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[awoohowls-ffxiv]

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did you know about the beautiful intricacies of violence. did you know about violence and love. i know about this

[awoohowls-ffxiv]

FFXIV WRITE 2022 // Prompt #10 Channel

The Shroud’s song in the early morning hummed his senses to awareness. Although he did not sleep as normal creatures or people did, there were still resting periods to recharge himself. His fur bristled, the glistening morning dew catching the dim lighting filtering in through the crosshatch of trees of tree roots at the mouth of his hollow above his head. The light also caught the various baubles and trophies hung from those selfsame roots, those splayed rays striking off and highlighting the sharp edges of metal sunk into the walls around him.

A catalog of his collection.

Sharp, glimmering gold eyes flecked in yellow snapped open to the message. Not an immediate danger, but caution. A warning. A whisper of greetings along his hide, petting up across his ears and soothingly under the long curve of his jaw. Paws shifted in the pace-packed dirt and ratted blankets piled on the floor beside one wall of the hollow. Shoulders rolled as he first drug his front end up in a stretch, backend raising slowly after.

His body shook, dislodging the dew from his pelt with soft sounds as the droplets hit the soil walls and his tattered blankets. Ears flapped against the white-bone horns with their numerous prongs protruding up and backwards from his skull with the full-body shake. A ripple of electric sparks trailing across his fur to dry the dampened ends with the sharp tang of ozone hitting his nostrils. His tails unfurled from their coiled rope form, stretching and recoiling together in a thick, fluff-packed braid looking not unlike a normal tail. Paws flexed and pushed at soil below him as drew his claws in the dirt, stretching with a rumbling grumble before straightening.

Both ears pricked up and forward as the song in his soul quickened. The warning was louder, then, than it had been. A growl started low in his broad chest, dark fur glinting with his gold undercoat puffing around his neck.

A stray beast from that wretched tower was in HIS home. HIS world. HIS territory.

HIS hunting ground.

He shifted positions, diving headlong into the soil that parted with a sigh and a murmur of song for him. Ambient aether pulled his form inside the soil to the position atop of his hollow, emerging spotless from the very ground he’d dove into previously.

That growl in his chest bubbled up his throat, hitting the back of his tongue and an eerie, bellowing howl erupted from his mouth. A long length of it whose song and warning bounced off the bark and swaying boughs. A second howl quickly followed the first, the bray of an angry, hungry, hound on the hunt.

The song in his veins straddled his back, leaning forward along his spine to whisper an urgency.

Sharp white teeth bared as the first gurgling snarl hit his ears and his hackles full raised in anticipation and glee. Ozone smells from the lightning glittered across horn and fur alike filled the tree-thick area with the smell as the gangling beast trampled quickly towards his direction.

The beast had heard him.

It was coming.

It was not prepared for the reckoning for disturbing HIS space.

Grom did not take anyone - let alone trespassers - LIGHTLY.

It would pay dearly for its disruption.

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Character Flaws!

RULES

Bold :: applicable to your character

Italicise :: sort of applicable to your character

CHARACTER: Grom

|| absent-minded | abusive | addict | adrenaline junkie | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | big mouth | bigot | blindly loyal | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | cheater | clingy | clumsy | cocky | codependent | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | fixated | flaky | frail | fraudulent | foul mouthed | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | grudge holding | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | neglectful | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | possessive | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigid | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-destructive | martyr complex | shallow | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | suspicious | suicidal | tactless | temperamental | timid | thief | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic ||

TAGGED BY: @pim-possible

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“The marks humans leave are too often scars.”

— John Green

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FFXIV WRITE - Thunderous

Two figures were curled beneath the creaking winding roots of the trees. On an ornate bed of soft moss and fur pelts inside the cave.

 Intertwined, was sharp angles and straight symmetry, hidden under warm fur and and a heavy form of blurred lines of what used to be a man at one point.

Grom’s snout was buried in that pink hair, and he inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and dried blood that seemed to cling to those soft curls long after Martin had unbraided them. Flora tickling at his nose, as they coiled tighter into his massive form. 

