brains and brawn | {the boys v mutts day two}
Oct 24, 2020 17:50:51 GMT -5
Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Oct 24, 2020 17:50:51 GMT -5
This tree, this specific tree, is my tree. I do not know why, which is rather odd- we owls are a wise kind, I do believe. But I have known it since the dawning of my existence. Before I knew my mother, before I knew my flight, I knew this tree. I knew its branches even as they changed and widened and split and splintered and snapped completely. I knew this tree. It was my tree.
Even now, when all that remains is its ghostly shell, I know it is mine, because my shell is the same.
No one who does not already know this information will get near me. Not for long, not without a fight.
I hoot at the imposters. Snow-coated and covered in snow, my wings like ice and my eyes icy blue. They could be friends, but I doubt it so very so. It's been so long since I've seen anything other than foe. It's just been this: my shell of a tree and my shell of a me.
I hoot as a warning call, but they persist even still. Fair enough, I spread my snowy wings and I flutter down to the hill. Right there in front of them, my beak wide with dare. Perhaps they do not know my kind, my icy eyes glare. I open up my beak, surely they don't actually expect me to speak. But I choose the boy with eyes cold as mine, and the words begin to leak:
"Emission Continuously Absorbed. Every color of the rainbow, straight to gay, old to young, thin to wide, tall to short. Everything in-between. The scale of one's being. The decider of one's whole. What am I?"( SAGE ASKS RENE TO SOLVE HER RIDDLE )
The cold around me is colder just for me. Hmph. I am my own flurry, my own fury as well. They call me king of the arctic- HA! Kings are weak: old and feeble and fed by those weaker still. Kings rely on people for power. My power is mine, mine, all mine. Look at these arms. Look at these legs. I am not the king of the arctic, I am the owner of the cold. I exhale and the air agrees, fogs of it floating around my frozen fur. Everything I see is mine to own and hold and touch.
And as I dig out a hole for my next meal, I hear a voice sudden and shrill. Just over that hill. Hupmh. Tricky, tricky, those pesky humans. Always trying to get around me, always so dumb to start speaking too soon. Look at these ears. I can hear everything. I growl, low and in throat, bang my fists on the ground until I've smashed through all the snow and all that is left if frozen dirt. And Then I climb to the top of the hill, catch my breath and SCREAM. My meal. My territory. My owl. My arena.
My humans.
I bolt down the hill, a streak of white lightning cracking down on them. Owner of the cold. My biceps are huge. Owner of it all.( BRUTUS ATTACKS JACYNTH, KNIFE )
|VvmYL4_40knife
[ 2073 -- Severed Right Ear -- 8.0 damage ]