Posts by Primalsurge

[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]She threw a cigarette in Aaron's direction as she walked up, her stone-encased paws thumping loudly with each step. Although she had sworn to not smoke again, she had begun doing so ever since drinking by herself was something she didn't like. Primal was never really fond of being alone, nor was she a fan of getting wasted out in public. However, though most frowned upon her use of cigarettes, it was something she could do and not exactly get shat on for it.

"Who're you?" Primal asked, knowing that, if someone referred to themselves in third person, they were a) most likely possessed, or b) kind of weird, in her opinion. She was pretty sure that Aaron never spoke about himself like that (not like she listened in on his conversations like a stalker, no, never), so it was most likely the former. Unless, of course, it was a new thing he picked up. She highly doubted it, though.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]She snorted quietly at the awkwardness Io exhibited. Weren't mighty gods supposed to be used to interacting with others? Though then again, Primal had never been anything close to being apart of the supernatural, unless you counted being a spirit in a realm where everyone was, well, a spirit.

"I dunno. Things've kinda slowed down," Primalstar said, huffing quietly as she padded up. "Ignore the stone stuff. It'll...it'll go away. Eventually." She glanced down at her rock-covered paws. It seemed like with each day, they grew. Only yesterday, they were at her paws. But now? Now, they were covering her forelegs, almost reaching her shoulders. Crap, she really needed to find out how to curse this thing.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]"Mm, yeah," she stated, that being her lame attempt at saying 'understood' while panting heavily. God, walking around while being half-covered in stone was horrible.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]"We already met, but..." she said, breathing heavily as she slowly walked up. "Name's...name's Primalstar. In case you, you, uh, forgot." Primal was doing the best she could to combat against the weight of her stone-encased limbs by using her wind manipulation to help 'lift' her, in a way. With every step she took, she used a bit of wind to help force her paw up, so it wasn't too agonizing for her to walk. However, she couldn't exactly do too much with it, since the one that once possessed her wind manipulation power was now gone, but it was something, at least.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]"We'll...we'll go," Primalstar responded, trudging up slowly but surely. "I might not, 'cause, I got things, but like, everyone else can go. If they want to." An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth. She was very tempted to light it, but creating a flame with her powers was quite hard without the spirit that once controlled it for her. It was also very taxing on her, both physically and mentally. Ever since the stone began crawling up further, she had grown even skinnier, and her voice was hoarse on a daily basis now.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]"Try imagining it in front of you, for conjuring," she commented, settling down beside Basketpaw with a 'thud' due to her paws. "Flower prints, I dunno. Never really had a use for it." Besides making the occasional (and horrible-looking) flower crown, she didn't really do much with flowers. None of the medics ever requested her to grow herbs, nor did anyone ask her for a flower.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]She really didn't want to be here right now. Not when her closest friend/ex-crush/possibly not ex-crush was currently fawning over her obviously romantic boyfriend, giving her a necklace when Primal, in his position, would have given her a drink or something. What? Primal wasn't really the romantic type.

"Is this a proposal or somethin'?" Prim tried to lightly joked, but it came out half-distorted due to her disheveled appearance, and her sickly condition. Fuck her stupid curse or whatever. Why did she even have to receive it in the first place? It wasn't like she had wronged anyone. Recently, anyways.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]Oh, if Primal could have just a bit of that confidence Chasingpaw had in the world, she would be in a much better situation right now. Without the worries of Imperialexecution, who'd betrayed Colouredclan for Sunclan, and the worries of her friends and family, who seemed to be picked off by some unknown force each day, she would be able to be happy. In fact, she had a theory that her slow transformation into stone was linked to her happiness level. Or maybe it was her stress level. Either way, it was a thought she currently toyed around with.

