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Description

"The Tomb fears the moon, that much is true, but nothing you know has told you how to feel about bodies of water. Four Lakes seem to divide the world around you and you are trapped on just one side of it. Trapped— you could run, you could flee for the hills. You know that no matter where you go, They are watching, waiting for you to make a mistake. But the water’s right there and something about it is compelling you to dive right in. Is it really worth the risk?"

Pompeii was never one to mind the cold, nor the silence of deep nightfall. What was new, was the lakes. He hadn't been back with the pack for all that long before he was drawn to their edge. Frozen, unforgiving, and what seemed like endless to him. He couldn't see the moon, and that brought him little peace with everything else that had happened. Clouds made stars filter through and they glittered on the ice, drawing his gaze. He watched quietly, the blurry reflection making him lose himself in thought. Part of him thought to glance at the sky, with no moon visible, but the idea made his pelt stand on end.

So he watched the ice. For once, he found himself feeling that the stars were pretty. Snow began to fall, and Pomp could see his breath start to billow out in front of him. The steady in and out of his breath grounded him, and the wind blew around silently. Though the feeling of being alone would have felt comforting, he couldn't help but think about heading back towards the tunnels after the collapse.

It'd been days since he had left where Cicero had left him. No food, no water, and he himself wasn't entirely sure what had happened until he came across the dug out rubble and the unmistakable scent of rot. It made his stomach churn to think about it, but he forced himself to. It felt like venom in his mouth, in his head, and his ears felt like they were filled with cotton.

You left them. You could have done more. He chanted in his brain as he rattled each image about, scouring it for every detail, and trying to imagine it stretching across the lake, trying to express his guilt and his shame wordlessly to the stars that shimmered so coldly and so unrelenting each night. He sat until he could no longer feel his paws, and by the time he stood up to return to camp. As he got up to walk away, the ice had been scored deep and bloody, marring where a reflection would have been had someone sat by the frozen water's edge.

Featuring:

This takes place about two weeks after Pompeii has been reunited with the pack.

i tried to push myself to do something new with the background! i'm not sure how i feel about it, but it portrays the mood that i needed to, so it up it goes. im here to push myself, so that's what we're going to do! pompeii has a lot on his mind, especially after a certain conversation with someone...

6/4/23: can't believe i forgot his tail and hip markings asdkjndjfghb ignore me

Description

"The Tomb fears the moon, that much is true, but nothing you know has told you how to feel about bodies of water. Four Lakes seem to divide the world around you and you are trapped on just one side of it. Trapped— you could run, you could flee for the hills. You know that no matter where you go, They are watching, waiting for you to make a mistake. But the water’s right there and something about it is compelling you to dive right in. Is it really worth the risk?"

Pompeii was never one to mind the cold, nor the silence of deep nightfall. What was new, was the lakes. He hadn't been back with the pack for all that long before he was drawn to their edge. Frozen, unforgiving, and what seemed like endless to him. He couldn't see the moon, and that brought him little peace with everything else that had happened. Clouds made stars filter through and they glittered on the ice, drawing his gaze. He watched quietly, the blurry reflection making him lose himself in thought. Part of him thought to glance at the sky, with no moon visible, but the idea made his pelt stand on end.

So he watched the ice. For once, he found himself feeling that the stars were pretty. Snow began to fall, and Pomp could see his breath start to billow out in front of him. The steady in and out of his breath grounded him, and the wind blew around silently. Though the feeling of being alone would have felt comforting, he couldn't help but think about heading back towards the tunnels after the collapse.

It'd been days since he had left where Cicero had left him. No food, no water, and he himself wasn't entirely sure what had happened until he came across the dug out rubble and the unmistakable scent of rot. It made his stomach churn to think about it, but he forced himself to. It felt like venom in his mouth, in his head, and his ears felt like they were filled with cotton.

You left them. You could have done more. He chanted in his brain as he rattled each image about, scouring it for every detail, and trying to imagine it stretching across the lake, trying to express his guilt and his shame wordlessly to the stars that shimmered so coldly and so unrelenting each night. He sat until he could no longer feel his paws, and by the time he stood up to return to camp. As he got up to walk away, the ice had been scored deep and bloody, marring where a reflection would have been had someone sat by the frozen water's edge.

Featuring:

This takes place about two weeks after Pompeii has been reunited with the pack.

i tried to push myself to do something new with the background! i'm not sure how i feel about it, but it portrays the mood that i needed to, so it up it goes. im here to push myself, so that's what we're going to do! pompeii has a lot on his mind, especially after a certain conversation with someone...

6/4/23: can't believe i forgot his tail and hip markings asdkjndjfghb ignore me