October 17, 2024, 11:31 AM
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The anthill.
Niño doesn’t need to see inside to know it’s a luxurious place.
Get’s enough of the downwind balms where pretty, well-groomed rich folk come and go.
This in contrast to a bunch a addicts living next door on a budget plan.
Only way they’re gonna make it is business or thieving.
Chump change, for now.
No thanks to los jefes.
@Soto, lying half-dead.
@Juárez, as good as.
Niño wasn’t as dumb as he looked.
Too busy chasing tail, both of em.
Put coño before the green an look where they wound up.
@Sangre, gettin to his own head.
Because she had the hunger.
But he wasn’t gonna end up like them.
Niño was in the lowlands for a reason.
If you build it, they will come.
So maybe his girl was inspiring a little insubordination.
Los jefes still owned him.
And like a loyal dog he pressed himself low to the brushy dunes, searching for signs of Juárez.
Resentment curdling in his throat.
October 17, 2024, 11:54 AM
The snakeskin boy, timid as he was, had grown more comfortable in the cenote. He did not want to be confined to the dark space he shared with his mother and siblings—at least not all the time. They were still small, but growing fast, and they were nothing if not inexperienced with their own bodies. He'd taken a couple kicks to the muzzle as his siblings shifted and squirmed in the night.
He'd made a habit of going off to play by himself in the mornings, before the rest would wake up. Today, the wide-eared boy followed a beetle, the brilliant green of its back drew his eye. He wanted just to watch it, and babbled something incoherent, trying to convince it to sit still, but the beetle alas, could not speak his tongue, and if it could it was ignoring him. It flew short distances, and Nokht began to enjoy the chase. He did not take into mind how far it would lead him, nor how dangerous the lowlands had been in the past months, nobody spoke to the youngest about such dire topics, there was a desire for them to remain untainted, safe and relaxed.
But it left him ignorant all the same. He wiggled himself through a hole just his size in pursuit of his plaything, and stepped outside. The beetle's iridescent shell shone brighter than before, and for a moment the curious pup just sat and watched, closed off to his surroundings.
So many things in this world were so wonderful.
He'd made a habit of going off to play by himself in the mornings, before the rest would wake up. Today, the wide-eared boy followed a beetle, the brilliant green of its back drew his eye. He wanted just to watch it, and babbled something incoherent, trying to convince it to sit still, but the beetle alas, could not speak his tongue, and if it could it was ignoring him. It flew short distances, and Nokht began to enjoy the chase. He did not take into mind how far it would lead him, nor how dangerous the lowlands had been in the past months, nobody spoke to the youngest about such dire topics, there was a desire for them to remain untainted, safe and relaxed.
But it left him ignorant all the same. He wiggled himself through a hole just his size in pursuit of his plaything, and stepped outside. The beetle's iridescent shell shone brighter than before, and for a moment the curious pup just sat and watched, closed off to his surroundings.
So many things in this world were so wonderful.
October 17, 2024, 01:40 PM
And terrible.
Like the first thought in Niño’s mind:
snap that little whelp’s neck.
Take another eye, or two, or a leg.
Splatter their sands with chunks of flesh and vital organs.
He does another visual sweep.
Cold eying the perimeters.
Looking for sicarios.
An excess of caution.
Over-due diligence, since Soto got himself locked up.
Thing about Niño, he wasn’t interested in undue violence.
Bad for business.
Hound was an honorable capitalist.
Business is number one.
But Juárez had disappeared into the ether one night.
He was willing to bet the ants had him.
Shiners’ too busy thumbing their gold to care about a missing kid.
But it wouldn’t last long, he knew.
Place was heavily guarded
Only time to strike.
Someone has to pay the price.
Sad thing is, it’s always the innocents.
No hesitation from the hound, he vaults from the flat face of the dune, tearing down the embankments, forceful strides spitting up dust.
A long shadow casts out in front of him, sheathing the child like a hawk over a mouse.
His mouth cracks wide the long tunnel to his belly, piercing teeth readied for flesh.
Anticipation of blood blanching the mind.
Like the first thought in Niño’s mind:
snap that little whelp’s neck.
Take another eye, or two, or a leg.
Splatter their sands with chunks of flesh and vital organs.
He does another visual sweep.
Cold eying the perimeters.
Looking for sicarios.
An excess of caution.
Over-due diligence, since Soto got himself locked up.
Thing about Niño, he wasn’t interested in undue violence.
Bad for business.
Hound was an honorable capitalist.
Business is number one.
But Juárez had disappeared into the ether one night.
He was willing to bet the ants had him.
Shiners’ too busy thumbing their gold to care about a missing kid.
But it wouldn’t last long, he knew.
Place was heavily guarded
Only time to strike.
