i genuinely think that caring very deeply about whether a character tops or bottoms as if it's some important moral issue makes you the biggest loser on planet earth
i also think many people don't realize how heteronormative their views on bottoming vs topping are because it usually just boils down to the bottom being the feminine wilting flower and the top being the masculine beast. like maybe question why anyone messing with your favorite gay heteronormativity play upsets you that much lol
I have been on this blog on and off ( mostly off ) for a good few months now. I’ve been dealing with some issues that have been getting in the way of my enjoyment of roleplaying.
I’m in good health physically, but I have some mental and emotional issues to sort through, some of which I have to heal from.
I definitely want to return to this place, but I’m unsure when that will be!
So, for now, I’ll see y’all around! Be safe and healthy! ))
Details, version II : The Dying Gladiator, 1799, by Pierre Julien. (Which is a statue, if you didn’t notice, and that would be easy to understand why.)
Menendez gazed up into the sky, their hands rubbing along the front of their neck as if to soothe themselves. Every single night when they gazed up into the darkness above, they were faced with dread. This constant paranoia, this existence under an eye they were unable to see. This constant tugging, thoughts that never really felt like their own often thrusted into their own inner monologue. Often times, they could never really tell what was an original thought and what was just this mumbling that they’d conversed with as if they’d come up with it on their own. It didn’t feel like it was their own. The curse atop the curse, things that they knew were important were vague to them. They couldn’t trust themselves to make sense.
“Delusion or intuition?” They asked themselves out loud, though they turned to the stranger that had been nearest to them. Coyote didn’t care if they appeared to be out of their mind. Although it wasn’t a phrase they enjoyed using, that’s sincerely what it felt like. “When the thoughts in your head don’t make sense, do you think they can still hold importance? Do you think there’s some sort of tiny fossil within the gravel? Is there knowledge to be found? Or am I pondering too much?”
They looked back up, pale lavender clouds swirled above, shrouding the stars and the moon in a veil of tulle. The sky stopped being pretty to them years ago; the sky was a birdcage. “I don’t even know if I’m making sense to you. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. You were closest to me at this very moment. I’m really sorry if I’m being rude or freaking you out. It’s just that the past few years have been a whirlwind and I can barely keep my thoughts to myself. I just…need somebody to say something to me.”
“Am I making any sense to you at all?”
Hours ago, this patch of nowhere buzzed with raucous music and chatter – there had been a large gathering of Kindred. Although Evike didn’t know the host personally, anyone who caught wind of the news was invited. Luckily, there were familiar faces whom she could catch up with. As the group thinned, Evike noticed a loner sitting further away from the crowd. She remembered them; the long shag of black hair, and the stale smell of decay. No one could forget Coyote Menendez so easily.
A sense of melancholy gloom swirled through the chilly air as Evike approached. I don’t like this. I'll stay close for a while.
They sat together quietly, long enough for the remaining revelers to take their leave. Then Menendez’s questions cut into the silence. Evike wasn’t surprised. She expected them to speak at some point.
“Freak me out?” Evike echoed, “You don’t need to worry about that.”
She leaned over to embrace her bent leg, resting her temple on her knee, with her other leg stretched out over the cool grasses and earth. Waves of black hair spilled from her ponytail and cascaded down denim pants. Beneath the moonlight, eyes glistened soft and wet; her black stare was fixed on Menendez.
“Maybe it depends on the thought…” Her finger traced along a firm patch of dirt, doodling a cloud.
“I don’t have all the answers. But I’ll tell you what I think: if your thoughts don’t make sense, maybe something’s there – your mind just has its own way of conveying that. Sometimes, information can get wrapped up with bad thoughts. But those aren’t you,” she added four stubby legs to the cloud, an oval, and floppy ears. “Don’t reflect on every thought you have with a sieve. That won’t be much of an Unlife, would it?”
Being a Malkavian, Menendez was cursed with a mind that switched between lunacy and utter nonsense. The last thing they needed was affirmation that their mind was out to get them. Doing so would plant the seeds of despair and self-hatred. There was already too much of that going around among the Kindred...
“Whatever thoughts make sense to you, are the most important ones.”
Listening to Menendez’s troubles and seeing them in such a sad mood pulled at the delicate strings of Evike’s unbeating heart. At least they had someone to talk to... The thought caused her to inwardly wince, still. Someone could be surrounded by many and still feel completely alone.
