[m] Our own jar of hearts. [p]

Insomnia · 03-18-2012, 08:24 PM

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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.

Hurr we go

It was nearly midday.

She awoke to find herself in a "den" of vegetation, thin frame encased by the brush that surrounded her, and, judging by the scent's that licked futilely at the air, still quite a span from the packlands. And now the dark shewolf wearily rose and shook herself out, the sinews of her form groggily untangling from the knotted thicket that crawled about her ankles and had kept her comfortable with it's swells for the former eve. Insomnia blinked against the pallid light cast down from the sky as she moved to perch upon a slab of dirt, striking a pose that was a seeming inappropriate display of nobility for one that was hardly royal – unintentional, though even if it wasn't, who was around to see? Insomnia's mouth went ajar at the texture of cottonball dryness that often followed a night's sleep, that pink mottled by black tongue weaving it's way across the lips of her maw to try to alleviate its irritation. But this was done to no avail, and the sallow tongue that was meant to slather moisture only increased the dry discomfort as it slid across her parched lips. That tendriled appendage seething to curl around her exposed digits in a wolf's usual manner as she sank to her hindquaters upon the peak. Her breathing was noticeably altered, thick and tangible as she took in currents of air, the sheets of humidity that hung like a curtain around her just one clue that rain had fallen quite recently, and without the sun or wind to evaporate the damp, it remained suspended in the air. It was hot, something beautifully sweltry, but it lacked light. Actually, the sun was nowhere to be seen. The western horizon was still streaked with colour, but the rest of the sky was a fading gray. The sunrise brought a desire to investigate, the glint in those heliotrope infested irises authenticating something curious, perhaps slightly provocative within their innocent depths.

Without another wasted second's consideration, she dove into the woods that surrounded the bog, retractable claws leaving a crisp line of pawprints filing behind her dark silhouette as a trademark of her route, toward the horizon, pressing those velvet paws of gentle tendencies into the malleable carpet; unaware of the predisposed stirrings her mere presence caused to rial from within. Beneath her feminine paws the ground went from mud to dark water, and her gaze fell suddenly from the rotting trees to the moor's encumberment that imposed upon her flesh. She couldn't tell where her own leg ended and the water began, the darkness of each making it impenetrable with the naked eye. She sucked in a breath of air and released it with tentativity, vanishing just beyond her nostrils. It tasted foul and dank. The water glistened as though it were frozen place; as if even the most sudden movement would seem intractable, unable to disturb the glassy surface. Her paw slid forward to destroy the peacefulness of the algae-riddled plane, the ripples trembling sensuously across the surface before again disappearing beneath the savage stillness. It was interesting, and so she proceeded to do it over again, watching as life erupted before being pressured into unwelcome dispersal once again, and she appreciated it for what it represented. As the final circular swells caused by her gentle caress receded into distant vestiges and vanished, a flicker of movement caught her attention, forcing her gaze to follow and track the trail with a false show of bemusement... a warning, or a dare to essay? Nothing jumped out at her to make her pay closer attention. She was convinced that it wasn't dangerous, accepted that truth, and locked it away so it would cease it's nagging at the back of her mind. And if it wasn't dangerous, there was no harm in continuing; no one else was around. As she went a concoction of smells flooded the chambers of her thin snout, and her browse moved to include a small gathering of waterlillies that were somehow remarkably able to sustain their existence here. They, and she, were the only signs of life that were yet to be encountered in this extinction. Alone but not lonely, as she stared beyond her reflection deep into the brackish water of the moor, tentacles unfit to be called branches shatteing the mist.

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