catgotyour (catgotyour) wrote in theunboundic, @ 2020-03-31 03:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! time: july 3 - 9, allen bellamy, henri danior |
You Know That's The Law, Deal Done With A Shake Of The Claw
Who: Henri, Bell, possible visitors.
What: Bad Knee, Bad Head, Perfect Storm.
When: Wednesday, July 6th, just past Sunrise.
Where: Woods Behind Rosier Estates, Streets of Glynn, Bell's Apartment
Rating: CW:Animal Violence
Pain hammered the inside of Henri's skull, the breaking morning light like flashing silver nails driving into his eyes. With a groan, he pulled himself up against the small standing stone he had found a few nights ago, a gravestone so old and worn that the identity of who slept beneath it was only known by the dead. Henri figured that whoever they were, they wouldn't mind the company, and he had made certain to bring enough whiskey for two; the bottle, nearly empty, sat nearby, and Henri smirked at the last inch of liquor.
Man gotta worry, he drink alone... Got that covered though, don't I, friend?
He chuckled to himself, and patted the stone. Dew clung to the bottle, his skin, the leather of his heavy boots, and while a simple shake would fling the drops from him, his stomach lurched at the thought of any rapid movement. Slow, deliberate steps drew him deeper into the overgrown forest, where he relieved himself with a groan against a steadying tree. Bladder empty, Henri stretched, yawning wide, and took a deep breath. The smell of piss, whiskey, sweat... and blood.
Sobriety forced itself past the headache, sharpening his vision. Henri turned, slowly, eyes held open despite the sensitivity, and scanned the forest floor for a source of the smell. There. A smear of dark scarlet marred the trunk of an oak, and, as he approached, the growing scent confirmed the suspicion. Something died here.
Henri circled the tree, careful to keep his distance, but no corpse sat at the base. The amber eyes slowly traced up the trunk, noting the sections of torn bark, deep gouges carved into the wood, the widening smear of blood. He stepped closer, stomach still lurching, and reached out to touch the stain, using the side of his finger instead of the tip to avoid prints. The blood was cool, but not cold... a few hours old.
Henri's gut rumbled another warning. He ignored it, and tilted his head to look high into the branches.
The dull, glassy eyes of a deer looked back, a dozen feet off the ground. The carcass hung in the boughs, or what was left of it. Large portions of the animal were simply missing, an imprecise but enthusiastic butchery. Henri breathed in slowly, exhaled, and lifted the bottle up to his lips. The whiskey burned as it hit his tongue, intensified as he swished the liquid through his teeth, tingled on the lips as he spat it back into the empty glass. Amber, tinged with deep red.
Henri looked back at the deer. His stomach had stopped rumbling, surprisingly full. He dumped out the bottle as he looked down at his clothing, glad to find he was, while not in any way clean, not covered in red.
Awful considerate. Musta been real hungry.
He licked his lips, took one more look at the deer, and started out of the forest. Along the way, he stopped at a creek to splash water in his face, slick back his matted hair, rub the grit from his eyes. He left the bottle buried beneath the smooth stones.
Returning to town, the trappings of civilization were necessary, and none more primal than coffee. The people he passed were simply blurs, unimportant, and thankfully willing to give him room enough to reach the counter of the cafe. He placed a pair of silver on the counter, and muttered, “Need fine ground, dark, about a pound, whatever this'll get me. An' some sugar, you got a cup I can take.” Once his order, scooped and weighed into a pair of paper bags, was in hand, he grunted in thanks and slipped back outside, leaving the change behind.
The sun was well and truly up by the time he reached Bell's apartment. Henri knocked twice, unlocked the door with his key, and shut it behind him, sighing in relief to once again be in the dark. He shouted over at the bedroom as he shuffled to the kitchen and poured some water into a pot.
“Up an' at 'em, Gator. Early as fuck, just like you asked. Mud's done in five.”