bowels

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Like a cat on its feet, her head snapped toward Tzich when he called her name, inhumanely so. Her eyes, large and swollen by the deep black of her pupils, fixated on her mentor. Then, as he continued to speak, her shoulders loosened. Her pupils shrank, and by the time he was reinforcing the word “control,” they’d restored themselves to original condition. Her nails receded and her pathetic fleshy ones were returned.

Her heart was racing at an alarming rate. She felt like she were about to have a heart attack. As her mind blindly swam, she turned her gaze back to the dog, who was recovering and coming back with a vengeance.

Before the dog clipped her with its oozing maw, she dodged to the side, but clumsily. Her back hit the sharp edge of a brick wall and she winced, then hissed. The dog, however, was not deterred.

Carly whimpered. She was back on her feet soon enough, and she began to look left and right. Out of the corner her eye, she found a dull knife, rediscovered and overturned by the hellish beast’s scavenger hunt. It wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t seem that there was much choice.

She dashed for the knife. Of course, it lit a fire under the beast’s ass, and it tailed after her. Carly panted in high whines as she tried to beat the dog to her goal. When she got there, she slid on her leg, like a baseball player skidding to home run, and she grabbed the blunt weapon.

Before the dog could do much else, she cried out and plunged it in between its ribs. It yelped into the night, and using as muscle as she could, she drove the weapon into it again and again until ceased to do else, except fall over on its side.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Carly was wide-eyed and in full deer-in-headlights mode when Tzich got behind her and took her hand. Without blinking, she looked frantically between his subtle grasp and the raging beast bounding toward them. Her breath became uneven. Then, as he brought her hand out and forward, and the Hell-dog was flying towards them, things slowed.

She blinked. She felt an undeniable heat burst between her and Tzich’s hand, and an unbeatable force churned in her chest like a great whirlwind. Her teeth clenched and she felt lethal. At the ends of her fingers, her nails, it began to itch, and intense warmth radiated throughout.

Things returned to current motion. Her pupils had engulfed the amber of her eyes and more, breeching to the whites. A savage sneer curled onto her lips, and her hand, suddenly much heavier, came down on the animal.

It yelped in pain. She was so engulfed that she disregarded the thick, black claw that had replaced her once innocent flesh-toned nails. Blood rippled up and out from its meat, an oozing black with a clear sheen. It recuperated quickly and came back to strike.

A growl started in the heart of her throat, then ripped out completely when she brought her foot up and into the dog’s chest, pelting it against the dumpster where it had once foraged.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

All confidence and intrigue she’d possessed was dashed away in seconds. Her determined, unconscious smirk trickled away at the sides of her lips, and soon her eyes were big and trained on the beastly dog. She felt the adrenaline and strength leave her at the knees.

When she noticed that indeed the rabid dog had gone from the dumpster to looking at her, she stiffened. The humor was evident in Tzich eyes, but it wasn’t helping her any and she began to panic. She shuffled from one foot to the other, then looked to the man who’d dragged her into all of this. If it wouldn’t have conflicted with her best interest, she would’ve slugged him right in the face.

“Seriously? Aren’t you going to help!” she bellowed.

That made the demonic dog before her get excited. It hunched down, flexing its irregular and deteriorating muscles, then pounced up, flashing its vicious maw, cankerous saliva dripping from the corners of its mouth. Carly yelped and darted for the side in one fluid somersault.

She ended with one knee and foot on the ground, her fingers pressed lightly at the concrete. Wild, she looked between Tzich and the hungry beast.

“What do I do?!”

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Her arms pumped in rhythm with her step. It was a brief reminder of what had happened with her shoulder the night before, but it was nothing but a stinging afterthought, and certainly nothing she couldn’t handle. The closer they became, the harder she ran. In the back of her mind she was waiting for her body to give out, for her to slow down and take a couple minutes to double over and breathe raspy breaths in her desert-dry lungs. It never came, though.

“Feral,” she answered, her eyes dead-set ahead of her. “Not like that lady was last night, though. It’s different. It stinks.”

Carly took them around a block, then behind an old Chinese store. At the sight of the alley, she paced herself, then came to a slow halt at the mouth. In broad daylight, something rummaged through the large dumpster, sick wafting in the air.

“There,” she murmured quietly.

Then, as if on cue, a head popped out. A flesh-rippling growl emanated from the deep throat (or, throats) of the savage dog. Its skin looked as if it’d been peeled away, revealing thick cords of wet and bloody muscle, though the meat looked rotten. Holes clipped the ears of the beast, and its eyes were white, speckles of maggot burrows on its face. In a couple of seconds, leapt up and out, revealing steroid muscles and cankerous infection all across its body. Carly could smell it from where she stood.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

With rapt interest she watched Tzich. He reminded her of a cat’s tail, flicking with energy, momentarily suspended in sly grace and then violently jerked into a new direction. A manic look haunted his eyes, and it somehow compelled Carly—perhaps because, deep down, she knew he was her guide to satisfaction, wherever and whatever it was going to be. Her muscles pulsed with anticipation in her arms and fingers.

She frowned. “What? How am I supposed to know? I just started!”

She had a feeling that that excuse wouldn’t work. Therefore, rather than stand there gawking at him until he did something, she inched past him then started down the sidewalk. Once at the divide of latitude and longitude, she stopped and took a deep breath. It turned into a sigh, and she pressed her hands against her hips.

