[AW] [M] Fallen Angels
#1

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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Quote:Backdated to October 1.

Death.

It took over like a stronghold and crushed everything in its path. Eventually it would succumb and take over everything like a vicious cycle. Once you died you were nothing more than a dead, useless, lifeless corpse that the worms crawled in and out of. Morbid and destructive, it pleases not one person. Or at least one person with a right mind. 

A black cloud hung over the Braithwaite, as she cradled the lifeless corpses of her children. Mustering up enough strength to actually look at their perfect lifeless forms. 

Hosea had clung to their son for life that night. A lifeless mother sat and nursed her remaining child, before setting him aside into his father's arms like an object. Numbness took its place instead of joy for the remaining child. A mother who birthed them but was now barren. 

There was a trail of tears, not just for the mother and father who lost their children but for the Del Mar's, for the Winthrops, for everyone that the Braithwaite had come into contact with recently. 

A lone figure could be seen cradling something, as she walked. Aimlessly at first, but then with intent as she neared the gravesites. Bodies were buried from the massacre, and the Braithwaite heiress didn't cry. Pale eyes couldn't, not whenever it had been her fault. Hosea had begged her, and she did not listen. Stubborn and selfish intent caused her the lives of her children. Hosea probably blamed her too, she wouldn't doubt it. Justice would be served at Heavens gates.

Kneeling down in the dirt her clothes from the night before were still on, soaked in blood and dirt and smelling of fresh birth. Her hair was neat in a bun though, placed perfectly- as though she took too much time. Before she ever dug a hole for her children, she laid out a cloth on the ground and set both her children a top it. Petting their tiny little heads and glancing at the mouths that would never take a breath. 

Why couldn't you have just taken me instead, God. They say there's a reason for everything you do, but why? They were just born into this world. Why them? Speaking to the ground, a single tear finally fell from her eye. 

The whole fucking pack was in shambles.
#2
OOC: ---

What a fucking day this had been. Once again she found her body aching from actual work instead of dehydration and age; she had pulled her weight today, that was for damn sure.

Blood stained paws clutched a bouquet of weeds and fall-flowers; as shoddily as they had been picked so to were they as easily thrown away. Flowers; what had she been thinking? Instead, that romantic drivel was replaced with something more concrete; booze. A chipped and yellowed shot glass and the remaining slug of whiskey gripped by bony fingers, she made her way to the cemetery, where she had just returned from.

Ronnie Winthrop, the poor son-of-a-bitch, was dead. When she had found him lifeless outside the Del Mar camp, she had had little reaction. Death was just the sweet end to the suffering of life after-all, she was sure that his soul had now become part of the universe or some other such bullshit. He sure as hell wasn’t in paradise, as if such a place even existed. Ah, to die and become nothing; if only she had the balls to kill herself.

She knew that Ronald would have a funeral, and one that she dearly wished to missed. As macabre as she was, the gathering of those to weep and lament one’s death sickened her. They were dead, the show and fanfare was for the shellfish wants of the living only; a spectacle of the for none but themselves. Would Ronnie care from beyond the grave? She thought not. Twelve was also sure he’d not give a damn that she was coming to visit the soft, moist soil that his body now laid under, but they would share one last drink.

Unfortunately, when she arrived there was already a mourner; Twelve nearly hitched her step and turned back around, until she realized the woman was hunched over a cloth on the ground. Upon that linen laid two perfectly tiny bodies, seemingly still wet from the womb. Her throat clenched with bile and she felt her skin prickle; puppies.

What in the goddamn motherfucking fuck were the Ashen doing making babies during all the shit that had gone down? Were they all out of their minds? Extreme disdain and judgement flooded through her veins as she looked at the woman, and realized it was fair-haired Peony. Ah yes, she had seen her stomach distended, and unfortunately not from a slew of large meals.

A scowl on her face, and curiosity getting the best of her, Twelve meandered over to the grieving would-be mother and stared down at her deceased pups. Dark and perfectly formed, there did not seem to be any reason to the naked eye as to why they did not live. The mother’s fault no doubt, "Mmm, what a shame. Maybe next time you’ll think twice about opening your legs." She said, before she could even think otherwise.

WC: +482
#3
Sullen thoughts. A single tear.

That was it, her ears flickered on her head as she heard another approach. Teeth found themselves digging into her lips. This other female stared at her for a moment and the pale female lifted Lavender eyes to see that of Twelve. The female who always looked emaciated and ill. Her lips pursed as she watched the scarred female with those pale eyes. A second longer as she opened her mouth to speak to the female who was towering over her, but was interrupted.

