[M] Leaves from the vine, falling so slow

Clover

POSTED: Sat Jul 28, 2018 2:03 am

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.

Johnathan Winthrop

ooc

It was a pressing upon his soul that wiped away every good feeling he had ever experienced in his life. There was a horrible pounding in his head that refused to stop, not since he had seen the remains of the little boy, not since Briar had cried her grief at the bitch she'd had to kill. Briar was gone now, and Rhodes too. John gagged on the bile in his throat and clutched at his head through black hair.

Lean and skinny, the bones pressed out of his body. He had starved rather than deprive the others of meager food. They hadn't dared to eat the sick animals they had slaughtered. The little boys, both in their graves, it was all just so awful to comprehend and John had thought he'd known awful intimately.

He was so very wrong.

He had walked away form the caverns, from the shroud of grief that hung heavy in the air - no matter where he went though, it was there smothering him.

Eventually hunger and weakness made him stop, and the Winthrop fell to his knees, staring up at the cruel, blue sky. The storms had done their damage and had gone. He opened his mouth and screamed to the mountains, an echoing, bellowing shriek,

"FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" He screamed at the sky and at the mountains and at the pure evilness of it all.

That I must bow so low
The Cartel
El Burro
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Jace
Luperci

POSTED: Sat Jul 28, 2018 2:28 am

The shadow of grief in the caverns was oppressive – as if all of them were in a grave. Earth and stone could crumble and entrap the remnants of the coyote clan, and most would not notice. A tomb without air, the stench of illness, death. Clover succumbed to it, too, and spent most of a day with her muzzle buried between her forepaws, just weeping. In between the breathy hiccoughs she heard other dry sobs and whimpers echoing off the dusty walls: Merari sniffling and clutching an old toy that still smelled of Rhodes, Vesper making sharp sounds between coughs.

The only one Clover did not hear cry was Vicira. She came by her den at one point, peeking in, but left mortified when she found the Aquila staring into space, wrapped up in her own arms, ignorant of her claws buried in her own flesh.

Eventually it became too much. She was afraid of what would happen if she lingered here alone with her thoughts. She had to go out: she had to hunt, or track the scent again (she and Conrad had tried, but the soldier had seemingly aged years since their move, and they'd had to stop when he seemed ready to collapse). She had to do something.

She trotted outside, squinting at bright sunlight. Shaking her head ferociously, she turned and let her paws carry her along a trail, sniffing hopefully for food. Clover did find a squirrel, overheated and panting, and killed it before burying it in a shallow cache under the log it had splayed tiredly out on. It took all her strength not to devour it there.

The grey dog was stalking a pheasant, limbs trembling and mouth watering, when the scream echoed through the mountains. The bird panicked and opened its wings, Clover panicked and leaped, and she crashed down a slope with the flapping thing in her teeth. Skidding, she slit her paw pad on a sharp stone and yelped, then crashed on top of the bird. It struggled, but she got her teeth around it. She chewed it almost frantically, killing it messily.

Panting, she looked for the source of the scream. Limping with her bleeding forepaw raised gingerly off the ground, she approached the stick-thin and ragged shape of the Winthrop. Something in his scream, in the look on his face, frightened her. She hung back, swallowing, her brown eyes soft and nervous.

...John?

Are you okay? almost slipped out. What a stupid fucking question.


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Raze
oderint dum metuant
cave canem
unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Thu Aug 02, 2018 8:23 pm

Johnathan Winthrop

ooc

He poured it all out until his lungs burned and he had to let it die away, echoing back at him from the gully's and valleys. He sucked in breaths and let them rasp out again, harsh things that scratched his throat. The whole of his chest heaved in terrible sucking motions.

There was never enough air anymore, his hands ripped themselves from black hair, tearing inky strands with them and he slammed them against the ground. The impact jarred all the way up his arms and shoulders, it split the skin and he stared unseeing at the blood that drip-drip-drippped from his fingers.

His teeth chattered together, the dryness of his innards was a suction that hoovered up all the things that might have cried. All that was left was anger, anger and the raging sorrow. It burned his insides, prickling under the skin.

A large ear turned at the dog-woman's approach and his head turned a fraction, one too-bright green eye catching her lingering with nervousness stressing out her figure. The red smell was strong for both of them,

"You're bleeding." He pointed out dully, fighting the wobble of flesh to move his legs and sit properly on the ground and not balanced on his knees. His hands folded up against the ragged leather of his pants, leaving smudges of crimson.

That I must bow so low
The Cartel
El Burro
User avatar
Jace
Luperci

POSTED: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:53 am

Everything was fracturing. The clan itself fragmented with dissenters and loyalists, but hairline cracks spiderwebbed through the wills of the remnants. Hearts had broken – and minds, too, threatened to cascade like pieces of shattered glass. For a coyote to drag themselves from the catacombs to scream at the mountains – it frightened Clover, whose instinct warned her against feats of madness like this. She held herself poised to run almost, licking her lips, when John's visible eye flashed her way.

Inky, lank hair curtained half his gaunt face, brittle with malnutrition. His eye was ringed with white sclera, darting. His fingers were scraped and bloodied like the rocks. In the end, though, he shifted his legs under him and made a dull remark that made Clover snort. Yeah, you too, the Outsider pointed out.

She glanced over her shoulder at where the dead bird rested in the brush, but figured they would smell a scavenger. Carefully, she hobbled toward the thin ruddy-furred man, her paw hoisted off the rocks. Just as carefuly she sat beside him, glancing his way. He was a very different man than the lax, humorous acquaintance she'd spent time with before the storms. Only memory of this kept her from running.

Still, she didn't know what to say. Everything that came to mind would be stating the obvious: "everything sucks, isn't it sad that puppy died, I don't things will get better."

At last her eyes went hard. She stared at the mountains too.

I'm sorry you came all this way to Inferni for this.

Clover – Clover was in deep. She wouldn't dream of abandoning Vesper, or Antioch's family, or her remaining niece. Her heart was too dog for it. But sometimes it made her forget that others had no such ties, hadn't fought wars alongside them. John had his brother, she guessed, but – big brothers left people behind, too.


User avatar
Raze
oderint dum metuant
cave canem
unconditional loyalty

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