Author Topic: deathbeds / private  (Read 517 times)

Offline wormfeeder

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deathbeds / private
« on: June 03, 2018, 01:20:21 PM »
a

the cold earth against his naked back. the silver chains, digging into his skin and making his wrists bleed. he could hear voices speaking in a language unknown to him... they sounded... almost cocky. proud of something. his sight slowly came and he barely opened his eyes. his bare feet were skidding on rocks, dirt, over fallen branches...

he was being dragged somewhere.

his instincts quickly surfaced and he began to rationalize. he could struggle with whatever might he had in him, get out of these chains and be free. but... he couldn't move, only listen as he was hoisted over someone's shoulder before the figure goes down stairs, and it appeared that he entered some building. he concentrated on his legs, his feet. if he couldn't get out of these chains, he could hop up, strangle his captors with his chains, and be on his way. yes, that seemed like a good plan.

"well well... sleepyhead's waking up."

there was a whooshing sound and atticus could feel himself being tossed onto the ground, hitting it hard like a ragdoll and sending sharp pain through his entire upper body. bright light flooded atticus' eyes, blinding him for a moment. his heart pounded up through his throat and into his ears as he forced movement back into his limbs and crawled backward, waiting for his eyes to adjust so he could at least see. just as he does, he can see the toe of a boot rushing toward his face before it's all black again.

atticus awoke in a cell, naked, a collar around his neck that was chained to the floor. he tried yanking on it only to get a burning feeling in his hands and he yelps in pain, letting go just as quickly as he tried to grab it. it was fucking silver. looking around, he realized he was in some sort of torture room, like something out of a horror movie. there were scalpels, knives, blowtorches, needles, and even blunt objects. he couldn't remember how he got here, how long he'd been down there, anything. he didn't want to scream for help, fearing that his captors would come back and potentially make use of all those tools.

he looked down at his body, noting various wounds already there; numerous scars from years prior, lots of dirt and blood, and a fair number of slashes across his body, like someone had whipped him. he looks toward what appeared to be the only way in or out of this room in horror, hearing footsteps coming...

@crows / I DID IT
ONE MINUTE, GONE. — INFO

Offline crows

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Re: deathbeds / private
« Reply #1 on: June 10, 2018, 02:21:14 AM »
a

Evan knew a few things about werewolves. One - they weren't commonplace around here. Two - his parents hated them. Three - he'd never seen one in real life, so he had no clue what to expect when he dared the climb down into the basement to check up on him. Evan's parents had told him and his younger sister to stay away from the basement the night before, their tone and expression weighted with seriousness.

Evangeline had listened. She was mortal (unlike the rest of the family), so she still had something to lose if she showed up around the werewolf. Evan, however, was over two-thousand years old, and really didn't need to be treated like some child anymore. So here he was, creeping down the carpeted stars to the basement. The place was terrifying, he knew that. He'd been down there once, and he'd tried his best to ignore it ever since. Silver everywhere, he'd felt his skin burn just looking too hard at some of the items hidden there.

Chewing on his lip (a terrible habit, fangs and lips are not friends in any way), Evan opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. Well, it was the point of no return now. His parents had left the house (for now), to run menial errands that didn't really matter. Groceries for Evangeline, scouting out potential victims. All in all, a successful outing for them.

He still felt scared opening that door, as though his parents would jump out (like "terrifying" vampires in a B-rated horror movie) and... what? Hurt him?

What was he afraid of? Taking a slow, shuddering breath, Evan opened the door.

The scent of blood assaulted him first - wild, animalistic. Had Evan not known there was a werewolf in here, he would've guessed dog. That was what broke him out of his haze (it'd only been a week or two since he'd last fed, this was ridiculous) - the realization of how much it smelled like a dog. Evan (out of all the things he hated) couldn't stand animals dying. He realized then he was holding back a light, strangled noise, like a the beginnings of a sob. There was something wrong about this whole situation. Terribly wrong.

The achy feeling got worse and worse as he neared the cell, his hands shaking as he finally caught a glimpse of the werewolf trapped inside. "Oh my God." Evan muttered, feeling like he was going to be sick. There was something so wrong about a man, stripped bare and chained like a dog, that Evan found himself stumbling back, blue eyes watering and wide. "No, no, no, no-" He was scrambling now, back towards the weapons and silver objects (those alone made the picture worse), looking for a pair of oven mitts, gloves, anything. He couldn't touch silver, but if he had something covering his hands... "Who are you?" Evan asked, looking over his shoulder into the cage, trying to avoid looking too long at the werewolf.
pack your bags percy, you're always to blame! — info

Offline wormfeeder

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Re: deathbeds / private
« Reply #2 on: June 22, 2018, 11:36:08 PM »
a

phew. this wasn't one of his captors. at least... not one that he saw before he was taken. but wait, that wasn't good either... who was this guy? when he got a better view of the boy as he descended the stairs he could see that he didn't look quite like the other hunters that had captured him. the boy looked like someone who seemed to clean themselves up a bit more than an average hunter who normally would love to get blood under their nails.

the boy a teenager, almost the same age as him by the looks of him, and... he didn't smell like a human... fuck. who was this kid?

atticus could only imagine how he looked to the kid. completely naked, covered in his own blood and dirt, curled up in a ball; like some sort of monster— well, more of a monster than he already thought himself to be. as the boy spoke to him he couldn't find the words. his vocal chords just wouldn't work. atticus stared at the boy instead, watching his every move like a hawk.

atticus' eyes begin to glow golden, and as they do, he can feel the collar holding him start to burn the flesh touching it. the wolf could only claw hopelessly at the chain, snarling in the air. to make matters worse his fangs and claws quickly grew in, pain surging to his wrists as well as the more he let go of his human side the more the chains burned. he lunges backward into the shadows of the cage as best as he can, trying to pry the chains off him or at least begin to calm himself down.

as for the boy before him, the wolf's eyes fixated on him once again, and the only response the boy gets from atticus is a low growl of defense with a hint of panic.
ONE MINUTE, GONE. — INFO

Offline crows

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Re: deathbeds / private
« Reply #3 on: June 28, 2018, 04:07:26 AM »
a

oh shit shit shit - the silver keeping this man away from him is suddenly a godsend, because even with the clear barrier between them, evan still backs up as he watches the man shift, claws replacing fingers in some kind of twisted mockery of the fingernails that used to be there. it's fascinating and terrible at the same time. evan's never seen a werewolf, let alone the beginnings of a shift. he'd heard rumors of vampires that could turn into bats, and dogs, and big clouds of fog.. but he'd never done it.

was it a full moon? was it triggered by emotions? evan didn't know, he didn't know anything aside from the fact that werewolves and vampires didn't get along. he'd never been told anything past that, he knew nothing. and that hit harder than anything else here, as he stared helplessly at a man who was spiraling into a monster. and it was his family who'd caused.. whatever this was. his parents had brought him here, chained him up, reduced him to an animal.

evan turns back to his task, searching for the key he has in mind. it has to be the one non-silver thing in the place, cold steel that was clearly not used often. gloves were next, a simple pair of blue oven mitts. how unusual, having oven mitts in a place covered wall to wall in things meant to hurt people. "this is wrong." evan mutters, half to himself, half to his non-present parents as he carefully pads over to the cell.

"will.. will letting you out of the chains help?" the pale man kneels down, trying to peer into the shadows, eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. "i... i want to let you out." saying those words out loud makes evan realize how dumb this idea is. what if the man attacks him instead? he's staring into wolf eyes now, not humans. but the fear is still there, and with fear, there had to be humanity...
pack your bags percy, you're always to blame! — info