Post by Sparky Cobalt on Oct 29, 2010 20:59:03 GMT -5
It wasn't everyday that Sparky visited the Triangle Tunnel. No, it was more like 'never'. Why the fuck would Sparky visit the Tunnel? It was a haven for criminals, for former shadows, for friggin inferi if he'd heard correctly. He'd used to work there, but that was back before the Shadows had come and started destroying things, starting a four year long trend that didn't seem to be about to end any time soon, even though the Tunnel barely had any inhabitants. The store he'd worked at didn't even exist anymore, for which he was mildly glad. Sure, he hoped the guy who ran it was okay (kind of) but damn, had he hated working there, getting yelled at everyday for being a teenager. It was a bad start to his time in Spain.
Now, as he finally made it into the Tunnel, he looked around. It was a rather depressing place, and he still wasn't entirely sure why he was here. He'd sort of wanted to see if Fuu, his old friend, was still around. He really needed help with a potion, and last he'd heard she was some coffee shop bar wench. If he recalled correctly, she was good at potions, and what he had in mind wasn't exactly right to let students help him with. Besides, he was a professor. He couldn't reveal to the kids he taught that he was a disaster around a cauldron.
He was already an embarassment enough.
Sighing, he started walking in the general direction of the shops still open.
It seemed like everything was working against him today. He'd been ordered to go after Talon and 'Zappy', whoever that was, but neither he nor Azrael had thought ahead to Orca actually getting out of underground Spain. The entrance could have maybe been magically enlarged to fit his mammoth body, but the guards at the door, oddly enough, did not seem very inclined to do that for them.
He'd scratched and whined at the human-sized exit for a while, before finally getting frustrated and wandering off. He'd just find another way out, or at least, someone to shrink him down so he could fit. There had to be a stray wizard or two around that would understand his dilemma, right? The wolf, still bus-sized (and still under Imperio), idly pawed at an abandoned market stand, reducing it to shreds of canvas and splinters of wood. His play soon grew tiring, after all he had work to do. Annoyed, he loped down a side street, sending leftover trash barrels flying. He turned, stopped, panted. Yellow eyes widened. He was in luck!
Sparky, unfortunately, was not.
Hey! he called, before he remembered himself. He sat back on his haunches, trying to figure a way out of the situation. He couldn't very well just ask Sparky to shrink him, as then there'd be a chance (a small chance, because this is Sparky we're talking about) that his friend would figure out his terrible plot-twisting secret: he was actually Sparky's dog, Teagan II.
Or not! But you never knew.
He whined, sidled a bit closer. Sparky was so cute, all wandering around looking sort of lost, his face kinda depressed, his hair all messy, and--
Ooh, wait a sec. Brown hair? Kid he liked? 'Zappy'? Slowly (as this was now Orca we're talking about), his brain put two and two together.
It was an unfortunate day for Sparky, indeed.
The giant wolf licked its lips, and began to growl. He should feel happy, right? He was carrying out orders, just like his master had commanded. He was being good... Right? All the same, there was a strange, empty ache in his chest that only increased with every menacing step he took toward Sparky.
Fuck.
Whatever, he'd just get it over with quickly. Then the feeling would go away, wouldn't it?
A snarl exploding from his muzzle, he lunged for Sparky, thoughts of getting shrunk far behind. He'd figure that out later, y'know, after he'd made Sparky bleed.
Post by Sparky Cobalt on Oct 30, 2010 1:51:10 GMT -5
"Hey!"
Sparky wasn't exactly the most observant passerby, one had to admit. He wasn't one to notice the small details, unless he was looking at them. He usually knew more about the dirt he was walking on than any landmarks, being one of those whose line of sight was chronicly either at his feet or on the clouds. Hell, even living at FFU for a few years, he probably couldn't describe the castle's exterior accurately at all. No, sir. Not observant. But he wasn't retarded.
Shocked at hearing someone yelling 'hey' from seemingly every direction at once in his head, he looked around frantically. Was he breaking some rule by being here? Was he about to get muggled?!
