#viindauga

[thexcapabilityxofxkindness-blog]

Kamicrazy Coffee

( @viindauga )

Capable held her phone beneath the counter, eyes flickering across the small screen. She had two missed calls and three text messages from him. She frowned deeply, shooting a quick text to him in regards to what time she was ending her shift, how she was getting home, how much money she’d made and confirming what she was bringing home to him. Again. For the third time time in the last six hours since she’d spoken to him on the phone. She jammed her phone back in her pocket, glancing up to see if anyone had seen her. One coworker was giving her an eye, but Capable was quick to take up a towel and step out into the cafe area to wipe down tables. 

She moved quickly through the dining room, finishing her task quicker than she’d have liked. Soon there would be a small rush, people getting out from work late, trying to get a top up before making their way home in the dark. He hated it when she worked at night, thus she was always the first jump at a late shift like this. 

She moved back to the coffee counter and then into the back to stock up the glass cabinet out front. The last few fresh pastries had just come out and she was gathering them onto a tray when she’d heard the jingle of the bell, alerting them to the front door opening. Another girl was quick to burst from the kitchen, eager to possibly make a tip. Capable continued loading her tray, taking her time before backing out of the kitchen herself. 

The girl at the counter was jabbering, her voice holding a clear level of nervousness. Capable moved to the glass cabinet, bending down to look through it to see just who was giving the girl her nerves. 

She stopped, muffin in hand, staring at young man who was ordering a black coffee at the counter. She recognized him immediately, though she wasn’t sure of his name. He was tall, dwarfing the girls in the cafe, and with his shaved head and scarified face and chest, he was frightening to those who didn’t know him. Truthfully, Capable didn’t know him, either. She’d only seen him a few times, usually with another boy with a torn up face. She and her sisters weren’t allowed to talk to these boys, his boys. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk to any of them, really. She knew they drove alongside him, worshiping him. Was that anyone she wanted to know, anyway? How much did his boys know about him anyway?  Did they know the things he did to her? Her sisters? What if they did? ... What if they didn’t? 

She stared at him and forced herself to finish packing the cabinet. She slid out her phone, checking the time. She still had an hour and a half left of work. There was no way he’d still be around by the time she was off. She moved to clean something, wipe something down, to busy herself, while keeping an eye on him. She wanted to keep him in her sight for now, while there wasn’t anyone around. People would trickle in soon, but until then, she’d be wary and watch him from afar, the curiosity almost a shining light in her eyes. 

[fang--it-blog]

Shedding Skin

@viindauga

Every so often, Slit gets an itch under his skin. Most days he ignores it, shoves that tingle to the back of his mind, and continues on as if it were nothing. But Slit can never hold out for too long, becoming more agitated as days turn to weeks turn to months. Soon he’s snapping and growling at people he considers friends, always feeling a hint of regret afterwards but keeping his mouth shut because his pride demands it.

When Slit is almost literally ready to bash his head into a wall, he knows it’s time. He waits until night before silently tiptoeing over the piles of sleeping warboys, taking hidden paths and dark corridors until he can safely climb the rest of the way to the cooling sands below. The moon isn’t even full, doesn’t have to be, but just being out here makes the itch a little easier to bear.

The normal hiding spot to take care of his little problem is only a few metres away between some scraggly rocks that he knows for a fact nobody can see around for miles. Slit settles in and sighs, letting himself rub his back against the stone before he methodically begins to remove each article of clothing. Glove and bracer first. Belts. Boots. Trousers. He even removes the staples from his cheek with a hiss of pain; when he’s back in the Citadel, he’ll come up with some bullshit excuse to Organic for why his wounds have reopened.

The transformation begins very soon after, that itch getting worse until it’s more of a burn. He feels like he’s on fire, and yet Slit has to stifle his screams so nobody is alerted. The entire process takes upwards of twenty minutes, in which time his skin splits and his bones realign. He even grows new teeth, but in the end he’s left with sluggishly bleeding facial wounds and a new layer of scales.

Like this, Slit resembles a goanna only larger, about six feet long. Exhausted, he takes a moment to soak in the left over warmth from the rocks before pulling himself to the sand to begin his night hunts.

[fang--it-blog]

🍄

((Mythical creature AU coming your way! This will get done sometime between now and tomorrow because I’m busy. Do you want a drabble or an RP starter, friend? :D))

[fragiilisms-blog]

I got a hole in my head...

@viindauga

“I hear the hounds in the woods pretty baby, I hear the hounds in the woods closing in...”

She runs without noticing the grit in her hair or the way the rocks are slicing her feet apart-------she runs without realizing that she’s leaving bloody footprints in the sand or that the sound of bikes is getting closer because she’s terrified, and because she knows that she’s going to be punished and because this is important enough to risk all of that anyway. Toast’s words had been direct------they always were. Angharad’s death had come too soon and with it the ruination of all their grand schemes; it is a   p r o b l em .  Cheedo thinks of Dag------the way her sister wife has been so frightened and unhappy and the way she’s certain she’s going to have a girl and the fact that they all know what happens to girls with Immortan Joe... So they’d decided to run, and Cheedo had agreed, even though she’s sure she’ll be caught first------Toast is clever, Capable is kind and both will find a way to hide and wait for a chance to escape, but Cheedo is not Knowing or Capable; she is only   f r a g i l e .