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White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Printable Version +- ORIGIN (https://origin.boreal-nights.space) +-- Forum: IC Archives (https://origin.boreal-nights.space/forumdisplay.php?fid=50) +--- Forum: Year 1 Archives (https://origin.boreal-nights.space/forumdisplay.php?fid=42) +--- Thread: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) (/showthread.php?tid=1791) Pages:
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White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Mau - Nov 10 2015
Mau is dead. Her stone is cracked down the center on its face. Azazel has first dibs, then anyone can post. @Azazel RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Azazel (Original) - Nov 10 2015 Wingbeat, glide, wingbeat, glide. It was a rhythm, and a methodical one at that. Each stroke of his wings was elegant and completed with great panache. Crimson feathers ruffled in the wind, carmine eyes scouring the landscape below. As always, he was on high alert. Who knew when the next threat of Origin Cave's would pop up, right? When the rufous king soared over the many enigmatic garrisons of osseous matter, something seemed wrong. The porcelain-white bone princess seemed to be absent.
Perhaps she was off hunting, for the first time in forever, it seemed. This assumption was quickly shooed away when a loud hiss sounded, quite close, even. It seemed to be not of Mau's. A cave rat, maybe? Either way, Azazel thought it would be best if he investigated. Adjusting the alulae (a set of feathers closest to the wing-tips that's the end of the thumb bone, which act not dissimilar to the air-brakes of an airplane) at the ends of his wings and his retrices (the specialized flight feathers in his tail feathers), he would turn towards the source. If he'd noticed the sound sooner and the commotion, he could have made it in time to save the Bone Princess. Instead, he was too late. Stilled and silenced by the gentle caress of death's spindly fingers, was the corpse of the porcelain princess. The once bright and vivid blue orbs of the princess were dulled and glassed over, rolled back into her skull just slightly. Mau's maw was ajar, like a snake's. Azazel had suspected that the small piece of stone that appeared to jut from the felid's forehead was perhaps more than that beneath. Over time, the Bone King had learned that in death, your stone detatches itself from the body it had created. Yet, alone, it couldn't free itself from flesh and bone. Gazing down at the corpse, he felt tears prick at his eyes. He could have been there to save the princess, to keep her from death. Another hiss sounded as the enraged and starved cave rats scampered down from the precipice they lurked upon. Their beady eyes glinted in the dark as they eagerly shimmied towards the porcelain princess' still form, yellowed fangs bared in anticipation. Fueled by the anger, guilt, and sadness currently residing in his heart, Azazel felt the magicka in his gem stir. He focused it on the rat bastards. Perhaps he could suffocate them and make them pay. Azazel had seen death before, he had felt guilty because he could not prevent it... but this was different. This was one of the Bonebound, one of his clan. The air about the rats would constrict, becoming so densely packed and the pressure increasing as the angered vulture would utilize his magicka to crush the rodent's organs. As soon as they would go limp in death, the Ave released his hold on them. Making haste to spiral down towards his fallen adoptive kin, Azazel landed at her side. There was blood all about her face, perhaps where she had landed... or where her stone had attempted to dislodge itself. Already, it seemed the gore began to cake around her maw and eyes. Shutting his eyes tightly, the Bone King pressed his beak into the nape of the felid, then nuzzled her face one last time. He cared not for the thick sanguine fluid that smeared onto his face. All life in the princess's icon was truly gone, faded away into nothingness. There were no flickers of hope other than to perhaps revive her again... but to do that, he would have to tear into her flesh and bone to find her gem. Tears beginning to prick at his ducts once more, Azazel shut his eyes. Swallowing a choked sob, he grossly muttered, Salty liquid now pouring down his cheek, dragging some sanguine fluids with it, the Bone King leaned down and began to tear at the flesh of the feline, beginning with about her face. Mutilating her fine features forever. The Bone King hated it. He hated it. But what else could he do? Leave her body to decay and rot, to fall victim to the mindless hunger of cavern rats? Slowly, he placed a foot atop the felid's mangled and crushed lower jaw, and he pulled with all his might, severing the mandible from it's mate. As muscles split from one another and thick red liquid spurted from each tendon onto the Ave's foot and the floor, he choked out a ragged sob. With a grossly wet noise, the crystalline blue gem pulled from the flesh of its host, and clattered onto the earth with a resonating chime. He could barely recognize the stone from the thick scar down the center of it and the thick red liquid gathering in small pools upon it. Loose pieces of bloodied tendon still remained firmly stuck on the mineral, and he hesitantly peeled them off. The whole of the Ave's face was soaking with dark crimson blood, the thick liquid adhering to his face and clinging to it. He tried to make himself believe it was Mau's spirit making him think it was alright... that she was happy that he was doing this for her. Screwing his eyes shut, he moved the gore-coated gem skull to the side, and gazed at the blank and empty face of the feline. