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gravemakers.
Posted 05-03-2018, 11:45 PM |
Vaerouize
Rogue
Female, 1.25
Mesomorph
30 in, 105 lbs
5 ep
© Lor
your illness fills this empty room
a portrait of your lover softly drowning in the warm waters of june
a perfect sunday portrait of my mother sending signals through the drum
a portrait of my sadness finding shelter in the safety of my home


running, running, running...she can't stop. the girl needs to get away before the unmentionables catch up to her, and they move so fast. so fast. her lungs collapse against frail ribs, seizing against her wishes, she has pushed herself too hard, too far, and she has climbed so high the oxygen is weaker than she's ever experienced. breathing is all but impossible. she manages to wheeze, gasping for precious air. her brain pounds in her skull, the pressure overwhelming her, and she falls to the floor beneath the weight of it all. stalks of wheat rustle in protest as her body carves out a shape for her grave on her way down. a midnight funeral - beneath a pregnant autumn moon that sheds luminous and milky-white light on the plateau. she realizes how thirsty she is as she glances up at the fat moon, nearly close enough to touch. has she ever been this close to the sky before? her dry, chapped lips part to release a whimper, a terrified beggar's bubble - she isn't ready to give up. she can't quit. but her body protests, refuses to let her move, she cannot stand, cannot push on. the soil is cool against her overheated skin. her legs extend and she presses her elbows into the dirt, savoring the sensation and simultaneously trying to dig out a bed for herself. a place to rest. a place to hide from the things that will surely find her now...now that she has fallen.
Graham



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Posted 05-04-2018, 12:47 AM | This post was last modified: 05-04-2018, 12:48 AM by Graham
Graham
Rogue
Male, 3.75
Mesomorph
35 in, 130 lbs
0 ep
© hobs
rated m for cursing


falling like ashes to the ground
Stop wagging your tail, for Godsakes.
But it's our first recon!
your first recon, we got a ways to go, so just...be cool.
Okay, I'm cool. I'm cool.


He's gasping for air; body trembling under the weight of terror. Awake with this infernal ghost-light, the wolf clenches his eyes shut and swallows the sour sensation of nausea heavy in his throat. "Fuck," the expletive is more of a grunt than any discernible word as it falls from his lips; too busy to put any effort into it for the breath he's trying to gather. He'd wedged himself into the rocks some distance down from the grassy plateau; eager to get some shut-eye with the stone at his back. But even that seems to be futile - there was no security from nightmares. With the thick and phantom scent of Happy's blood running his nerves ragged, Graham hauls himself up and takes shaky steps; pissed at how securely the kid had wormed its way into his heart. damn him... the thinner air makes his lungs feel raked over, the back of his throat dry and raw - sure that he'd uttered some pitiful noise in waking to cause such a sensation. He climbs blindly; reaching and leaping the last few yards up the mountainside until he nearly crawls onto level ground again. Head bowed, the wolf lets the long grass caress his face, slipping his eyes closed against a sudden episode of vertigo; his heart beating hard against his ribs. It's there that he stands, a hunched and haggard thing among the bleached fronds. no peace and quiet, no rest for the wicked. The moonlight was maddening, following him around when he felt a very contradiction to the sun.

So what's our cover?
The bastards don't need a cover.
oh....okay...what's the plan?
you let me do the talking. we make the trade. we leave.


Time passes him by and the night drags on. He's sitting there at the edge, back to the rest of the land, eyes drooping as his mind races over the moments just it all ended. Wading through the twilight barriers of sleep, he feels the dull sound of a body hitting the earth in his chest, startling his heart into a faster rhythm. His jaw clenches, his breathing stalls. Come on...just one night without... A whimper twitches in his ears, the sound higher but no less damning. It's the steady and alien sound of breathing that finally draws him out; blue gaze stealing in its direction. The fear swarming his belly subsides, and he lurches upright, awake and wary as he slips through the grass like a whisper. Just over the fronds, he spies the rusty shadow of the young girl, around hap's age, but not bleeding, and definitely not dead.

"You too, huh?" He tips his head in quiet solidarity. A bitter smile thins his lips and his bloodshot eyes drift over her. Wondering if he looks as bad as her, he tries to quell the shiver that runs through him. His chest is tight, throat clogged with unspoken emotion, uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable the night has found him yet again. He seats himself some feet from her, knowing full well the symptoms of panic and paranoia, as he tries to get a hold of his own.


""

Vaerouize



[ Reply ]






Posted 05-05-2018, 05:03 PM | This post was last modified: 05-05-2018, 05:05 PM by Vaerouize
Vaerouize
Rogue
Female, 1.25
Mesomorph
30 in, 105 lbs
5 ep
© Lor
your illness fills this empty room
a portrait of your lover softly drowning in the warm waters of june
a perfect sunday portrait of my mother sending signals through the drum
a portrait of my sadness finding shelter in the safety of my home


the wheat-grass surrounding her begins to shift, dry stalks rubbing and scratching together to form a shifting, humming purr. a lump catches in her throat, velvet black ears shift and twist forward, cupped towards the stalking sounds of the monster that has surely arrived to kill her; her - the last of his burden, the one who had gotten away. the girl presses her lips together, trying to silence herself though she could swear the pounding of her heart is loud enough to wake the dead.

twin magnets of blue frost break the dark purple of the night, hovering unpleasantly close. her body bursts at the sight of him, the fear that had coiled itself deep into her veins suddenly releasing as on a spring, and she throws her weight backwards, violently clawing her forepaws into the soil, forcing herself to slide backwards - but her strength is only enough for the give of an inch. a ragged whimper breaks against her scratched throat, but she is quickly silenced by his voice. you too, huh? slowly, her brain working on delay, she is able to separate him from the man in black who hunts her. the stranger inviting himself into her sorrow ( because he must be foolish, because he must be confused, because he must be a phantom - no one would willingly step into the darkness of her world ) stares at her from across the arctic, a frozen blue sea. she can remember the sparkling diamond glint of a madman, a man hovering over her, a man trying to kill her...but the monster was the color of sickly pale lavender.

"not the same," the words are a struggle to tear off the tip of her tongue, a rasp against her ripped vocal chords. they aren't meant for him, if he would even understand their meaning, she is only trying to bring herself comfort, the mind of something fragile trying frantically to find understanding in her broken, untamed thoughts. her eyes press closed, giving herself the space she needs to sort through her madness - separating herself from reality ( just close your eyes and he can't see you ) as she had done so many times in her short life. she pants, stuffing her nose between her forelegs, dipping her chin into the cinder plush of her chest as it heaves and releases labored breaths against the dirt floor she is still desperately pressing herself into. but her breathing begins to slow, to quiet, and, cautiously, her eyelids flicker to give a questioning stare back to the man who had, against all odds, joined her.

"you know him too?" her question is innocent, truly curious. the man had only been there at night time, she had only seen his face in the shadows, maybe there were more, others he visited during the day. burning yellow eyes stare up at him, unblinking.
Graham



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