Wild Child

Macabre · 11-03-2022, 05:33 PM

Mac was, as per usual, attempting to perfect his lovely craft, paws bausily working on the project he had prepared in front of him. The nook made for a change of scenery when the volcano's broad, rocky terrain no longer entertained him, its flourishing flora and fauna providing a pleasant backdrop, white noise, and of course..materials for his taxidermy. The yearling set upon himself to make a new mount of a dead racoon, the creature's body sprawled out in front of him. He'd emptied its innards, offering them to Ghoul's caiman's and now was busily drying out its pelt and remaining limbs for posing and stuffing. Dead, beady eyes stared back into his luminescent ones, and the boy giggled softly to himself, muttering brief monologues to himself as he prepared a stuffing of dead leaves, cobwebs, and various sweet scented herbs.

Just as he began to fill the animal's cavity, ensuring it was well-stuffed, he scented his mother before he saw her in the moonlight that illuminated his work. That, and the soft orange glow of a small candle he'd made from animal fat. He turned his head to meet her, his cheshire grin curling up in its visceral, yet affectionate manner. He did always love his mother, adored her even. Who wouldn't love their mother, the one who cared for him and his siblings so? Even with his odd mannerisms, the glow in his muddled eyes, and that grin that never landed just right. But she knew he was trying his best. "Hello, mother!" He said to her, rising from his work station and approaching her with a soft wag of his tail. "How have you been?"

”Speech” ’Thought’

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Wild Child

Mac

Macabre