Someone has to pay the price.
Sad thing is, it’s always the innocents.
No hesitation from the hound, he vaults from the flat face of the dune, tearing down the embankments, forceful strides spitting up dust.
A long shadow casts out in front of him, sheathing the child like a hawk over a mouse.
His mouth cracks wide the long tunnel to his belly, piercing teeth readied for flesh.
Anticipation of blood blanching the mind.
The boy has mere seconds for his senses to relay what was happening.
First, there is the sudden noise of racing steps, louder and louder, the most he gets is a brief glance at a twisting, teeth-bared shadow before something inconceivable filled his senses.
Pain, right in his gut.
It wasn't anything like the feeling of bruises, which was all he knew.
The wind is knocked easily out of his body, and with it comes a strangled cry. There is a moment before his brain even registers that it must fight.
Suddenly, there is something new to him. Fear, the sort that tears down everything you once knew, the kind that sears through mind body and soul. The kind of fear only understood when death tries to call your name.
Its an inevitable fact of life, fear, but he would learn many lessons all too early.
First, there is the sudden noise of racing steps, louder and louder, the most he gets is a brief glance at a twisting, teeth-bared shadow before something inconceivable filled his senses.
Pain, right in his gut.
It wasn't anything like the feeling of bruises, which was all he knew.
The wind is knocked easily out of his body, and with it comes a strangled cry. There is a moment before his brain even registers that it must fight.
Suddenly, there is something new to him. Fear, the sort that tears down everything you once knew, the kind that sears through mind body and soul. The kind of fear only understood when death tries to call your name.
Its an inevitable fact of life, fear, but he would learn many lessons all too early.
October 17, 2024, 03:54 PM
Having something between his teeth, it alleviates the anger.
Feels good, the squirming.
Sometimes they fight.
This one’s too small.
Most he can do is cry out.
But by then it’s already too late.
He’s in the clutches of his captor, covering leagues of flinty land.
The cartel’s turn, to take a prisoner.
They didn’t have the numbers.
But they did have leverage.
If they started running, they’d never stop.
They’d be pushed off the map.
Niño refused.
His pounding grunts sounded over the taut belly of the boy as he fell in heavy step with the whipping wind.
Feels good, the squirming.
Sometimes they fight.
This one’s too small.
Most he can do is cry out.
But by then it’s already too late.
He’s in the clutches of his captor, covering leagues of flinty land.
The cartel’s turn, to take a prisoner.
They didn’t have the numbers.
But they did have leverage.
If they started running, they’d never stop.
They’d be pushed off the map.
Niño refused.
His pounding grunts sounded over the taut belly of the boy as he fell in heavy step with the whipping wind.
October 17, 2024, 04:30 PM
Nokht watches as the ground passes by, far faster than his own limbs could ever take him.
They cover leagues of ground and it feels like flight. The grip around his body is constricting and uncomfortable. Each time he wriggled, all it took was a squeeze to deter him; sharp, experienced teeth would grind against fragile skin. There was little he could do but whine and hope it was just a big game.
He tried to peek at the monster as they ran, once the fight was all but strangled out of him.
They cover leagues of ground and it feels like flight. The grip around his body is constricting and uncomfortable. Each time he wriggled, all it took was a squeeze to deter him; sharp, experienced teeth would grind against fragile skin. There was little he could do but whine and hope it was just a big game.
He tried to peek at the monster as they ran, once the fight was all but strangled out of him.
October 18, 2024, 10:38 AM
many hours later, khusobek would discover the invasion and the lost boy.
another attack. pharaoh had sent no soldiers.
khusobek controlled his rage and sent an order up for @Meseba.
eset would punish him another time. for now, jodai buckled the armor of warfare to proverbial body and ordered the ironman to meet him.
another attack. pharaoh had sent no soldiers.
khusobek controlled his rage and sent an order up for @Meseba.
eset would punish him another time. for now, jodai buckled the armor of warfare to proverbial body and ordered the ironman to meet him.
October 18, 2024, 12:50 PM
She counted the heads that were with the fellahin. That was about as close as she ever got to them—but… one was missing. Hm. So began her search.
It took too long to end. And when it did, it was too late. Medusa was torn between the strange compulsion—instinct—to go after them, and the fear of what it might mean if she did.
Medusa was a woman. She could cling to that. Fuck. She looked to Khusobek. She said,
To consider if things would change if the count changed to 2.
It took too long to end. And when it did, it was too late. Medusa was torn between the strange compulsion—instinct—to go after them, and the fear of what it might mean if she did.
Medusa was a woman. She could cling to that. Fuck. She looked to Khusobek. She said,
the Gods bless your journey,and she was gone, to look again after the rest.
To consider if things would change if the count changed to 2.
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