Fortunately, it was no such threat. It was just a GIGANTIC WOLF OH MY FUCKING GOD. He stared down the white-furred menace, watching it as it sat down a ways away. Why was it here? Why was it so big? Why was it so damn familiar?!
It whined, and it started coming closer. All thoughts of the 'hey' left his mind. He had more important things than following rules right now, anyway. There was a goddamn wolf, size of a bus, just hanging out. If that wasn't terrifying, he didn't know what was.
And then, it happened, of course.
He was growling, stepping closer... Of course it was. There was no way this encounter would end pretty.
And now it was snarling, and now it was flying for his goddamn face
He summed it up, verbally, in about the best way possible.
"What the fuck--"
He moved his head just soon enough to avoid it being CRUSHED IN JAWS THE SIZE OF HIS BEDROOM, but not enough to avoid being nearly CRUSHED TO DEATH BY A BUS-SIZED WOLF (OF ULTIMATE DEAAAAATH). Sparky gasped, breath knocked out of him, and he panicked.
He was going to get eaten.
He was going to get eaten by a goddamn bus-sized wolf in the goddamn Triangle Tunnel, where all his problems had began because he happened to be the one to sell shoes to a certain Miss Fucking Monolayre who would proceed to ruin his life and steal his heart and goddamn she was still holding it hostage and she didn't care and he was just going to die like this, he was going to be ripped to shreds by some random ass act of GOD and goddamn he was sick of this shit happening everytime he tried to forget stuff and just hang out and
A loud bang, and the wolf was thrown off of him, Sparky holding his side in pain. Probably a cracked rib or two. Didn't sound too good for his team, after all. He pointed his wand, gripped in a shaking, pale right hand, straight at the wolf. He had to do something. He had to make this an even fight.
He thought quickly, and the biggest problem about this wolf was definitely his size. It was too much, and it was demoralizing as shit to be the size of a cereal box to anything.
The wolf fell back, yelping in pain. He wasn't sure what Sparky had done right there, but it had hurt. He was back on his paws in a moment, ready to spring, but his golden eyes caught on the boy in front of him, gripping his side, face pale. So, he had done some damage.
That was--
Well. That was good, right? He was supposed to bite Sparky, after all. If his friend resisted, it wasn't his fault. Orca just wanted to, what was it Azrael had said? Add him to the family? Yeah, that. That's all he wanted.
"Reducio!"
He tried to jerk back, avoid the spell somehow, but as was his luck, he couldn't. Sparky and the world around them seemed to grow in size, somehow; for the first time Orca realized just how big he had been. Bigger than Fenrir. Damn!
No matter. He was still stronger, still faster. Sparky, with his stutterings and fumblings, could not possibly hope to defeat him just like this.
The once-again normal sized lycan darted in again, muscles bunching as he pushed off the ground and hit Sparky in the chest, paws outstretched, knocking them both earth-bound. His teeth gleamed mere inches from sinking into the wizard's flesh -- he was so close to completing his goal, and yet, he hesitated. Paused there, muzzle lowered to Sparky's neck, yellow eyes boring into the human's muddy brown.
If, if he bit him, would Sparky make that same face as before? The one in pain, shaky, frightened, almost? Orca was not sure of many things at that moment, but one thing he was sure of: he didn't like seeing Sparky like that. He liked seeing Sparky happy, felt near ecstatic anytime Sparky showed him one of those faltering smiles. He wouldn't hurt Sparky, no, not his Sparky. Sparky was, Sparky was special. He liked Sparky, so much it made his chest hurt and his eyes sting funny when he thought about it too much.
But, he had to bite--
He couldn't hurt Sparky.
Azrael said--
Sparky would be sad.
It was his command--
Not his Sparky.
Bite--
"No!"
Something in his mind seemed to give way; he felt lightheaded with the release. The wolf was quite suddenly a boy, kneeling over his friend and holding back tears.
"Spark, Spark, I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean-- I'm so sorry. Oh god. I could've--" He fought the urge to vomit. He had almost bitten Sparky, had almost doomed Sparky to a lifetime of being like him. "Please. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry. I, I don't know what..." Sparky's life. He had almost ruined Sparky's life. He didn't even deserve to be close to the wizard, if anything, he should leave, never look back, go somewhere he wouldn't fuck things up entirely.