"What...what'cha doing?" she asked, sitting down with a relieved sigh in front of the blackblood.
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[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 310pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt;]If dreams don't come true[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #303030; width: 310pt; margin-left: -7pt;]We'll change those too[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=#f1f1f1 borderwidth=0px; width:270pt; font-family: arial; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; color:#000000; opacity:0.9; border-top:1px solid #3b3b3b; border-bottom:1px solid #3b3b3b;]"Quick...huff, quick meeting, guys," Primal managed to call out, obviously very tired as she slowly brought herself to the throne. The stone had already crawled up over her shoulders, almost caressing her back like some sort of odd blanket. It was very heavy, but fortunately, it seemed like the stone bent to her will, whenever she wanted to walk or breathe. She wondered why it would allow her to still move, but it wouldn't just become light enough so that she didn't have to struggle with each and every step.

"A...Atropos, you're gonna step up to, to commander beside me," she said, huffing. "Not gonna...gonna appoint a vice yet. Later. But, uh, Soul or whatever, blackblood." And that was it, really. Besides the little contest she had in mind, in hopes of boosting the activity around here.

"I'm gonna, g-gonna hold a contest. Whoever gets the most people to join and stay active wins, pretty much," Prim continued on, before letting out another ragged cough. "That's it. Meeting's over."

[ rushed + a thread for the contest will be up tomorrow morning <: ]
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[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 425px;][justify]Within this past week alone, she had almost lost all her powers. Ecrias, Phantom, Varus, Ao Shin, Lux, and Fiora were all dead, or locked up in a cage of darkness and isolation. Along with them were her powers, or at least the bit that supplied most of the energy to them. She still contained a bit of those powers, but without those six spirits, she wouldn't be able to fully use them, or even use them at all. So why was she here, standing in front of those who could shift into forms with wings?

She didn't know.

"I'll watched," she mumbled softly, jerkily seating herself down in front of the group. Everything hurt these days. Her muscles ached from carrying a new weight on her back, not to mention that, although she could bend her joints in this stone-y sort of skin, her chin often scraped against the rock on her chest, giving her a new scratch each and every day.

/ mobile

{ 2500 words - read it, or see how to post to it at the bottom of the page (: }

She doesn't get it. None of her understands why this was happening to her, why stone surrounded her every limb, or why Death was approaching soon.

Faintly, she can feel him. He's only a few short distances away, taking his time to watch her suffer in this humiliating death. Why is she going to die in a coffin of stone? Why can't she pass by saving the life of someone, maybe, someone she loved and cared deeply about? Why not that, and why this?

The only answer she could muster is that the world loves to see her suffer.

Sometimes she wonders about it, why everything's against her, and why no one's her ally. She knows it's true. That's practically the only thing she knows. And nothing - nothing - can change her mind otherwise, and nothing can convince her otherwise. This is something she tells herself every day, whenever she thinks about making news friends. They're all traitors. They're all enemies.

Not even her closest friends are considered to be her 'friends'. There's always something about them, even if they're so deeply hidden away. Imperial was (and still is) a traitor. Atropos never (and still doesn't) recognize her advances. Neptune is gone, and will probably stay gone, and Nevermind has disappeared off the face of the planet. Then there's Lucinda, but what is she talking about? She was never friends with the captain. Nothing to connect them, beside their history under Permafrost's reign.

There's no one she can trust. No, even the spirits that once dwelled her mind are gone. They've been removed from the Realm, now being held captive behind the claws of the monster she created. A beast, like nothing her mind has ever thought of before, with limbs that aren't solid, and a form that's like liquid, slipping and sliding, moulding to its surroundings to survive. Sometimes, she can't believe they're all gone. All except one.

He's mad, and both of them know that. That's why she hasn't returned back after seeing the wreckage of the Realm, the torn holes in the barriers and the dark, empty-like substance that covers the area. The last she's seen of him is his shivering form, talons being dragged down wounds that have long stopped trying to scab over. She wants nothing of him, not when he was the one to nearly end what her clan's previous leaders worked so hard on continuing, not when he was being selfish and she was being nothing like that.

But then, sometimes, she thinks. Of him. How he, a man driven insane by his own inner demons he is unsure of how to rid, is still in a place that only allows what makes a soul perfect there. She doesn't understand why he is still there, how his madness is contributing to the terror that she unleashed onto innocent people. It's a clear fact that insanity does not help make a person perfect. It tears them apart, from their very core, until there is nothing left but a husk of what formerly was there. To be insane is to not be perfect, to not be ideal.

