the broken pieces. — andal, day 7.
Dec 10, 2022 8:48:50 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Dec 10, 2022 8:48:50 GMT -5
Snout. Claws. Fur.
No humanness at all. The hunger razes everything else. All thoughts. All sense. It’s tunnel vision but worse. The world is a hunting ground. There is only black and white. Prey and predator. A wet nose. Hot breath.
Then, stars. There’s too much of them and they’re all so startlingly bright. They burn. And faces. First, the huntress. Her hair is fire and embers. White-hot wounds. A scream. Pain.
Then a second face. Familiar. No name. But there’s pain. It hurts. It hurts with a keenness. Not on the skin, not within a wound. It’s within, in the chest, under the ribs, through the veins. Heart. His friend hurts, breaks.
“Friend.”
Head back, jaw unhinge, he howls murder into the red night.
