Welcome to the Circus
[Pack Challenge]
08-20-2022, 07:30 PM
It was bound to happen. He wasn’t the sort to think rationally, think properly through his actions - if you give yourself the intention of sitting high and mighty, acting like hot shit, you’re bound to fall deeper than before. The higher you rise, the further you fall, isn’t that how it went? Ah, the folly of it all. His mother was fighting for the right to her pack, their home, and he was falling into Ghoul’s kneejerk reaction to this little shortshit. Well, did anyone really think Mac was incapable of this violence? Considering how he was, in fact, always a bit off - from his grin to his mannerisms - but even then perhaps his actions wpuld be of a shock to those close to him. No matter. It didn’t matter. He had tunnel vision and boy was he seeing red. Quite literally. The Armada bastard had pivoted around, lo and behold, before Mac could even swivel his head away, he received a thick clawful to the face. A white-hot pain seared through the boy’s left side as the sickening squelch of his eyeball - gods, his FUCKING EYEBALL - and the flesh above and below his brow and cheek were shaved so cleanly and yet so jagged. Like the boy’s claws were a rusty scalpel, and he was the twosted surgeon. Brutal, calculated, yet a work of art. The pain, it blinded him. Literally, a flash of color he once saw the world through had flickered away in that eye, the switchoff of a tv set, complete static. After the slice, Mac hissed under his breath, but through the sheething, his grimace curled back into a grin. Blood poured down his features in rivets, his eyeball prickling with the ruptured pain of s thousand needles, stabbing and stabbing relentlessly. It was the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life, and the throbbing so back his hearing even dulled and voices around him became garbled. Was that a ringing in his ears? Probsbly the shock of the fact that his eye had literally been sliced like a slab of ham. He stood there, feeling the crimson liquid trickle down his face, his injured eye twitching instinctively. He couldn’t register the entirety of the injury, even as drops of blood became puddles on the ground, soaking into his pawpads. Blood everywhere, soaking into the dry earth - funny how the soil still treated the fluid like it was another form of hydration. Blood or water, those plants didn’t care. How interesting. He took his left forepaw and gingerly pressed it against his wounded eye. The white hot pain jabbed into his skull like a strike of broken glass, and he flinched, a hitched wince in his throat. He felt the blood ooze and well beneath his paw. The pounding of the wound. His body was reeling, shocked. He didn’t even realize his luminescence in his damaged eye had ruptured, forming a singular bulb of light, like a headlight of a pupil. Haunting and sharp, piercing and sickening. Macabre laughed. The crazy fucker, he laughed. Laughed as the blood oozed and poured. Laughed as his injured eyeball frantically twitched and felt as if shards of glass were just slicing into every fiber of his socket. Laughed as the crimson blood formed its own set of splotches on his mottled fur. Laughed like a hyena, cackling and wheezing, the blood running so thickly it got into his maw and stained his teeth, making it look as if he’d sank his teeth into a kill of his own. Oh, what a joke. A damn joke. ”Speech” ’Thought’ |
i’m evil to the core!—
what i shouldn’t do i will
they say i’m emotional—
what i want to save i’ll kill