But why, then? Why, why, why, why, why? Why is he still there, kept in a prison to keep others safe, when obviously, he has only been the harbinger of all this chaos and destruction in her mind? Not to mention that he has obviously been tainting her own thoughts with his own lunacy. That's why no thoughts fill her head, and inform her of random bits of information she needs to know. That's why she's been figuring out all of the repugnant things of her friends. That's why...that's why he's here. That's why.

It's like a fuse, at first. There's nothing to light it as it sits on the cold, hard ground, feeling the breeze brush by. Then, though, something comes to it. Maybe it's small. Maybe it's big. The fuse doesn't know, though. It can only feel the heat of this 'thing' as it approaches. And then, the fuse is alight, burning, almost turning into a roar of flickering flames, until its line has run out, and it switches on the button for an explosion.

This is what it's like, realizing why his brother, his tormented little (though, he's technically older) brother, has not been removed from the Realm, and currently is still there. She thought that it was simply out of forgiveness for what state his oath left him in, but it's not that. It's because of his newfound trait. It's because of his insanity that he is there, that the monster has not touched him.

It's because everyone has a little bit of insanity in them. And she's certainly no exception.

This hits her out of nowhere, as she lies still on a field of grass, panting heavily. It sends tremors throughout her body, like the shivers one felt on a winter’s night. Her movement doesn't make her budge, though. The stone’s only surrounding her. She's not becoming it, thankfully. Though then again, she's not that thankful for it. Turning into stone meant her life ended in an instant. Being surrounded by stone meant that she would suffocate in her prison, awaiting for all the oxygen left in the shallow layer between fur and rock, until she lost conscious and dies.

What a horrific way to die, she thinks bitterly to herself, her eyes glassy and almost as pale as the sky itself. But it suits her, in a way. Turning into stone…it's almost comical, how she was suppose to become someone’s little accessory, and here she was, becoming Colouredclan’s newest statue. It's a little odd to think about it at first, but soon she's laughing, albeit silently. And, for once, she's letting that shred of her psychotic side show, that murderous intent she shoved down into the back of her mind, in hopes that it would never show itself again.

Her maniacal laughter grows in sound, until she's doubling over, hacking violently, for she hasn't eaten or drank anything within the past few days. It's to keep the good stuff for her clanmates, she tells herself whenever she passes by the now-scarce prey pile, or the rivers that are now beginning to freeze over. They deserve it much more than a person who's near death, anyways, and didn't do any good for her clan.

There's a moment of tranquility, so pure and quiet that she thought she imagined it. She doesn't understand why she's being gifted with such peace, why she's being rewarded with a quiet, though horrible ending. And then, there her train of thoughts goes, returning to how cruel the world was, making her suffer. It's a full stop, almost like an actual train station, arriving back at the starting point, only for its conductor to begin moving again. Except, well, there's a little change.

She doesn't think about how or why her brother still resides in the Realm, after pondering about her infuriatingly sad demise, and how her friends were merely all enemies she had to avoid. Instead, she does something she hasn’t done in a long time: summon her spirit before it. And it's odd, really, because only moments ago, she had been thinking about never wanting to go back to the Realm to visit her brother.

Fallenwish appears before her in a mass of shimmering silver light, his ghostly form speckled with stars, an his eyes glowing light blue. The scars that wrap around the sides of his face have been freshly opened, made clear by the blood of a spirit that currently dribbles down his chin. He looks confused for a moment, turning to see something that isn't darkness or dotted with stars for once, before turning to look at her.

You look bad, he comments, as if she was oblivious to that fact already. The look she sends him makes him cringe against an invisible wall behind him. It seems that, even outside the Realm, his prison still remains, and keeps him shackled by the wrists and ankles, to its unbreakable walls. A part of her suddenly wants to release him, as she held the key to most of the Realm’s locks and secrets, but she can barely breathe, so there's honestly no point. Instead, though, she sighs as deeply as she can before speaking.

