there is something foul inside
it howls & aches
it howls & aches
It howls, that melody of the sea. It howls and roars, pulling at feathered fetlocks and wind tousled hair as the man walks the exposed borders of the beach. For the time being, the water's violent waves are willing to recede and bare to the eyes of every being what rests beneath it.
(For the time being, the wolves are quiet, but they are anxious; they are ready. Inherent predators, they wait and prowl along the margins of his mind, waiting and watching. Something stronger rests inside of him now, however, and the wolves dare not challenge it.
Not when it could possibly be something they want.)
Burnt eyes stared out into the wild expanse, feet running an endless pace that led him back and forth before the thunderous sea. The call of it, that broken melody that he has fallen into the arms of countless times before now, is more alluring than ever. To sink beneath it all, to allow the water to fill weary lungs and weigh down a man that already carries the weight of thousands upon his withers.
It truly is an enticing thought.
The sand beneath him is ruined, unable to be prepared until the tide returns and mends the path he has drilled into the beach. No matter how deep it might become, though, he is not hindered. He is drawn elsewhere, beyond the sight of physical eyes, and it would take more than just the damp grains below him, ones that attempt to slow him down, to bring him back.
Where he is, where is mind might be, no one can truly know, but it isn't here. Not when here has nothing for him. What little he had was gone now, last to the ravenous shadows that seemed to tail him everywhere he went. He wasn't safe from it within the safest of his mind, or out in the physical world. It howled and ripped into muscles before cracking every bone he had in his body. Drilling into his very core, it ran in perfect harmony with the demonic wolves that already claimed such a place for themselves.
In the abyss that was his heart, he ached.
There was no time to grieve, however; no such possibility when what had been tamed by her did its best to regain what ground she had cultivated with her own hands. It wished to ravage the neatly laid rows in which she had planted all of her tender affection that had gently come to completely consume him.
Now, the threat that it might be destroyed was on the horizon.
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as an unfamiliar wave of distaste coursed through his veins at that thought. Every single thing that came together to create him was afraid of such a possibility coming to life (everything but the pack that lurked in his mind, alongside their newest inhabitant because they wanted to ruin him; decimate him).
(They wanted to leave him on the ground, breathless and drenched in sweat, gasping for breath and consumed with so much fatigue that his legs would not be able to support him as the tide came back it.
And they could do it—had done it many times before now. Besides, there was no patch of red fur or freckled white to stop them. Oh, they could do it but... the wolves were curious about their newest resident.)
An agitation that hadn't been felt by him for years twirled around his heart, making him irritated and causing a faint sneer to turn down his lips. It made his muscles tense and he turned to pace back the other way, the sea winds continuing to pull at the choppy tresses of both his mane and tail.
The trinkets in his main tinkled from time to time, the bolt in his forelock normally more than enough to draw him away from himself. Sadly, it couldn't this time as it bounced the side of his face.
It would take something more to get him to stop looking out into the sea (where he hoped to find a spot of fiery red, or hear the call of his name fall from beautiful lips) and stop pacing. What that was, however, he didn't know.
Not like how he knew that, for the first time in quite a while, he was truly and terribly alone.
Speech, @ Anyone!
(For the time being, the wolves are quiet, but they are anxious; they are ready. Inherent predators, they wait and prowl along the margins of his mind, waiting and watching. Something stronger rests inside of him now, however, and the wolves dare not challenge it.
Not when it could possibly be something they want.)
Burnt eyes stared out into the wild expanse, feet running an endless pace that led him back and forth before the thunderous sea. The call of it, that broken melody that he has fallen into the arms of countless times before now, is more alluring than ever. To sink beneath it all, to allow the water to fill weary lungs and weigh down a man that already carries the weight of thousands upon his withers.
It truly is an enticing thought.
The sand beneath him is ruined, unable to be prepared until the tide returns and mends the path he has drilled into the beach. No matter how deep it might become, though, he is not hindered. He is drawn elsewhere, beyond the sight of physical eyes, and it would take more than just the damp grains below him, ones that attempt to slow him down, to bring him back.
Where he is, where is mind might be, no one can truly know, but it isn't here. Not when here has nothing for him. What little he had was gone now, last to the ravenous shadows that seemed to tail him everywhere he went. He wasn't safe from it within the safest of his mind, or out in the physical world. It howled and ripped into muscles before cracking every bone he had in his body. Drilling into his very core, it ran in perfect harmony with the demonic wolves that already claimed such a place for themselves.
In the abyss that was his heart, he ached.
There was no time to grieve, however; no such possibility when what had been tamed by her did its best to regain what ground she had cultivated with her own hands. It wished to ravage the neatly laid rows in which she had planted all of her tender affection that had gently come to completely consume him.
Now, the threat that it might be destroyed was on the horizon.
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as an unfamiliar wave of distaste coursed through his veins at that thought. Every single thing that came together to create him was afraid of such a possibility coming to life (everything but the pack that lurked in his mind, alongside their newest inhabitant because they wanted to ruin him; decimate him).
(They wanted to leave him on the ground, breathless and drenched in sweat, gasping for breath and consumed with so much fatigue that his legs would not be able to support him as the tide came back it.
And they could do it—had done it many times before now. Besides, there was no patch of red fur or freckled white to stop them. Oh, they could do it but... the wolves were curious about their newest resident.)
An agitation that hadn't been felt by him for years twirled around his heart, making him irritated and causing a faint sneer to turn down his lips. It made his muscles tense and he turned to pace back the other way, the sea winds continuing to pull at the choppy tresses of both his mane and tail.
The trinkets in his main tinkled from time to time, the bolt in his forelock normally more than enough to draw him away from himself. Sadly, it couldn't this time as it bounced the side of his face.
It would take something more to get him to stop looking out into the sea (where he hoped to find a spot of fiery red, or hear the call of his name fall from beautiful lips) and stop pacing. What that was, however, he didn't know.
Not like how he knew that, for the first time in quite a while, he was truly and terribly alone.
