[02] the nature of wolves

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𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙡

┆ started— monday, 07•18•2022 at 21:29

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Content Warnings! Censored cursing. Mentions of: blood, gore, and death.

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            Spirit Wars: something I once did

             and ended up deleting all of the blogs

             in favor of redoing my aesthetic. I do

             plan on redoing those blogs at a later

             time, for the ones I really like.

             Anyways, today’s theme is: Emotions.

             the last was out of date anyways!

             This is a prompt that could mean a

             lot of things, and deciding on what

             to do was honestly a huge challenge.

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           #MajesticMagnolias

            #SpiritWars2022

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            Raven was regretting her age. Even if

             she’d only taken a mere tiny sip of the

             tea, it seemed powerful enough to

             transport her.

             It transported her to a place of hell and

             trauma.

             Her Boggart was her own wolf form —  

             rough scars at the chest, her own amber

            -like eyes staring back at her, her coat

             a mix of black and dark brown fur. She

             stood in front of it, shaking at the mere

             sight. The wolf form of Raven howled

             and snapped, as if it intended to murder

            her. Which, was indeed what the wolf

             wanted to do.

             It was what she deserved.

             Even despite the hallucination, she

             found her mind wandering back to the

             day she’d first changed. The month

             before had been pure hell and fear;

             hyper focusing on how she found these

             scars so ugly and accenting her already

             stick-like body. She reached up to her lips,

             picking at the skin without even thinking.

             “It’s your fault.” Raven’s own voice said,

             though the wolf form, that now was human

            — and naked. Stark, deep red slashes

             were visible, blood dripping from from

             them. Her hair was tangled with leaves

             and other forest like items. Her teeth

             were sharpened.

             The girl under tea causing a hallucination

             was scared for herself. She ed

             the first night: her best friend, Cassie,

             ed her in the first at Illvermentory.

             She’d asked her to leave as soon as

             possible, but her stubborn-headed

             friend hadn’t. Instead she’d stayed, and

             Raven had killed her own best friend.

             “Celestia,” A mere mumble of a memory.

             A girl laid dying, scratches covering her

             entire stomach, too life-threatening to

             even more. The dark skinned best friend

             she once had was on the ledge of death

             and they both knew it, even if Raven’s wolf

             form in the past attempted to lick the

             wounds. “Don’t leave me.”

             Raven simply shook her head. Then, she

             didn’t have control, didn’t know how to

             switch back. So she licked the wounds,

             laid her head on her friend’s lap, and

             gave a tiny howl of approval at the oh so

             minuscule moment of love as Cassie

             scratched her coat.

            In her friend’s dying moments, as wolf-

            Raven watched her best friend from the

             baby years, she’d deemed it most

            important to stroke and comfort Raven.

             Raven was selfish, and felt survivor’s guilt.

             Heavy survivor’s guilt. It was part of why

             she didn’t have friends, so she couldn’t

             maul them and have her heart broken.

            She couldn’t handle murdering anyone

             else, no matter whom. Blood, it had never

             appealed to her; even her own.

             She had moments of sense before she

             ed more. The breaking, the

             agony, the shredding of an old uniform.

             All of her bones breaking and reforming

             to become a werewolf. To feel human,

             then to find a wold beast that controlled

             all within her. She didn’t

             anything about that day, not until she’d

             come out of some daze and fought herself

             covered in blood, Cassie dying.

             “You’re a murderer,” Hissed the naked

             doppelgänger-boggart of Raven. “You

             took your own friend’s life, isn’t that

             selfish? Because you insisted on being a

             werewolf.”

             “I didn’t want this!” Raven screamed,

             feeling her face wet. Why was her face

             wet? Her eyes? She wiped it with her

             hand, and found tears. Was she crying?

             “I didn’t mean to kill Cassie! She wouldn’t

             leave you heartless b**ch!”

             “Heartless b**ch?” The form laughed.

             “I’m you, but unaltered. Totally honest.

             You’re lying to yourself.”

             “No. I. Am. Not.” Raven’s words announced

             themselves one by one. She didn’t care,

             she was happy. Instead she crossed her

             arms across her chest to hide how shaky

             they were. “You are the chaotic one. You

             made me take her! I didn’t want to lose

             her and I still don’t.”

             An evil laugh escaped the boggart’s lips.

             “I see that feat controls you.” It noted,

             head tilted to the side.

             Raven tried to ignore it, but it was hard.

             She wished she had her wand to silence

             the stupid ass thing. “You’re just a nasty

             voice, and I don’t need more of those!”

             Her words had a growling tone to them.  

             “I don’t care, go the f**k away!”

             She curled up into the fetal position,

             gripping her head and. . .

             . . . and letting loose a scream of pure

             agony. Of pain. Of regret. Of sadness.

             Of hatred. On herself, the Boggart that

             looks like her, the life she took and the

             things she didn’t do.

             She was a failure and she knew it. The

             Boggart was right. Did she even deserve

             something like that? Was she forever

             alone? Would her family hate her?

             All Celestia Raven Coinin, the Head Girl

             and werewolf, knew to do was cry.

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             This was a piece I’d written for a

             private roleplay, based off of J.K.

             Rowling’s Harry Potter Universe,

             wherein the oc’s were given a tea

             to induce a hallucination. During that

             time, my oc Raven, a werewolf and

             Head Girl, underwent quite the

             masterpiece.

             The fact I wrote this at 2am still  

             impresses me.

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╭──   ・   ・   ・   ・   ・   ・

┆ ended— monday, 07•18•2022, 22:05

𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙗𝙮𝙚

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