He touched Sparky's side, lightly, where he had nearly smashed him into nothing. He could have killed him. Momentarily, the crushing feeling of everything he had done the past couple of hours overwhelmed him, and he put both hands to his face to hide the tears. He didn't deserve sympathy, not for his actions.
Not just Sparky, but Romulus. Romulus, who was most likely dead, his grave the abandoned rubble of a building still on fire. Romulus, his friend, his real master. God, he adored Romulus, and yet he'd...
Fuck.
Everything, was ruined forever. Everything.
By him.
He tried to wipe his face dry, eyes a downcast blue-green that stayed on Sparky's chest; he could never look Sparky in the eyes again, not after this.
Post by Sparky Cobalt on Oct 30, 2010 12:49:14 GMT -5
Sure, his spell had worked. Magnificiently! The BIG ASS LYCAN (of ultimate deaaaath) was now just a regular looking wolf. Perfect. He was just a dog, maybe bigger than the last stray that he'd dealt with, but now in a much more managable size. No big deal, no-
Holy dicks that wolf was fast.
In a blink of an eye, Sparky was slammed to the ground again, further hurting his rib cage like he was an involuntary Marilyn Manson. He winced, and opened his eyes just in time to meet a dazzling animal gold. It really was going to kill him. At least this story was a little more believable. No one would believe him if he told everyone he'd just been killed by a wolf the size of Talon's Penis a school bus. Nah, just a regular wolf.
Just like Areya.
Holding in a sigh, he closed his eyes and looked away, shivering as he felt the pain getting worse and worse in his chest and the fangs hovering inches from his skin. He wondered if dying hurt much. Sure, being torn apart would be painful. His ribs were already (Oh, why that does indeed tickle my fancy!) killing him. But if he died, it'd just go away, right? That's what he'd though for most of his school years, to the point where Talon had to break his toaster in order to stop him from hanging himself with it.
(Not so) good times.
Any minute now.
Any second now.
"No!"
The voice from earlier? And all of a sudden, the weight was gone, replaced by a certain boy crying and kneeling over him.
Sparky's eyes opened, and sure enough, they met Orca's. He was being drowned in apologies--was this what Teagan felt like?--and... and was that an 'I love you'? Sparky's face started to redden, and not because there was totally someone on top of him. Did he just say what he thought he'd said? Nevermind the ribs, if that was what Orca had said it was more devastating than any physical pain he could possibly recieve.
"Wh-what--" And then Sparky remembered the wolf, and he sat up frantically.
"Where's-- Where's the wolf?" He looked side to side, but he didn't see it anywhere. "O-.. Orca...?" He looked back towards the boy and was he... Was he crying?
"I..." He swallowed. "Y-you're sorry? Don't be sorry, Orca(a)..." He reached over, but his ribs sent up a sharp pain, causing him to wince once more. "Please? I..."
He coughed, body racking with pain as he did so.
"It'll, um.. It'll be okay.." He pet Orca's arm, as best as he could. "It's okay.."
Of course. Right over Sparky's head. He shouldn't have expected anything else, really, not any sort of dramatic blow-up, not any betrayed "how could you Orcaa".
(Besides, that was Lorraine's name for him.)
He could, if he wanted, get out of this easily. Say something like "I scared the wolf away" or even "I fought it off for you Spark!" He thought, no, knew the other boy would accept it, and they'd move on, and things would be back to same old same old slice of life let's picnic and kiss and play -- except for the guilt that would clog in his chest like so much backed up drainage.
"It's not okay, Sparky," he muttered. Better just to get it over with; every moment Sparky didn't hate him forever for what he'd done just felt fake, unreal.
"The wolf is, umm." Here goes nothing, over two years of friendship (and more?) down the drain. "I was the wolf."
He paused here, fought the urge to look at Sparky's face and see the disappointment he knew would be there. What else could there be? Only in fairy-tales and the fanfiction I wrote when I was twelve did people just forgive instantly, blow off major wrongdoings because of the fabled four-letter word.
