward, and that very same breastbone snapped, and beady eyes looked up at him as he involentarily stared down at it. It was a pretty bird, nice and whiting while the autumn began to colden the world around them. It twitched as it's lungs had been punctured, and a dribble of red rose between the nasal orafices of the bird and out of the place where the chirps and sqwacks began. They dripped, and stained the sea of dead grass with a lovely red.
Taking his paw off of the still twitching bird, he watched it feebly try to stand before some gurgling noise inside forced it back fown in it's own garnet filth. Shaking his head, he spoke to the dying avian, his blooming baritones trying to unravel what confusion he had in him.
"Not everything is how it is meant to be. You weren't accepted, you have no family which cares about you, and your pack grows wary of what you really are. " But was he really speaking to the bird?
Or to himself?
Molten irises watched the bird as it fought so hard to align itself, but the now red-dappled thing resigned to lie, and wait for the darkness to come.
Eventually, the bird took it's final agonized breath with wet heave, and moved, no more.
He needn't bend down to grab the bird, or rather he chose not to stretch further; his nares had picked up a new scent. A low-hung head of dark navy blue-ish black turned to find another dark wolf weaving with precision through the plains.
And directly for him.
Was it one of the remaining Nightmares? No; it couldn't have been. They had all perished in Slade's wrath.
So then who was it?
He readied himself, bulky body swaying uncaringly as he dug dark nails through the crisp flesh then soft loam of the world.
And he waited.
Be careful, you don't want this.
Carefree, but there's a dark side that haunts this.
![[Image: giphy.gif]](https://media.giphy.com/media/1hB0vF8mdvuZe2R6x9/giphy.gif)
Want to roll with me? Better know your place-
Because if you look around,
you'll see you've lost your way.
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Messages In This Thread
There's a beat that's in my heart, and it's keeping me alive. - by Siqsa - October 10, 2018, 09:05 AM
RE: There's a beat that's in my heart, and it's keeping me alive. - by Sanguinus - October 13, 2018, 11:48 AM
RE: There's a beat that's in my heart, and it's keeping me alive. - by Siqsa - October 13, 2018, 12:47 PM