and if we cut open your heart, pour it in a cup - do you think it would be enough?
— LIKE A CHESHIRE CAT, I THINK YOU ARE JUST A GRIN
AND I CAN FEEL YOU LAUGHING UNDER MY SKIN
!! ꔠ the
HOLY SPIRIT - YOUR GOD ABOVE ꔠ !!
★ he . they (may use she when convenient) ★ tall black, gray, and white chimera that has medium-long fur and varying fur textures. has a feathery, kinked tail & bright amber eyes. smells of metallic & cinnamon. ★
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
彡 ➜ @Estelle His journey with the Atari had been rather short. The moment the scent of RiverClan started to become frequent around the area, the chimera had made a swift leave. Boring really, the cats there were a bit more interesting than the clans but they had no interested in reuniting with the boring black cat. It was best for Spirit to stay away from RiverClan in general — they surely wouldn't be pleased to ever see him. Maybe.
Which meant he was left to wander once more in solitude. He walked quietly through the lands, a firm disconnection between his body and his mind. A refined skill, something that always confirmed they truly were dead. Those in the living could not walk the plane of subconscious but he? He was familiar with it.
Eventually, Spirit's paws begun to blister and ache which tugged him away - placing him firmly back into his furbag. He sighed in annoyance, dragging himself over to underneath a willow tree. The leaves hung down, almost brushing against his fur - as if nature was coming down to stroke him to sleep.
His amber eyes fluttered close, and off the feline went into the dreamscape. Dreams were always - strange for him. Sometimes it felt as if they weren't his and he was only walking on the sidelines. Sometimes it was Wren's dreadful memories bubbling up to the surface.
It was the first this time around. He walked through the void, every so often an entrance popping up. He would stick his head - perhaps enter and explore, but often too boring to stay around. It was only until he came across,,
a peculiar dream - a nightmare, it seemed, was spirit's interest piqued. he stepped in fully, letting the entrance shut behind him. time to see what awaits them!
Re: and if we cut open your heart, pour it in a cup - do you think it would be enough
Darkness surrounded her every being, much different from the terrors she had been saved from before. They were manageable; they taunted her very being and played with her mind. But this was so much worse. And overwhelming echo of indistinguishable voices rung in a cacophony all around her, relentless and unnerving as her world swayed and moved in a wild dance with the very essence of death.
Blood covered her paws, blood covered her pelt and maw the metallic taste so real in her lungs as it mimicked her exact appearance of that night, the thick clumps still stuck in her fur as she struggled to move and walk within the restraints of this fake reality. Their faceless bodies lay at her paws, one by one, taunting her in her mother's voice as they rung, 'Finish It', again and again, each one reappearing wherever she turned. Some battered, others mutilated. None had a face. She couldn't recall their faces. She couldn't remember it. She couldn't remember how they died. She couldn't remember when they died. She only knew it was her.
But I didn't mean to. The thought swirled around her mind, the distinct praises of her superiors ringing in the air among the pained screams of terror that filled her soul, her single failed murder standing to face her, headless. Legless. You failed - it screamed through her mind, the wails of her victims growing louder as their bloodied paws reached out, mutilated bodies dragging the ground intent on tearing her down, a strange moment of weakness overtaking the sleepy looking enforcer as a certain moist came to fill the sockets of her eyes. I'm sorry, she thought, unknowing what the bodies could and couldn't hear, unknowing of what her spectator could and couldn't hear, the bloodied dream of her haunting victims overtaking and overwhelming her every sense.
Re: and if we cut open your heart, pour it in a cup - do you think it would be enough
!! ꔠ the
HOLY SPIRIT - YOUR GOD ABOVE ꔠ !!
★ he . they (may use she when convenient) ★ tall black, gray, and white chimera that has medium-long fur and varying fur textures. has a feathery, kinked tail & bright amber eyes. smells of metallic & cinnamon. ★
The tall feline walked slowly through the inky darkness, ears swiveling to the pestering echo of voices that rung throughout the landscape. If they had not been dreaming, he was sure it would cause damage to his hearing; this did not make the experience any less pleasant. It was not long until what appeared to be a small cat — he was unable to make out any discerning pelt colors, the crimson that covered her making it far too difficult — came into his vision.
[ agatha kitty has been activated and will remain so until this interaction ends ]
Spirit stood still, amber eyes watching the scene unfold in front of them with burning intrigue. For a brief moment, he felt a kinship with her unnamed struggle. He was all too familiar with gruesome nightmares, voices that wanted you to make others bleed, to purify them. Memories that bubbled up and faded, left him reeling at where the line of reality and dream met. Wren always managed to slip into his dreams, no matter how Spirit tried to push it down.
Guilt was awful, fickle and most of all irrelevant. All it served was to limit.
Perhaps, the brief connection was what brought upon the absolute need to know. The desire to pick through this cat's brain and know every nook and cranny. Kinship was replaced with a hunger. Even if she was a figment of his imagination, their curiosity was piqued and that was all Spirit needed.
He awaited, watching the bloodied paws reach out for her as if they wanted to drag her down and swallow her whole. He looked for that moment, that one brief second of surrender. A sinister grin spread slowly across their face once they caught onto it, a pause.
Spirit walked quietly forward, masking his expression to become something softer, something open and inviting. He unsheathed his claws and started to tear at the lifeless bodies. Claws digging in to what flesh he could grab and dragging them away, away and away into the abyss. Blood swiftly started to stain his legs, and it is a repetitive motion. He cares not for the way his fur becomes sticky, holding back a grimace. The voices was something else and was getting on their nerves.
The feline whirled around, lifting their head to gaze to the empty sky. "Would you just shut up? You're giving us all a headache here, " He hissed in distaste, long tail lashing back and forth. He hadn't expected for the damn thing to take a listen as it soon quieted down. Goodness, maybe this was their dream. What a strange one.
He turned back around. At least, up close he can see the she-cat clearer. Still, the blood makes it hard to discern but she appeared to have black fur. And she looked awfully young, perhaps not even a year old. "Ooh, dear. You're looking quite worse for wear, I'm afraid. Let's get you washed up, yes?" Spirit cooed delicately, as soon as the words left his mouth the sound of a running stream could be heard. He glanced around, it wasn't far off. He was deciding to not question its sudden appearance and instead beckoned her to follow.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆X⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
✶ LULLABY LYRE ✕AGATHA KITTY✕ HERB KNOWLEDGE ✕ DREAMWALKER ✶
and if we cut open your heart, pour it in a cup - do you think it would be enough?
Re: and if we cut open your heart, pour it in a cup - do you think it would be enough