“I came over ‘cause you looked sad. You don’t seem the type to be sitting by yourself at a party.”
You were thinking all that the whole time? Evike lifted her hand away from the dirt, and held it towards Menendez.
“Hold it, if you want,” she said, “I dunno. Some contact might be helpful for ya.”
Please, do. It’ll be your tether before you float off into the great big nowhere...
“Swallow the sun and ride off on your horse of iron. Swallow eyes and souls whole and feed children the only meal they’ll ever have. It makes no difference, patchwork of a different fabric. You live unfair and I live unwell. There is no difference. We’re all scraps nonetheless, waiting to become bug-eaten. The only thing that draws a line between me and you is that you don’t seem to get it.”
rules: tag ten followers you want to know better ! repost! do NOT reblog!
name: E. Or Mater. I’ve also grown fond of Sinistra/Sinistral since I’m left-handed.
star sign: Scorpio
height: 5′4″
middle name? I dislike mine. Was this close to changing it to Faustina but I kept it for sentimentality’s sake.
put your itunes or whatever on shuffle. what are the first 6 songs that popped up?
Sticks and Stones - The Pierces
Man On The Silver Mountain - Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow
Lucky Town - Todd Thibaud
Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck - Prong
Sure Know Something - KISS
Foehammer - Conan
grab one book nearest to you and turn to page 23. what’s line 17?
Your fear - programmed by evolution to be hypervigilant and insanely overprotective - will always assume that any uncertain outcome is destined to end in a bloody, horrible death.
- Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic
ever had a poem or a song written about you?
Uh, not that I know of? That’s a scary thought, lol.
who is your celebrity crush?
Ffft I’ll be funny and say Lyle Rath. On the serious side? Scott Eastwood. Patricia Morrison. Ooh, and how could I forget David Sylvian?
what’s a sound you hate; sound you love?
The screech and squeak of clothes-hangers on racks. Drives me up the wall. Also there was this girl that I had a class with during my community college days who would loudly chew her gum and I don’t think anything made me go as insane since.
As for what I like, humidifier hums and oscillating fans. Chirping birds heralding the morning calm me down immediately if I’ve had trouble sleeping.
do you believe in ghosts?
Yes, but not in the way most people do. Pop culture gets it wrong anyway - not that the pop culture stuff isn’t entertaining, but it deffo annoys me when hacks get a long running TV show and take advantage of vulnerable people who have lost loved ones.
how about aliens?
As the great Jack Burton said, “A man would have to be some kind of fool to think we’re alone in this universe.”
I agree somewhat, but I also think a lot of the stuff people treat as a definitive truth is bunk.
do you drive?
I got a license but I haven’t drove in a while. I miss it.
what was the last book you read?
‘Salem’s Lot by Stephen King. I’ve re-read it lots over the years. My “to read” list is sobbing. I should get back to reading Big Magic and Hirohiko Araki’s Manga in Theory and Practice - both great books for sparking creativity.
do you like the smell of gasoline?
Oh, yeah. Thank God it’s unleaded.
what was the last movie you saw?
Predator 2. I actually saw it for the first time when I was like. 9? It was actually quite traumatizing (parents and parent-hopefuls, please read up on MPAA stuff - mine didn’t do that and I struggle with a lot of shit today because of it).
But now, it’s one of those movies that I can watch over and over and not be bored. Easily one of my Top 50. I adore the Yautja.
what’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?
When I was in kindergarten, I tripped and ate shit. I faceplanted right into a metal stand and there was this really gnarly deep blue/purple/red bruise on the far left of my chin. Surprisingly, I didn’t get any stitches or scarring. Any scars I do have are either from burns or minor surgeries.
do you have any obsessions right now?
I’m getting lost in The Legend of Zelda games released for the Nintendo 64 once again now thanks to knightofaedirn (a new character is coming once I get her pages together). Getting back on my Until Dawn bullshit. Same with the Predator series, and I guess Alien is going to follow suit... I finally got to watching Frasier and it’s a great show. Same with Blackadder.
My creative partner and I have a weekly stream where we’ve watched a lot of movies and played games. Right now we’re watching D.N Angel, Revolutionary Girl Utena, Rurouni Kenshin, and Twin Peaks so I’ve been obsessed with those too! EVERYTHING. HAPPENS. SO. MUCH.
