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 Posted: Thu Jun 13, 2013 7:56 pm
Marshwing sat in the crook of a tree in the plaza of an outdoor shopping mall late at night, under the light of a waning moon. They sat still in the moonlight, their eyes scanning the darkness, their noses taking in the all-too civilized scents. By day, this was the realm of the commercial and the mundane, where sense was flung to the wind and greed ruled over all other instincts. But under the stars...under the stars, it was a wasteland, cleared, though not yet cleansed, of the trappings of the acolytes who worshiped here at the altar of commerce.
Marshsea, the more rational of the two brothers, expressed as much to his twin. Marshblood snorted derogatorily. "You turn everything into poetry," he muttered. It was an argument he and his brother had had a million times before and would have a million times again. He wasn't much a one for poetry. Well, not yet, anyway. Marshsea kept insisting that he might, in fact, one day, "grow a soul" and engage in poetry. The irony was painful.Marshsea did not deign to respond to that. He was, instead, sniffing at the air once more, and he'd noticed an achingly familiar scent wafting through the air. He knew that scent as well as he knew his own name. "Scent!" he hissed back.
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Posted: Fri Jun 14, 2013 9:17 am
Klas was enjoying his stroll through the streets. He couldn't see anything, but his senses were otherwise sharp. He could tell where he was just by sights, sounds, the feel of everything. He liked to take it all in, but the 'nighttime' was his favorite time of all to be out here. There weren't as many others about so he couldn't be overwhelmed.
This particular evening he was enjoying the smells of the shops with their food, leathers, and everything else. Taking it all in and enjoying as much as he can.
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Posted: Fri Jun 14, 2013 1:17 pm
Formaledehyde. Mm, that ol' favorite preservative, that sharp, chemical smell that flayed the senses and stung the eyes. The fume was faint, but distinctive, and the twins' eyes turned in the direction the smell was coming from. The subject appeared to be...
Well. That wasn't something they'd ever seen before. The strings trailed along the ground, and the moonlight glistened off of the slick fur. In fact, the moonlight had an interesting effect on the scene--it made it all the more surreal. Marshblood turned to Marshsea with a shiver and brushed his brother's wing with his own. "Are we awake, or are we dreaming?" he murmured.
Marshsea shrugged. "I think we're awake. If we were asleep, we would have woken up at the smell.
Sadly, that made a lot of sense to Marshblood. He peered at the stranger, then turned back to his brother. "I'm going to check it out," he said. Without waiting for a reply, he leaped down from the tree and onto the sidewalk, making his way over to the stranger.
Marshsea just shook his head. "Your funeral," he murmured back.
Marshblood ignored him. True, using his teeth if the stranger turned violent would be a bad idea, but he still had his claws, and, for preference, his wings. Cleaning his claws of carcinogens was not his idea of a fun time. Instead, he made his way over to the stranger and called out, "Hello, brother. Fine night for a walk, is it not?" He wasn't certain if the stranger could talk--his jaws had been cut open--but he was absolutely certain about the "brother." This was a specimen. Someone who'd been cut open. That marked him as an experiment, and therefore, a brother. Not by blood, but by circumstance, and that was enough for him.
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Posted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 5:32 pm
He wasn't expecting anyone to be around, he hadn't smelled or heard much out of the ordinary. So when someone approached him and called him 'brother', he was quite surprised. "Uhh, brother? I...I don't think I'm your 'brother'." He sniffed the air, trying to get a good smell of whoever this was. Maybe he did know him somehow, he really couldn't remember. It didn't usually bother him that he didn't remember, not until this moment.
The smells he got from this stranger were oddly familiar, but he somehow knew that it was not from this exact body. Even though he was blind, he could still show expressions, and at the moment his questioning look at the stranger also became one of a slight grimace. His brow was scrunched in and he was frowning, as much as his slit mouth would allow. He didn't like the way this smell made him feel, especially without knowing why.
"What is that smell?" He had to ask, he had to know what it was. He couldn't explain it, but he had to.
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Posted: Fri Jun 21, 2013 10:44 pm
Marshblood tilted his head at the specimen's grimace. It could still move. He wasn't sure what that meant. What treatment had brought it--him--to life? And who was he, before this terrible fate was enacted upon him? "It is true, we have never met," he said smoothly, "but I can see from your appearance that we are kindred, and kindred's as good as kin." He didn't see fit to comment on the stranger's appearance any more than that. It could have...repercussions that Marshblood would rather avoid if at all possible. Like being attacked, or causing the stranger to panic, or break down, or go insane. Yes. Better to simply...subtly hint at the oddity of his appearance. And make it clear that this oddity was something to be treasured.
Because it was. Marshblood didn't know who the specimen was, or how he'd gotten here, but he knew. He knew that he was kin to him, and he would do everything in his power to provide whatever aid was needed.
The hybrid stopped and sniffed at the air. All he could smell was the formaldehyde from the stranger. Pretty much everything else got killed from the air. Conscientiously, he took a sniff at his own fur. Nothing unusual or out of the ordinary, besides the stench of an occupied urban area. "I don't know which smell you're talking about. There are lots of smells around here."
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