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Post by sophia on Sept 23, 2012 23:51:45 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] | [atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/lrtzP.png]warning for mature language and mature themes
text | speak | think
Nightmares plague those who need their minds the most, some people think. Winchester often gets nightmares when she sleeps, and they're vivid. She dreams of torture, being taken hostage, and being alone in the dark, helpless and surrounded by monsters that represent every sin, every evil and every victim that her subconscious can possibly think of. It's much like a battle royale for her senses, but often she's not aware it's all just an awful dream. Her body twitches and jerks as she sleeps, fending off multiple monstrosities from claiming her. If you were a psychologist, it would be easy to assume it's a battle of the subconscious - a war between good and evil in the back of Winchester's mind. And it is, which is the worst of it. She deals with the monster that lurks out of her mind's eye but in control of most functions. She tries to convince herself that she's a good person, but it's hard when all this evidence is fighting against her. She often loses in her nightmares, but before the final blow strikes, she barks as she wakes up, jolting upright in a fiery sensation that causes her to pant, even in the coldest weather.
Speaking of cold weather, autumn approaches. Winchester's aware because of the tickle running down her spine whenever she felt gentle breezes running it's delicate fingers through her fur. Her multicolored coat is losing its brilliance, becoming less saturated as it leans towards more grey and white, much less beautiful colors than she wore during the summer months. Chasing after pleasure partners throughout the winter months is much more depressing as realism hits - she's less attractive in colder months with her thick, shaggy fur and grungy, blanched appearance. She tried not to dwell on the thought, and thus she turned her nose to the wind, flaring leather nostrils and dragging in a deep breath of cool air, calming to her nerves. She can manage to take a deep breath, and that helps her calm down.
Like the proverbial pariah, Winchester feels as exiled as someone who truly is. There's someone with her name on the top of their 'to kill' list, and thus her nightmares don't bother her so much when reality can almost be just as bad. She's lucky, though, that her life hasn't been completely ruined by some douche with a grudge. She rose from her hovel - a small cave beneath a fallen tree that has hanging moss and foliage to provide cover over her secret hideaway - and shifted, dragging one hind leg behind her at a time until her joints popped with sweet relief. With a grin and a roll of the shoulders, she moved through sprawling lands, uninhabited by anyone she would call a comrade. She'd heard the calls of big game during her time here, but they posed no threat unless they showed themselves. With that, Winchester felt right at home - away from everything and everyone in a somewhat peaceful oasis. It's a delightful walk from her hovel to the watering hole, a large river carved into the landscape majestically, just a few moments away from her hospice. The sound of the moving water eases her to sleep at night and always guides her towards it in the morning. The water's icy cold, like the breeze, and it's a nice break away from the summers that have scorched this land and her body. The dawn is comfortable as well - a fog rising through the trees and cloaking anything too far away. It reminds her of her nightmare - everything does - but it's comforting.
The river bank is soft in the morning, the dirt and grass cool and moist. Her body shifted, stomach resting upon the ground with her front legs in front of her, paws gingerly dipped in the water, toes flexing and relaxing in a pattern. Hind legs tucked into their corresponding sides, tail curling around to the left and brushing up against her side in a comforting manner. She doesn't sleep, but she does life her head up and close her eyes, relaxing and enjoying nature. Her daily routine was always so serene. It was amazing she was such a basket case.
table by sophia
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cypress
UNKNOWN!
[M0n:164]
we're all mad here.
Posts: 20
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Post by cypress on Oct 1, 2012 23:14:06 GMT -5
Choice words spoken to
her in the heat of night, but
I lie through my teeth againHe was alone, staring into the forest from his old tree. Underneath him, he could feel the rotting wood shift and shake from under his weight. And he was no petite thing, either.. a well-built, muscular thing.. though short in height. His head hung low, listening closely to those who stirred within the forests grasp. 'Someone interesting must be in there.'