My husband has been getting into Mobile Suit Gundam again and I’m fondly remembering how much I miss writing Reccoa Londe. :c
I have an indomitable craving to play Metal Gear Solid 1-3 again, but I’m sidestepping them because I know I’m going to fall right back into the pit once I play them. I’m angsty since I miss writing David and it feels like we’ve lost touch... but a replay should help with that. I’m also not looking forward to ugly crying when these games rip out my heart and curb-stomp it into the ground...
do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?
My instinct is to hold grudges, but I’m working on not doing that. I’ve seen what holding onto long-term grudges can do to someone and I never want to be in that place.
in a relationship?
Yee!
Tagged by: No one, I dug it out of a dumpster.
Tagging: @bergamotdream @inkoncanvas @acatalepsii @knightofaedirn @mxldito @secvndus If I didn’t tag you and you want to do it, go right ahead.
Wind bitten lips parted in an audible, relieved sigh upon hearing the woman’s welcome. She still withheld her name from her - out of lingering caution, perhaps. As healers and magic-practitioners, they would know the power that one could attain simply from knowing another person’s name. Eri was already operating on the last of her energy reserves for the day, so she had no choice but to reveal her identity to the other. For now, at least, she seemed to be safe.
She was immediately warmed the moment she stepped into the woman’s lodgings. What a wonderful, earthy smell, not only of cooking but of medicinal herbs and the wood and stone that the house was built out of. Eri inhaled the complex perfume, holding it for a moment with half-mast eyes before letting it go once more. She nodded and sat upon the offered chair, feeling several spots in her spine pop when her backside met the warm wood. It had been a very long time since she had sat down.
Tired but curious dark eyes watched the woman shuffle about her lodgings, gathering the needed materials and foodstuffs to serve her unexpected guest. The unhurried efficiency of her movements gave Eri the sense that the woman did have a natural drive within her to provide assistance to the injured and hungry. When the fire was enlivened with logs, sticks and leaves, the temperature in the house steadily rose to a kind of sleepy warmth that made her eyelids feel all the more heavy.
“Yes.” Eri snapped out of it from those sober instructions, and offered her left hand to the woman first. She kept her gaze low as the woman set to work on plucking out the splinters that had embedded themselves in her skin. It stung a little, but she made fast work of it, never hesitating nor pinching her skin by accident. “May I ask for your name as well, kind stranger?” she finally wrought up the strength to inquire.
By the time Eri asked her question, a collection of splinters were piled on a faded rag. Her gaze shot up, meeting a pair of dark, tired eyes.
“Me? ‘m Urszula,” the gentle “sssh,” in her name was soft and sibilant, despite the annoyed tone of her voice, “Hush now.”
Only a few shards of wood remained embedded in Eri’s calloused hands. Urszula made swift work of them with the clippers. “There,” she set them down and curled Eri’s fingertips closed with her own, “You’ll manage.”
After smoothing over the tangled curls of her plaited hair, Urszula exhaled. Stray locks and sections escaped the braid over time and managed to obscure her vision. She rolled her shoulders and straightened her neck and back, eyes flicking back and forth over her surroundings. It took less than a second to assess what else needed doing, and in what order. ‘Food. Getting Eri a fresh chemise and getting to scrubbing down her muddy clothes. And then, finally... hopefully, sleep.’
Standing and putting her weight on her legs made her muscles scream in protest. Aches and pains stabbed through the center of her feet. She was used to the creaking bones and popping cartilage, enough to ignore it as she made her way to the stone counter. She unwrapped a lump of flour-encrusted towels, revealing one of the two loaves of bread she’d baked early morning. It was warm under her palm as she cut thick slices. The crunch of the knife against the crust was a pleasing sound, albeit crumbs got everywhere; she served the slices on the table, along with the butter pot and knife.
Urszula balanced two wooden bowls she got from the cupboard against her breast, placing one on a rickety table next to the roaring hearth. She carefully opened the hot, bottom-blackened pot and ladled thick chunks of potato and leek in a thickened, white broth into the bowl. Before serving any for herself, she presented it to Eri and placed a wooden spoon next to her hand.
“Eat, now,” she ordered, “If you’ll be needing more, let me know.”
The heady scent of potato and leek soup and yeasty bread made her hunger pangs worse. It was tempting to just stand and eat, but her legs needed rest. Unfortunately, sitting didn’t provide much relief. What mattered was slurping down some soup and biting into some bread and filling her stomach.
