(FE)MALE
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Post by authgrim on Oct 23, 2017 0:17:46 GMT
 Upon the edge of the wheat field, the sprawl of flowing honey-colored grass sat a shepherd mix. He knew this color, from his days with sight. Cathbharr recalled that the Follower's sacrifices had been given into a field that smelled much the same as this one, to allow Sovrasil to see down, and see that his disciples hid nothing from him by conducting their business within the open, rather than huddled beneath trees like frightened squirrels. He lay upon his stomach, forepaws crossed in a delicate manner, while he mumbled to himself.
"Sovrasil, look upon this follower with mercy, for he is far from home," the mumbled words rang out clearly despite their quiet tone. "Let him atone and let him give you this offering, so that you may continue to look upon him with mercy, even when he fails to beg you for it." The dog lifted one of his forepaws, the one laid across the other, and turned it at the wrist. This would be a time to notice the holes within his face, the scab-blackened holes that shone and glistened with a combination of raw flesh and infection. There was an audible thung as he swallowed against the pain, as he pushed his forepaw into the wound, turning his head from side to side to allow his claws and the roughness of his pads to scrape and scratch the flesh within.
A trickle began, coursing down his maw like a blood-tear, curling around the leather of his deformed nose. It stained within his exposed teeth, which he licked off periodically to avoid it running back into his mouth. He proceeded to do the same with the other eye hole. He gave a snort and splattered the grass before his unseeing face, before he stood, and angled his figure to walk further into the wheat field. He left a trail of smears behind himself, on the grass as he walked.
Sometime had passed, with him wandering around in a blind aimlessness when he scented something. This, of course, was done around the iron scent of his own blood. Ears twitched, and he cast his head about curiously, listening and smelling to locate the other being that he shared this field with. The muscles in his forehead twitched before he began walking again, the scent becoming ever stronger as he moved through the caress of the wheat. He came upon the other and stopped. "Hello there, kind soul, might you give this follower some company? I ask nothing more than words of you, if you will be so kind," he spoke, tilting his head to the side, the empty and bloodied eyesockets fixated on the direction he knew that the other was in.
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Post by ↬ mute on Oct 24, 2017 14:47:12 GMT
my story is written in scares //
| Long unused railroad tracks carved their way through the countryside, the sunlight from this spring afternoon warmed NailCrank’s back as she trekked onward with no purpose, like a child running away from home. Paws placed intricately, one in front of another, every ounce of her mind focused on balancing on the metals tracks, the pieces warped with age and weather. NailCrank’s child-like mind was elsewhere of course, picturing herself a ninja breaking into a secret compound, perhaps to steal precious jewels? Didn’t matter. NailCrank often found herself in outlandish dreams; day or night. Her age would suggest she’d be long since past this stage in her life, but allowing herself to be elsewhere helped her to cope the loss of her mate, Desi. He had only been gone for a few months now, but her heart ached like it was yesterday. She saw him every now and then - in her dreams. This was a huge comfort to her, to see him, hear his voice again. The first few times this occurred she was frightened; he seemed so real, like she could reach out and touch him again. This quickly turned into a comfort, then progressed into an unhealthy addiction. NailCrank paused her movement as her dark toes curled around the broken edge of metal, glancing down to see the track she had been exploring was completely snapped. The opposite side curled back as though it was snapped with some force. NailCrank stared at it with a level of annoyance; how would she get the jewels now? An impatient sigh rippled through her, as she pounced off the track in the most dramatic way possible, landing with a flick of her bushy cinnamon tail. Much the way a popular at your high school might make a fuss about having to interact with her nerdy science partner. Plunking her thin hips into the ground, newly sprouting wild flowers and green spring grass surrounds her, gentle brown eyes inspected her surroundings with a level of surprise, the landscape had changed without her noticing. What was once rocky and mountainous, dense with pine trees; is now leveling out, trees growing more sparse. Even the underbrush had receded back to reveal pasture land, something NailCrank was completely unfamiliar with, having spent most of her life in a forest-like setting. Cocking her pointed face to one side, biting at her top line as she considered this new setting with utter wonder, like a small child’s first look at Disneyland. The child inside her ran wild with glee, NailCrank needed to see more! As if she needed more reason to proceed, a dark shadow over head cause NailCrank to startle violently, a loud gasp escaped her maw as her gaze snapped skyward to look at her attacker. To her shock (and slight anger), a raven flew past with a mocking cry. “Hey!” she barked at it, leaping to her feet and taking off after it. Her long lean body galloping after the raven; whom seemed oddly aware of his pursuer, often swooping lower to the ground inciting an attack from the dog before returning to a great height in a show of superiority. NailCrank pursued barking playfully, flinging herself into the sky when the bird neared her, only to fall back to the earth totally raven-less. This playful display between two species continued a mile or so down the path before the raven grew bored and left his brief friend in the dust. NailCrank’s playful barks grew fewer and far between as she realized her friend was gone. Stopping she watched him disappear into the distance, tail sagged to the ground and ears dropped as she whispered, “Come back.” Suddenly feeling all the energy drain from her body as grief filled her, dropping her hips to the ground again, panting heavily craving her need to dream again. It was then she smelt something - no someone. Another canine. Quickly turning to face the smell, her eyes locked onto the shepherd - no, locked onto bloody empty eye sockets on the shepherd. Her blood ran cold with utter shock, chest tight as though the wind had been knocked out of her. He spoke to her, wait, he spoke to her! This was a dream it had to be. Was this Desi? No, Desi never looked like this when she saw him. Squeezing her eyes shut, no matter who it was those eyes terrified NailCrank. “Please. Please… don’t hurt me.” She stammered, her words just above a whisper.