Then it came. She tensed suddenly, and her knees really pricked. It was clear she caught a scent of something. Poised, demanded, she looked to Tzich quickly, her eyes wider, her pupils were tight and constricted, like an animal in the heat of the hunt.

“I think there’s something this way,” she said, barely pointing in front of her before she started toward it. Her walk went from a smooth pace, to a hasted gait, then a full-on jog.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Carly had never felt much empathy for her fellow man, and that was perhaps what had set her apart the most in her age. In school, she’d used it to her advantage, plucking innocent minds and controlling them like marionettes, willing them to carry out her bidding and lead her down the most successful paths. And in the rise of adulthood, she neglected sympathy; serial killers were a nuisance, considering it meant that she could be in the line of danger, but they didn’t bother her much. Ten car pile-ups and drunken collisions were simply life strokes, nothing more. Carly wouldn’t turn to facing the evil in the world for the better good.

However, she would act in her best interest. And with this fire in her gut, and this insatiable hunger rearing in the back of her throat, following Tzich into this madness had to be it. Or, at least, it could be. Denial was still fresh and stinking in her brain.

“Okay,” she turned around, visually resolved. Her arms across her chest looked less like protection and more like authority now. Her eyes were narrowed and her jaw was set. “What do we do?”

[High-Casual to Advanced] Searching for something compelling

Hey, I'm on the prowl again! Would love a couple of roleplays~

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Her jaw progressively clenched. Unaware, her fists bunched together tightly, drawing the pigment away from her knuckles and leaving shaking, ghostly knobs.

Tzich brought up a very good point, one that even she couldn’t refuse. When she urged herself to think about it, her shoulder stung some, but even she knew that she was just convincing herself that. In reality, it was a little stiff to move around, maybe a little irritated around the stitching, but she was in tip-top shape. Aside from the dull headache reeling in the back of her brain, she was five by five. She wasn’t any normal girl—and normal woman.

Carly snapped her head away and turned around quickly. With her back turned, she crossed her arms over her chest. Only when eyes were off could she let that worried, sickened and enlightened expression come to glean. Everything spun for a moment and she felt light-headed. Her eyes coasted over the family photos hanging above the grey stone fireplace—her, her mother, and her father. Her fake father.

“Fine,” she could barely believe the words were coming out of her mouth, dry and seized, trembling from pressure, “you got me. What do you want from me, then? If I’m the bastard kid of the devil himself, I think I’d be in a different place in my life. At least if I were supposed to be important or anything.”

She spoke quietly, and with her back still turned.

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Carly stiffened from the startle of Tzich’s violent rise. When he grabbed her wrist, her eyes widened, and while she put some distance between them, it didn’t stop him from pulling and then dragging her through her own home.

She could’ve tried and break away, maybe hit him, scream and curse to all the people that weren’t listening, but instead she walked ahead, her steps stinted and slanted in attempt to slow them, but it did nothing. Tzich moved her along and pursued his spiel, all the way until the door.

By then, her amber eyes were big and her eyebrows knitted, her expression conflicted between surprise of the uproar and irritation from being tugged about like a ragdoll. Just as she was about to make a more definitive face toward him, maybe say something, he opened the door and failed. He tried again, beating against the deadbolt, but to no avail.

“Yeah, and your batshit crazy gets in the way of common sense,” she said pointedly. Then, in one quiet motion, she reached up and flipped the lock. Not that she wanted to be wrangled outside by this madman who was budging his way into her life, but she felt a little bad for him. Just a little.

“You really believe what you’re saying, don’t you?” she muttered edgily. He didn’t seem to by lying, and from the surface there didn’t seem to be much reason. “Look, I’m not leaping at the idea of being the Devil himself’s daughter, but you can’t blame me, can you? As far as I know I’m a normal girl—er, woman. I mean, yeah, I’m kind of a bitch, but aren’t all humans?”

Same old story since day one, but I've got no place to run. [bowels & Glaw]

Carly endured his spiel, intrigued by it bizarre quality and the chaos which made his words a mad tangent. As a whole, it made sense, but she tried to trick herself into going in circles around his speech, desperate to find no similarity whatsoever. She wanted to be as dissimilar to him as possible. So far, though, she was losing.

Her nose scrunched unhappily when he offered her the fork. Reluctantly, she grabbed it, and she took a slow half-step up to the skillet where the egg rested. As Tzich found vacation at the window sill, she analyzed the delirious concoction below. It was gruesomely discolored, and the stench made her wretch. She took his advice, went quiet, and looked at the disturbed egg.

“It’s big,” she nearly mumbled, eyes still screwed onto the thing with gross interest, “the mess of colors. I can smell sections and then a blend. Like a puzzle. I can put them together and take it apart.”

She could taste it without putting it on her tongue. Momentarily, she didn’t find the flavor awful, but compelling, because she could taste individual sects—fish on one side, onion in its own enclave, a smattering of pepper. She could feel where the potential in the egg had once been, but then had failed. In a daze, she took a small bite of the egg and put it in her mouth.

And then humanity crashed down on her.

Immediately, her eyes widened and she seized up, then she dove to the sink. She spit out everything and felt her stomach tighten and convulse, and she took handfuls of water and gulped it down. She tried to scrape her tongue clean with a napkin, but it was to no avail.

“Fuck,” she growled, “that was horrible. What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to poison me?”