The other boy was coughing, in pain. Orca felt panic and bile rise and, though he shouldn't, his fingers curled in the fabric of the wizard's shirt. What had he done? "I, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean-- I don't know why-- I'm sorry."
It wasn't enough; nothing ever would be. He was a wolf? That wasn't even the full truth. C'mon, he owed Sparky more than that.
"S-spark. I'm a lycan. I'm sorry, please, please don't hate me."
Post by Sparky Cobalt on Oct 30, 2010 14:04:25 GMT -5
"I was the wolf."
...Wat. That wasn't right. What the hell? There was no way that Orca was an (originally) bus-sized wolf who tried to maul him. Sure, they lived in quite a magical world, but there were some limits to their absurdity. It just didn't make sense.
"Wha...wha.." He was still apologizing. Why was he apologizing? There was no need. He was starting to feel anxious, wanting to tell Orca that it was okay, he didn't care that he hadn't shown up in time to save a couple ribs, nothing that some magic won't fix, right?
"I'm a lycan. I'm sorry, please, please don't hate me."
Sparky sat there. A lycan? Like... one of those guys that turned into wolves? One of those... monsters?
His "best friend" was a monster?
"Orca, wha.."
It started to leak in. Orca was pretty wolfish. He liked... bloody meat. Meat in general. He did eat chocolate, which didn't make any sense. That did explain him not really having a house...
The details were trickling in, and Sparky was hit by another realization. That wolf, the one that'd just tried to rip his face off? It'd looked familiar.
It was fucking Teagan the second. And Orca was saying that he was the wolf, which was Teagan II. Which meant... Orca was...
...No. Fucking. Way.
He'd lived with that dog. In fact, Sparky had just had a discussion about Teagan II with Orca, which meant.
He was starting to get a headache.
"Wh.. What..?"
It was a little too much to handle, especially on some broken ribs.
[ooc: slight god-modding done by request, to move the thread along :3]
Sparky seemed to be in shock. He wasn't mad, wasn't yelling, just kept repeating the same word over and over like some old broken stuttery record.
"What."
Maybe, maybe Sparky didn't know what a lycan was? That would explain the blank look on the wizard's face.
"I... like, you know. Lycan? I, uh, c'n turn into a wolf an' I'm allergic t' silver, an', umm--"
Wait. Shit.
Romulus.
Panic again returned to the lycan's features and he shot up, anxiously looking off toward the distance he'd originally come from.
Romulus was off burning to second-death somewhere -- also his fault -- and here he was sitting around crying like a fucking baby. Yes, he cared about Sparky -- too much -- but at least in the wizard's situation, he wouldn't die if Orca put their issues on hold for a little bit.
"Sparky!" he blurted, "Can, can ya help me? Oh fuck, Spark, I fucked up real bad, I mean, I think it was that wizard but I dunno, but Rommy is gonna die an' -- please, c'n ya help?"
He didn't wait for an answer; the lycan pulled Sparky off the ground and seized one considerably paler hand in his own, trying his best all the while to ignore the butterflies in his stomach that more and more recently seemed to spark to life everytime they touched.
Dude, Romulus was under a fucking ton of concrete and fire; this was no time for romantic faggotry.
He fell into a stumbling trot, pulling Sparky along behind him. It never occurred to him to ask the wizard to somehow magic them there faster -- in all honesty, the lycan knew little to none about Apparation, and no other methods of quick magical travel crossed his mind. He briefly contemplated turning into a wolf and carrying Sparky there, but even in his distracted state, he thought that might be a little too much.
He had no idea of time, had no sense of direction except that Romulus lay somewhere in front of him and Sparky was behind him, hand in his, the touch warm and comforting despite everything else. He felt, oddly enough, good, like a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders.
Of course, if Sparky ended up actually hating him, he'd definitely prefer the guilt.
It turned out they weren't too far from the scene where everything had gone down, and as soon as Orca caught sight of the still-burning ruins he felt his old friend anxiety claw at his chest again. He turned to Sparky, eyes wide and steadily turning a burnished gold that reflected animal-like in the glow of the dying fires before them.
