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 Posted: Sun Mar 07, 2010 7:18 pm
 This feeling of dissatisfaction... Bluntly put it pissed him off. A lot more than usual. It had been several days now since he'd last experienced the sight of blood or flesh. Be it his own or someone else's. It was driving him stark mad. Simply mad, this deprivation of the sole thing that kept him alive. Stigmata's eyes narrowed harshly as he paused to a halt. There was a sole rock planted before him. Its features were rather average, that of any average rock's, but they were all the same. There was no life in rocks, no flesh, no blood, no warmth. The very thing he craved, lusted for, could not be found in these useless creations. If there truly was a "God", creator of all, then he must've been out of his holy mind when he placed such a thing as rocks on this planet.
As Stigmata's expression contorted to a snarl he moved to brush the rock to the side, but his aim was severely off. Instead of sending the useless rock flying in the opposite direction from the force of his paw, he'd ended up cutting the top of his paw. Fresh blood oozed out of this long, clean cut and his eyes widened from disgust to a mad craze. Blood. He picked up his paw then, and then slammed it on the rock with enough force to crush a ten ice cubes. More blood oozed out of his new injury nestled between his paw pads and before long, the once black rock was covered in a piercing red.
Several slams later, the pain in his paw got the better of him and Stigmata was forced to pause his act of madness. The rock, and the earth around it was stained with the bright red of his paw, and his paw was no better. Red was splattered all over his leg, and bottom of his paw was almost an unrecognizable mess of flesh, blood, and the faint trace of bones. Did it hurt? Of course it hurt, every movement of his paw sent piercing pain up his body, but this piercing rush of adrenaline was enough to keep him moving.
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Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 8:10 pm
 Arrow padded haltingly across the trees, ears alert but pressed down. His eyes darted nervously from side to side, every sensation new and vastly alive to him. It hadn’t been that long since his escape from the carousel, and although he learned many things during his freedom, he still feared the presence of others. Which was why he went with soft steps and tucked tail, always on the lookout for others and ready for submission, for the world, he had come to realize, could be cruel, despite its beauty.
The sound of a snarl froze him in his tracks, and he immediately lowered himself, casting about for the origin as he trembled. On impulse, a frightened yip escaped his lips, but was cut off as soon as he realized what he had done. He stood rooted to the spot for a long, agonizing moment, but it seemed whoever had been the one to snarl so angrily hadn’t noticed him, or had chosen to ignore him. Either way, Arrow was glad, and he scampered quickly to the safety of a large tree.
Unintentionally, he had neared the fox who had snarled in the first place, and soft thuds reached his ears. He couldn’t tell for certain what was making the noise, but he did know that whatever it was, it had the horrible, almost metallic, stench of blood. He had only smelled it once before, when he had hurt himself on accident, and it wasn’t something he remembered with pleasure. It sent chills up his spine and terrified him more than the snarl itself, for the scent was heavy in the air, and it choked him.
He longed to flee from such a place, but he remembered when he had hurt himself, and he had been alone, with no one to help. What if there wasn’t anyone to help whoever was hurt? And it must hurt a lot for there to be such a strong scent, he realized, wincing at the thought itself.
Steeling himself, he approached the stranger, and what he saw made his head reel. His breakfast threatened to show himself, in a less appealing form, for what he saw was a fox. With not just a bloodied paw, but a bit of protruding bone, as well, and it seemed the startling red was everywhere. But for once, this didn’t make him turn tail and escape. Instead, he found he was running faster, and soon he was before the poor fox, instinctively licking the wound.
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Posted: Fri Mar 19, 2010 7:45 pm
Stigmata could only stare in shock as a small fox rushed out from the safety of a large tree and towards him. What shocked him more however, wasn't the fox, but what the fox had done. He'd come to him and helped him lick his new wound. This realization however, only fueled the pain that rushed up his forepaw.
If any other creature had stumbled upon him during this time they would've either attacked him, shunned him, or just overally ignore him - he knew this from many past experiences - but this fox was definitely different. Like a yellow daisy in a field of white ones.
At this point the rock, and his avid bleeding paw were ignore as Stigmata focused on the black and white fox. Why he had come to help someone like him was completely beyond his understanding. Did he pity him, or was he merely doing this out of the goodness in his heart? Rather than outrightly refusing the other fox's help he decided that he'd stick around. If not for a little bit then for a while.
"Why are you doing this?", he asked gruffly as he settled himself down to the ground. There wasn't any hint of accusation in his voice, but it was also devoid of any "audible" curiosity as well. Stigmata was curious, but he wasn't about to reveal something like that to this stranger. Especially not after he'd witnessed him so vulnerable just now.
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 11:40 pm
Had Arrow seen that the male had been purposefully harming himself, he may have been like the rest and had fled. But he had not seen the fox slamming his paw onto the rock, resolved to bring damage upon himself, or the wild exhilaration that had filled his pained, red eyes as the crimson liquid fell and splattered. He had only seen the blood, the pain, and the loneliness of the fox as he stood, small and isolated between the dark surrounding trees. He was too busy with his worry to register the fact that the fox must have hurt himself (seeing as the red and white male was alone), too busy trying to stop the river of blood, that at first he couldn’t even hear the male’s question.
Once he had, he was reluctant to reply, for it meant he would have to leave the wound alone, and at the rate it was going, it seemed the male would bleed to death. But the taste and smell of the substance made him feel nothing but relief once he had finally chosen to leave it be, and he pawed at his now-bloodied face, trying to rid himself of the fearful metallic-tasting thing.