The evening felt unusually cool. Streetlights cast a faint, sickly yellow glow over the sparse buildings, forming shadowed shapes in the places it couldn’t touch. This part of town was always quiet and nearly empty; the place where the sprawling outskirts approached the city limits. Abandoned construction sites and factories peppered the horizon, away from the road. Cars littered the distant highway, red and yellow stripes from their headlights cut in the dark as they dashed by.
The surviving Shovelheads were long-gone. Evike’s sharp gaze scampered over their surroundings, surveying each narrow alley and dark window. Looks like it’s just us around. Suits me. After turning her eyes forward, she studied Menendez.
Round, honey-amber eyes peeked out from smoked black kohl and a frame of even darker hair. Clad in form-fitting black leather and fishnets, offset against their dull, coppery skin. They looked unreal, but the scent of fresh blood, and a miasma of mildew, dust, and rot confirmed they were very much corporeal.
Evike was 100% positive she would’ve remembered Coyote Menendez on sight – especially as they stumbled and rambled down the crumbling concrete sidewalk, the smell of blood lingering near.
If you aren’t a Malkie, I’ll eat my sock… She couldn’t remember the last time she pinned somebody's Clan with confidence.
Being cheerfully asked for her name, after leaving the high-nosed atmosphere of a Camarilla party, caught her off guard. Her brain sputtered as it adjusted to the change in tone. It took an additional second to answer.
“Oh, uh…” She stumbled, and then giggled to shake off the remaining tension that latched on her nerves, “We haven’t met. I’m Evike Morvay.”
“And you – you’re bleeding!” She’d noted the scrapes on their cheek, and the smoking gun holstered in the waistband of their pants. Somehow, she’d missed the deep slash in the middle... the long week affected her more than she thought.
Menendez wasn’t making a big deal of it. The Final Death wasn’t a threat in this case, but this heavy loss of Vitae meant they were in for an unpleasant evening.
Reflexively, Evike’s fingers bent towards her palm. The crack of cartilage and bone was sharp but brief. Using Vicissitude was risky on Kindred. Not many had experienced fleshweaving before, as not many Tzimisce used their craft for this purpose. Patching up wounded humans, especially collateral damage was fine; she could at least make them forget the whole thing. The horrors of their flesh becoming malleable in her fingers could break them… viscera being rearranged properly, skin stretching over gashes. Sealing wounds was like fluting pie crust.
More Vitae would help close up any wound in a snap, but Evike was fresh out of blood bags, and any known hidden stashes the Camarilla kept were too far away. Swallowing, she breathed in and exhaled steadily. Okay! Okay…
“You look pretty hurt…” Obviously! She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and spoke calmly, “Would you mind if I lend a hand?”
Discord thread, written by my husband and me. Incomplete, inactive as of March 2020 - chance of continuation unknown. Replies have been broken up by tildes, starting with my husband’s.
Featuring: David & Witcher!Samus Aran
~
Footfalls broke the silence of a logging camp which showed all signs of having been abandoned in a great hurry. Axes and ropes and carts lay strewn about haphazardly and felled trunks had been left to rot in a segment of forest that had been in the process of being clear-cut. Rough gloved hands turned over the tools and traced along the logs searching for signs of struggle.
These hands and feet belonged to a strikingly tall woman with straw-colored hair bound carelessly in a utilitarian bun. This style kept her hair clear of a pair of well-maintained longswords slung across her back. Samus was her name, a witcher of the Crane School, and the contract she had agreed to pursue was directed at an unknown horror that had snatched woodmen from the forest until none dared return to work. The investor in the project faced ruin if the work did not resume and was willing to pay handsomely to ensure that happened. She moved to the perimeter of the clear-cutting, scanning the edge of the forest for clues.
~
The number of trees started to grow thin. Instead, there were numerous stumps; their gnarled roots twisted through the earth. Dried sap rested in-between the cracks and fissures of splitting bark. Suddenly, the birdsongs and hums of unseen insects were quieter here.
Good. That meant he was headed in the right direction.
David squinted through the sunlight and tread silently over the carpet of dead, moldy leaves. He was clad in the leather armor becoming of a Witcher trained in the Fox School: light, flexible, and as dark as his brown hair. The tips of cream-brown fletching peeked over two longswords and an Oaken bow, all strapped to his back.
