🐺Mebh and Aisling🍃Parallels

The Secret Of Kells & Wolfwalkers dir. Tomm Moore

best girls

the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself

Once again, Church blinked in muted surprise, and even Sparks seemed a little agog at the Rider's admission--though that could just be his usual look; it was hard to tell with a Gendrome. After a moment of stunned silence, the young Rider seemed to finally find his voice again.

"Wait, you just... hang out with Anjanaths?!" he blurted out. "Like it's no big deal?!"

Of course, he knew Anjanaths weren't just hungry, mindless monsters. They were animals, just like everything else; he'd even seen them peacefully sunbathing in the mornings sometimes. But their aggression, tempers, and territorial behavior were all consistent problems around here, just by design. He couldn't imagine living by one's nest peacefully.

"How in the name of the Sapphire Star did you pull that off?"

“Hang out is a strong term.” It wasn’t like she was chatting them up on the regular, asking how their hatchlings were over tea and corpses. “I just have a mutual understanding with them is all. They’re beasts, just like us. All that’s different is how we communicate.”

Bragging wasn’t in her nature. In fact, Alfie did a good deal not to be seen or draw attention to herself. How she’d gotten into this mess was still beyond her and the Palamute she wandered with. All the same, pleasant as she tried to be, she wasn’t one to spill her secrets so easily.

“Like I said, it’s a matter of communication. Helping them understand you’re not a threat, just another beast trying to survive the same as them.” Of course she was leaving out the pretty critical piece of information that she could understand most creatures and speak to them in her own way, but she hardly thought that worth mentioning. Most of it tended to be body language anyway.

I love them so much. I miss them

You know, it's easier to pull the trigger than play guitar. Easier to destroy than to create.

The Sum of Us (1994)

Hi!

The reference is under the cut :D

Got reminded of Nimona for this one

And indeed, they could only go and seek out some type of closure for this truth, too.  Arthur, while the most cautious of this adventure for the three, had been poking around the desk some more to keep his brain occupied.  Lewis on the other hand kicked around some rubble given he never left a stone unturned, even in death.  Yet with their quick look over some of the front lobby, it didn’t take long for one of them to spot the out of the place bright note amongst the more unruly state of things; and Vivi happened to have a good eye for detail despite having the worst eyesight out of the gang.  Mystery had already been close on her heel, sniffing out the old rust collected VHS stand in silence as the blue dame quickly skimmed over the hastily made note.  Her nose scrunches up a little, alongside a couple brows furrowing in that instant.

True to form and hypothesis, Angel left a clear trail of where she’d been and where she was going. Doors left open, notes left behind pointing out things the gang might find interesting. Though as time went on, the breadcrumbs left behind became sparser and sparser. Scuff marks and trails of blood interspersed with frantically overturned furniture.

At some point, it led them through a series of tight tunnels where conveyor belts once funneled completed toys through and out to the various packing and shipping centers. But not anymore. Most of the tunnels had long collapsed. Thankfully, a recently dried trail of blood, likely from some sort of cut or scrape, revealed the route through it all that Angel had taken looking to try and find a way out. It ended on a catwalk where the frayed metal edges indicated that something heavy had broken it and dropped Angel down to another railing below - along with whatever had been following her.

From the ceiling hung various ornaments, and on the far wall, a large Poppy was painted. The door at its center was still open, likely from the visitor that came before them. Past the paneled half wall was a hallways leading into an old, vintage looking room with an empty doll case and several pillows scattered about on the floor. But to the left, another door, still slightly ajar and with speckles of red indicating that it was indeed the path taken.

And just like that, it was back into the crumbling, colorful infrastructure of the factory. Walls lined with fading decals of colorful characters, floored marked with tiles in primary hues scattered about scuffed and dusty white linoleum. Wooden doors with ornate nameplates signalling the offices of company heads stood out against the strange "corporate jovial" aesthetic. The hum the hanging light permeated the thick air, creating a sense of dread that rivaled the gargantuan holes in the floor. Perilous as it was, they weren't impossible to cross. But the seemingly endless darkness that could be glimpsed upon looking into them begged the question: how big is this place?

LUCKY IS INTELLIGENT, HOWEVER. A keen sense of awareness that betrayed her inhuman figure. And as a parasaurolophus who had never seen a human hunt before, it took her a few moments to register what was going on. Up until that moment, she'd simply cant her head, letting out a soft murmur of confusion before her bright eyes landed on that on that bow.

And suddenly, the poor thing is paralyzed with fear! She lets out a shocked cry and cowers, the clinking of steel from the saddle on her back making it evident that she belonged to someone. All the whilst, any appetite she had for both food and discovery was gone. Was this it for her? And why a human of all things? Not even wild carnivores of Paleo Pines thought to sink their teeth into her, kept well fed by contributions left behind by the locals!

For a moment, Alfie's hunger blinds her and she thinks that perhaps her eyes are deceiving her. It's when Masha barks beside her and throws a shoulder into her arm, loosing the arrow into the dirt harmlessly, that she realizes that no- no, her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The gleam of a saddle's metal is comes from the buckles and straps of one affixed to the creature's back.

Immediately, she feels bad. Knowing that the creature was likely hand-reared to have become so big, and as a result likely had no survival instincts, there comes a small amount of guilt. Her baser instincts were blinding her. Again. Slowly, she rises from the brush, bow tucked back in its holder on her back and hands raised placatively. With caution, she steps forward.

"Hey, hey- it's okay," she tries to offer in a low, soothing voice. "You're okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

As if to prove her point, she reaches into one of her many pouches to procure some mixed bloom seeds and offer them with an outstretched palm as a token of goodwill.

// feeling them rn so like this post if you're interested in writing with a feral beast and her dragon-