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore. He did not want to remember Mau like this. Turning away from that, he looked at the rest of her body. He wanted to keep more of her... but he just couldn't bring himself to. It felt wrong. It felt so damn wrong. Sobbing once more, he placed his beak into the scruff of the feline, but rather than tearing further, he cried into the soft and plush fur of the egyptian mau. (ooc: wow i went overboard rip, i had much muse apparently) RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Ashtoreth - Nov 10 2015 Ashtoreth had never interacted with the cat princess of the ivory tower, but she knew of her. She had spotted the flash of white many times, and often wanted to scamper over to meet the feline, only to find she had retreated into her tower. The mustelid was determined to meet or prank the feline, and so when she spotted the flash of white she began to tromp over, scuttling through the bones. Being born in a room of corpses should have made the young one understand that life came with a cost. She should have known, as she chomped on cave mice and picked apart bones, that everything had to die one day. The brush with death in the shadows of her birthplace should have been ample warning that she should have care, that she should be careful-- but yet the young one ended up as reckless as her fathers. She heard the drumming beat of wings above her head. Ducking behind a pile of bones, she saw her father swoop over head and realized that he was going to go meet with the kitten too. Seeing the perfect chance for a prank, the child went into her perfected stalk mode, creeping along the dusty floor without disturbing a single bone. The mustelid smelled the sharp scent of blood and her curiosity only rose to new heights. Perhaps her father had brought a meal for the Bone Princess, or perhaps the cat herself had been hunting. If she was clever, she could perhaps snatch the meal out of their clutches and run away with it, causing a great scene. The thought sent a creeping grin across her muzzle as she drew ever closer. There was a hiss as she drew closer and the mustelid froze, her sharp, dark eyes trying to catch sight of the scene. Piles of bones lay in her way, but she watched her father's wings high above and she heard the noises of vicious cave rats. She knew the sounds quite well, having often played with ones on the other walls, and that noise meant that play time was over. The nasty critters were hungry, and they wanted a fight. She heard not a sound from Aza'zel or the cat of white, however, as she paused to make sure she didn't get hurt by any nasty rats. A prank was all good and well, but the point of messing with people was not to hurt or get hurt. A crunching, fleshy sound caught the small one's ears, the sounds of light bodies flopping on to the dusty ground. She scrambled around the bones, trying to stay quiet, trying to stay out of sight, as her father dove down. She did not hear the feline call to her dad, nor her dad call to her, but as she rounded the corner she heard a strange sobbing sound and her father word's so soft in the air. At first, the scene didn't make sense to the creature of fur and feathers. Her dusty autumn coat trembled as she met the empty, azure gaze of the kitten, splayed out on the floor. There were cave rats, but they seemed malformed and broken, as if they had been stepped on by something large. Blood soaked the earth, the puddles of it reaching out towards her. The sound of her father's sobs, his words hanging in her ears. Aza'zel must not have seen her, as he began to tear into the feline. He tore her fur off of her face, shredding the very skin from the bone. Ashtoreth couldn't scream, but nor could she move or look away. She just stared, unable to understand what her father could be doing to the cat. He wasn't eating her, he was stripping her apart piece by piece. As her father's talons clutched the once white princess and he grabbed her jaw, the child finally found the will to move. She ducked behind the bones, slamming her eyes shut as the sound of bones snapping and tendons shredding hit her ears. The sound of a gem clattering to the floor, chiming with a beautiful song. Ashtoreth did not know what to do. Her mind took the sound of the chiming stone and she clung