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aloyoshenka he/him
Almost Sparkles
Posts: 2
Pronouns: he/him

(This post was last modified: June 07, 2018, 04:40:35 PM by aloyoshenka.)

ooc;; eee sorry if i owe you posts pls just message me i’m on a road trip n like crazy unorganized. but i’m just tryna get my baby boy alo out there pls be gentle w him

he is a broken man - no, scratch that, not broken. torn, maybe. split from jowl to tail and leaking his insides out wherever he goes, maybe. losing more and more of himself. it’s just so hard to think these days, with so little of himself left. besides, his brain doesn’t work so well anymore anyway. it is black and hard and immovable, an obstacle. he doesn’t have time to deal with that, not when he has to keep going. there is no where left, so he must simply keep moving. if he stops he will consume himself, be dragged into the innermost depths like a black hole, never to be seen again. he can feel the darkness creeping now, tickling the edges of his vision, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. he has to fight it today, says the good part of his brain, the part that tries to keep him fed and washed and safe. it has a quiet voice but he always tries to listen. 
they are all gone, he knows, his family, his home. they’re all gone now and somehow it almost feels like they were never really there at all. can he even remember their faces? their voices? their names? yes, he knows he can. it’s there, somewhere inside of him. somewhere beyond the electrified fence that surrounds his mind, his memories. but when he furrows his brow, closes his eyes, thinks hard on it... nothing comes. no face, no name, no smell. nothing. he did have a family, a home - he knows he did. he came from somewhere. but it is all gone now. all gone, never to return, except in short, meaningless glimpses, passing too fast to comprehend. 
now is all that matters. the grumbling in his stomach, the pain of his old wounds - they are real, that much he knows. the brute lumbers over toward the nearby river, leaning over and lapping at the cold water. the temperature shocked his senses, yanking him from the recesses of his mind and back into the present. green grass, mud between his toes, cold blue-grey water. where was he? where has he ended up in his inexorable journey through the recesses of his mind? he feels suddenly as if he remembers none of it, and looks around him, unsure of his surroundings. at least this place is warm, and smelled of fresh water and prey. perhaps he can rest awhile, here where it is safe. he slumps down onto his belly, the cool mud against his skin comforting in an odd way. then he shoves his muzzle into the scabbed over wound on his side. it itches miserably, and so he bites and scratches at it until it reopens, and oozes crimson onto his pale pelt.
Charley She/Her
Posts: 86
Pronouns: She/Her
Location: in the woods


Quick feet wound their way through the woods, softly falling. A lean body whipping through narrow spaces between saplings and a wide open maw open to grasp the oblivious pheasant pecking at the woodland floor. With a flutter of feathers as its mate took to the sky a great crunch around its neck ended its life before it knew what hit it. Quick, clean, and virtually silent. Reese gave huff to catch his breath through his nose as he whisked his catch away from the scene. He was quite proud of this catch, one of the best so far. A nice fat bird, a quick clean kill before a surge of panic would taint the blood with fear. A good healing meal for both the body and the mind. he thought to himself thinking of how his father would even be proud of it. Maybe he'd save it for Rivian to eat with, it would do her anxious body some good too.

Carrying the plump bird by its neck he headed toward the stream to take a drink before he headed back to the camp site. Though she might turn her nose up at it again. What good was he to her now honestly? She had a mate, she was probably pregnant already, and now she was making more friends of her kind. The call to move on from her side had been steadily getting stronger. She had paid less and less attention to him and she was no longer seeking him for comfort, instead turning to her lover when he was present. Too bad honestly, the creature he was following was such a beautiful find, she never saw him the same way though, probably because the species barrier to be honest.

Perhaps... Perhaps it was time to finally disappear. Just simply not come back this time. She no longer needed his protection, she was capable of defending herself and nw she had help. Yes, keep this feast for himself this time. Not waste it on her if she was going to toss it anyway.

The sound of the stream entered his dark red ears, clearing his mind from its thoughts. Something was so refreshing about a good cold drink after such a successful hunt. As the smell of the brook came to his nose he paused as a twang of fresh wolf blood came with it. That wasn't good. Carefully and alert he stepped toward the stream looking around, trying to find the source. A movement of grunge caught his eye and he watched a wolf scratch at a terrible wound. He didn't look good from here. He looked travel worn and hungry, not to mention injured. Dark brown eyes watched from the other side of the stream. He didn't smell like a pack, a loner. There was no telling if this travel worn loner was the aggressor with that kind of wound or a victim.

Reese was hidden across the brook in the shadows, then quietly stepped into a beam of sunshine that had broken through the canopy of trees revealing himself with the fat healthy pheasant hanging from his jaws. The other wolf was smaller in stature, but Reese was not the muscular type, he was the flighty type. Lean and fast, one that outruns danger instead of facing it head on. If this loner was aggressive Reese could easily outrun him, and was already fairly familiar with these woods. He cautiously watched the loner for a reaction. He had the knowledge that could help him and his wound, and fill his belly with this catch.

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