no time to bleed.

N/A · 11-01-2013, 04:42 AM

Typhon

The silence that surrounded him was comforting and safe, and he found his muscles relaxing thoroughly as he curled further into himself. If he lie here long enough, eventually the sun would set and darkness would embrace him again. Then he could move and find shelter, and he would not have to worry. But all he could feel was the warm rays of sun against his dark fur, tormenting him and taunting him. In the open he felt small and meaningless -- though it was rare he felt much significance at all.

The feminine odor grew stronger, and the blind male would stiffen involuntarily. Bit by bit his body would tighten, an unconscious response to an unfamiliar presence. It was accompanied by another whiff of plants unknown to him. The fur that lined the crest of his neck and head would stiffen, jaws clenching as the woman drew closer. Though his heightened sense of smell and hearing were quite useful, in his condition, it also made him acutely aware of things around him that might be quite harmless. The stranger seemed so close, uncomfortably close, even as she was at a great distance away. Impinging on the distance that he kept so desperately from others. All he could do was remain still, inwardly hoping she would not disturb him.

And then the stranger spoke. A woman's voice, untainted by the purity of youth, and yet still strong all the same. He was briefly grateful it was not a male, especially not a young one -- they seemed more apt to give him trouble. The lyrics were soothing to his ears, and slowly the male would uncurl like a rapidly growing fern, motions calculated and aware. It was only when his jaws slid open that he realized how parched his throat was. Ignoring her speech for now, he would lean to lap desperately at the lake's frigid surface. But he only attended to the water for a moment before his head swung back towards her, ears swiveling toward her on his head. It seemed as though his eyes would watch her, but he saw nothing. Useless orbs rolled and twitched in their sockets, lifeless and eerie.

"I live," he answered gruffly. It was not a good day, and he was not well. Yet he didn't expect sympathy; such a thing was rare. He'd only experienced such a thing once in his life. Slowly Typhon would shift from where he had reclined on the earth, his stance tightening as he pulled his head upright. "I suppose that is good enough."

Manners were not exactly his forte. He had no access to visual cues that were so necessary in communication, and this often led to him acting quite odd in comparison. He had no sense of the kind of creature this woman was, though her words seemed decent enough. And so he would swing his head down again, tail unfurling to lay limply behind him. "Hi."

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