Wheeling Gull Isle And he said to them, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven."
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Ooc — Neoma
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Judah.

He stirred a wicked beast in his home. He saw the fires of the devil's eye burn through the grounds. His paws, singed, and his eyes- cast ablaze and blinded by embers. Saran paced the edges of the altar. And
God would smite the sin of the Devil by severing his hand.

"Be still, Devil! Be still, Devil!" Call upon your demon and rogues. Call upon yourself! Be a light long burned out by your whimpered fumes. Foul beast. Foul creature. Pity on you, Devil. God sees you. He sees your skin. He sees your lies. What a waste of beauty. You will burn in your own trenches, Devil. God commands it. "You will breathe no mercy, you hell-damned beast. Do you see the lands of which your blood lies stagnant, and your limbs muck and sea scum?" teared apart until only a beast akin to yourself will recognize your hands. Burn until you are baptized, drowned in your tears for repentance.
I am your savior.
You are my disciple.

Curse the devil! It will learn. He felt the tides a monstrous roar. Judah's feet commanded beyond him, and he saw his family in soul's child soar towards the sea. Mercy, God. Mercy. Devil, be still! Devil, be still!

He took after Judah, and the God's hand took to the meeting of ocean and sand. Prints, he followed forward, until they disappeared into the waves.
Nothing.
Judah.

He searched the oceans top with his vision.
Nothing.
Judah.
He prayed.
Nothing.

Judah.
On the shore, fur washed to his feet.
Nothing.



Judah.


On the shore, a black paw, torn from a body and brought to the beach.
The earth gave back something to remember him by.

Judah.


Gods hand bellowed. @Caracal
ooc prompt given.
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Ooc — Kat
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#2
He hadn’t eaten or slept in days. He’d only moped and wept. By the time Caracal emerged on the mainland, his legs shook and he found he couldn’t move. He slumped on the sands, his single working eye looking keenly left to right for any sign of Judah. His heart sank when he saw no trace of him, not even paw prints in the sand.

Somewhere behind him, the traces for which he fruitlessly searched washed up on Wheeling Gull’s shore. They bumped gently at the feet of a man Caracal didn’t know was there until a wretched cry rose in the air. He jerked at the sound, saltwater still dripping from his vulpine snout as he gazed across the water.

He couldn’t see much from here, though there was no mistaking the alarm in Nakano’s voice. Some fatherly instinct knew exactly what it meant. Muttering “no” under his breath on repeat, Caracal pushed back into the surf and began to swim back toward the island.

When he came within fifty yards of shore, a black fin cut across the water just behind him. Caracal didn’t notice. He paddled frantically, trying to ignore the exhaustion in his limbs, desperate to get home despite what he feared he would find there. What but the worst possible news would prompt Nakano to howl like that?

With twenty yards to go, Caracal’s sighted eye spotted the small object at Nakono’s feet. He recognized it immediately. Breathtakingly excruciating agony exploded in his chest as his body went limp with shock. Gravity—or maybe something else entirely, maybe Satan himself—dragged him downward, his head vanishing beneath the choppy water with one last cry of Judah’s name.
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In the distance, there was a figure of a man. A man who was chased by Death and the door of God.

With a paw pushed to his chest, the holy man fell downwards towards his chest, front legs weakened and his voice taller than his figure large. "Look to me, Caracal!" he commanded, his voice a steady calm that did not dare speak of the devil behind him. Before the expression of grief could strike him in a way that ripped his soul from the fathers body, he called again- commanding. Demanding. "Swim, Caracal! SWIM!" God, have mercy.
God, have mercy.

Be merciful, God.

Cast the devil to the waters. Bring his man in soul beside him, and beside the last touch of his son.

And then he went under.
Saran's eyes came to a terrible close, his head in a dreadful shake as he prayed and broke to the only door he could. His voice, it quaked. "Bring him to me, God. Bring him to me. Mercy to your children. Blessings to your children. Bring him to me, God.
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He actually screamed his son’s name one more time after he disappeared underwater, though of course no sound came out. Only a stream of bubbles floated from Caracal’s lips as he sank, his will to live expiring with the last of his oxygen.

“Fuck you, you failure!”

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it—the blackfish lurking nearby was the one who liked to play with its food. It surged up beneath Caracal right as he began to twitch. Only seconds away from breathing in the seawater that would finally destroy him, he found himself airborne by way of bitchslap.

Caracal reflexively gulped in a breath of said air as he went sailing upward, colliding headfirst with a seagull winging past the strange scene. He lost consciousness and the seagull died on impact, both limp bodies tumbling straight toward Nakano below.
I archive threads if my partner goes inactive and/or there are no new replies for several weeks. I'm more than happy to continue an archived thread if you're interested. Just revive it (via maintenance) and tag me in your next reply. :)
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#5

When Caracal's figure came crashing down to the sands, it was him who caught him. Him who took the man to the brush when his back and legs ached from impact. Him who brought him food in his quiet unconsciousness. Meal after meal. Him who bowed over his body and prayed that if he should pass, it would be in a dream so sweet he would believe his body was still awake.

When the future would come, he would wish he had been given the chance to know him better. To see him as the family his spirit did.