i hate reality - open

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    [center][fancypost=background-color:;border:0px;width:400px;text-align:justify;font-size:8pt;line-height:1.4;]tw for some numerous upsetting things and general negativity //


    Mallory did not sleep for she did not need it, yet at times like this when the world was silent she craved rest. The tears running down her cheeks looked like crystals as moonlight illuminated her features. Though normally warm this night was breathtakingly freezing. Somehow the cloudless sky only made the cold worse. As if the stars were little chips of ice twinkling up in the sky. So far away, so distant, so many.


    Her eyes closed as she remembered an angel coming back from work with little stars rolling around her fingers. It was funny how God and his angels all changed this world. How beautiful angels with full figures and soft eyes would move the stars with the palm of their hand. How bronze angels with rippling muscles and huge eyes would take care of the blooming flowers. When they came back to heaven after finishing their chores they would sing, groom their wings, ease the aching hearts of human souls. Whispering encouragement into the ear of a teenaged boy who's only escape was huffing paint, gently reassuring him that tomorrow was worth the pain. A middle aged, single mother who couldn't handle the constant noise, a heavenly voice reminding her of the four year old who loved her dearly.


    She remembered the gaunt face of a starving child begging for mercy that the fallen angel couldn't give. He had jumped in front of the car on purpose, God didn't allow those who committed suicide into heaven. Her heart ached for the boy as her trembling hands cursed him to hell. All that boy wanted was relief, of a better world beyond the cruel one he lived in, a stomach full of food. That was something she couldn't give... Dear God it was something she wanted to give, it had hurt so badly seeing that boy be ripped away. How many times did she have to do that until it finally hit that she was doing something wrong? That God wasn't correct. Mallory was no better then him though. She'd sent all those innocent souls to hell, hadn't she?


    Fate was so cruel, or at least God was. She just wanted to end it yet he left her immortal. No matter how many bodies were beaten, slashed, and hung there was no choice except to come back again. Her back exploded with fresh pain as if to scold her for the thought of death, it only made her resolve that she wasn't worth life harden. Wings... Mallory's wings. One last laugh for the road, right? It wasn't enough to never die or live life knowing the crimes she had commit. Oh no, her pride, her wings, had to be gone. Left behind was only constant pain to remind her that she was being punished. What a joke, what a fucking joke.


    Breathing heavily Mallory threw herself at the cliff's edge. Of course the invisible wall ahead stopped her, but she only persisted. Furious snarls came from Mallory as she rammed against the wall, completely forgetting that anyone could see. Who cared? Nobody, nobody cared. So she persisted even though her shoulder was clearly injured. This lasted for minutes without stop.
    [fancypost=border-width:0; font-size: 8pt; text-align: center; line-height: 95%; width:400px;][color=#000000] ✧ — boy your boots can leave a mess / tags

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    ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛—
    Witchpaw would never and could never understand Mallory's heavenly struggles. Despite his morbid exterior, he lived a generally good life- he hardly ever frowned, his face stretched into a constant grin as he wore it like a mask. He didn't want others to think he had issues. In honesty, he didn't- all he had was that nagging voice inside his little head known as Henri, who told him to hurt himself over and over for the fun of it. Worst of all, Witchpaw began to crave the rush of endorphins that came with spilled blood.


    Perhaps he was the opposite of Mallory- for she was an angel, and he had a demon living inside of him. He had no tears to shed for his soul, though.


    "Hey." The spell-casting paladin spoke, looking at her ram her head over and over into the wall. "It's not going to break, y'know. Are you okay?" Again, Witchpaw had no idea she was mute, and couldn't really answer back.

    [center][fancypost= bg color;border:0;width:450px;text-align:justify;font-size:8pt]They didn't know Mallory, but perhaps in the past life. She had died by the hand of her "friend", or at least that's what she considered him after all this time. She didn't kill anyone in their entire lives, however she came close to killing her friend for killing her family.


