April 27, 2020, 11:53 AM
quiet.
quiet quiet quiet
she is quiet. absent the need or want or ability — it doesn't really matter to scarab — to fill the air with senseless useless annoying chatter. which was good because his loss of the ability to form speak whimper words ignites a furious envy in him; sin reincarnated. a wild beast in the cage of his ribs trying straining to break bust claw its way free. ugly. monstrous. like the dread father. the dread father that only chuckles in his deep cavernous rumble and speaks in whispers that cause the hairs on scarab's nape to stand on end, that sound like the endless screaming of trapped tormented horrified souls.
she doesn't pull away as he draws nearer, doesn't snap at him. the gesture is harmless enough ...but he doesn't know it any more than he doesn't know she won't attack. when her turn comes to sniff him, he holds still as she did. finding this exchange so much more comfortable than the previous one(s). but but but —
scarab, once so used to communicating vocally and once used to company, is no longer sure how to communicate. should he invite her in? into his grotto? his safe haven? should he share the small cache of food he's been stock piling? company that doesn't annoy him, doesn't grate on his frayed and razor edged nerves is ...rare these uncertain days.
he doesn't know what she's looking for — if she is just passing thru. regardless, he doesn't have to be a little feral lostboy who flies at every passerby with rapid eyes and flashing teeth. after a moment of uncertainty, shown in the hesitant draw of his paw and flick of his tail minutely against his hocks he gestures with his muzzle to the mouth of the grotto, eyes communicating questions unspoken:
shelter? hungry?
quiet quiet quiet
she is quiet. absent the need or want or ability — it doesn't really matter to scarab — to fill the air with senseless useless annoying chatter. which was good because his loss of the ability to form speak whimper words ignites a furious envy in him; sin reincarnated. a wild beast in the cage of his ribs trying straining to break bust claw its way free. ugly. monstrous. like the dread father. the dread father that only chuckles in his deep cavernous rumble and speaks in whispers that cause the hairs on scarab's nape to stand on end, that sound like the endless screaming of trapped tormented horrified souls.
she doesn't pull away as he draws nearer, doesn't snap at him. the gesture is harmless enough ...but he doesn't know it any more than he doesn't know she won't attack. when her turn comes to sniff him, he holds still as she did. finding this exchange so much more comfortable than the previous one(s). but but but —
scarab, once so used to communicating vocally and once used to company, is no longer sure how to communicate. should he invite her in? into his grotto? his safe haven? should he share the small cache of food he's been stock piling? company that doesn't annoy him, doesn't grate on his frayed and razor edged nerves is ...rare these uncertain days.
he doesn't know what she's looking for — if she is just passing thru. regardless, he doesn't have to be a little feral lostboy who flies at every passerby with rapid eyes and flashing teeth. after a moment of uncertainty, shown in the hesitant draw of his paw and flick of his tail minutely against his hocks he gestures with his muzzle to the mouth of the grotto, eyes communicating questions unspoken:
shelter? hungry?
“it's a quality of the gods
to see a creature with its back broken
and be unmoved —”
to see a creature with its back broken
and be unmoved —”
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Messages In This Thread
thinking of my hometown - by Nukilik - April 26, 2020, 04:09 PM
RE: thinking of my hometown - by Scarab - April 26, 2020, 05:11 PM
RE: thinking of my hometown - by Nukilik - April 26, 2020, 05:26 PM
RE: thinking of my hometown - by Scarab - April 26, 2020, 05:47 PM
RE: thinking of my hometown - by Nukilik - April 26, 2020, 06:08 PM
RE: thinking of my hometown - by Scarab - April 27, 2020, 11:53 AM