down where I am (semi-open)
Feb 16, 2015 19:50:42 GMT -5
Post by spook on Feb 16, 2015 19:50:42 GMT -5
I FEAR MY HEART AND FEAR MY SOUL
AND ALL THE THINGS THAT ARE UNKNOWN
AND ALL THE THINGS THAT ARE UNKNOWN
He’d never felt like this before, not really—and Darrant found it intoxicating, to have nothing to lose. Previously, he’d embraced cowardice if it meant living to see another day—he’d not had anything resembling a fulfilling life, but he loved himself too selfishly to relinquish his tenuous hold on existence. But now—
Now. The aging black and white male had broken in some integral way, he’d faced down Lamora and come away with the distinct knowledge that he was worth nothing. It’d destroyed him, broken him down into his distinct fragments, and then… he’d changed. He hadn’t thought it possible.
Accepting his uselessness to a functioning society had empowered him. And meeting Eden at the beach had empowered him further, in a more tangible fashion—because she’d been the last crumbling factor he had to cling to, and she’d admitted that she’d forgotten him. Because he was forgettable, nothing, a miserable cringing rat left to claw blindly in the darkness. And in abrupt moment of clarity in the midst of the hurricane, Darrant had realized that he was okay with that. Fighting his destiny all these years, since he’d accidentally abandoned Lamora and Alarai, had ruined him. Hopelessly acknowledging the dog fate had clearly marked him to be had turned him about.
He didn’t know if he’d see Eden again and he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. He nursed his feckless crush in his gut, dreamed inclement dreams about her drowning beneath the waves of a turbulent sea. In his dreams he stood at the apex of the rocks and watched her, deciding, none of the frantic, desperate adrenaline that had driven him to save her that day at the beach. But now he didn’t think of his dreams—he moved with a purposeful stride toward the nondescript building that he was convinced was the source of the myriad scents he’d followed this far.
Some of them were Grimshaw, and some of them belonged to dogs somehow related to Grimshaw. All of them frightened him. Darrant trembled as he moved at a heavy trot toward the low building, his tail tucked securely as he ducked through the threshold and into the darkness. The scent of blood struck him immediately and he balked in his mission, drawing up just inside the structure, head low and nostrils working diligently. Hesitant to fully enter a location so redolent of blood, the fat mutt crouched a little and narrowed his eyes, building his courage.
“Grimshaw!” His valiant hail wasn’t valiant at all—it came out strangled and shrill, a yelp more than the bellow he’d intended. He sidled against the wall, peering with his mud-brown eyes through the darkness. If it was cold outside it was somehow colder in here.
ooc. for East but any of the fighting arena peepz/Grimshaw's family are also welcome!THERE’S A CHANCE THINGS WILL TURN WRONG
FAR TOO FAST I’M LOSING GROUND, WELL,
LET’S FACE IT HERE AND NOW