Excuse the fuck out of me?

Peony felt her face grow hot and her lips peeled back to reveal sparkling white teeth. Well taken care of and well balanced. There was a scowl on Twelve's face and the Braithwaite heiress wasted no time to let a growl bubble up from her throat. How fucking dare you? With a kick of her left leg the small, lithe, female would aim to knock her leg out from under her surely causing the other female to fall to the ground. Peony was swift and quick to react and as soon as she would be on the ground- Peony would quickly position herself atop the other female. A single swipe from a closed first to her jaw, before Peony spoke.

Acid laced words came out of the pretty gal who was always so proper. Just who the fuck do you think you are? A rhetorical question.

Before giving Twelve an opportunity to speak she went nose to nose with her. Puta. She spit next to her face a dark look in her eye as she positioned hands beside the others head. You don't ever talk about my children or me like that again. May God have blessings on what's left of your blackened soul. With that the blonde female was quick to rise up off Twelve and then move back towards her children, rage seethed through her bones and her chest heaved.
#4
OOC: ---

She was of course right, Peony could have saved herself this heartache in a myriad of different ways, the most simple being to have reabsorbed the pregnancy as soon as it tickled her innards. There were only two explanations as to why she hadn’t done this; she was too young and stupid to know how, or, she really wanted the pups. If it was the former, maybe now she would know; if it was the latter, then she truly was a fool.

All these thoughts spun in Twelve’s mind the same as the stars spun around her head, and around Peony’s face, framing it in her distorted vision; what the fuck had just happened?

It took a moment, but Twelve realized that she was on the ground, and Peony had snuck a nasty leg-sweep on her, followed by a nasty left-hook. The gray woman tasted blood, and she could feel warmth running down her chin from a split-lip.

Finally making sense of it, Twelve sneered up at the woman with bloodied teeth, a stark contrast to Peony’s own pristine maw, "God abandoned me years ago, honey." She said before pushing the small woman off of her.

Now on the ground, the little bodies just beside them, Twelve stared, her stomach turning. With a heavy sigh, she spat the blood pooling in her mouth to the side, "Damn, you sure know how to hit for a tiny little thing…" She said, a terrible weariness suddenly evident in her voice. She could feel this same kind of fatigue basically emanating off of the Braithwaite; it had been a long couple days for all of them.

After a couple moments of uncomfortable and abject silence, Twelve turned her neck at an angle, "Look…" she began, sucking a breath in between her dirty teeth, "You don’t need to do this… this… final work. You don’t need to have the last view of them be as you cover them with dirt. Let me do it."

It was a strange thing what Twelve was doing, but as fucked up as she was, she wasn’t evil. She knew pain, more so than many; if she could spare someone else the same, she would. It was hard to meet Peony’s eyes, but she did, "God may not look upon me anymore, but He can work through me. I know last rights, I can do it proper."

WC: +398
#5
Blood boiled. Felt like she might never get over the anger that was coursing through her veins threatening to attack the other and lash out in a fury of claws and teeth. Instead, Peony found herself thrown from the larger females body and she landed on her belly. A momentary thought of attack her again went through her mind but instead she got into a crouching position and stared at Twelve.

Her body was scarred, ear and tail cut off in an odd manner. What had happened to this female to make her such a disgusting coyote. The more Peony thought about it, her eyes softened. Twelve just needed someone to show her love and appreciation, kindness. Perhaps that is what the scars are from. When Peony didn't respond to the comment about God at first, she listened to the words she spoke about hitting hard for a little thing.

A scoff erupted from her mouth as she smoothed her shirt and then smoothed her hair taking a stand. I think you abandoned Him. Peony wasn't about to get in a religious debate right now, and she shook her head for a second eyes falling onto the bodies of the children she lost. One day, you'll understand. It's a cruel world. Talking to herself more-so than to Twelve, pale hands settled on her head once again.

When the scarred female spoke again, Peony quite literally choked on her words and started coughing. I'm sorry? pale eyes searched Twelevds face. This had to be a joke. Surely the female who just told her she should have kept her legs shut was offering to bury her children so she didn't have to? Her head shook no at first, but then she looked at the children and knelt beside their bodies. Twelve spoke about God as if she knew, but Peony didn'targue. She was too tired to argue. God works in mysterious ways, it would seem. Make sure they're secured. I will stand near.

As Peony stood up on two legs a hand went towards the female on the ground in an effort to help her up. Thank you.


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