The sudden rustle of a pair of rabbits running back to their warrens didn't startle him. David was close to reaching an abandoned logging camp. If he could destroy the creature that had taken the woodsmen, a hefty amount of crowns were his. Something else ensnared his attentions. Another presence. Human. According to the contractor, the site was abandoned. He supposed that wouldn't stop a curious civilian from rooting around.
David stepped up the hill as he drew his bow. There was someone else there - another Witcher. The twin swords gave it away. She turned over logs and searched for tracks. David frowned. Why else would they be there, if not to hunt a monster? The contractor would have to explain himself later.
While this other Witcher would be able to sense him, David proceeded quietly. His pupils narrowed to tiny slits as he neared the end of the hill, "I wasn't expecting to find anyone else here - especially not a Witcher," he rumbled, "We're here for the same reasons, I take it."
~
Samus had heard the man approaching from the woods but just now looked up as he spoke to assess him. She frowned as her eyes took in the twin swords he carried and the medallion hanging from his. Maybe this contract would not be so lucrative as she'd hoped.
"A witcher," she said. "Did that son of a bitch double-contract this job?"
~
"I'm afraid so."
David approached and stopped - not too close. He wasn't pleased with this development, but reasoned that there were more contracts around, and maybe this other Witcher was willing to compromise. "I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly, "I'm guessing you aren't, either."
~
Samus grinned with the corner of her mouth and drew herself up to her full height. "Not unless you want to try to make me."
~
"Save your bite for the monster. I have an idea," he kept his expression even, "We kill whatever's out there, then demand double the pay after."
~
Samus flashed him a full grin. "If the stone will bleed for us. Have it your way." She turned her attention back to their surroundings. "The logs here are totally unmarred, but there are signs of struggle and damage intentionally done to the tools. Suggests a selectiveness." She looked back at the other witcher. "Thoughts?"
~
David cocked an eyebrow. She worked fast, and had been thorough.
"It didn't do anything to the trees, huh?" He came to her side and surveyed the scene. An axe that was nearly a pile of splinters lay near them, "I think it's angry. The woodsmen breached its realm, and it's defending that. The monster got what it wanted when the contractor pulled them out." The trail was all around them; with an untrained eye they were over-trod and indistinguishable, but to a pair of Witchers, the path would be clear.
An angry caw broke through the silent breeze. David snapped towards one of the remaining trees. A single black crow rested on a branch, staring between them with its foggy, beady eyes. It was just a bird... or it could be an agent. Of what? David had some ideas, and all were nettlesome. "Do you think we're being watched?"
~
Samus followed his gaze to the perched crow. Its gaze was intense, almost burning a hole into them. "I would say that's a fair bet," she responded. "So, an intelligent entity, violent, angry about encroachment on the forest, and possibly commanding woodland animals?"
~
David stared back at the crow, coolly. Putting an arrow through the bird wouldn't make a difference, and he wasn't too keen on wasting an arrow. He kept his grip on the bow loose, "It sounds like we're dealing with a leshen. The signs are all here." There wasn't any point in assuming anything else. If it wasn't a leshy, then they'd be prepared to deal with something less dangerous, "Have you dealt with one before?"
~
Samus snorted. "Of course I have. Shall we split up and start sweeping the forest for totems?"
~
Lowly, David hummed. The crow screeched loudly and the cacophony of flapping wings disappeared beyond the treeline, as it returned to its unseen master. He only knew of the leshy through eerie tales and secondhand stories. They were ancient and cunning, a dangerous combination. While he had taken plenty contracts and had the gold to prove it, David was still green. They'd cover more ground while apart, but if the leshy found and overpowered him, then it was over. Convincing her to stick around without letting on his inexperience would be tricky... he didn't want her to find out.
"It's a good idea," he acknowledged plainly, "Another set of eyes would give us an advantage. We should look for the totems together."
~
Samus raised her eyebrows. "If you want, I guess. Deprives of the opportunity for scoring the kill solo, if you care about that."
~
"I don't care," David said coolly, "If the job gets done, that's good enough."
. . .
Beyond the logging camp, the woods were vibrant. The birds called from the sky while the insects murmured from below, hidden in the lush forest floor. It was a beautiful place, but as David followed an unseen trail with her, it was clear that something evil lived within. The invisible mess of footprints soon mingled with the stench of rotting flesh and insides, and led to a small clearing. Its occupant was a corpse, not yet decayed nor fresh, skewered on a twisting mass of sharp wood that sprouted from the ground. Brownish blood had dried between the grooves and cracks in the bark.