“I-I don’t need a reason to help,” he stuttered, pawing at the grass until it tore and pressing it against the male’s paw, softly so that it wouldn’t sting as much, but firmly, too, in an attempt to stop the blood. He hadn’t learned much about healing ever since his freedom, save for the instinctive things, such as licking the wound. This worried him, and it showed in the urgent flicker of his eyes and the anxious lashing of his tail.
“Do you… d-do you know how to stop it?” he asked, ears flattening. “The blood?”
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Posted: Sun Apr 11, 2010 2:18 am
Stigmata merely watched in silence as the smaller fox did his thing and licked at his paw. Every lick stung, but the pain from the sting was much better than the pain his paw endured with the harsh air biting it. He would've had to clean the wound anyway, as infections were never pleasant. Not even to a person like himself.
"I... See." he stated as the fox started covering the wound up with grass. He'd never been the type to receive kindness from his fellow foxes, so what Arrow was doing was such a foreign thing to him. He wasn't sure that he could even express gratitude to the fox when they were finished without it sounding either totally awkward or completely fake.
"The blood? It stops eventually... It always does." he replied simply, as if implying that this sort of thing happened on a daily basis... But then again, that wasn't really a lie, in fact, it was closer to the truth than it ever could be to a lie.
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Posted: Mon Apr 26, 2010 9:40 pm
”Even… even big wounds?” Arrow asked doubtfully. He knew that the body eventually healed itself, oftentimes without even leaving a trace of its presence, but did the same occur to such horrible injuries, where the bone itself showed?
He grew nauseous at the thought, even more so when he recalled the time he had heard of a lion dying due to blood loss, and looked away for a moment. As if the male needed anything else dirty on his bloodied paw, he thought. Still, he was surprised by how… emotionless the fox seemed. Didn’t he feel anything? Not that Arrow wanted him to feel pain, of course, but indifference to his own well-being?
He looked up at the red and white fox, and to the male, he may have seemed even scary, for the blood splattered about his maw seemed off and disturbing compared to his innocent face and concerned eyes. He was obviously confused, but his worry seemed to override the emotion, as shown by the fact that he had yet to ask any intrusive questions.
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Posted: Sat May 15, 2010 6:03 pm
"Well... I've had far worse than this.", Stigmata replied, his eyes distant as he remembered past wounds. Back then most of his wounds had been inflicted by others, but in time he'd learned to turn pain into pleasure until such a point that it pretty much drove him to insanity. Soon most of his wounds became self-inflicted rather than vice-versa.
"Aren't you scared?", he asked suddenly as he watched the smaller fox carefully. It was clear by the look in his eyes that the blood all over Stigmata repulsed him. Terrified him even. What he couldn't get though, was why he was still around. He'd never expected the younger to help him, much less stay with him after he'd done all that he could, so why? It was pretty clear that he wasn't like any of the others that Stigmata had mete before, but he still couldn't begin to fathom what was going through the younger foxes mind. What would make him help out a fox such as himself.
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Posted: Sun May 16, 2010 10:40 pm
Arrow’s eyes widened at the thought. There were wounds worse than having his bone jut out of his arm like that? And on him?
A sickening feeling formed in his gut. To know that there could be such bad hurts in the world, and that it had occurred multiple times to the fox before him. But the knowledge brought relief, too, for surely it meant that the wound the fox had now would heal eventually. There were, after all, no signs of scars or the like to show past pains.
But the relief was little. Simply because the wound would eventually heal didn’t mean that whatever happened before it did didn’t matter. He was sure there was still pain to go through, not to mention the disabilities a wounded paw could bring. The paw would need taking care of. Maybe he could wrap it? It would keep the blood from leaking, at least, and he looked about for a large leaf or something that could substitute when he was caught off guard by the male’s question.
He flattened his ears and looked down, ashamed to admit the truth but unwilling to lie. “I… I am.”
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Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 10:38 pm
Stigmata carefully watched Arrow as his expression changed like the wind. It was one emotion then the next. He was probably contemplating about Stigmata's mental health, and he wouldn't blame him if that really was the case. Not many sane foxes went around bashing their paws into rocks anyway. But wait... The smaller fox didn't look like the type that would help out if he knew that the wounds were caused intentionally. He seemed more like the type that would flee, so... Would it be right to assume that Arrow hadn't seen the whole scene. Should Stigmata tell him? In all honesty though, he didn't care either way, but on one hand he didn't want to frighten the other fox too much. Not after he'd helped him so.
"Then why are you still here?", he asked, just a hint of curiosity leaking into his voice. Why stick around when you're so obviously scared?
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Posted: Sun Jun 20, 2010 11:10 pm
"I don't want to leave you alone when you're hurt," Arrow admitted, before running off to look for the large leaf, too embarassed to stay. The world he lived in was wild, one where you had to eat or be eaten. Weaknesses like that shouldn't have been exposed so easily, especially to strangers. What was he doing, saying such things? And even if he regretted it now, what else could he have said?
It was true he took his time browsing around the forest, trying to convince himself that he had to find the perfect leaf to help the wound. But the truth was (and he knew this) that he was now even more scared of the male than ever.
But his feelings didn't change the fact that the wounded, and he eventually made his way back to the red and white male, the leaf held gently between his fangs with a dab of tree sap at its tip. He avoided the male's eyes as he set to work, wrapping it around the paw and securing it with the sap, making sure not to get any of it onto their fur seeing as it was a pain to take off.
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