Walk the Borderline
Ghoul
The boy was chasing a mouse. Well. He was trying to. It was so fast! His big, lumbering puppy body simply could not keep up, oversized paws unable to be graceful at all - though they did tell of his future size. Redrum huffed as the field mouse took another sharp turn, evading the snap of his needle-like teeth. Frustration burned underneath his vermillion coat, and the boy kicked at a patch of dandelions as his tail lashed.
“Rrgh!” As best a snarl as he was going to be able to produce at his age, Red pushed all his weight back unto his haunches in a sitting position. His brows furrowed, ears pinning back as a result of his tantrum. Why couldn’t he just grow up faster? Then, he wouldn’t have to be scared of anything! Just like all the adults!
Redrum speaks in third person, known as illeism.
He deals with neurological issues from head trauma,
Causing disruptions in speech and movement,
Making him appear twitchy, with uncontrollable tics affecting every muscle.
Assume he isn't wearing his skull mask unless specified.
If Ghoul wasn’t busy with a task from Medusa or training with Veigar and Cricket, he had taken to patrolling the borders of the plains. It kept his mind busy and his legs from getting sore. The daily exercise was easy and helped protect the pack. That was important these days now that the numbers of Insomnia were growing. His ruby gaze lingered on the open side of the border, watching carefully for any intruders. His attention was soon distracted from his patrol by the sound of a puppy-like snarl. A brow raised as he turned to look for the source. Not far off, he could see Red looking rather frustrated and kicking at the dandelions that swayed in the breeze. Ghoul wasn’t a particularly curious wolf but ever since the interaction with Elara, he wanted to keep better tabs on the newer pups. Making his way over to Red, he clears his throat and lets out a low chuff to let the boy know he’s headed his way. When he can stop a few feet in front of the large pup, he looks the boy over and doesn’t notice any injuries. “Got a thorn in your paw?” Ghoul asks, knowing that’s probably not the case but it would at least prompt a response of some sort. |
Warning: If anyone dares to fuck with Cricket, their pups, or Macabre, you will be answering to him.
Just as the boy had begun to cool from his outburst did a noise catch his attention. Then a voice. He had very little time to hide his irritable scowl, peering up with wide eyes as the familiar frame of his mother’s Nightmare came to look him over and question if he’d gotten a thorn in his paw. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t catch a mouse so he got mad? That he was frustrated with himself for being so useless? Maybe… maybe that's exactly what he was supposed to do. “Ca-n’t do. any-anything right.” The boy mumbled, trying to avert his gaze from Ghoul, a flush of embarrassment burning just beneath his crimson pelt. It was true enough for him. It had been his first thought after his accident, that he was a foolish, foolish boy.
His mind shifted away from the mouse and the hunt, hyperfocusing on his many shortcomings instead. A brooding sort of expression darkened his features as she stared down at his feet – a crushed dandelion underfoot. Why’d he do that? It had been so pretty. More shame filled his body, his insecurities taking hold and overwhelming him as he had been caught having his tantrum.
Redrum speaks in third person, known as illeism.
He deals with neurological issues from head trauma,
Causing disruptions in speech and movement,
Making him appear twitchy, with uncontrollable tics affecting every muscle.
Assume he isn't wearing his skull mask unless specified.
“Take a deep breath and let the frustration flow through until you’re calm,” the low rumble of his voice is deep in his chest as he continues to watch and pay attention to Red. “Were you attempting something?” His ruby gaze moves around now, looking about the plains, trying to deduce what had transpired. “Hunting?” Ghoul can see the scuff marks in the dirt. The faint scent of rodent lingering in the grass. “Do you want a lesson?” His words are straight forward, all business.
Warning: If anyone dares to fuck with Cricket, their pups, or Macabre, you will be answering to him.
Redrum's ears drooped as he listened to Ghoul's words, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration wash over him like a cold chill. The weight of his own inadequacy pressed down on him, threatening to crush his spirit like brittle leaves underfoot. Redrum had struggled greatly with his confidence, after it was squashed when he was so young.