David had seen death many times, but the smell was overwhelming and crinkled his nose. This was only one of them. All of the lost men were in the forest and met the same fate.
"Looks like the body is a few days old," David muttered. He turned to face her, "The first thing we find is a body, and it doesn't tell us much. I guess we should find one of those totems..."
He stopped and his gaze flickered where the forest continued. They were being approached. A wolf stepped from behind a tree. It looked ordinary, but lacked the natural caution of any wild animal that decided to approach a human - whatever was controlling it was totally unnatural. Its paws sunk into the mossy ground with bold steps. Teeth bared and snarling, the wolf lunged. David nocked his oakenwood bow and released. The arrow whistled through the air and razed through the wolf's throat. It yelped before crumpling onto the ground. He repeated the motion just as quickly, but kept still. More wolves emerged from the shadows, their golden eyes fixed on the two Witchers.
~
Samus straightened and scanned the forest in all directions. They were surrounded. No way out but to fight through. She drew her steel. "I suppose we've encountered the welcoming party!" she quipped, half to her companion and half to herself. She surged forward and powerfully brought her sword down onto the neck of one of the wolves.
~
A mass of teeth, fur, and glazed glowing yellow eyes descended on the Witchers. They were fast, and many. David loosed an arrow into the fold. Its target dropped, a red soup gushing from its splintered skull. The next arrow tore into a soft belly, a loud yelp followed. The wolves were unfazed by their fallen brethren, and ran as fast as their paws could carry. Soon, they would be upon him.
David quickly slung his bow across his back and unsheathed the steel sword. He was fast, his motions steady as water. He cut one of the wolves down, and prepared to take on the rest that came his way.
~
After a few minutes of ferocious fighting, the last of the wolves fell. Samus quickly cleaned her steel and returned it to its sheath. "Looks like we've got its attention. Now we need to draw it out," she said, breathing heavily from the exertion as she turned to her companion.
~
Whatever presence that the leshen had over the wolves was relinquished in death. They were a pile of limbs and blood and bone; their eyes glowed no longer. Instead, their gazes were static and looked out at the expanse of ground blankly. Did their own minds return the moment they were cut down? Were they confused and scared of the pain? David watched their fur sway in the breeze. Once noble animals, now defiled by possession, and killed by their hand. He tore his gaze away.
They looked like his family of dogs, who were safe back home. That didn't stop a flow of sorrow from rushing against his heart. He glanced at Samus, his eyes were somewhat sad.
He wiped away the mess of blood from the steel blade and put it away, "By destroying a totem?" A quick glance towards the wolves, "...yeah. Let's go."
~
Samus noted the man's perturbation but let it pass without comment. "Alright, come on," she said, forging out ahead without confirming if he were following.
I few minutes of tracking based on observing the flight patterns of the crows led them to an eerie structure fashioned from bone. It was a sort of stand in the shape of an inverted triangle, and it was crowned with deer skulls with the antlers still attached.
Samus turned to the other witcher, the first time she'd looked back since she had started off. "Ready?" she asked, bringing her hand to the hilt of her silver.
~
David felt the Fox pendant rock against the hollow of his neck. The totem exuded a mix of evil, primal energies. It wasn't crafted by human hands. Despite its simplistic design, the geometries were subtly alien.
"Yeah, I'm ready," his gaze darted towards her, before he drew the silver sword.
It didn't take much strength to destroy the totem; one swing of the blade made it crumble in half. Small pieces of bone and antler broke away from one deer skull and scattered on the mossy ground. The crow landed on a tree branch and announced its return with a high-pitched call. David found the bird immediately, and saw the vague shapes of himself and Samus reflected in its foggy, beady eyes.
Below the spindly boughs, the shadows moved. Something was coming closer. It was tall, even moreso than Samus, a hulking mass of animate bark and ivy and moss. Bones and skulls that snagged on the twigs growing from wooden skin chimed dully in the air. Its hands were twisted and ended with sharp claws, outstretched. Its head was a toothy deer skull, its eye holes black and cold.
David swallowed hard. He'd never faced this deadly creature before, but it was coming. He'd have to let go of his fears and survive, if it meant returning to his loved ones.