"My friend is under there, somewhere, I don't know. Can you -- can you dig him out, or somethin'? He's prolly so scared and hurt and oh god I took off his arm, oh fuck."
Horror encompassed the lycan's face, and he wasted no more time begging, but was the wolf again in an instant, turning from Sparky to throw himself at the slight hole he'd made before. Small flames still licked hungrily at the rubble around him, but they were nothing like how the fire had been when that damned wizard had first cast the spell. He ignored the heat, ignored the steadily-increasing twinges of pain that arose in his not completely healed paw as he dug frantically, concrete catching on his pads and making them bleed.
Post by Sparky Cobalt on Nov 1, 2010 12:08:30 GMT -5
He knew what a lycan was. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what they were, and what they were was monsters. Monsters that came in the night and ate your friends and family, monsters that could pretend to be friends and family until that one night they want you gone and then -slick- you were dead. He knew just what lycans were, and that was abomination.
He started to breathe heavier, yet shallower at the same time. He was starting to feel dizzy. They'd been best friends. He'd been his dog. He'd... He'd gone to Africa and back with that dog, without knowing it was a fucking lycan and his friend in disguise.
It was the worst feeling, one he associated with Teagan.
It was betrayal, with a hint of condescension. His mouth tasted bitter, like pennies mixed with vomit. It just didn't make any sense, even though it made so much sense it hurt. It explained so many different things that he'd wondered (no matter how briefly), and now, he wished he'd never asked. He didn't want Orca to be the big bad wolf. He wanted Orca to be the courageous little purple riding hood. He didn't want Orca to eat his grandma, he wanted to be the grandma that gave Orca cookies. It was only fair.
It just didn't make sense.
And then, all too soon, Orca was talking to him again. Who the hell was Rommy? Was that that hot guy that night at the gay bar? He was pretty sure he'd heard Orca use the name somewhere before, but they were going to die? Well no wonder, they were totally friends with a lycan.
And then, they were running.
Sparky didn't even have to decide, and for that, he was glad. He gripped Orca's tight so as not to get lost and left behind, or any other dramatic series. The boy's hand was warm, and they gripped his tight like it was their wedding day. He wondered, barely thinking as he let Orca do the talking, if that'd ever be a reality. Not for them, together, gods no, but would he ever get married? Get that little house where no one visited, out in the country with a daughter who rode tricycles?
Was he going to die tonight?
Though it was a hard thought to bear (along with, again, his ribs), Orca had just tried to fucking kill him. That, if anything, was something you lost bropoints for.
Before he knew it, they were at a flaming mountain of rubble, and instead of Orca there was a wolf... no, a lycan digging at it with... with what, a broken han... paw?
And what was that about Orca taking off someone's arm?
Sparky knew that he should've run while he had the chance. But no, here he was, helping a monster dig out someone he'd probably killed.
He didn't know what to think.
A sharp pain pierced his head, and finally, Sparky raised his wand.
The fire roared as tongues of flame licked through the cracks of the fallen brick and stone, seeking out their victim. As Romulus lay prone, buried under mountains of debris, he clenched his teeth hard as the fire licked at his boots, his coat, and finally his skin. His face began to melt like wax, and his undead blood spilled like black oil. Though he felt no pain, an unearthly roar went forth from his mouth instinctively, like the sound of a devil unleashed.
He clawed at the rock viciously, his nails scratching against it like steel. His blood dripped in his eyes and only increased his rage. He kicked and batted his arms, shrieking and howling all the while. His voice grew deep and monstrous as his vocal cords incinerated, and his cries turned to a continuous, low-pitched guttural roar.
The intense heat and fire burned away his eyeballs, and where there was once deep reds, yellows, and whites there was now only darkness. The smell of his own burning flesh and massive amounts of smoke filled his nostrils, which was even then beginning to burn. He continued to push and kick at the debris around him, but it only caused it to crack and further crush him. The Prince of the Damned burned within Azrael's own makeshift crematorium.
