In Dire Straits

Alteron had been taken by some red dragon and her lackeys, or so he'd heard. He'd made his home in the heart of the territory, a sort of tunnel beneath Alteron's roots, a beast that went unaccounted for and unheard of. He'd lived in secrecy for some time--perhaps that was wrong. Alteron had avoided him, awarding him that secrecy.

With the filth he thrived in, with who he was, perhaps it was for the best.

Rolling around in corpses to let the maggots worm into his fur, the flies land on his nose and lolling tongue, letting the stench of rot and decay permeate his fur, his skin. It was more than an unsightly behaviour, it was something othering, distancing himself from society, from everyone. Something wild and feral and terribly wrong. If he melded his scent with that of the jungle itself, perhaps he would disappear, lay beneath the surface, melt into the background, a fixture in the grim scenery of Alteron. Something that screamed and hissed and bellowed, I am not like you.

Dirt flicked his ear free of a particularly explorative fly, nuzzling into the corpse he laid beside, feeling the maggots burst free from the flesh on his snout, growling gently as he watched them wriggle and squirm. The body itself was too far gone to eat, half skeleton, half heady scent that filled the alcove where it rested, the flesh sloughing away as it was slowly infested and devoured. A breeding ground for flies, a playground for Dirt, who gnawed on the bones and lounged in filth. Something in the stomach, (hanging out, entrails strewn and draped upon the brush like silks) had gone and rotted and bloated and was writhing. He watched it with morbid fascination before pressing upon it with his paw, feeling the squirming sac only worm and writhe faster. He pressed down harder, feeling the insects inside beneath his paw, before pressing his thick claws against the organ and t e a r i n g.

The maggots slid free of their prison, over his paws and all over the ground, the smell choking and harsh. He laid himself upon the ribcage of the corpse, feeling the insects wiggling into his fur and belly, pressing his hind paw gently into the flood of maggots at his side, letting them wriggle beneath his pawpads, between his toes. He gnawed on the snout of the skull, the cockroaches nestling in his thick neck fur scuttling towards his shoulders.

He looked a mess, covered in shorn skin and flesh, decaying blood and oils, insects crawling all over him. And what a beautiful mess it was.

ooc:

He heard her approach, a limp. Heard her pause. Dirt didn't turn around, oh no. He rolled over, staring at her upside-down, cocking his head and panting heavily, paws drawn to his chest. He smiled grotesquely, hoping to unsettle her. The maggots that had been crawling on his chin had fallen and begun to writhe in his mouth.

"Aren't you an unsightly beast."

He rolled over again, onto his paws, feeling the flesh and skin below him, barely clinging to the bones, tear away under his paws and weight, getting more oily, rotting flesh in his paws and mashed into his fur.

"Yes ma'am. What brought a pretty thing like you to the depraved masses?" His voice was harsh, a mix between a drawl and a staccato laugh. He licked his sloppy chops, teeth crunching down on the maggots and a stray millipede that his tongue had caught in its path. Protein. He licked his lips again, letting unswallowed pieces of of the bugs get tangled up with his copious amounts of saliva and drip.

Dirt let his eyes search her, observing. Thoughtful, almost. She was a lamb within the wolves, crippled and bruised. She held herself with this regality that was both delicious and curious. Just who was she? The words Red Dragon hovered, prevalent in his mind.

He didn't see no wings or fire, no knights rushing to the aid of princesses. She was all commanding voice and crippled leg. Nothing new, nothing special.

"A disgusting thing, who let you in?"

Dirt could have laughed. Who let him in, she was funny. He scratched at an itch in his ear, still splayed over the corpse. Mmm. Maggots in his ears.

"Been here a helluva lot longer than you have, Missus." Dirt drawled, lowering his leg. She didn't look or smell familiar, even with him having been in relative solitude for a time.

"Tell me your name."

His smile widened, and only then did he stand, s t r e t c h i n g, letting her get a good damn look at the body beneath him, crawling and oozing. There was something old and evil and dead and decaying in this forest, and they were standing on top of it, the bugs beneath the surface writhing and reaching out for the chance to consume them.

Neither she nor he were any different from the corpse. This, he knew. Did she?

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine."

Or tell. Whichever came first.

ooc:

"A visit to the acolytes. I'd assume people you haven't seen since you were a child, judging by that wretched smell."

Protecting her nose, the cute dainty thing. He laughed, not wholly a cruel sound. He shook his head. Whatever the hell those were, he guessed it didn't matter. Dirt wasn't interested in pack politics, nor was he particularly interested in cleanliness.

"Never heard a' them, missus. Maybe it's for the best, if they're anything like you."

He could tell she hated this place, hated him. It made his blood sing to know his presence disgusted her. Horrified her. He thrived on that sort of control, that sort of power. His blood surged with a sort of pride. He wondered briefly, how far he could go before he caught her gagging, heaving. Before he saw her façade shatter before him as she retched.


"You can't be serious. That's simply disgusting, you truly are a foul creature. Miserable slime."
She limped over, breaking off a branch and began swatting him with it. He laughed, stepping back as she hit him, the cockroaches and various insects in his fur flying free, as he was hit, the wingless insects moving away from the impact zone, and his skin rippled in delight.

Yes, he wanted to push her further.

"I asked you first, and I will NOT ask again. Your name, and who let you in. NOW."

Oh-oh-oh, she meant business. His pride nor his amusement were bruised by the swatting. He conceded however, quirking a brow at her. She was a feisty thing. Lively.

Alteron needed someone like that. His eyes alight in interest, he walked over to a nearby tree, raising his leg and relieving himself on it, looking over his shoulder at the red broad.

" Alright, alright, calm yer tits. Name's Dirt. Can't remember who let me in. Was a while ago, yanno? Probably dead by now, with the mess this place is in."

He intentionally lowered his leg midstream, splashing piss on the dirt, and upon his own paws. He shook his fur again and padding back towards her, absolutely reeking.

"Your turn. It's only fair."

Let's play.

ooc: jghdfghf IM SORRY