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Dior falls on the floor, swear we've been here before; Ilma - Printable Version

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Dior falls on the floor, swear we've been here before; Ilma - vulgaris - 07-03-2018


"love breaks my bones and i laugh."


Bones crunch between his teeth while he wonders if his life will always be spent this way – hunting, sleeping, eating, breeding, on and on until the end. Winter had not been kind to this doe. The swirling snow led her right to him as she tried to rejoin her herd. He’d trip her and then crushed her throat in his jaws, just like that. The once pristine ground was stained with red now. He’s stained with guilt once more. A slow sigh leaves him in a white puff of breath when he lifts his head to check his surroundings. Time to move on, he thinks as he swallows. Winter wolves are always hungry, so he turns to the forests where safety is almost guaranteed. A full belly makes him nearly as vulnerable as the deer had been.

He finds himself at the edge of the river and decides it would be best to clean his face before rejoining his kind once more. The waters are icy and they wake him up, though he hadn’t realized how tired he had been before. Vulgaris savors the sting as he exhales through his nostrils, creating bubbles that are quickly swept away by the current. Soon, the water around his face is clear again and he decides he’s presentable once more.

His black forelock hangs in his face but it fails to hide the handsome angles of his face or the shimmering scales across his cheeks. Soon they’ll lose their gloss and prepare to shed in the springtime. It’ll itch like mad and he’s not looking forward to it in the slightest. But instead of dreading the future, he decides to take in his surroundings for a while. None of the faces nearby are familiar to him, but some are quite intriguing. Some are even lovely. His emerald eyes blink slowly to shoo the snowflakes from his eyelashes before he wanders further into the forest.

The snow isn’t quite so deep here and he doesn’t have as much trouble wading through it. Still, a shiver runs up his spine and he begins trying to select someone to huddle against for warmth.

Vulgaris.
@[Ilma]



RE: Dior falls on the floor, swear we've been here before; Ilma - Ilma - 07-04-2018


Ilma
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned
the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl

She'd been loathe to try out her new wings; they feel so weird on her. Sometimes, they're barely even there, when it's rainy, or snowing, and sometimes their radiance would blind everyone around her. At night, they're gone, but the most important thing is - she doesn't feel them like she used to. No heavy fluff to surround her body this winter, and no flying in the moonlight.

Yet she flew today; she flew towards the meadow, but not seeing many horses there in winter (even though it's warmer there than in the mountain kingdom), she's quick to return. But the clouds keep her new wings vulnerable, and they don't have the strength to lift her any more.

She's got to get more used to walking, she realized then. But perhaps it's not too bad, for not having them any more at all like she'd thought earlier, that would have been way worse.

She skips towards the north of the forest, attempting to cross the river at it's mouth, then skirting around the coastline to avoid going in to Taiga and then by the riverside back towards Hyaline. At least, that is the idea. The snow turns out to be deeper where the trees haven't kept it from landing, and so she moves a little further into the treeline to keep up her step. She's not sure she'd actually like to be here.

and shooting stars cannot fix the world

@[vulgaris] I've no idea how she might react to him, but let's see :P


RE: Dior falls on the floor, swear we've been here before; Ilma - vulgaris - 07-11-2018


"love breaks my bones and i laugh."


He hears her crunching through the snow and he lifts his head to follow her with his wild green eyes. There’s still a copper aftertaste in his mouth as he eyes the muscle of her shoulder each time she takes a step. She’s coming closer and he wonders if she’s noticed him among the trees just yet or if he’ll accidentally spook her. (Does it matter?) Vulgaris is infatuated with the way she’s so perfectly white like the ice and snow around them. He imagines the whimpers she’d make between his teeth, pouring red and ruining that perfect body like an ugly landscape.

He swallows.

He snorts to sabotage his own chances of surprising her. She seems too pretty for all that gore, he thinks. Vulgaris steps into her path with a casual pace but he can’t change the way he slinks, can’t change all those pointed fangs when he smiles at her. There is warmth and a certain charm to his expression when he offers a slight nod of his head in her direction. All of his gestures are sincere by now. His stomach is full and now he only hungers for a warm body to press tightly against. Best to keep his distance for now, though.

You seem like you’re having a rough day,” he says with a voice like a campfire – it promises safety and comfort. It promises that it is controlled. “Or am I terrible at reading your expression?

He steps closer then to examine the faint outline of her wings. They remind him vaguely of Pond and her little shadow wings that begged for strength of their own. Vulgaris has always wondered what it would be like to fly but he keeps such daydreams tight to his chest. Serpents are lucky just to have legs with which to walk, he supposes.

Vulgaris.
@[Ilma]