#* inbox .

[shackledhound]

* their hand extends slowly forward, palm facing up, fingers slightly curled. they stop near its mouth, right by its jaw, their head tilts and their eyes ask for permission. ah yes, chin scratches. ( frisk )

       the  beast  thinks  it  sentimental,  really,  to  be  treated  as  though  a  canine  desiring  affection.   far  from  an  empty  gesture,  offered  by  one  so  full  of  kindness,  yet  so  very  unnecessary.   would  their  compassion  not  be  served  better  to  any  other  creature ?   blazing  eyes  find  the  offered  hand  before  quickly  settling  their  gaze  ‘pon  dear  human’s  face  with  naught  but  silence  and  the  gentle  thrum  of  its  magic.

o’  cerberus,  hound  eternal,  remembrance  left  in  place  of  a  piece  forlorn  strikes  deep  and  true   /   bone  ‘pon  bone,  unrelenting  edges  meet  that  of  another.  void  of  soft  fur  and  plush  fabrics,  yet  softer  than  any  one  of  them.  but  then  something  inside  of  you  is  torn  away  and  suddenly  there  is  only  guilt  /  guilt  /  guilt.  

        for  a  grasp  so  tightly  wound  around  duty  and  purpose,  cerberus  is  no  stranger  to  that  which  is  gentle.   touches  meant  to  soothe  and  words  carrying  more  power  than  any  magic,  laden  with  love  and  care  unrivaled.  how  ethereal  a  language,  universal  and  undying.   cerberus  has  long  understood  this  language.   and  perhaps  that  is  why  blazing  gaze  averts  and  great  skull  retreats  with  nay  interest  to  spare.  

         fortunately  for  a  youth  with  naught  but  good  intentions,  another  immediately  takes  its  place.  such  identical  form  when  spared  a  glance,  yet  a  surface  covered  in  many  more  fissures  and  lacking  a  few  inches  when  compared  to  its  brethren  returning  to  their  slumber  on  the  ground.   it  entertains  their  whims  without  reservation,  gently  leaning  massive  form  into  offered  touch  with  content  rumble  of  a  throat  it  does  not  possess.

@madestars   |   RANDOM  ASK ! ❤

[starled]

‘  don’t give up yet.  you still have time to fix things.  ’

@makersruins  /  MEME  / ACCEPTING .

       the  sentiment  rings  familiar.   how  often  have  iterations  of  its  nature  been  spoken  and  heard  until  a  chorus  of  hope  rose  to  meet  the  inevitable.   it  ceased  to  hold  meaning  long  ago,  repetition  draining  it  of  any  weight  —  or  has  esteemed  traveler’s  heart  merely  grown  too  weak  to  carry  it ?   what  curious  topic  of  debate  such  a  thing  would  be,  had  she  any  inclination  to  lay  bare  inner  workings  of  a  creature  as  lost  to  grief  as  any  other  of  her  brethren.   let  them  stand  in  opposition,  still  is  their  plight  the  same.   shared  torment  across  sides  of  the  same  conflict.

       ❛ not  all  things  broken  can  be  mended, ❜    gentle  it  comes  with  lightest  inclination  of  paragon’s  head,  voice  heavy  with  a  conviction  nurtured  for  eons,  but  ne’er  forsaking  its  tranquil  notes.   fixing  things  is  what  she  does  /  did,  she  knows.   so  much  like  a  mirror  and  yet  so  different,  new  and  unique,  the  before  and  after.   it  is  said  admittance  casts  off  weight,  but  her  shoulders  ache  only  more  —  stars,  has  she  begun  to  slouch ?   white — clad  creature  adjusts  her  posture,  standing  tall  despite  it  all.  

