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BUT I’M OVER IT NOW
[sub][W]isker[/sub]
graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ boneface hyena
// tw; self-harm
Another boneface watches the stranger and his captive. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves; a spotted hyena watches, normal in every way except for the greyscale coloration, three red eyes, and… well, Vale never looks normal for long.
The heat rolls off the sands into Vale’s paws. Yet this burning does not compare to the burning in vis face. The sight of Brymstone activates the burning, the itchiness, and Vale’s claws sink into the oozing tissue of vis decaying face.
Skin, muscle, cartilage. Every layer sloughs off, but the burning persists, until Vale scratches not at silent flesh but unforgiving bone.
Scraaaaaaaaaaaatch.
The jagged note catches on Vale’s mind. Vale snaps into reality, into Brymstone’s glowing orbs, but ve wants nothing more than to avert vis eyes. To forget, forget, forget LET ME FORGET YOU Vale’s mind shrieks, but the shriek drowns in sea of remorse and what-ifs.
“I—” I missed you, Brymstone. “—can’t believe my eyes. What is the Dragon King doing in my desert?”
But Vale does not give Brymstone time to answer. “Is this the Iron Forged’s way of asking for an alliance? If so, bringing the former leader of an annoyance is interesting way to go about such a thing.” Vale’s three eyes cannot decide what to focus on; they focus on Els’s body, because it is easier than looking at Brymstone.
It would be easier to look at the sun.
I left you in your island paradise. “But you don’t smell… how is that place, anyway?” Vale’s voice betrays ver; for all the easy-going words, there’s tension. Worry. Vale liked the Iron Forged, even if ve hated some of the “traditional” fucktwats and Brymstone’s opponents, and Vale thinks fondly of when ve crashlanded into the hot-springs with Chernabog.
Before I could ruin it. “Don’t tell me I broke it on the way out.” Before I could ruin you.
Don’t tell me I broke you.
YOU NEVER TRUSTED ME ★ Another boneface watches the stranger and his captive. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves; a spotted hyena watches, normal in every way except for the greyscale coloration, three red eyes, and… well, Vale never looks normal for long.
The heat rolls off the sands into Vale’s paws. Yet this burning does not compare to the burning in vis face. The sight of Brymstone activates the burning, the itchiness, and Vale’s claws sink into the oozing tissue of vis decaying face.
Skin, muscle, cartilage. Every layer sloughs off, but the burning persists, until Vale scratches not at silent flesh but unforgiving bone.
Scraaaaaaaaaaaatch.
The jagged note catches on Vale’s mind. Vale snaps into reality, into Brymstone’s glowing orbs, but ve wants nothing more than to avert vis eyes. To forget, forget, forget LET ME FORGET YOU Vale’s mind shrieks, but the shriek drowns in sea of remorse and what-ifs.
“I—” I missed you, Brymstone. “—can’t believe my eyes. What is the Dragon King doing in my desert?”
But Vale does not give Brymstone time to answer. “Is this the Iron Forged’s way of asking for an alliance? If so, bringing the former leader of an annoyance is interesting way to go about such a thing.” Vale’s three eyes cannot decide what to focus on; they focus on Els’s body, because it is easier than looking at Brymstone.
It would be easier to look at the sun.
I left you in your island paradise. “But you don’t smell… how is that place, anyway?” Vale’s voice betrays ver; for all the easy-going words, there’s tension. Worry. Vale liked the Iron Forged, even if ve hated some of the “traditional” fucktwats and Brymstone’s opponents, and Vale thinks fondly of when ve crashlanded into the hot-springs with Chernabog.
Before I could ruin it. “Don’t tell me I broke it on the way out.” Before I could ruin you.
Don’t tell me I broke you.
BUT I’M OVER IT NOW
[sub][W]isker[/sub]