    Unlike Witchpaw she led a horrible life full of struggle. Abandonment, abuse, starvation, and beating beaten for stealing food for survival. There were days when the female went starving just so the other abandoned kids in their little group of rejects could eat. However, not once did revenge seep into her mind. Only survival mattered to the female at the time, being seven years old in Seventeen hundreds England was rough.


    "Oi, ye shoulder's hurt." the Maine coon approached the angel, attempting to stop the other by pulling them or at least trying to hold them back. "Let's talk about ye problems and calm down."

    [center][fancypost= width: 450px; text-align: justify;][size=11][font=timesnewroman]Well it seemed that the transparent walls were already proving their worth, weren't they? Watching grimly as Mallory attempted to fling herself to her death, only to be halted by the walls, Sweetophelia slowly moved closer, watching as Witchpaw and Freckles moved ahead of her, to Mallory. She remained silent for the time being, waiting for Mallory to respond to their clanmates' words. She knew what this was - a wish for death.
    space

    info — updated 5/16

    [center][fancypost=borderwidth=0px;text-align:justify;width:550px]Medics. They were the ones who fought against death. Healers, doctors, nurses. They were the ones who tried to pry lives away from whoever tried to rip them from a living body. Maybe it was God who tried to end these lives, naturally. He didn't really know, nor did he want to know anymore. Benjamin had once been religious, but after seeing enough shit he'd given up on such things. His prayers hadn't ever been answered. Not once. He'd begged, pleaded, but eyes still turned glassy on him in the end. Mallory. The name was unfamiliar to the wolf. The two of them hadn't really interacted with each other — no. The only reason he'd been out was because pain had kept him awake, per usual. His formerly shattered leg was still healing, and while his voice had returned to him, it still stung every time he made an attempt to swallow, or fucking breathe through his jaws. His pale blue eyes were narrowing through the darkness as they rested upon a rugged looking shape surrounded by two shadowed clanmates. Sweetophelia, since she was closer, was really the only recognizable one there. Yet she wasn't moving towards the other three. Instead, the leader was watching. Ben had tried to pick up the pace, but had only let out an inaudible wince in the progress. As he reached the feline's side, the skinny lupine was chewing on his lip. His shoulders were suddenly stiffening as it dawned on him. She was trying to throw herself off the cliff to — death. "Wait-..." A hoarse, still healing voice came from him — but to his surprise she was stopped. Unable to push pass a certain point as if there was some sort of wall. A wall invisible to the naked eye. This female was trying to die, but something was stopping her?


    The canine felt as if his paws were stuck within the cool soil below, as if the air around him had frozen him. He was slowly trying to break himself free, but the medic was unable to do so. Was it shock? Was it confusion? She looked so — desperate. It caused his own heart to ache. Benjamin Roe was an observer, he could read emotions. He could read them so well that sometimes his chest felt burdened. While his expression remained mostly stoic, serious — concern was flickering within his gaze in which reflected the night sky above. Finally, he was trying to trot forwards towards the girl. The wind from the cliff's edge whipping his thicker coat back and forth, a heavy limp with every step but he pushed on — momentarily forgetting his own pain as he watched another's. Freckles was trying to pull the black fox back. Witchpaw was there too attempting to pull an answer from the femme. They... appeared to be the same age or so. Her snarls caused him to pin his ears against his skull, but his stance still remained stiff and steady. His gaze was suddenly focusing upon shoulder once the maine coone had mentioned it. "C'est bon." His accented-French was the only thing that came from his jaws then — as it was the only thing he could think to say.


    / translation: it's all right or it's okay


    to be consoled as to console — 05/11

    [center][fancypost= bgcolor= opacity: 0.5; borderwidth=0px; width: 440px;][align=justify]Yuki-Onna only watched in silence, seeing her attempts of death only being in vain from the wall. She didn't understand Mallory's thoughts or reasons for doing this in the first place. What was the point of trying to die anyway? To end eternal suffering? To finally get peace for herself? Stuff like that didn't interest her, not at all. Only death, was an escape route. That's why she merely watched in silence, wanting to see what Mallory would do or even say to explain this behavior on her part.