      ❛ sometimes  we  must  say  our  goodbyes,  no  matter  the  grief  it  brings. ❜    the  words  are  difficult  to  speak  as  much  as  they  are  to  keep  locked  up  inside  her  head,  but  they  must  be  heard  by  them  both.   her  voice  rings  true  as  it  always  does.   must  we  cling  to  the  hopeless,  dear  warrior ?   beloved  shepherd  let  go  a  long  time  ago,  but  understands  your  tenacity  —  a  reflection  of  her  youth,  it  feels  like.   ❛ my  brethren  cannot  grasp  this  amidst  their  spiral  into  despair.  ❜

[darrigant]

  the universe sings around this one; hums a silent melody of something familiar in the same way the stars are : never hers to understand, yet forever beckoning an unbridled curiosity. except this one, the beast's worldly senses inform, is tangible — within reach. a careful step forward and grand muzzle lowered, it tilts akin a curious pup, but halts 'pon their voice.

thus @tr1cked speaks : “ delusions , too , die hard with memory ”

  she knows this word — delusions — but has never quite grasped its meaning. most voices who speak it echo with an insult : mockery of those who believe in false truths, she thinks, and obsidian fur bristles at the thought of own kin being described as such. they do not— did not lie. after everything, amidst memories singed by fire, that is perhaps the only truth she is irrevocably convinced of. were her words understood as something else ? ( did she choose the wrong ones ? )

  ❛ and if they remain ? ❜ akin gentle breeze resonates a distracted voice. where a maw of sharp teeth fails to shift, hazel eyes speak volumes : a decidedly childish wonder nearly drowning out the melancholy it belies. ❛ they are no delusions, then ? ❜

˗ˋˏ * PROMPT / OPEN.

[widowbit]

“ this is a much less cool way to die. ”

A   GRUNT   OF   PAIN   ESCAPED   BLOODIED   LIPS.   natasha's   muscles   screamed   with   protest   at   her   movements,   pushing   herself   back   up   into   a   standing   position   with   a   breath.   ❛   no   one's   going   to   die   today   if   i   have   anything   to   say   about   it.   ❜   the   cut   on   her   hairline   was   throbbing,   no   doubt   a   bruise   would   show   up   the   next   day.   wouldn't   be   the   first   time   she'd   had   her   head   smashed   into   a   wall   and   definitely   wouldn't   be   the   last.   ❛   you   think   you   can   clear   me   a   path   down   the   middle?   i   have   an   idea.   ❜

[widowbit]

“ i am clearly injured. ”

NATASHA   ROLLED   HER   EYES   at   her   sisters   antics.   ❛   это   просто   царапина.   ❜   it's   just   a   scratch.   she   could   already   tell   that   the   bleeding   was   slowing   to   a   slight   trickle.   a   little   while   longer   and   the   injury   would   stop   by   itself.   ❛   you're   being   dramatic.   i   know   for   a   fact   that   you've   had   worse   than   a   graze.   ❜   nat's   voice   sounded   stern   but   she   was   only   merely   teasing.

[widowbit]

❛  that  sounds  dangerous  ….   i’m  in .   ❜

FINGERTIPS   WRAPPED   AROUND   the   neck   of   the   glass   beer   bottle,   holding   it   steady   against   the   slight   shake   of   the   table.   wobbly   legs   that   probably   needed   to   be   tightened.   ❛   it   is   dangerous.   one   or   both   of   us   could   end   up   dead.   ❜   while   natasha   knew   the   extent   of   her   skill   set,   it   didn't   mean   that   she   was   foolish   in   thinking   that   she   was   indestructible.   however,   the   outcome   if   this   was   a   success?   it   would   change   everything.   that   alone   meant   that   she   had   to   give   it   a   shot   or   die   trying.

[widowbit]

❛   actually ,  i  think  i  better  get  going  …   it’s  late  and  …  ❜

❛   WHAT?   YOU   GOT   A   CURFEW?   ❜   natasha   smirked   softly   at   the   younger   girl   with   a   shrug   of   her   shoulders.   ❛   if   you've   gotta   go,   that's   cool.   i'll   just   eat   the   insane   amount   of   chinese   food   i   ordered   by   myself.   ❜   was   nat   playing   fair?   no,   she   wasn't.   but   teasing   kate   was   just   too   much   fun.   she   enjoyed   the   others   company.   ❛   i'll   just   end   up   with   a   bunch   of   leftovers   for   tomorrow.   ❜