08-13-2018, 10:52 AM
IVAN ZIMAVICH BRAGINSKY ✧ russian bear dog — regent — tags[/color]
Ivan's body had been ruined by injury and war, mind ruined by disease. He knew his memories for right now but they were already deteriorating and slipping out of his paws. Anakin had given them back to Ivan for setting him free from his curse, but at what cost? A dying bear with nothing left? Ivan... thought of himself more and more as an old man waiting to die alone. He held the memories of people and an entire clan forgotten by time and disappearance.
Such memories filled him with bitter anger as to what could have been. If Alfred had stepped down? If he had usurped Alfred? If his mind's shackles were not placed on it by his disease?
The old bear rumbled out of the radioactive swamp waters, green algae clinging to his fur and dripping wet. Maybe he swamp in it out of pure poor judgement, stupidity, or trying to make him die faster. Zimavich's single eye focused on the stranger, brow furrowing in confusion and releasing a humpf. He drooled and panted, steps heavy and sinking into mud, getting between his claws and the toes of his feet. He was weighed down by the weight of his dirt, filth stuck to a winter pelt and matting his fur tenfold. The old scars were still there- the missing ring of fur, the stabbing wound on his shoulders, the lacerations down his left side. Accompanied by new ones- the bite mark the Emperor had giving him on his neck as Ivan crushed the leopard's ribcage with bear paws. The gashes traveling down his stomach and his body sore all around.
He approached the joiner now, purposefully getting up close until he was near nose to nose with the lynx, teeth bared from his hanging open mouth, breathing hot air on the cat. "CavarlyChoir..." His eye flicked back and forth trying to remember something. He huffed, blowing hot air into the stranger's face. His head tilted, maybe just trying to make the joiner aware of his size. "Were we friends?"
Such memories filled him with bitter anger as to what could have been. If Alfred had stepped down? If he had usurped Alfred? If his mind's shackles were not placed on it by his disease?
The old bear rumbled out of the radioactive swamp waters, green algae clinging to his fur and dripping wet. Maybe he swamp in it out of pure poor judgement, stupidity, or trying to make him die faster. Zimavich's single eye focused on the stranger, brow furrowing in confusion and releasing a humpf. He drooled and panted, steps heavy and sinking into mud, getting between his claws and the toes of his feet. He was weighed down by the weight of his dirt, filth stuck to a winter pelt and matting his fur tenfold. The old scars were still there- the missing ring of fur, the stabbing wound on his shoulders, the lacerations down his left side. Accompanied by new ones- the bite mark the Emperor had giving him on his neck as Ivan crushed the leopard's ribcage with bear paws. The gashes traveling down his stomach and his body sore all around.
He approached the joiner now, purposefully getting up close until he was near nose to nose with the lynx, teeth bared from his hanging open mouth, breathing hot air on the cat. "CavarlyChoir..." His eye flicked back and forth trying to remember something. He huffed, blowing hot air into the stranger's face. His head tilted, maybe just trying to make the joiner aware of his size. "Were we friends?"
© madi