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(FE)MALE
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Post by authgrim on Oct 24, 2017 16:17:55 GMT
The other dog, Cathbharr could tell, was frightened of him. It was a she-dog he knew, from her scent, and some part of him now accustomed to being blind noted that she did not occupy much space - at least not a vastly greater or smaller amount than he. He was not certain how he came to sense these things, he in his travels, he had run into other blind dogs (although, rarely were they alone) who had a similar ability. It seemed something like how a deaf dog could still largely tell if something was loud or not. There was uncertain as to how such things could be done, but Cathbharr knew that this was probably Sovrasil's work, granting upon those who were disabled, the ability to survive and know things in absence of their senses or limbs. It was a blindingly magnificent thing to the shepherd, as to the great mercy that Sovrasil bestowed upon his earthbound children, even those who did not yet know of his great mercy and love for them. This infraction though, Cathbharr knew, was why the Followers offered up sacrifices once a moon's turn, to beg forgiveness for those who were not yet aware of His Greatness. And since these other dogs with their disabilities were granted the same kindness as those who knew and loved Sovrasil and thanked him several times a day for their lives, Cathbharr knew that their sacrifices were not ignored. This thought made his tail twitch with delight! How wonderful! he thought. How wonderful it is to know that our God, our great Sovrasil loves us, even those of us who do not know our love for him! He is truly merciful and great! His impulse was to offer up a prayer at such a revelation, to thank the god above with the loudness of his voice, and hope that his praise may be heard. But, he did not. Something told him that such an action might frighten this she-dog further. Considering the sharpness of her fear in the air, he did not wish to do this. "Please, please... Don't hurt me." Cathbharr tilted his head to the side, confused. "No, do not worry of that. I won't hurt you, I promise. I wish you no ill-will at all, kind soul." He spoke gently, and quietly, attempting to soothe her fears as best he could. A thought occurred to him suddenly, as if spoken to him by Sovrasil himself: she is scared of your wounds. This humbled him fully, and he turned his head towards the ground, angling his features away from her. "I do apologize if I have frightened you. This Follower's eyes are at the mercy of Sovrasil, you see. It was never intended to frighten you, sweet child." He stated. His tongue flicked out a moment later, to clean his deformed nose of the clotted blood, and attempting to clean it from the visible teeth. He licked a paw a moment later, and rubbed at his maw, in an attempt to clean the crusted dried blood from it, although he could not rid himself of the stains, in an attempt to make himself look less ghoulish. Of course, though, he recognized that the state of his eye sockets and the tip of his maw were something that disturbed many, although he could not help it. He could not correct a birth defect, and he could not replace his eyes. He had not completed his mission as Sovrasil had told him so long ago, and so he would never have the god's eyes to see with. He was deformed, yes, but he was a Follower of the great Sovrasil, and so like all beings, was beautiful in his own way. Although, this thought process caused him to persistently remind himself that he must remain humble, and not become prideful. Cathbharr thought for a moment before he spoke again. "This Follower's name is Cathbharr. See? Monsters do not have names, sweet child. Especially not a name bestowed by Sovrasil and granted by the Fathers of the Followers. If Cathbharr does not suit your tongue, others have also called me See - although I suspect that is placed in irony, for I am blind - and they have also called me Father. Another name to not give a monster, Father, it means many good things, someone who is gentle and kind and will not hurt you. A monster could not possess the moniker Father in any fashion." He hoped that this would calm her further. 757 words↬ mute |
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