to it, trying to block out the rest of the sounds. She felt her body rejecting what she saw, her stomach churning. Her jaws opened again and she heaved, the contents of her lunch spilling out of her mouth, shushing on to the ground before her. Her paws shook, her wings wrapped around her body as tightly as she could. What was her dad doing? Tears formed in her fiercely shut eyes, her body heaving again. She wanted it to stop-- she wanted the sounds to stop. Her throat burned as she tried so hard to call out to her father, to beg for him, to plead, but there was nothing she could do but convulse and vomit. RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Azazel (Original) - Nov 10 2015 Narrowing his eyes against the tears in them, Azazel shook his head and turned to see... someone... and Kerberos... Ashtoreth. He didn't want Ashtoreth to see this. He didn't want Kerberos to see this. The blood roaring in his head, Azazel rushed to the skull and in a panic, flapped his wings, trying to escape from his guilt and shame. @Kerberos RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Kerberos - Nov 11 2015 Kerberos was doing his duty, guarding the gateway to Canis, when a noise hit his ears. A dying mewl, faint and distant. To any other gembound, it might have been overlooked-- but if there was one thing that Kerberos was good at, it was paying attention to the cries of his family. Like a bullet, he was off, tearing through the bones. He saw Aza'zel sweep over his heads and he nearly let out a bark, a question, but no. Asking would only slow things down. The bird pulled ahead of him, a swell of magic in the air. The dog drew to a stop, standing and watching as the rats bellow were crushed by the powerful avian's magic. The hellhound did not approach any closer, standing yards away as Aza'zel descended and spoke to the unmoving Mau. He already understood what had happened. The dog could practically smell the death in the air. The gem falling from the feline's body made it all the more clear. His white paws carried him closer, finally, as Aza'zel looked up and panic filled his eyes. The bird's wings spread as he went to flee, ashamed. But Kerberos had other plans. Like a dog catching a frisbee out of the air, the hound lunged, his jaws snapping down on the raptor's tail feathers. The crimson marked muzzle pulled down sharply, tossing Aza'zel back to the ground perhaps a bit more roughly than he intended-- his other heads seemed almost surprised as all four of his massive paws hit the ground once more, crushing bones underneath his body with just his sheer weight. His floppy eared head lowered to the vulture's breast and he licked the feathers out of place, in a bizarrely canine-fashion way of showing sympathy. As he slobbered over the bloody bird, his middle head continued. @Azazel RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Azazel (Original) - Nov 11 2015 As he began to try escaping, a sharp pain shot through his back side as the cerberus grasped his feathers, pulling him from the air and roughly slamming him on the earth. Panicked, he threw the skull to the side and turned onto his back. When one massive paw reared up and there was a harsh sound, The Bone King clenched his talons and screwed his eyes shut. Kerberos had seen what he had done. Maybe he deserved this. This would cleanse him of all of his sins. Maybe he'd finally find the road to perdition, thanks to the hellhound. The death blow never came, and Azazel slowly cracked open his right eye (the eye that was closest to the hellhound's triad of heads, apparently) and slowly gazed up at him. For him, life had a way of metamorphosing it's way into his favor, yet he knew it would not last long. Sooner or later, something would get fucked up and everything would go to hell. When did Kerberos get all grown up. Goddamn, time flew by. Azazel remembered when the hellhound was but a puppy who was rambunctious and set on eating everything. With the aid of Giggle, he was a fully fledged philosopher it seemed. Someone get this cerberus some glasses. But the more he mulled over Kerberos's words, the more sadness erupted from him. Screwing his eyes shut, he shook his head. He had to try and show that he was still strong. Turning to Kerberos with a look of weak passion lighting his gaze, he nodded solemnly. He didn't know what to do about Ashtoreth after this. Azazel had an awful suspicion that she wouldn't be able to shrug this off like another escapade gone wrong. @Kerberos RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Ashtoreth - Nov 12 2015 The mustelid child hardly heard the heavy foot falls of the great white beast, but she felt them. Her eyes were watery with the pain and stench of her own bile, her paws rooted in place as the hot puddle spread and ran over her claws. She had never been so repulsed in her whole life, and she just wanted to escape. The sound of wings brought her back to the reality once more, and her bright, sparkling eyes returned to her father's silhouette. She saw the massive dog