When Sparky's spell broke through the debris, moments passed before anything happened. Smoke rose from the pit that had been shoveled out magically, and the smell it gave off was so utterly fetid it could have induced nausea in even the most hardy of men. The horrid odor passed over the area and did not appear to vanish even as the minutes passed. Then, from the pit, came a skeletal hand. It seemed to possess no flesh upon it beyond stringy muscles that were burnt and torn like frayed threads and what seemed to be the remains of a glove.
The monster that arose from within could not have passed for human, not even a seriously injured human. Nothing alive could still move the way it did. Only one arm dangled from its right shoulder, but it did not appear at all to be an arm. It, like the hand attached to it, was a mixture of bone, damaged muscle, and the remains of a jacket. His chest was left completely bare, scorched and dripping with a black liquid, and one of his rib bones was visible.
His face was mostly a skull. The nose was half-burnt off with only one nostril clearly visible with the other obscured in a mixture of melted cartilage and dark blood. His eyeballs were melted, leaving only haunting eye sockets dripping with what appeared to be the remains of the eyes. Only strings of dark remained plastered to the back of his head where hair once was.
The creature turned its head in the direction of its saviors. It opened its mouth and let out a sickening sound, and a bubble of black ooze came out. It gnashed its teeth together and sucked in a great deal of air into its intact nostril. It began to slowly pace towards the two of them, but ever so slightly turned toward Sparky and away from Orca. Then, with sudden agility, the monster let out a great shriek and hurled itself upon the wizard.
It opened its mouth wide, baring its fangs, and then lowered its head to feast upon the wizard's blood.
Say goodbye As we dance with the Devil tonight Don't you dare look at him in the eye As we dance with the Devil tonight
Behind him, words. The wolf backed up, whining, as a gigantic hole seemed to appear in front of him. He shifted without realizing, the constant back-and-forth between forms starting to wear a bit. There was no time to think about how tired he felt, however, because just then the most rank stench in the world assaulted his senses, and he literally fell back, not seeing the corpse-like figure emerge from its almost-grave because he was too busy retching out the contents of his stomach on the ground.
On average, a wolf's sense of smell is a hundred times more keen than a human's. True, Orca was in his human form when he actually smelled the olfactory apocalypse rising from the pit, but his sense of smell was still a hell of a lot more powerful than any regular boy's. Thus, the pathetic state he now made, collapsed to all fours and vomiting like it was the 1990's again.
The screech from behind him finally got his attention, and he turned his head to watch something leap upon Sparky. No, not something: after a moment of thought and coughing up stomach acid, he realized just what the creature was.
Romulus.
Just, you know, a really, really fucked-up Romulus. A Romulus that had nearly burned alive underneath a building. Well, shit. Romulus looked terrible. That didn't matter, though, at least the vampire was still alive. Or whatever.
The lycan pulled himself back up, swaying dizzily -- holy shit he was gonna pass out -- and pawed at the remains of Romulus's back.
"Rommy, no."
He tried to tug the vampire away, but god he was so tired and he felt like he was gonna puke again. This was just great. Best day ever.
From behind the mess of vampire, he locked eyes with Sparky, yellow eyes desperate, then tried to shove his wrist inbetween the vampire's mouth and the wizard's flesh. Romulus might be nothing but bones and gooey melted flesh, but he was strong as shit.
Post by Sparky Cobalt on Nov 2, 2010 1:41:49 GMT -5
At first, Sparky was mildly disappointed that his spell was so anticlimactic. All that happened was that a hole appeared, one where--feasibly, though not comfortably--someone could possibly have been trapped. He worried, perhaps it was too late? Thoughts of Orca being a monster trickled away as he stepped closer, in order to inspe
Oh god, what the fuck was that.
The smell.
His eyes closed, and though Sparky liked to think he had a strong stomach, he immediately heaved as tears slipped from his eyes. He spewed everything he'd eaten that day and then some all over the ground, and the worst was, it wasn't enough. He wanted to throw up until he saw his intestines splatter on the ground. He wanted to throw up so much that he would never smell it again, but even as he finished heaving, it was still assaulting him. He was coughing, spluttering, hoping he'd drown in his own vomit so he could stop smelling whatever the fuck this was.
He looked up, eyes opening just in time to see.. He wasn't sure what he saw.
