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 Posted: Sun Dec 13, 2009 12:16 pm
The zombie stood alone in the quiet of the forest. No life, he silently observed. No creatures' presence were shown - all was deathly quiet. The occasional crackle of a leave under the male's foot was magnified, piercing the air almost enough to cause an echo. God dammit, Thanatos, what have you gotten yourself into? You look like you're in one of those cheesy horror films. Lame, abandoned forest? Check. Zombie? Check. Stupid couple? ...Well, we'll just have to find them. His grin flickered for a moment, his teeth showing for a moment, pearly whites except for the blood permanently stained on them. Ahh, the stereotypical zombie: a mindless creature that craved brains. Perhaps he was near mindless: he could think plentiful well, but he could not put his thoughts in actions or words. Overall, he was in the category of mindless. No one knew what ever went on in his head except he.
His feet trailed along in the cold, his ragged movement leaving crude footsteps in the snow. Trees jutted out the ground, their thin, intricate web-like branches reaching out in all angles, begging to be able to touch the male, to get a feeling of his rough fur. Am I truly a zombie? I crave no brains... 'Cording to the lore, I was suppose to be risen from the dead by some voodoo-witch sort of thing, but... He had never met a witch, nor did he feel like a puppet. He could think freely, he could move or say anything, to a limit, without feeling like someone was prohibiting him from speaking. Do I even have a purpose here? No memories of the 'before' life. He had been wandering around aimlessly, scaring others for about a hundred years, but that wasn't satisfying. That did not give him his fill...
Sigh.
He continued moving forward, deep within his thoughts. He did not notice how the cold was affecting his body, not how leaves and mud clumped in his visible bones, how his wounds were getting infected from the lack of sanitation. Nor did he notice himself completely leaving the forest, to enter the grand noodle shop, where many foxes lingered about, socializing and giggling gaily, content with life. He only noticed his thoughts, and when he was momentarily done with preoccupying himself with that, he noticed he was not even in the forest anymore - he was sitting on a couch, alone. Alone, indeed, because others scurried away from the rancid smell his body produced, the smell of rotting flesh, of decomposing organs. Where am I..? When'd I get here? ....Idiot, way to go on paying attention. Look where that's brought us.
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Posted: Sun Dec 13, 2009 12:36 pm
She gave an indignant sniff as she wandered. She took better care of him than his so-called "mate". Then again, he also fascinated her, as his son, Renatus, did. Renatus had a mate as well...and he no longer dwelled where his father did. She recognized her jealousy; recognized that she shouldn't feel this way for him: he was taken, after all...but damned if it didn't piss the quiet, observant, vixen off all to hell.
Shaking her head, she took a breath and alighted upon her wings in the gloom. There really hadn't been many foxes of interest. Sel'dor, would much rather bite her face off than let her inspect him. Oh, but that Werewolf was vicious. Her lips twitched in a ghost of a smirk. She didn't mind that, even envied it. All of the odd foxes fascinated her. Perhaps it was shallow, but the more eccentric the outside of the fox, the more they intrigued her.
She'd been feeling closed in for some time now, and the dark seemed to loom closer still. She landed quickly, shaking her head and peering up. There were several cracks of light above her, cutting through the gloom. She'd made it quickly to the entrance and exit to the Demonic Couch. This was, in her opinion, a grand place. She would even bug Zero on occasion...but she wasn't in the mood for it. Escape sounded better. Escape from watching what she couldn't have. 'Yes.' She couldn't purge herself of her feelings...but she did need a break.
Scrambling up the wall, digging her short, cracked claws in, she hauled herself up and partway over the edge. On the other side, the cushion on the couch moved...and shifted upwards, allowing her head to poke through.
Pale pink eyes - even paler than her collar - peered and blinked owlishly in the bright light of the shop. Taking a draught of air, the first thing she noticed was the stench. Fetid. Rotten. Wrinkling her nose, she allowed her eyes to adjust and spotted - was that a dead fox? - on the good couch. She wriggled forwards, keeping her eyes trained on this strange new fox. Her wings followed her body, bloodied musical notes appearing until she pulled the rest of her body silently and swiftly from the haven she resided in.
Blood-smattered paws touched the floor and she slowly crept closer. 'Curious. Very curious, indeed.' Without so much as a sound - she'd purposefully been making sounds so long in the Demonic couch, if only so she wouldn't startle Tact - she crept onto the couch, inhaling slowly...one of the first sounds she'd made, as she slowly observed the fox that seemed to be half-rotten. A zombie? Best to keep her distance. She knew what lurked in the basement. Naturally, all the creepy foxes weren't always...sane.
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