blushing wounds ━ joining

[cecil.]

[align=center][div style="width: 400px; font-size: 7.5pt;text-align: justify;color:#494941;line-height:115%;font:verdana;"]the sky was a tempest of saturated hues, wind - bitten flora rocking against the breeze, stiff brown limbs rattling from their place jutting from the hardened earth. death has sunk its rigid talons into the heart of the earth and a glistering soul grown over with hedera and begonias until they rot, curling in amongst itself and awaiting the wind to whip away at its brittle surface. and he had wondered faintly, vaguely, if he could drown in this bitter wind as one could icy depths. abovehead resembles the restless surface water he had once seen through bleary eyes, water rushing into his ears, pulsing uncomfortably against the sensitive inner workings whilst lungs screamed for oxygen, forming bubbles that float towards the surface in a way he could only dream that he could replicate. blues and greys curl like heavy - hanging wisteria, tangling vines and cotton that pawpads ache to be dipped into, if not just to feel the licks of silk against his wrists and clear the sky of its haze before nightfall. gazing upon that cold, dead expanse left him hungering for the deep, dark tones of the night      for brilliant stars, ivoried pinpoints his longest and dearest friends. but comfort was far from the unbidden thoughts of the universe, too busy holding infinitesimal details waiting to be found. cecil quite enjoys watching the sky, within municipally - approved skywatching hours, of course - lest his eyes be melted or burned or some other variation of the same - old, same - old consequences. he thinks that, perhaps, the realm above may be his truest love. time meant little as it churned on, aging him not but in mind, and little even then. staring up upon clocks that never ticked ( to his knowledge, none of them did. he simply thought them a fashionable wall - piece. ), or sandy terrains or paint - stripped walls smelling of bitter iron and formaldehyde, time was nothing but a vague concept he'd heard in passing. he did not question it. he did not even fathom questioning it, truthfully. night was a solace, a hideaway, a break from the ever - present heat of the desert, from what most would consider a ' controlled environment '.

but clocks do not have mercy, and the stars do not love.

he awakes slowly, consciousness flooding into his being and bringing with it a vague discomfort he'd much rather fall back asleep than deal with/ dry eyes remained closed for a beat, aching behind paper - thin lids, no doubt red and angry with inflammation, unwilling to produce the tears they so obviously needed. cecil assumed that, within a few days ( or weeks ), his tear ducts would return to their normal state, hopefully without him having to return to the ruin of his old home and dig out the mass - produced officially licensed strex eye drops. metal clamps were a phantom pain upon his waxy lids, unaccustomed to waking without the brilliant shine of his councilman's retinal light examining the veins within after placing down a hearty breakfast of raw chicken and porridge. a mild weight in his paw brings his attention to the present, a sleepy snuff leaving his maw as it rises from the ground, twisting just enough to lock his electric gaze upon whatever lie within his grasp   only to fall back down upon realizing just what it was. an apple. glorious red, plump fruit, inscribed with runes and forbidden words of a language long dead. cecil didn't know what it meant. he hadn't known what the first five meant, either, but he had tucked them within his fanny pack nonetheless, fully intending to consider them at a later date. however, there was only so much space in his bag left for the round fruits, and by this point, the creature was getting tired of shoving them all inside and still trying to keep the zipper closed. plus, it wasn't as if you could eat them   or, well, he didn't think you could. he wouldn't, just to be safe. plus, he didn't even know where the apples come from. there weren't any apple around where he had been, he was pretty sure; after all, most foodstuff had been chemically altered or mutated in some way from ever - increasing radiation. it was surely too bad one could not ingest them, although cecil would be more inclined to starve than have the inner lining of his stomach branded by bladed curvature.

cecil paused then, head lying against the slightly - damp ground and amethyst hues gazing towards the canopies above      and then started. he whipped up, ears perking and brow furrowing with confusion, taking in his surroundings with an air of uncertainty. he didn't recognize a thing, and although that had come to be expected, the creature had a particular sinking feeling indicating he'd done something wrong. his limbs stretched forward, head tipping upward as if it would somehow allow him a better intake of scent, before lowering again and wrinkling his nose. oh, yes --  he was not supposed to be here. he shifts, gathering his stick - like limbs beneath himself and pulling into a seated position, heart hammering against cotton - lined ribs. around him was little flora, the ones that did manage to sustain the intense radiation and cruel winter were a bare, sickly brown. it is certainly not the idyllic fortress he has always envisioned on those late nights, staring up upon an ivory ceiling whilst tentacles curl idly around his limbs, allowing him to ponder a life outside those bitter walls, but it would do. if there were even creatures here, for it looked.. mighty barren, for a open refuge. he supposed he should be grateful he'd even landed here, his penchant for sleepwalking could just as easily have taken him elsewhere, further into the wildlands where he'd certainly be in for an awful time. his jaws parted, dark pinks pulling back into a yawn, crepuscular light dancing amongst the void of onyx that was his coat. slowly, carefully, his tentacles extended from his shoulders and began to coil around the length of his limbs, the middlemost appendage coming to loop loosely around his throat and resting within the ruff around his chest and neck. it would be nice to know where he was, of course. he didn't know how far into the territory he was, or even if there were set boundaries, but it wasn't too horribly bad, was it?

the creature lifted his head, flicking his large audits and sending his optics upward, towards one of the balding trees perched nearby. it was a skeletal thing, and perched upon one of the thin branches sat a crow. cecil stared. the avian stared back.