He just knew it was quite possibly the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen. It was.. It was rotten, fetid. Putrid, even, and every other fancy fucking word for 'disgusting'. It was near liquid in some parts, and there was more than enough (friggin') bone there to throw to pretty much every guy in the world. And it was walking, walking, walking at him. Whatever the fuck this was, he knew it shouldn't have been walking.
He raised his wand and REDUCTO'd the shit out of it's head.
Sparky thought, tried to raise his wand again, but he couldn't. He was still on the verge of puking out his stomach lining, not to mention throwing up while your ribs was broken was a goddamn bitch.
He was just glad his mouth wasn't still attached to the ass end of a technicolor rainbow, because at this point he really would have been drowning.
He was tossed to the ground, ears ringing with an unearthly, undead shriek that left him little time to think anything, let alone do anything.
For the third time that day, Sparky found himself pinned down beneath a monster.
Please, please, please, let this be a dream.
Somehow, his pleas seemed to be materializing in real life--but that wasn't his voice. That was Orca's voice, the one who'd gotten him in this mess in the first place, trying to save him, trying to sacrifice himself.
Maybe the lycan wasn't such a douchebag after all, but that didn't mean Sparky wasn't about to be fucking eaten by a ZOMBIE WITH MELTED EYES.
The creature could hear the pulsing rhythm of Sparky's vein louder than any of the cacophony that filled its naked eardrums. Orca's words rumbled through him like a stampede of elephants, but were just as meaningless to it. Nothing mattered, nothing existed now except the river of life that lay below the vampire's piercing fangs.
It hissed painfully as Orca shoved his arm between Sparky's neck and its mouth, as the terrible stench of the Lycan's infected blood permeated its single nostril. Within a split second's time, the creature thrashed out with its one remaining arm and struck Orca aside with all the strength of a battering ram. There was nothing within the creature that reminded him the man he had just struck had once been his favored servant, there was nothing within the creature that told him right from wrong.
The corpse sank its sharp teeth into its prey's beating vein and its long black tongue lapped at the blood as it poured forth into its mouth. Somewhere within the caverns of the creature's mind, a picture began to form. A field of grass somewhere, the stiff temperature of a dream world surrounding him. For the first time in decades, the sun was beating down upon his skin. "Hey Cobalt!" he heard his name called. Oh god. He'd messed up again didn't he. He was always messing up. "The goal is to HIT the ball, you dork!" He was standing, legs shaking, on the top of home plate. It was strike three. He hadn't yet swung once. "Mr. Finster, can we get someone else to play for us? Sparky never plays right!" asked a cute girl on the team. Her name was Tammy. She was a bitch. "Sparky Cobalt!" shouted Mr. Finster, an imposing man in his late thirties, "this is the fourth time we've played baseball in Gym this year and you still haven't swung the bat once. Do you GET HOW TO PLAY BASEBALL?"
Why did they have to keep yelling at him? Why couldn't he just go home? "Y-yes, Mr. Finster?" He stuttered, trying to avoid eye contact. "THEN PLAY BASEBALL!" the man shouted in his face, and Sparky nearly collapsed. The kids began to laugh. Especially Tammy. Fucking Tammy. What a bitch. He'd show her. He'd base the fuck out of this ball. In a non-gay way.
The creature began to feel heat upon its bones, and a rippling agony began to take form throughout his body. "What we're saying is, Max is beginning to show...signs," said his Dad, sitting on the couch hand in hand with his Mom. "Signs?" he responded seriously, "does...does Max have cancer or something?" "No," his Dad said, and he exchanged glances with his Mom, "son, I have something to tell you. I am a wizard." What. A wizard? His Dad? Charles Cobalt? The same guy? "Wh-what?" He asked, and his Dad gave out a deep sigh. "Perhaps I should sit you down for this, son. You see, I'm a wizard, and we think your brother might be too. There's always the chance that you and your sister might show signs as well, but...he's the first...."