I know, she responds. The surprised look on his face as she hears her voice switch from spirit to mortal isn't all that surprising to her, so she ignores it, and chuckles quietly. I don’t know what to do about hough. He nods, but he doesn't say anything afterwards.

For a few moments, they sit like this, seemingly peaceful, as if nothing bad had happened in the past, and that they were always two siblings who grew up well with each other. Both of them know this is not true, though. Fallen is simply unsure of what to say or do, with real sunlight hitting his face (although it's technically going through his face, but he pays no heed to that) for the first time in a log while. She simply doesn’t want to say anything at all, just wanting a bit of company for the final moments of her life.

I know about your new spirit trait, she says, keeping her eyes fixated on a point in the distance. In the corner of her eye, though, she still catches that slight movement of his head as it bobs up and down, a silent agreement to what she had to offer.

Perfection isn’t actually perfect, he says. It's her turn to nod now as she listens to his words. I thought it was. But…then I realized, well, it can't be perfect if it doesn't exist. She knows this a lot. All those days when she was younger, all the time spent trying to figure out what was the perfect way to catch something, or what was the perfect way to get around camp, or anything else that came to mind, and was possible to do in real life. There's a lot of time there, she knows, that was spent just on that, and nothing else. Times where she would hide herself in her room as she made these ‘perfect’ plans and these ‘perfect’ layouts, only to figure out they were wrong.

The silence returns again, just as welcomed as before, if not even more welcomed. Fallenwish sits with his back facing her, and she simply stares over his shoulder, or around his side. She wonders when the stone will finally cover her head. It currently rests at the corners of her skull, not dating to move forward. It's a but aggravating, knowing relief was only minutes away, but this damn curse and this damn world wanted her to suffer for as long as she could.

I’m going to die, she says suddenly, the realization of such a thing finally hitting her roughly. She faintly feels tears well up in the corners of her eyes, and doesn't mind when one falls. She hasn't cried since Imperial returned from her death. She hasn't cried since…since, well, that was it. There were only two occasions where she had ever shed a few tears. Once with Imperial, and once with Death.

The lucky bastard, she thinks to herself, laughing internally. He’s the first guy I ever fully trusted, and so he's obviously the first guy that ever betrays me. She begins to think of her times with him. How their first interaction began as a simple dispute between their two favourite colours, hers being green and his being gold. She still remembers that time. It has a special spot in her heart, and in her head. Just in case she loses either parts. So that she always knows about it, somehow, and remembers that childish little time.

It's only natural that she starts to think more about him. She's dying, goddammit. She's going to be reminiscing about the past and all of her favourite times, with her favourite person. Yes, there was Heather, and there was her mom, Ecrias, but Imperialexecution was still her favourite. Is still. She's not dead quite yet. None of this is in the past until she's fully gone from this world.

Fallen eventually speaks. Accept it, he suggests, turning his head to finally make eye contact with her. He seems wiser and older all of the sudden, as if this is an ancient being she should be bowing to and respect. Let it take you. That's what I did when you let it come for me. It seems like their old bitterness towards each other is still there. It's not like she thought forgetting about someone murdering you is easy to forget. No, it's hard, and she knows it personally.

She doesn't know what to do, or to say. It's all gotten very depressing now, and she hates it when things are sad. It's mainly because she hates feeling sad, an emotion she's only felt several times in her life. The other reason is just because sadness wasn’t (still isn't) her style. Never was, never is, and never will be. Even when she's long dead, sadness will be the last thing she wakes up to in this world.

There's a stab of pain that shoots through her head. She lets out a strangled little noise in the back of her throat, feeling the pain crawl down her skull, to her neck, and enveloping her chest. Fallen turns around, and notices this. He frowns as she's left gasping for breath, not liking how it literally squeezed the air out of her. No, why would you like feeling all the oxygen being forced out of your body? It's painful, torture, and a billion other reasons that are all synonyms with ‘pain.’

I want you to die painlessly, Fallenwish tells her, turning around again. The headache is the first step. The others you don't deserve to feel. She doesn't like the sound of this one bit. And she's right to not like it, because as soon as he's telling her he needs to go, she's shouting, crying really, and pleading for him to stay.

Please don't go, she says, her cheeks stained with a few tears. She can't get up and grasp at him, though. The stone’s too heavy for her to move now. She's stuck here, unless someone wants to bring her back to the camp, where she’ll live out her days there.

You’ll be fine, I promise, he tells her, facing her once again before touching his three claws to her forehead. I’ll be right there, and I’ll help you through it. He looks as if he wants to say more, but all he does is sit there patiently, and sighs. He's waiting for her to teleport him back, otherwise he's going to forcibly do it.

…Stay with me, she asks one more time, but she's already moving him back to the realm.

As he slips away though, entering through her gem and into her mind, he tells her one last thing.

I will. You're not alone.

You’re not alone.

…not alone.

…alone.

It was always something she had, no matter what he had to say.

Loneliness.

[spoiler=a final, important OOC message for Colouredclan]I'm really sorry to leave you all like this. Something really bad has come up, and it really isn't getting any better. It's gotten to a point where, to lessen the stress, I need to get rid of some things. That means, well, I'm leaving FeralFront.

I know the activity has been bad. I will be sticking around for one or two more days to see if I can help raise it again. That contest I spoke about will be up soon. With all the things going on as of late, everything's been too hectic for me to find in a spot for this site.

I've talked to Que and she's agreed to lead Colouredclan with Atropos. If you have any questions about Colouredclan, any ideas, please direct them to her. If she thinks it's necessary, she can send it to me if she desires to. I'll be handing over the Colouredclan account to her later on, so if you want to help her out with that, you should also ask her about that.

Once again, I'm really sorry for leaving Colouredclan like this. If my problem is settled soon, I'll be sure to come back to FeralFront, and thus, CC. It's been nice roleplaying with you all, even if I've never met most of you <3

Primal will officially be killed later on during this thread. You can track or post, it's up to you. If you don't want to read the current post, the gist of it is that she's simply sitting in a grassy field, stone covering all of her but her face, and she's crying slightly.

See you soon, guys (:[/spoiler]

"Primalsurge..." she mumbles, eyes dull, ears flat against the back of her skull. "I never got to use that name, huh?" And here she was, near her death, and thinking about her warrior name she planned to take when, in the future, was going to step down to become a doctor. It was what her mother wanted her to be in the first place. Maybe Kestrelflight, too, if he was still in there. Watching behind closed bars, almost like how she once did when Fallen took over.

"Maybe...maybe I'll be Primalsurge for a bit," she rambles, looking down to stare at her paws. That's all she can really muster without breaking down even further. Her tears have long since dried, now staining the fur that lined her eyes, crusting the up. "Yeah. I'd like that." Just Primalsurge. Not Primalcub, not Primalstar, and not Prim, but just Primalsurge. The person she was supposed to become. A lioness meant to serve her clan through healing, and not by her claws.

The movement of her head as it whips upwards is so fluid, so swift, that it almost seemed like she wasn't trapped in rock, and not weakened from her days wasting away in her stone prison. Her eyes are blazing with a sort of anger she doubts anyone has seen in her for months, she believes. She's not sure, though. Moments like these where her eyes are consumed by a eerie green glow are moments that she never remembers for long.

"Fuck you," she spits, voice still hoarse but dripping with venom. "Fuck you, fuck you and your shit, just fuck -" Her words are nothing but parts and synonyms to that as Seafoam continues on with his comments, his lies that she can't wrap her head around being lies. How else would Imperial have gone over to Sunclan, abandoning everything he worked for here? Seafoam had a way with words, and Primal, as much as she wanted to, could not deny that at all.

"He'd never fuck your shitty ass," she snaps at him, teeth bared and eyes narrowed into slits. She tries to make herself feel as confident as she could, tries to make herself know deep down inside that he did not become a slut for this Sunclanner, and he did not betray her for this Sunclanner, and he did not do anything for this fucking Sunclanner. But she can't. Not a single part of her can believe what she tells herself, because her self-confidence was always so low, and Imperial's leave just made it all worse.

Somewhere, in her muddled mind, she recognizes the feel of the spirit stirring. She can feel him waking, his sudden urge to escape his prison, but she won't let him. No, because she knows that if he does, he'll find a way to kill her somehow. That's how insanity works, doesn't it? It turns the kindest of souls into murderous devils that would do anything to get what they want, or to save what they want.

She feels herself shift a bit as she tries to ignore the feeling in her head. "He'd never fuck your shitty ass, because he's not a fucking slut," she hisses again and slowly, agonizingly slowly, moves a stone-encased paw forwards, and digs her stone-encased claws into the ground. "He's not a fucking traitor, he's NONE of those things!" With every ounce of strength she had within her weary bones, she pushes herself up from a sitting position, bits of rock crumbling off her in the process.

Her head ducks in time for Seafoam's attack, and she tries to throw him off in the process. "I am not going to die, you hear me?" Her voice is clamorous now, once raspy but now as solid as ever. "I am not going to die, because I am the fucking goddamn hero of this story, and you're just the douche I need to kill." The colour in her eyes leak out of their iris, spreading across the pupil and the whites until all there is left is a pure, cool green. They seem to flare with more intensity, more light, as she takes a step forward, obviously quite painfully due to her brief contorted expression.

The fire in her heart blooms again, and this time, it doesn't want to die out.

She bellows out a deep roar, snarls coming in afterwards as she stalks slowly towards him. She lifts her head up and glares down at Seafoam with a hunger for pain and bloodshed she thought was forever gone. "You're a savage, a maniac, a fucking psychopath. I didn't do shit - I was just trying to get some hard-earned revenge for when he killed my mom - our mom. And now, you're gonna die, because it's one against four."

Her jaws drop open and she leaps forwards, consuming all the energy she had left, aiming to bite his throat. But as she soars through the air, it feels like time is slowing down. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but it doesn't really matter. Any speed, both fast and slow, wouldn't have stopped her from knowing what was going to happen next. And it isn't Seafoam's quick demise.

In the corner of her eye, Fallenwish has made himself visible, bursting out from her gem in his spirit form, arms opened as if he was trying to grab Seafoam and shield the Sunclanner from her. She feels the stone begin to move again, begins to crawl up the sides of her cheek, down the top of her skull, and covering her ears. Her eyes widen in response to this change, and tries to will herself to go faster, just so she can at least kill her during her death.

It doesn't happen, though. She's left hovering in the air briefly, limbs extended and jaws still open, as the curse finishes its work. But it's not the curse, actually. It never was the curse. She realizes this all within the blink of an eye as the stone closes over her, as the light of the day disappears from her sight, and as Fallenwish turns, a smug expression on his face, before he disappears into thin air.

She has been killing herself all this time.

And now, she's finally gotten what she deserves.

Isolation.

Columns of rock shoot up from the ground, catching her statue as it falls from the sky. It connects with her form, slowly merging into her stone form. She's frozen in time, barely centimetres away from Seafoam's neck, as if this was a photograph, and the photographer has just captured the pure surge of primordial that one exhibits in a haze of lust and anger. Her stone fangs glisten slightly in the light, as well as her outstretched paws, with her claws still unsheathed.

Primalsurge has killed herself.

But the fire doesn't go out.

{ 1145 words }

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[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 432px; padding: 0px;][hr][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-top: 4px;][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 88px; height: 57px; padding: 0px; float: left;][/fancypost][justify]i can offer up originrush :v
they're currently in colouredclan & not really active, though i'm planning on roleplaying them more often once i figure out a couple of plots i have for them. ori's old posts don't really match their current personality, though; the spoiler down below has the most accurate info until i get up a bio for them
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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 450px; margin-top: -30px;][align=center][spoiler=TAGS][justify][font=arial][size=9pt]information ;
originrush p. | ' ori / origin ' | unknown gender | uses they/them
greyromantic pansexual | prefers females | single
?? months | birth date unknown | ages in real time
colouredclan | warrior | mentoring no one
?? x ?? | gen ?? | unknown relatives

appearance ;
▶ grey wolf hybrid or the pokémon zoroark
▶ canine-like creature with a red mane & teal blue eyes
▶ lean build that borders on being skinny & is capable of bipedalism
▶ stands 2' 10" on all fours | stands 5' 3" on hind legs | weighs 152 lbs

personality ;
observant | reserved | gregarious | quick-witted
temperamental | impetuous | competitive | enigmatic
indolent | oversensitive | dishonorable | irritable | unreliable
frequently converses with three spirits | has a drinking problem

interaction ;
▶ high physical difficulty | medium mental difficulty
▶ do not kill | to capture or maim, please ask
▶ when attacking, name in #CC1F1F and/or bold
▶ non-violent actions can be powerplayed

spirits ;
appear as coloured flames | have animal forms only originrush can see
▶ ' v ' is a stoic and snarky individual that is a strategist; has a purple aura
▶ carterose is an alluring thief with a very sharp eye; has a blue aura
▶ nighthunter is a brother figure who rarely shows; has a [color=grey]murky grey aura[/fancypost]

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 432px; padding: 0px;][hr][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-top: 4px;][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 88px; height: 57px; padding: 0px; float: left;][/fancypost][justify]Dropping off of the face of the planet had not been something they had been planning on doing. They'd say that it's simply because of pure nostalgia that they kept to themselves and wandered Colouredclan's vast territories. Obviously, though, this had not been the case. They had simply needed to be alone. It hadn't been something they were fond of, forcing themselves into abrupt isolation, but thrusting themselves into daily clan duties would have had a negative effect towards their well-being.

(In reality, they don't care much about themselves. They're only doing so because of a promise they made and swore not to break.)

So when their form does appear, within the compounds of the clan's meeting chamber, it's surely an odd sight. Their towering size only contributes to this, along with their abnormal position in the room. Most would think that they would be peering up at one of the chairs used for announcements, but instead, they sit in the corner, leaning against one of the walls.

Their eyes are trained on a patch of dust that seems to be lighter in volume in comparison to the area around it. Not many would know why it looks like that, besides those from the reign of Yuri Muzikant, as it had formerly been the resting spot for a previous leader of this clan. And how would dear Originrush know this? Well, they had to keep some sort of barrier around them, didn't they?

A set of ruby claws score the ground in front of them. It cuts through both patches of dust, allowing them to mix with each other. They're not sure why they're here, nor why they just cut through the wooden flooring of this room. They suppose those will just be some mysteries that no one will ever solve.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 450px; margin-top: -30px;][align=center][spoiler=TAGS][justify][font=arial][size=9pt]information ;
originrush p. | ' ori / origin ' | unknown gender | uses they/them
greyromantic pansexual | prefers females | single
?? months | birth date unknown | ages in real time
colouredclan | warrior | mentoring no one
?? x ?? | gen ?? | unknown relatives

appearance ;
▶ grey wolf hybrid or the pokémon zoroark
▶ canine-like creature with a red mane & teal blue eyes
▶ lean build that borders on being skinny & is capable of bipedalism
▶ stands 2' 10" on all fours | stands 5' 3" on hind legs | weighs 152 lbs

personality ;
observant | reserved | gregarious | quick-witted
temperamental | impetuous | competitive | enigmatic
indolent | oversensitive | dishonorable | irritable | unreliable
frequently converses with three spirits | has a drinking problem

interaction ;
▶ high physical difficulty | medium mental difficulty
▶ do not kill | to capture or maim, please ask
▶ when attacking, name in #CC1F1F and/or bold
▶ non-violent actions can be powerplayed

spirits ;
appear as coloured flames | have animal forms only originrush can see
▶ ' v ' is stoic and snarky but a brilliant strategist; has a purple aura
▶ carterose is an alluring thief with a very sharp eye; has a blue aura
▶ nighthunter is a brother figure who rarely shows; has a murky grey aura

other ;
elemental powers | shapeshifting | phasing | emotion & soundwave manipulation | the sight | super senses | teleportation | telepathy | glow | eye & pelt manipulation | soul absorption (4) | coloured blood (pale blue)
[color=white]▶ can transform themselves into other pokémon or characters
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