too damn young

Ookami · 10-02-2012, 05:17 PM

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table done by anna!

Ookami wished that he didn't feel the need to cut himself. He wished it with all his heart. He felt shame ripple through him everytime he didn't need a "fix," as he liked to call it, every time he looked at the cuts on his arm. He would think about how he let one person do that to him. Made him feel the need to physically harm himself out of anger and sadness. And that person was Adonia. She had broke his heart, she was carrying someone else's puppies. Those puppies should be his. He should be in New Dawn with her.. He should be holding her, loving her, comforting her, talking to her... But no. She'd thrown him to the side of the road because of the mistakes he'd made. He wanted to make them up to her, but she ruined that chance.

He felt tears come to his eyes and then he grew angry that he was about to cry. He took off from his home, trying to find some natural shelter. As he stormed away, he couldn't help it.. Finally, the anger, the shame, the sadness, the heartbrake, the guilt... It all came washing out of him in the form of tears. He found a group of trees, and he slammed his back into one, sliding down with his chest bobbing from the crying. He tried to stop, but it just kept coming.

Then, the burning desire to cut into his flesh took a hold of him. He couldn't fight it anymore, before he could a little, but then he would just give in.. Now he couldn't even think twice about fighting it. His claw was tearing into his flesh before he knew what was happening. Over and over again he drew his own blood, watching the crimson liquid bubble up, then pour out. And soon, it helped his tears stop, he was so transfixed in this disgusting act that he couldn't even think about anything except the pleasure-pain that ripped through his body.

Dalgina Wolfe-Denahlii · 10-02-2012, 06:28 PM

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OOC here!

Dalgina had been painting nearby. It was a painting of Fawkes soaring through darkness. He had a much fiercer cruel look to him in the painting than he did in real life. The kestrel was still pleased with it. The art held much of Dalgina's pain, but he thought he looked pretty cool, and that it reflected his true self quite well. A wily beast that none would dare to confront. Dalgina looked up when a strange golden wolf she didn't know passed her. He seemed consumed by something.

Briefly Dalgina debated the merits of ignoring him over satisfying her rather morbid curiosity. It hadn't faded, but instead had taken a fascination with the dark things in life, instead of being attracted to the light as she used to be. Dalgina placed her paintbrush down and followed after him, her pace much more steady than that of the emotional male before her. When he did stop Dalgina watched as he sliced into himself again and again until the tears halted. Does it help?

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