grab at her father, throw him to the ground, and a silent scream strained her aching throat. She just wanted to wake up from this nightmare already. Her eyes shut as she pressed low, bringing her slick paws to her face, trying to cover her face from the noises she knew were coming. She could hear her father, crying, the dog growling, and she heard more horrible, sloshing noises. She didn't want to hear the screams she was expecting, she didn't want to hear the sound of flesh being stripped from bone. The air began to vibrate around Ash, and for a moment, all of the sounds around the three Bonebound members turned to absolute silence. It was as though the curse she had been born with had spread out from her, silencing anyone in eyeshot of the dead, bloodied mangle of what was left of Mau. It did not last long, but it did hold for long enough that the fisher bird thought she might wake up-- if only the smell of copper and acid would leave her mouth. RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Kerberos - Nov 12 2015 The dog laid his eyes on the King, listening to the regret in his voice. To him, the bird had done nothing wrong, even in tearing apart the body. If Aza'zel were to die, he would rightfully consume the bird before burying the bones-- whatever the avian was doing, surely there had been a point? He had been honoring her, in some way. Kerberos went to open his jaws to speak once more, but suddenly as though they had been transported to a vacuum, there was no sound. Not a single noise, from the shifting of feathers or settling of bones or even wind hit his ears. He could feel the wind, but abruptly he had gone deaf. Confused, his heads shifted, looking around until he saw Ashtoreth himself-- the small noodle's front half was covered in filth, and she was cowering. He looked to Aza'zel and nosed at the bird's chest, backing off of him finally. As his hearing returned, he spoke simply, a bit bewildered but firm in his stance. @Azazel RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Azazel (Original) - Nov 14 2015 Tears clung to each grungy and gory feather, painting his pale white face in crimsons and light pinks. As he felt something colder and wetter than the dank cavern touch his beak, he opened his eyes and looked into the pale pink gaze of the cerberus. He... he'd done nothing wrong in the eyes of Kerberos. Lamenting some more about how he had ruined Ashtoreth and caused her to be mute, he found his voice suddenly gone. All sound in the caves were gone. Kerberos opened one of his mouths to speak, but there was no voice. There was no dripping of calcite deposits. Not even the breaths of any of the three Gembound in the area could be heard. Slowly turning toward his daughter, he saw that she was covered in filth and cowering. Azazel's heart snapped in two. He'd never be able to live this down. Picking himself up slowly once again, his carmine gaze settled on his daughter, eyes dull and glassy with sorrow and regret. He had not noticed that the sounds returned and he could hear once more. The great gatekeeper at his side spoke, and his breath hitched. How could he place it in words. Ashtoreth surely knew of death by now. Heck, she had been born in a room that screeched the word. The autumn-colored noodle had to know that he hadn't killed Mau. Choking back a quiet sob, he slowly took a step forward. His gem trying to work of it's own volition and completing his thoughts, it failed. Azazel found his last words, and sagged some more. Screwing his eyes shut as tears streamed from his ducts, he looked to the side. @Ashtoreth RE: White Death (Matured for Graphic Depictions) - Ashtoreth - Nov 27 2015 Ashtoreth's feathers shook, her claws clacking against a small, long bone she had found under her paws. Her father drew closer to her, and she tried to push him out, slamming her eyes shut as the bird spoke to her in trembling, frightened words. Why couldn't she wake up? Her father's words hit her ears even when she willed them to stop once more, but she couldn't understand them. Her stomach was twisting, tight with pain, and she felt the urge to be sick again but nothing came out of her maw. Ash didn't understand. Her father was supposed to be perfect, a protector, a beacon of light in her life. When had he become this sick, awful monster? He sounded upset but she couldn't process it, the grief and nausea making her thoughts warped and confused. He wanted to take it back, she could hear it in his voice, so why did he do it in the first place? Her beady eyes blinked back the tears and she looked up to her father's blood soaked face. She opened her mouth, silent breathing words-- She leaned back on to her haunches, belly against the ground, and lifted her forepaws to her face. She put them over her eyes as her father spoke those sweet, sickly words. At those words, Ashtoreth-- Aza'zel's precious little star-- peeked out from beneath her paws and trembling set each foot down on solid ground. She stood up, whispering in a voice only she could hear, @Azazel |