[ The presence says her name with such sadness but she doesn't know a ghost, doesn't know a Wolfwood. Doesn't know any humans that aren't cruel. He had hurt her, too. Tossing sand in her face. It's what they do... even when dead.
She's struggling, now. The others are protesting but she had seen it thanks to that feverish memory the thing shared, she had somehow seen it and he's just like her. Suffering, pieces cut away because of humans. He would understand the fear, the grief, the pain. The anger.
He would help her kill them, wouldn't he?
She still falters, though, almost crashing into the sand before other feathers join in - black and sparking prettily, keeping her safe. A brother's wing. It means he agrees, doesn't it? ]
DON'T T̩͎̺̺̩͕͈R̶͙͇̙̬̖̎̃ͅU̥̹̗̘̳̅ͪ̂͛͊̊̈ͅS̨͇͎̝̝̟ͨ̄T̺̩̠̝̱̼̠͛̓͋̌ HIM. DESTROY THEM THE T̸͉̫͍ͤ̏̽H͎͖̹̥̟̱̯ͯ̅̿ͣ̎I̺̤͎̫͔͚͊ͪͥ̉͒̓͝Nͫ͂͢G̦̾̈́̉̂̅ͦ̑ HURT YOU LIARS LIARS LI̖͉ͮA͍̬͙̱̼͉ͩ͋͋̉̕R͏̜͖͕̲͍͓S̶̉̾͌̒͗
No. Please.
[ She wants them to be quiet for once, but they want to protect her, and it's a warring mess of voices inside. One hand finally reaches to grasp at a red coat and there's a disgusting crack, and slippery, bloody sound as Tessla breaks free from the rest of the plants.
She can't last like this, there's so little left of her, but she needs... she just needs a moment.
In the end, it's half a girl in the Stampede's arms, bits and pieces barely attached with twisted bones and feathers. Behind her is the cocoon, bristling in anger but lacking voices without their core. ]
no subject
She's struggling, now. The others are protesting but she had seen it thanks to that feverish memory the thing shared, she had somehow seen it and he's just like her. Suffering, pieces cut away because of humans. He would understand the fear, the grief, the pain. The anger.
He would help her kill them, wouldn't he?
She still falters, though, almost crashing into the sand before other feathers join in - black and sparking prettily, keeping her safe. A brother's wing. It means he agrees, doesn't it? ]
DON'T T̩͎̺̺̩͕͈R̶͙͇̙̬̖̎̃ͅU̥̹̗̘̳̅ͪ̂͛͊̊̈ͅS̨͇͎̝̝̟ͨ̄T̺̩̠̝̱̼̠͛̓͋̌ HIM.
DESTROY THEM
THE T̸͉̫͍ͤ̏̽H͎͖̹̥̟̱̯ͯ̅̿ͣ̎I̺̤͎̫͔͚͊ͪͥ̉͒̓͝Nͫ͂͢G̦̾̈́̉̂̅ͦ̑ HURT YOU
LIARS LIARS LI̖͉ͮA͍̬͙̱̼͉ͩ͋͋̉̕R͏̜͖͕̲͍͓S̶̉̾͌̒͗
No. Please.
[ She wants them to be quiet for once, but they want to protect her, and it's a warring mess of voices inside. One hand finally reaches to grasp at a red coat and there's a disgusting crack, and slippery, bloody sound as Tessla breaks free from the rest of the plants.
She can't last like this, there's so little left of her, but she needs... she just needs a moment.
In the end, it's half a girl in the Stampede's arms, bits and pieces barely attached with twisted bones and feathers. Behind her is the cocoon, bristling in anger but lacking voices without their core. ]
Red... brother?