.i feel like dying [open]

[synchronicity]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/2rfq8aq.jpg] Walking, always moving, never resting. Life seldom did in spite of the horrors it would inevitably come to know. And as the world stayed the course so did Nevan, ever in motion, scarcely allotting to a moments reprieve. But here, where the trail bled to shadows in a world conjured by his mind, there was nothing. He could prowl the same invisible road and never reach a destination, damned to always seek that which would never be. Caged in his unconsciousness he would lope evermore in search of an elusive something, any tangible stretch of reality in his mental dystopia, that he assured himself was just a little further ahead. Just a little more and he’d be there, crossing that black, indiscernible horizon into a land of prospect and promise. He never did though. This was not the first night where he comforted himself with this persuasion, nor the last it would seem. Nevan had loped the undefined road, venturing further into the blackness with the vainest and most presumptuous of aspirations tugging at his heartstrings, beckoning him onward. Home! Home! His heart would bray, his body would seize and lungs would tighten as though drowning in that visceral need to reach the named haven until in his desperation he would recall. No such realm existed to him. And when his thoughts ceased their howling, the tempest of his emotions quelled by despair, he would stop and call into that all consuming dark. He screamed for someone to help him, anyone would suffice. And each time his plea was met with silence, rejection made of tuneless winds and scentless paths. So it confused him when his dream did not end with him coming awake in a thicket somewhere in the world and was left standing on his shadowed path, alone. It would have driven him into hysterics, to be trapped in a realm with of his own design, had it not been for the sudden glow of light at his back. Faint at first but soon the ray of light was a luminous glow, a beacon of hope to the miserable soul coaxing him from the brink of still lurking panic. The dream had shifted and Nevan was helpless in its wake. Spurned for what felt like ages he timorously sought out the light, pursuing it with renewed fervor and alarmed when he found the distance gradually closing, rewarding him for his perseverance but in a most distressing manner. For there, underneath the gossamer shine of a hidden moon, was a shape of the dead, frozen and void of life. But it was there which meant he was not alone. Even the dead would be a welcome sight to his poor eyes and he hastened toward it until its features could be registered in sharp definition. The form was canine. Its fur was like feathered sea of pink-red, but pale. Ashen, as though death had stolen its richness and luster. The frame was sleek, masked by the volume of its coat. The cadaver was on the small side but not quite what any would call tiny, petite maybe. There was no odor. The genderless dead gave off no perfumes to convince his mind of the final verdict that his eyes found so apparent. It was as though it were asleep – slumbering without taking a breath or suspended in time and he had caught it in between the frames of animation. The scene only served to bemuse him as he respectfully kept his distance and walked around the unmoving one for a better look. Its chest was done in shades of blue, a drastic hue against the red. Its legs were crossed over themselves, stretched comfortably and thwarting his ability to give it a sex unless he were to touch it directly, which he did not. His frown softened over the ill-fated creature that lay forgotten on his secret walkway with none to mourn its passing or pay tribute to its life, left to die unnoticed. But in a way it was probably better than the existence Nevan himself led. He who skulked in and out of territories, shamed by his past and haunted by pursuers he did not know would never seek him out. In death at least there was peace and the male found himself envious of the peace that it had achieved, wondering that if his troubles and worries would fade with death. And then in a blink of an eye Nevan was given more of a view than he wanted and it made his blood run cold. He had been looking at the dead canine but he had not been seeing it. The body’s rounded contour was distressingly familiar, blue-rimmed ears and twin stripes on its side made for a disturbing reminder of his features. He didn’t dare look at its face – internally he knew what his mind was showing him and could not escape the fate his psyche conveyed but he ran from it anyway. He tore down that invisible path, shying from the stroke of light that had once been a source of hope and had become a thing of terror. Nevan didn’t remember waking up per se, only coming back into himself as his heart threatened to break his sternum in an effort to escape the scene it had been shown. Blue eyes darted wildly but found nothing out of sorts – he was safe relatively speaking. He was still lying beneath the odd tangle of ferns that he had managed to crawl under to appease his need to hide in spite of the fact that the shrubbery wasn’t large enough to do so and the colors of his pelt did not camouflage him at all. Shuddering despite the humidity of the early noon he spared himself a few moments to reclaim his bearings even if he could not dispel the cloud of horror and fear that had yet to lave him. When he was sure he could stand without bolting into the great unknown, the four-tailed male ambled with no real destination toward the bay that had attracted him to Yvit in the first place. The cliffs were the nearest outlook post and it was there that he found himself, gazing off into the great blue waves that rolled and crashed against the stone, demanding it bow to its majesty and infuriated when it did not submit. Gulls crowed obnoxiously overhead but strangely enough Nevan couldn’t hear them, he couldn’t hear much of anything in fact. Nothing aside from the fierce pounding in his chest and the small, yet to be discarded desire, to free himself of his mortal coils.

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[°Crow°]

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[atrb=background,http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q21/winkatuck/freen.jpg] Another wolf was off in the distance sharing the same view. Though not mentally nor emotionally, he felt an uneasiness about this male before him. This would be Crow's first encounter in a long time where he had actually decided to try and even start a conversation. Let alone hold one with a complete stranger. Crow decided it was now or never as he sighed deeply and took careful steps as not to aware the other of his presence. His dirt and rock colored pelt blended in nicely with his surroundings. Umber orbs shone with anticipation. What was he to say, what were he to do? What if the other wolf ran or even worse... what if he attacked? Crow felt his heart begin to race as he was only paw steps away from Nevan, he had never fought another wolf before. Sure he had encounters that he wasn't too proud of, but he always took the easy way out and ran. Now he was thinking too hard. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the male felt light-headed, forgetting his tremendously large horns mounted atop his scrawny form. He fell forward, losing his balance as his tail went up and his body went down. Did he notice? Had the other wolf heard his clumsy act?

[synchronicity]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/2rfq8aq.jpg] Nevan honestly did not want to think. Nothing pleasant ever came of him doing so and considering his abysmal state of mind there was reason to fear any extensive amount of time to pass without proper stimulation to veer his debasing thoughts in a saner direction. So it was with a potent measure of relief and mind numbing terror that the four-tailed Lyxxus found himself twisting around to see what had kept him from pursuing his depressing spiral. The youth visibly flinched as his eyes focused on the crumpled heap of fur that had slid a few inches closer after its spectacular entrance – not that Nevan shared in the wonderment of it all. His fear was unfounded though, the distress he’d been feeling abating as quickly as it had come as he came to the realization that this wasn’t some large predator out to make a meal out of him and it was, in fact, a pup like himself. Nevan was reduced to blinking owlishly, posture still slightly curled into himself and tails hanging low against his heels but otherwise looking more curious of the other male instead of fearful. Bright eyes darted ambiguously from the prone form to the undeveloped nubs that he was well aware would become dangerous horns as he grew older. “A-are you…a-alright?” he squeaked tentatively.

[°Crow°]

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[atrb=background,http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q21/winkatuck/fhfghghcopy-1.png,true][scrolly:h(150),w(300),sy,c(transparent)]Crow sat up quickly and shook his pelt as he regained his composure. "Yeah, I think so..." he felt better seeing as this other lupine was somewhat polite. The Yagi soon realized the four lashing tails glued to the other wolf's feet. "Whoa! How many do you have? That's sooo cool! I wish I had that many! Then maybe I wouldn't fall down so much everywhere.' he grinned, circling around the other. "And your colors, so awesome! I'm just colored like dirty moss and sand really.. he chuckled a bit.[/scrolly]

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