"well, hello." the mutated creature spoke, voice honey and peach and dripping from his maw like sugared honey, molten gold riveting from the dip of his lips. the crow, expectedly, said nothing, offering naught but the slightest tilt of it's obsidian cranium to the lanky creature underfoot. cecil waited for a beat  —  one, two, and then turned,"i don't suppose you'd let me in, would you? hm? no?" a heaving sigh, bitter and restless, billowed from the slight part of his jaws, slender chest shuddering with the strength of it. waiting. oh, waiting had never settled well with him. tick tock, tick tock, he begins to click his lengthy tongue in time, mulling over the birds in his past; all dead, or in a state of dying. at least there were no screeching messages, no smoking stomachs, no antennae and a proboscis. cecil moves his electric oculars back towards the branch, clicking, clicking, staring at the raven - feathered avian that still sat, gazing calmly upon his form. from above the bridge of his dark glasses opened his third eye, feeling it part only halfway in a sort of bored fashion, slitted pupil lifting just as the rounded ones do to target the crow above. it was ominous, he supposed. the weather was not entirely inviting, and licorice feathers stood out prominently against the ashen backdrop. he clicked for a moment longer, then shifted, wondering faintly if he should move again or wait for those around him to finally show up,"oh, why am i so antsy?" murmurs he, annoyance riding upon that lyrical voice although it was directed mostly towards himself  --  and whomever was ( presumably ) watching him through the crow's beady luminaries.

[THE OSSUARY.]

i'm out of my head

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//mobile, apologies. your writing is lovely, by the way!

It had become difficult for Henry to pay much attention to anything that wasn't on the ground. He hardly ever looked up to the heaven's these days, finding himself too preoccupied with finding what little food was left. Of course, it wasn't like he'd be able to catch it with his withering body. However, he needed to distract himself from the pain of his body turning against itself in hunger. Just getting up in the morning had become near unbearable for the strong muscles that he once held were now sunken in; his bone and skin limbs shook under his own weight, pain ripping through them with every step. He rested more often than not and felt as though he were just awaiting death's embrace.

Henry had thought about making an attempt to travel to a place known as "Sanctuary" for the name sounded like something familiar, like bountiful food, clean water, shelter, safety, and company. However, his pessimism told him that, in the state that the world was in, it was likely no better than here. Well, there was probably one difference - it was likely warmer there. His lack of muscle and fat prooved how thin his long fur was for the shaking of his frame alone kept him awake at night when the mountains were the most chilling. Of course, maybe he just remained here because it was the new familiar. He knew how to get around and had picked out what he thought to be all the best hiding places within five miles of where he was now. Maybe he just didn't want to face the unknown again; he didn't want anymore messy surprises and painful deaths. Ironically, who could've predicted that starvation was one of the most painful ways to go?

Henry realized just how tired he was growing as he struggled down a rocky incline. He could hardly hop from rock to rock; as a matter of fact, he mostly just slunk down them and tried not to trip. He slipped down another boulder towards the ground, scarred pawpads welcoming the hard dirt more so than the sharp rocks. He paused, heaving for a moment as an unsteady gaze scoured the environment for something to eat. It was obviously barren. There was no wildlife to be seen for there was nothing good for them to consume. He squinted then, ignoring how the wound between his brows pinched in retaliation. The light blue sky was such an alarming difference in comparison to what was down below, where all the starving beasts lie. He blinked then; there was something near black as night laying on the ground. It wasn't exactly a stark contrast against the dark colored dirt and brown flora, but it stood out nonetheless. His first thought was that something was dead until he saw it lift its head. He blinked again but only remained where he was, what muscle remaining on him twitching underneath his fur as his legs felt ready to give. Instinctively, his ears perked at the sound of a  faint voice that seemed almost sweet - the tenderness of it almost unfamilar to his ears. As a matter of fact, most people around here spoke curtly and with agitation, definitely as a result from the situation they were all in and the sheer volume of disorder that plagued them, among other things.

Henry coughed then, his throat ached and itched from the water it had been deprived of. There was a river here, but he had been too frightened to contend with the animals that stuck by it. Lord knew that a good lot of them had to be thinking about cannibalism.

Finally, Henry's body leaned forward as he just managed enough courage to approach. His cough had likely given him away anyhow. Abruptly, he stopped short as though he were second-guessing himself; he refused to come any closer than a few yards. "Hello stranger, what brings you to these Godforsaken mountains?" Unlike his question, his voice came out jokingly as he attempted to offer the most gentle gaze he could muster. It was better to at least sound friendly so that one may have a greater chance at avoiding a provocation. Yet, his voice was cracked and hoarse; it even shook to unwillingly convey the weariness that vyied to bring his body closer to the ground beneath him. However, he did not sit down as he awaited an answer for he was still unsure of their purpose of being here. Perhaps they were in need of medical assistance, or were just faking it to get some unfortunate fool like himself within striking distance? Either way, the windhound faced them almost from the side, ready to utilize whatever little energy that remained in him to bolt if necessary.

❝i'm strummin' on the corner, about to catch the last train home. i'll have to jump the barriers so can you spare a penny for my thoughts? i've been praised upon the pavements. passers by don't pay much. chased away by neighbors. seen things you couldn't make up. if the streets could talk they'd tell a story or two. i'll paint a picture for you. i can tell you what it feels like to lose your home on a cold night.❞ TAGS ✦