maybe greatwater wolves? backdated 4/19
the goufa was making it more known how separate they were becoming, spindling threads coming undone, a cold strip of ground growing between them when they would sleep, her hot flashes of palpable frustration and anger (with no stalker to project onto) was projectably flung in every which way instead.
her head spun in a blinded dervish, only standing still when the metal taste on her lips brought her back to everything physical.
she smelled others here. @Polar would tell her to not be so unresponsible with her life. what life did she have, a pantomime commander? she trudged on in defiance of every natural alarm in her anatomy.
April 24, 2024, 11:21 PM
his doppelganger walks towards the lake.
she is cast in darker shades, yet she bears the same severe build, her tail shorn to a few brutal inches.
kaxwaan recognises the old, base magic of an encounter with one's lookalike. and faced with the perverse echo of such folklore, he knows it must be destroyed.
he turns the full lighthouse lens of his hateful gaze onto her, his hackles rippling in warning.
she is cast in darker shades, yet she bears the same severe build, her tail shorn to a few brutal inches.
kaxwaan recognises the old, base magic of an encounter with one's lookalike. and faced with the perverse echo of such folklore, he knows it must be destroyed.
he turns the full lighthouse lens of his hateful gaze onto her, his hackles rippling in warning.
April 28, 2024, 12:34 PM
this brumal gargoyle swoops down from his rest; blunted at all conceivable corners.
he wishes to warn her, a perhaps hurt. but she was angry. illogical and very, very angry, and fastened by warriors of the mind.
no teeth against her would prosper, again, she promised herself, and wields her body as if reenacting odysseus and polyphemus' darkest moments.
he wishes to warn her, a perhaps hurt. but she was angry. illogical and very, very angry, and fastened by warriors of the mind.
no teeth against her would prosper, again, she promised herself, and wields her body as if reenacting odysseus and polyphemus' darkest moments.
April 28, 2024, 06:19 PM
Minor pp. Please let me know if this is fine -- if not, I'll edit!
Usually it is he who grasps for the first blow, but this time he does not have to wait, and he is glad for her furious initiative.
One oily eye appraises her with new interest until her jaws close over his own, and pain lances through his skull like iron bolts. The iceman bellows. Drops of blood stand out vibrant against his pale face.
His peeled lips reveal sclerotic gums and a row of teeth, each one of them a terrible awl. He pushes back with his hindquarters, his face burrowing into the softer skin at her collarbone.
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