[One swear used. 'Minor' language warning.]
The white stag had left, just as he always had- displaced and in a mood. He had something to leave for; someone waiting for him.
By general rule, the bird creature refused to allow this to affect him. As similar as they were, they were different ‘people’…with different situations. Very…different.
He stared off across the dark landscape, too black for his slitted eyes to take in. Just dark, with slightly less dark stripes…and bright speckles that were the lightening bugs. Absently, he licked at the remaining liquid left on his lips from the strange insects. Bitter. Gagworthy. Yet his throat didn’t partake in the lunge of muscle it so desperately wished to carry out.
Too busy. Too in thought…
It was impossible not to feel. The chill in the air, the skip in hooved steps. Something was up. The white had told him some time before, ‘Christmas’, but what did this really mean? A vague memory had surfaced at the mention, but otherwise that animal had been left untouched. Maybe now…now that he was alone, it was time to do something about it…It paced through his head, starving for his attention.
Maybe, just maybe…
What a stupid idea.
Strings of light, glistening, metallic papers, red and white. And all he could think- why did the fireflies line up this way-? How could paper do that-? What could be cheery about red and white- Jack covered in blood?
It didn’t take long at all to hit him. Electricity, and the plastic covered wires that ran up to the little bulbs, warm beneath fingers. Fingers, calloused from working hard at the butcher’s all of three months to buy the twins that china set they had oogled- too young to think how they may break it, or how it really was little different than the plastic cups they used on a daily basis. One of the girls coming to him, holding one of those very cups with chilly little fingers, which he pried away, and placed on the warm glass. The surprised look on her cleaned face, and questions about ‘why’. Questions he couldn’t answer with confidence, but gave answers for anyway. Questions…
Somewhere, a cricket chirped.
Little sister was back home. Little sister was probably old enough for a man by now. To take a man? A husband? Had he missed it? Did it matter?
A twig snapped.
Did he have a sister at all? Why couldn’t he remember her face? Obviously she didn’t exist, obviously this was all a delusion- he was in a forest, for christ’s sake- a forest very much unlike home’s backyard and-
His claws twitched. They felt nothing like fingernails through the dirt.
Everything came flooding into his mind at once. Leaving home, the new land, the woman, the career, battle, fight, run for your lives, drilled into his subconscious day after day- calm and a heat that warmed him from the heart outward. The woman. The one that made him ache. The way he had forgotten, was snapped up- the pain- FUCK- the pain-! All of it rolled into one…
Tightness in his head and stomach was overwhelming. Stretching. Pulling tight. Slow, calculated…ripping. With each ticking thought, it intensified, creeping up his throat, taking his tongue hostage until he had to open his mouth, lash the dark muscle… liquid went with it, tasting of metal. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this-
Up, up on these spidery things that were not his legs, and he stumbled forward. He couldn’t do this. Not alone. There had to be a way to block the thoughts- he had kept them away for so, so long. Kept these attacks at a minimum.
All because of -that thing-.
The ripping only worsened with movement. He could feel it, the muscle pulling so tight it dared to try pulling from bone. Tendons, straining. Still he moved. Could feel that thing in the distance, where he had tossed it. Left and…
…abandoned.
Time seemed to pass quickly. He was too caught in the methodical plucking of fiber from fiber to notice. All he knew was, eventually, he was staring down at it. A small gleam on its beak made him certain. The short, breathless ‘keh’ from its hollow throat made him nearly fall forward to it. His mask. Understanding, indifferent, non-judging. The flesh about its eyesockets tilted in the dark. Eyes were not needed for their bond…it could simply feel. They had fought them all. Killed them all. Been one, and been the only ones. The only one.
That was why, when he truly did fall forward next to the mask, blood and liquid salt creating rivers through his carved skin, the disembodied head jerked forward even closer. A long, black tongue slipped out, sliding over his cheek before he even came within range. A feeling he then leaned into.
Too-long claws curved like loving knives around the head, pulling it close to his chest as wings drew up and around them. Feathers warming the cold flesh around its beak and eyes. This was what would keep the blood from rushing out his throat. This calmness, this understanding. Even so, as he sobbed and screamed himself hoarse into the top of the head-monster’s skull, he knew there wasn’t an entire understanding…
‘It’s almost Christmas.’
‘What is Christmas?’
alreayy told you how awesome
btw i suck at commenting writings kaythx you know my opinion on this anyways this is actually a ninja bumb, because...39 reads? hello people... this deserves more.
63 reads and only one
The way you wrote this made me feel each and every feeling B had. You're such an amazing writer, Lu, and I am left greedily wanting more.
I envy your writing skills,
Poor Bright though. *snuggles*
I love this so much. Poor
Thank you guys. Your comments
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