Martin hated the storms. Martin hated the way the winds screamed, the way water fell down and down. Throwing everything into a miserable damp.  At the first cloud that darkened, the creature would make their way to Grom’s cave if they were in the area, to curl into his claws and padded feet. It was perhaps an odd choice, but to Martin, who better to protect them from the storm than the Thunder himself. And Grom had shown much in the past, to keep them safe. Keep them whole, and keep them level even as their body had rotted around him. He had seen them in ways no one else had, and for that Martin loved him dearly.

“One. Two. Three. Four,” Martin counted into his dark fur, feeling him exhale as if counting with, with each breath. “Five. Six.”

The next thunderclap rolled loudly across the clouds, and Martin buried their scarred face into his clawed hands with a little whimper. A wet tongue carefully caressed that sharp cheek. “I’m louder,” he declared with just the soft punctuation of teeth clicking.

“I know,” came a muffled reply of the shroud like hisses Martin communicated with their shroudlings.

Sharp teeth and dark gums were exposed in the flash of lighting that split the sky in two from the mouth of Grom’s cave. As the creature chuckled. “You are quite funny lost one.” Came the declare, opening his mouth with a bit of static build. A loud but proud crying howl echoed, overwriting the thunderous clap of nature with his own will. Feeling Martin’s palms grip his fur as they wrapped their arms about his neck in gratitude. 

Ft. @awoohowls-ffxiv

[awoohowls-ffxiv]

“Respect is earned, beatings however, are free.”

— Channing H.M

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FFXIV Write : Preaching to the Choir

Their head was pressed into the side of a furred creature breathing heavily, half a growl with each exhale. Rubbing their cheek into the bristles of the dark fur and rumbling side. 

“Ya’gonna….ya’gonna do’some’em?” Came the low, almost cautious tone of Rion. Looking at the tiny pink thing, mud caked feet and a very tired expression propped up on the large…canine like creature in the clearing. Rion knew each wildling sometimes took…a different shape but they’ve yet to really figure this one out except he could be a right asshole. But then, so could Rion.

Those odd green eyes, swirled a bit, as all eyes turned to the tall lanky form of the duskwight. Both Martin’s and the rumbling wildling under them, as if it was laughing.

No Grom was laughing, and Martin’s mouth twitched just a bit.

[”What would you have me do?”] Came the very slow signs, knowing Rion was still learning them and not yet able to decipher the wildling speak of the shroud’s whispers just yet.

“Ah’dunno, any’fuckin’ thing? Gridania s’oppose’d to be listen’ to ya. The elementals.” That dark hand like a pitched night sky rubbed awkwardly at hte military shorn blue still growing out.

[”At this point, for me to fix all that is wrong with Gridania would be to raze the city to the ground again.”]

The low shroudling grumble from Martin’s friend seemed to peek up in interest.  “Sounds good to me.” Came the tone weaved from bared fanged and an amused wet growl. 

[”And most of … everyone else doesn’t quite like that plan of action.”] Martin signed over Grom’s very interested nudging at the plan. Pushing at Martin with his back paw making Martin dig an elbow into his ribs in retaliation. The two somehow getting into an ineffectual ‘scraping’ match where the large creature had nosed Martin between his front paws and was trying to attach via large tongue swipes that had Martin shoving their palm against his wet snout and feet into his throat.

“Gridania fucking reeks.” Came Rion’s tired, and grumpy layered voice moving to just throw himself into a sit before the two who stopped from their mock wrestling attempts in the grass to look over at him.

[”We know.”]

“We Know.”

Both Martin and the furred beast said to Rion at once. Making the man burst out into an odd set of chuckles, rubbing his palm up his scarred face.

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Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

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idea: sometimes you just have to go feral. run into the forest. be with the trees. eat some leaves. pray to the dirt.

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Female grey wolf on the west coast of the Hudson Bay, Manitoba, Canada

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i have surely seen it

instagram / twitter / kofi

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if you don’t terrify people a little bit then what’s the point.

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His eyes were bars, and behind them was a fierce, unfed animal. When people looked at him they had the feeling of being shut out. He did not shut them out. He shut himself in.

Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping (via luthienne)

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“A venom bottled my heart and it started to leak darkness.”

— Channing M

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@sixofcrowsnet heist: typography

“You don’t look like a monster.” “I’ll tell you a secret, Hanna. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.”