A deep gurgle echoed in the monster's mouth as it choked on the blood, spilling black across Sparky's shoulder. It licked it up and sucked it back in, and he was in the Ravenclaw Common Room, drawing a picture. He hadn't been this happy in a really long time. Teagan was gonna love this one. It had her in it, of course, and it also had him. Oh no what if she didn't like that. Well, just for good measure, he added in a crocodile. That way maybe she would focus on the crocodile instead of him. But then what if she didn't get that it was the two of them? He nodded. He drew a line to each of them and put 'Me' and 'You.' Perfect. Teagan would love this.
He walked up to her, a little smile forming on his face, and he handed it to her. His heart was beating so fast. Oh god what was she gonna do? Was...was Teagan going to congratulate him? Did Teagan love it. She wasn't saying anything, she wasn't looking at him, she wasn't...
She tore it up.
Into four.
And then threw it into the fireplace.
T...Teagan? She walked away from him. Not even a word. Just like...just like that fucking Tammy. Why did this always happen to him? Why did he always fail? Why could he never do anything right? Fucking...fucking Tammy. Fucking Teagan. Just...just...FFFFFFFFFFFFFF---
Romulus pulled away from Sparky's vein suddenly, lying sprawled on his back and choking on the vermillion liquid in his mouth. A bony hand touched his skull, as pain filled his body suddenly. Life filled him, and with it came unbearably agony. He could not hear and he couldn't see. In his mouth was the bitter taste of unrequited love, and all around him was pain that could not be felt by any human. He was a walking skeleton, those nerves that were left exposed to the cold air and burning white hot.
He let out a great shriek, and, unable to see or hear, began to run in a direction as fast as possible. He needed to hide. Sleep somewhere for the day. Come evening, the pain would be gone. But he could not survive like this, even beyond death.
Say goodbye As we dance with the Devil tonight Don't you dare look at him in the eye As we dance with the Devil tonight
In total, the lycan had been Crucio'd, hung upside down (for an extended length of time -- that was bad for you!), thrown off a skyscraper-high building, Imperio'd, attacked by a vampire, had a building blow up under his (giant) paws, been half-crushed by said building, and broken several ribs and one paw. All in one day, and that was just the physical stuff. On top of all that there was the fact he'd betrayed the two people closest to him, as well as more-or-less fucked up everything with his best-friend.
He'd eaten nothing all day, rested only a bit, yet exerted himself to the full nonetheless, switching back and forth between forms like it was nothing.
It had to take a toll at some point.
Romulus's arm swung back and hit him square on. There was not even a moment to wonder if the crunching noise he'd heard was his own bones breaking at the impact, nor time to worry if Sparky would be okay -- it wouldn't be worry, anyway, more like a dreadful acceptance of the fact that either Sparky would soon be dead, or at the very least, several pints of blood lighter. This was Romulus they were talking about, berserk and skeletal; he wouldn't be one to fuck around.
But he didn't have to think about any of that.
The vampire hit him, and finally, thankfully, wonderfully: the world went black.
Post by Sparky Cobalt on Nov 4, 2010 1:27:23 GMT -5
Sparky closed his eyes as teeth, no, fangs pierced his skin, and though it hurt for a second, as he felt his blood being drawn out. He felt his head get lighter, and at first he thought it was just the blood loss. But he was feeling... He was feeling...
Good.
He was feeling good for the first time.. in how long? He was trying to worry about things, worry about dying, about Orca, about Teagan, about everything, but everytime he latched onto a new worry it was gone, just as quick. He found himself smiling, though he wasn't sure if he was physically smiling or just in his head.
Shouldn't he have been screaming? Wasn't this dying?
Was that why it felt so good?
Man, why did Talon have to stop him? This was awesome. He'd never been so carefree in his life. It was like that potion he'd made in fifth... sixth year? Only without the bad taste or the burning in his throat.
It was just...
Good.
It was over all too soon, too. He wasn't sure what happened. Orca wasn't around, neither was the flesh-eating shambling horror, but he wasn't exactly having an easy time looking around. In an effort to fix this, Sparky propped himself up on an arm.
Over there. He saw Orca laying, apparantly passed out, and that was when the world started spinning.
Leaning up had probably been a bad idea.
His vision started fading to black, and Sparky Cobalt fell to the ground once more.
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5