That's a Big Beastie // [Gangsters vs. Mutts Day 2]
Nov 3, 2018 13:14:31 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on Nov 3, 2018 13:14:31 GMT -5
<><><><><><><>I've always felt more sheltered in the shapes of the shadows. When night comes crawling through the sky stretched branches of the living sky scrapers, my mind melts into an alert sense of ease. My ears are perked yet my body is bending into a state of rest beside a nearby trunk. Even in the cloak of darkness, no nature other than the giants roam these woods. Not a single cricket sings its song. Not a single owl hoots hovering somewhere slightly out of sight. Not even a mouse manages to scurry and scuttle through the fallen leaves of the forest floor. It's as though this world's will of life exists solely in the heart of these trees forever reaching for the heavens. Perhaps this was their punishment for coming so close to the Gods, an eternity of nothingness. Alas, now they are not alone and instead stand as witnesses to a fresh slaughter summoned by the same vehement Gods.
From my side, my sister stirs despite it being my time to watch for lurking dangers. I'm certain she too feels the same pull to life beneath the lost light of the missing moon. I am curious as why the sky seems so muted by an undetectable source of light, but I am sure such a question will come to be answered in time. For now I focus on the flicking face of Auto as her eyes shutter into slits, a sign of her undeniable presence away from her realm of slumber. As much as I long to adventure with her through the arena allowing our atrocities to bring full fear into the faces of our opponents, I am well aware such actions are more risky than worth it. So with a sarcastic roll of my eyes I set a slight flick across the tip of her nose.
"Get more sleep. Our job is in the morning."
Sure as thunder follows lightning her voice follows mine. An obvious sentence of denial slips from her lips, but in this moment I won't submit. I'm sure she knows as much as I do that with our current states of slit skin and bruised bodies, we need rest in order to fight with the fiercest fires of our existence. I wonder what we would have doing this night back home among sewer stained streets and empty alleyways. What ways Father would find to exploit us, to control us. Yet as anger floods my veins thinking of the man of our making, I know she sees him differently. Despite the damage he's dealt and the scars he has left staining our skins and our souls, a brightly burning fire of desire to impress him lives inside her center. She finds euphoria beneath the wings of the devil while I find eternal damnation. But as much as I despise acceptance of such beliefs, there are moments like now where it can be beneficial.
"Don't give me that crap," I say with a tone sewn together by teasing, "If we don't sleep we can't prove ourselves to Him. So sleep."
The words taint my tongue with unrelenting bile, but I control my urge to bite them back. Although she knows my stance she is well aware such sentences only ever leave my lips in times of absolute seriousness. So the slits of her eyes shut and she ventures back down a road leading her to the lands of her dreams. I question whether she sees similar scenes to myself when welcoming the kiss the of sleep. Does her mind amalgamate with my visions of swirling star dust and circling winds of golden glory? Does she find herself in a state of rapture before the pandemonium of a world where she can reap treasures to the tantamount degree? Does she see herself as more than a mortal girl beaten by her Father? Does she see herself as something more, something freer? Because I do. I see it every time, an ever lasting reminder of what happens when love transfigures into betrayal.
By the time fatigue finally begins taking possession of my figure, Maxwell is rising from his own time of sleep. Out of all those with me among these trees of life leeching abilities, he is the one who remains an unaccounted for integer. The equation of success which has been spawning in my psyche since the second Auto was called for a sentence in Hell desires definitions for all its variables. And in this present moment Maxwell is entirely undefined, however, there is something I innately like about him. There is a hunger to know more, to learn. And I suppose a scene like this where the world lays writing in darkness and uncertainty around us is as good as ever, even if its short.
"Are you afraid at all?"
The question is simple but also complex. On a base level, it asks easily whether a certain emotion is present in his current emotional space. But dig down deeper into the heat and the heart of the question, there is an interest to know whether he holds confidence towards the terrors to come. I remember Father asking me the same question as I stood stunned before a bleeding boy not much older than myself. He had stolen from those who stole, a thief among thieves. His punishment was to be beaten into reconciliation. At that moment I was afraid and uncertain of my actions, but since that day, since my decision to accept the world and to survive within it, I haven't been.
"I think I could be. But I won't be," my eyes looking towards my sleeping second half, "I can't afford the luxury of fear."
Our midnight moment ended shortly after that with my head heavily joining the fallen leaves on the forest floor. As always, I embraced my ascension into the ethereal dancing among the celestial constellations. I spin through furling flames of solar flares and fly with wings of golden grace. I live as angel of the cosmos weaving through an endless universe of mysteries and color. I exist entirely as a boy who is able to play knowing no limits of necessity or suffering. For a brief instance, I am just a jovial child of the heavens untouchable by the pains of reality.
But these dreams die with the ascension of the sun.
In the hours of morning, our steps take far into the forest. My eyes watch our every step and search for any abnormalities. I already know there is one girl within this world with a brain as sharp as a sword and strong with skills of trapping. Although I have not seen Bette since entering this arena, I have no doubt she is utilizing every inch of her capabilities. She is a variable in my equation with an incredible potential for the destruction of the desire to steal the crown. She is absolutely intriguing and undoubtedly deadly.
A scent foreign and harsh comes over our pack's proceedings with a whirl of disgust. I feel my body lurch in response but refuse to release the few morsels of food still fighting off an unreal hunger within my stomach. Soon the scenery shifts to match the dreadful smell of decay. Trees turn to ruin and forest floor gives way to black bubbling death. Tar pits, natural and more wild than that of the items wielding by fire blessed warriors. We've reached a region which is nothing short of the Gods' hearts exposed here on earth:
Black and Destructive.
"Well this place sucks," I say turning towards the others with a look of annoyance angling my face, "You'd think Glamour would be the first person to not have such an ugly area in his arena."
Perhaps I should have thought more about dissing a God in his heartland for as soon as I do danger erupts. Teeth tear at my flesh and suddenly I am stumbling back with a hand pressed heavily to my head. An ear once there now lies in the stomach of one of the beasts. I pull out my sword turning to Maxwell with a short scoff.
"Still can't afford it," a smirk of pain tilts my cheeks upward as I look towards the thief of my ear, "Auto, let's go."
Then I drive forward without an inch of fear.<><><><><><><>
Larceny attacks Lyla // LongSword
vytsi|6rWsword
{Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage}
swordvytsi|6rWsword
{Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage}