Beautiful End (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beautifulend) wrote2020-08-24 03:07 pm
beautifulend) wrote2020-08-24 03:07 pm
Memory 3 🌙 Anathema
You sit up on the remains of a fresh kill - one of the usurpers who thought foolishly that they could warn their fellows of your presence. A dirt-crawling lizard who thought it could be a formidable hunter - ha! As always, you're the most terrifying beast in the forest, and you know it. Why else would they send dozens after you every time they catch your scent?
You've been at this for as long as you can remember - of course, there were always breaks. Every time you died, after all, it took the new you awhile to remember who you were and what you lived for. But the moment you did, you knew you had to throw yourself back into the hunt. If you didn't stand up against these pathetic "hunters" carrying out their demon-slayings, who would?
Another scout approaches, and you disappear into the trees. The Wyld Hunt was strong, today! But as always, you are stronger. This one doesn't get much further before you tackle him - you're pushed off, of course, but even a dragon is no match for a beast. After a brief struggle of fang and claw and dragonflame you've forced this one back to the dirt, and you tear out its throat with your teeth. Singed as you are though, you decide it's best to retreat, for now.
The town they're protecting can wait. Maybe instead of sending a hunting party after you, they'll even just opt to abandon it so you can destroy it without anyone getting hurt. That would be nice, wouldn't it? If only they'd just let you tear apart the civilization they've built upon the pain and suffering of everyone who came before them.
But a hunter knows victory only comes through blood and tears. You don't get your hopes up. You pull back to lick your wounds, wondering what tomorrow will bring - how many will it be this time? 30? 40? Maybe the other beasts will show up to assist, too...though, you doubt it. They're probably still mad at you for not thinking their civilization is somehow better than the usurper's, even though they're just trying to take control of that which isn't theirs to own, too.
Disgusting. You'll burn it all down. Those who's lives were stolen all those lives ago deserve that much. Creation deserves that much. When the usurpers see you, they call you "Anathema". A monster. A beast. A demon, hellbent on destroying everything that's good and pure.
They're not wrong. Their goodness and purity is a lie, but you are exactly what they say you are, and until they're too few in number for anyone to follow them anymore, you'll be exactly what they expect you to be.
The hunt continues, for another day. Your prey is the very foundation of society itself, and one day it'll all come crumbling down. One day they'll understand that life can never come from death. One day, the Usurpation and the Wyld Hunt will be repaid in kind.
One day, they'll know what it really means to be hunted.
You've been at this for as long as you can remember - of course, there were always breaks. Every time you died, after all, it took the new you awhile to remember who you were and what you lived for. But the moment you did, you knew you had to throw yourself back into the hunt. If you didn't stand up against these pathetic "hunters" carrying out their demon-slayings, who would?
Another scout approaches, and you disappear into the trees. The Wyld Hunt was strong, today! But as always, you are stronger. This one doesn't get much further before you tackle him - you're pushed off, of course, but even a dragon is no match for a beast. After a brief struggle of fang and claw and dragonflame you've forced this one back to the dirt, and you tear out its throat with your teeth. Singed as you are though, you decide it's best to retreat, for now.
The town they're protecting can wait. Maybe instead of sending a hunting party after you, they'll even just opt to abandon it so you can destroy it without anyone getting hurt. That would be nice, wouldn't it? If only they'd just let you tear apart the civilization they've built upon the pain and suffering of everyone who came before them.
But a hunter knows victory only comes through blood and tears. You don't get your hopes up. You pull back to lick your wounds, wondering what tomorrow will bring - how many will it be this time? 30? 40? Maybe the other beasts will show up to assist, too...though, you doubt it. They're probably still mad at you for not thinking their civilization is somehow better than the usurper's, even though they're just trying to take control of that which isn't theirs to own, too.
Disgusting. You'll burn it all down. Those who's lives were stolen all those lives ago deserve that much. Creation deserves that much. When the usurpers see you, they call you "Anathema". A monster. A beast. A demon, hellbent on destroying everything that's good and pure.
They're not wrong. Their goodness and purity is a lie, but you are exactly what they say you are, and until they're too few in number for anyone to follow them anymore, you'll be exactly what they expect you to be.
The hunt continues, for another day. Your prey is the very foundation of society itself, and one day it'll all come crumbling down. One day they'll understand that life can never come from death. One day, the Usurpation and the Wyld Hunt will be repaid in kind.
One day, they'll know what it really means to be hunted.