He nodded slowly, acknowledging Ghoul's offer of help with a timid flick of his tail. "Red tried. To hunt." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with self-doubt. "But Red couldn't. catch anything. I thought. Red had it, but then... -nothing." The boy had tried to keep his head up around his mother, around his siblings too - but there were moments like this where he just felt like a screw up. Not that it was a very valid feeling, seeing as he was so young and had his whole life ahead of him.
His gaze fell to the ground, unable to meet Ghoul's intense ruby eyes. The memory of his failed attempts replayed in his mind like a relentless predator stalking its prey, each moment filled with missed opportunities and dashed hopes. “Red thinks. His fur. Scares- them.” He could get to a good ambush point, but then it was just him and his stupid red fur that flashed like an alert for his prey and they were gone.
Ghoul's offer of a lesson sparked a glimmer of hope within Redrum's heart, easy to do at his tender age. He lifted his head, meeting Ghoul's gaze with a mix of gratitude and determination shining in his own eyes. "Yes, please..?" he replied, his voice steadier now, fueled by the prospect of learning from someone wiser and more experienced than himself.
Redrum speaks in third person, known as illeism.
He deals with neurological issues from head trauma,
Causing disruptions in speech and movement,
Making him appear twitchy, with uncontrollable tics affecting every muscle.
Assume he isn't wearing his skull mask unless specified.
Ghoul listens. Its something he's good at because he really doesn't care to talk. Listening was easier. He does nod slowly, acknowledging the pup's failure to hunt, understanding what it felt like to not catch what you were after. Letting out a quiet hum, he nods again. The boy was right. Bright red fur surely did not help in hunting really anything. He ends up sitting down and looking to the boy as Red politely asks for the lesson. "There are other things to utilize to help you hunt. Try to be downwind so they can't catch your scent," he lifts his nose to show how the pup could use it to feel which way the wind would be blowing. "Be stealthy. Hide in the grass or behind trees until you can get close enough to pounce on them," Ghoul lowers himself onto his belly with his legs outstretched. "You can chase them until they tire, but that option is difficult at your age," he lets out a breath, eyes moving from their surroundings back to the pup. "You will fail more than you succeed until you are older. That is how you get good," Ghoul says, his gaze unwavering as he watches the boy. |
Warning: If anyone dares to fuck with Cricket, their pups, or Macabre, you will be answering to him.
Redrum watched in silence as Ghoul imparted his wisdom, the older man’s words sinking into his young mind. He appreciated Ghoul's concise demeanor, finding solace in the simplicity of it. He was grateful for it.
Listening intently, Redrum absorbed Ghoul's instructions like a sponge soaking up water. The notion of utilizing the wind to mask his scent was a revelation, a simple yet effective strategy that had eluded him in his previous attempts. He watched as Ghoul demonstrated, lifting his nose to the air to gauge the direction of the wind, and nodded in understanding – testing it out for himself briefly.
He pictured himself crouching in the tall grass hidden from sight as he waited for the perfect moment to strike. Ghoul's demonstration of hiding behind trees and laying low in the grass reinforced the importance of remaining unseen until the opportune moment presented itself. It sounded so easy when the man explained it!
As Ghoul spoke of the inevitability of failure, Redrum felt a weight lift from his shoulders. It was a comforting reassurance, a reminder that it was all part of learning. Every failure is a step closer to success. The boy furrowed his brows in contemplation, trying to burn the ideal into his memory.
"Redrum is– thankful.” The crimson boy murmured, his quiet voice filled with gratitude. ”Redrum will– learn!”
Redrum speaks in third person, known as illeism.
He deals with neurological issues from head trauma,
Causing disruptions in speech and movement,
Making him appear twitchy, with uncontrollable tics affecting every muscle.
Assume he isn't wearing his skull mask unless specified.
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1. | Walk the Borderline | Dancefloor of the Gods | 12:53 AM, 12-15-2023 | 01:40 PM, 05-15-2024 |