a cold and broken hallelujah

POSTED: Mon Jul 02, 2018 10:14 pm

The sheep were growing sick, a point of stress for stub-tailed Hope, who had so desperately wanted to see them flourish again. Was this punishment? Was God punishing them, sending a plague to harm their livestock, to test their resolve? Where once she had felt hope, it had withered into dismay, and as she swatted a mosquito that was buzzing near her ear, the Lykoi could feel herself struggling to find positivity in this time of tribulation.

Her face pressed itself against the face of the old ram, ears turned down, before she let him lope off sluggishly. Her red eyes scanned the rest of the herd. What was left of them? Seven sheep and a handful of babes that were unlikely to make it to fall or winter? The young always died first, she had come to realize this now, the young and the elderly. Memories of her mother twisted in her stomach as she thought on death, and she tried to remind herself that Crucifix was in Heaven where she belonged.

But these sheep wouldn't go there, and they didn't deserve an early and unwarranted death.

Sullen, she sat herself on the wet earth, letting the herd roam around her and graze on what grass was growing in the sodden conditions. If God was testing them, would they succeed in the test? What would happen if they failed?

[wc: ###] Be mopey with Hopey.
stand face to face with your God

and find out what you are

Del Cenere Gang
Las Brasas (NPC)
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POSTED: Wed Jul 04, 2018 8:38 pm

Biting flies and deep mud turned the corrals into a breeding ground for sickness and filth. Merari rubbed at a sore on her arm, grimacing at the figures of the sheep and goats huddled miserably wherever a patch of dry earth could be found. Further away, the pigs waded. She kept an eye out for the little spotted one (if not so “little” anymore) she’d taken to calling Murphy, until she smelled another coyote.

“Hope?” the girl called. She walked toward the other Lykoi, then hesitated. She knew that the woman had lost her mother recently, violently, and Rari wasn’t sure how to approach her. She looked forlorn, seated in the wet grass, alone.

She sighed, sucked it up, and came over. She did not sit, not wanting to soak her rump when mud already splashed her to her calves.

“Mom says we’ll probably have to cull ’em if they don’t get better.”

That probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but Merari didn’t think about it when she said it.

face down in the desert now there's a cage locked around my heart
Del Cenere Gang
The Unkindled
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