07-02-2016, 11:04 PM
Another dream with darkness lingering at the edges, flickering in the shadows like a dark candlelight, little tendrils of foreboding filtering in from realms beyond and making me wonder. No. Making me suspect something is coming. I've been restless, snarling, prowling the meadow, sex and violence warring instincts rising to the surface in a way I don't think I've ever quite felt before. Though I suppose, both of them have been thoroughly sated in the past times I've walked these lands. Now, I've no real outlet for either, and they scratch beneath the surface as the darkness creeps around the edges of my perception. Primal. Hungry. Some deep-buried need to prove I'm alive.
And I fucking am. Sometimes I feel like the whole goddamn world died with Nocturnal and I've just been clinging to another ghost. A much bigger one than hers, even when I've finally laid hers to rest. Is that the dark taunting the edges of my perception, the prickling of my skin, the phantom raising hair on the back of my neck with its ghostly caresses? No. Fucking no, the world's still here and vibrant and bursting with vitality and just waiting for me to stake my claim on it. Claw out a place for myself and my loved ones, mark it as mine again and bury roots deep in the rich earth.
Still. Even as I try to do just that, try to settle into Echo Trails with children and grandchildren, slinking along the borders as a jaguar leaving my scent to warn the impulsive or the reckless that This Place Is Taken...something feels off. I am on one such prowl of a border patrol when I hear the call, three little words requesting my attention. Even if I were busy on something especially urgent, I would sit up and pay attention to that query. Another unnecessary patrol definitely doesn't qualify as busy.
Rather than attempting to answer, I turn and run in the direction it came from, reveling for a few minutes in the flex and pull of muscles, the fluidity of this feline shape I've loved since I was young. I love paws. The sensitivity, the flexibility, the wicked-sharp claws, this has always been one of my favorites. So easy to get caught up in the rush, and a small deer I scare up falls prey to my teeth and claws before I even realize I've given chase. Oops. Oh well, maybe—ah. Right. No Nish or Noct to share my kill with, and Drow and Dara are firmly stuck in horse shape here.
Huh.
Maybe Pazuzu would appreciate the gesture.
Since I've nearly reached him anyhow, I grab my kill by the neck and drag it the rest of the way. It's a heavy beast, too, but I carry on, only stopping when I'm close enough that I'm almost laying my kill at his feet like a present. I blink mismatched eyes up at him in silent invitation to join me while I feed, tilt my head in Tycho-like fashion to inquire what he'd like to discuss with me, and then proceed to tear a chunk off the carcass while I wait to find out what's on my almost son-in-law's mind.
No need to stand on formality. We can discuss over dinner, if he's so inclined. He hasn't exactly struck me as the type to squirm at a little blood, after all. And if he looks less than enthusiastic I suppose I could always drag the corpse up a tree and eat it later. I eye a few nearby, picking out a likely prospect just in case. Ha. Not that any local predators would fucking dare steal a kill that smells like me.
And I fucking am. Sometimes I feel like the whole goddamn world died with Nocturnal and I've just been clinging to another ghost. A much bigger one than hers, even when I've finally laid hers to rest. Is that the dark taunting the edges of my perception, the prickling of my skin, the phantom raising hair on the back of my neck with its ghostly caresses? No. Fucking no, the world's still here and vibrant and bursting with vitality and just waiting for me to stake my claim on it. Claw out a place for myself and my loved ones, mark it as mine again and bury roots deep in the rich earth.
Still. Even as I try to do just that, try to settle into Echo Trails with children and grandchildren, slinking along the borders as a jaguar leaving my scent to warn the impulsive or the reckless that This Place Is Taken...something feels off. I am on one such prowl of a border patrol when I hear the call, three little words requesting my attention. Even if I were busy on something especially urgent, I would sit up and pay attention to that query. Another unnecessary patrol definitely doesn't qualify as busy.
Rather than attempting to answer, I turn and run in the direction it came from, reveling for a few minutes in the flex and pull of muscles, the fluidity of this feline shape I've loved since I was young. I love paws. The sensitivity, the flexibility, the wicked-sharp claws, this has always been one of my favorites. So easy to get caught up in the rush, and a small deer I scare up falls prey to my teeth and claws before I even realize I've given chase. Oops. Oh well, maybe—ah. Right. No Nish or Noct to share my kill with, and Drow and Dara are firmly stuck in horse shape here.
Huh.
Maybe Pazuzu would appreciate the gesture.
Since I've nearly reached him anyhow, I grab my kill by the neck and drag it the rest of the way. It's a heavy beast, too, but I carry on, only stopping when I'm close enough that I'm almost laying my kill at his feet like a present. I blink mismatched eyes up at him in silent invitation to join me while I feed, tilt my head in Tycho-like fashion to inquire what he'd like to discuss with me, and then proceed to tear a chunk off the carcass while I wait to find out what's on my almost son-in-law's mind.
No need to stand on formality. We can discuss over dinner, if he's so inclined. He hasn't exactly struck me as the type to squirm at a little blood, after all. And if he looks less than enthusiastic I suppose I could always drag the corpse up a tree and eat it later. I eye a few nearby, picking out a likely prospect just in case. Ha. Not that any local predators would fucking dare steal a kill that smells like me.