[/color] his mind eased him into the decision to jump from his perch and trot forth. Body plopping along lazily, and ears up with his head still hung low in a cautious manor. The cold rattled his brain, along with the piece of metal that hung awkwardly from his nose. Most wolves questioned the piece of jewelry, called in pointless. Though, to the black male took quite pride in both of his piercings, that to anyone else would be abnormal. He remembered nothing of receiving them, in all honesty.. then again, he didn't remember much anymore. Why was the question, though. Generally the male figured it was.. selective. Many things that had happened to him were things he'd much rather forget. As he moved through the forest, hearing the swish of water in the distance, the wind played a haunting tune. Leaves tossed up all around him, as if to dance. Many a time he'd see shadows of others. Figures being see through or just barley tangible. Figures of those he once knew. The lone journey to the river got his mind going, actually. To his brothers who roamed the lands on their own. Since coming to these mainlands and reuniting for the first time with them, he'd noticed changes and oddities about them. Some small and feeble, others quite.. noticeable. Those were also things he didn't remember where there before or not. The siblings hated each other now.. well, they hated each other. White maw dropped even lower at that, to think of a family in ruins. His own family, at that. Destroyed by the power-hungry and obsessive wolves that called themselves a family on the far sides of the lands. Punk now glared at the ground, a flash of anger within his eyes. More so with hate for himself now, than anyone else. His attempts to keep the family together had failed. 'But I am no failure. You are all failures.'[/i] The thoughts escaped him now, as he pushed his mind free of the grasp of darkness that was starting to loom. Other creatures now lurked, for now he could feel them. All different emotions could be felt within the lands.. such a beautiful land. Autumn breeze caught his nostrils and he took a deep breath in, a wolf quite close by. And by the sound, it was by the river, and his destination. The white maned beast pulled his abnormally large harks up again, kicking his back legs and started off. The male could feel the river pulsing against it's bed through the ground, the feeling making his heart race. He'd ventured out of the lands of Heaven for the first time that day, in hopes to find someone interesting. His pack was quiet and there was absolutely nothing interesting. Heart began to race, faster and faster.. legs moving more in tune with the wind. Once again, it's haunting song being played overhead. A whimper was barley audible with his speed. The river was approaching but his only worry was escaping the song. Eyes teared up a bit from the cold smashing against them and body started to overheat. If it was not for the bushes in his path, he never would have come to a sliding stop. Paws dug to the ground and body almost toppled over itself.. head shooting forward and a small crack of his neck as it did so. A low groan escaped his white maw, ears falling back and body standing right back up. A quick listen to the wind, and no song now played. 'You're now playing games, dear foe..'[/color] his mind hissed, though he collected himself, quite quickly, and peeked through the bush. He almost didn't catch the female on the other side, though he did, finally, after scoping it out a bit. With more caution, Punk stepped through the shrub and half in with an intent to run if need be. Nose twitching to play with the ring that was inside of it, he gazed upon who would soon be known as Winchester. And when he spoke, much like with his winged-brother and the others, a southern voice, deep and matured and soft, came out of the males maw. "You are here alone? I hope you wouldn't mind some company.."[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size][/sub]
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Post by sophia on Oct 21, 2012 20:11:45 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] | [atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/lrtzP.png]warning for mature language and mature themes
text | speak | think
Interesting was a matter of perspective. To someone identical to Winchester, she was bland, nothing beyond the normal. But to someone who was a stranger to the inner turmoil that plagued her daily, she was an overly queer individual as layered as an onion always filled with stories that would make your skin crawl or leave you depressed for the ages. Perhaps, in fact, she was an interesting find for this stranger.
The trickle of the river was minor - leaving the rest of the sounds of the forest to bounce inside her ear and calm her. Ambiance was a very strange thing to her - either the silence left her alone to her thoughts or the sound of busy nature occupied her mind and allowed her to think freely without worry or panic. Her mind was strange, she knew that. But as strange as it was, it was just as clever and cunning, though perhaps that side of her didn't quite show as often.
She didn't jump when a voice called out to her, nor did she turn. She seemed overly apathetic about it all, but her voice was like silk, chuckling before answering calmly: "Feel free." It's not like anyone would would join me. Poor lonely creature.
Only when she had answered him did she move, a statue coming to life as her head turned, eyes looking at the male as he approached. The jewelry was notable, and though Winchester was known for being blunt, she'd seen weirder, and thus didn't find it worth mentioning. Instead, her eyes glazed over him as a whole, almost making it appear as though she was 'checking him out', so to speak. But it was just the way she looked, always seeming to long and yearn for something and having it within her grasp but still being so far away.
"What are you doing here?" She questioned casually, her head rotating back so that it allowed her to look straight forward, her eyes glazing as she studied nature once more, seemingly transfixed while her mind remained blank, simply awaiting this stranger to answer her question. WHile she had company, she might as well have casual conversation to pass the time.
table by sophia
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