Ç I L L A Ŋ
@WillOfSurvival
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ㅤ 𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗔𝗗. 𝖠 𝘘𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘢𝘵 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽, 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙏. 𝖨𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘘𝘶𝘯, 𝙃𝘼! ⋮ #𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐏 ㅤ
#𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 ⋮ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ ᴏᴄ
Joined January 2016
ㅤ 𝕊ʜᴀᴘᴇsʜɪғᴛᴇʀ ❅ ℂᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ ❅ 𝕎ɪʟᴅʟɪɴɢ ㅤ
he is thinking that if only he could cut him open and peel him back and crawl inside this second skin, then he could relieve that last mile again: reborn, wild—eyed, free.
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☼˚｡° 「♡⇢↻」
it has been raining all night. summer rain. the liveliness of it keeps me awake. i am so happy to have lived.
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ㅤ https://t.co/KrEgTM4nmz sorry for my lack of follow backs across my accounts. for some reason i'm not being shown when someone follows me. trying to catch up now! ㅤ
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ㅤ Now that he's on the same page(ish), Cillan reaches up to brush dark wiry hair out of Malus' eyes. "See sky, an' things, an' world. All... by self. All on own. But on own 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳... not so lone." ㅤ
He nods. Not bothered at all by that, now familiar with the wildling's ways. "Ja. It... I guess it makes me sad in a way. You're right."
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ㅤ To make sure he's understanding, Cillan presses his hand first against Malus' chest——then moves it over to his own. "In-side. Self. Me. Feel in me." ㅤ
Malus' accent isn't the best to copy, but those who have met the Champion will for sure recognize it in Cillan's talk if he keeps mimicking his speech. "Ja. But it's a bit more personal. You feel alone inside."
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ㅤ "Looon...lee." He tries the word out for himself. "Like ah-lone? On own?" ㅤ
Poke. Malus looks down at him with a small smile. "Nein. Just lonely."
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ㅤ He pokes the man's furry cheek. "Sad?" ㅤ
malus is indeed very warm, and letting Cillan join for cuddles.
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ㅤ chirrups and snuggles up next to him because warmth ㅤ
curls up under a tree to watch over camp, by himself.
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ㅤ don't mind him ~ wild elf boy is just building a snow... monster ?? ㅤ
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⠀⠀ He stares at the beast by the man’s heel, and tosses a few scraps of meat its way. Times are hard, after all. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ He eats what’s available. Even if that’s a bowl of grub worms. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ The elf inches closer, and closer, before he snatches up a hunk of some rib or another and begins devouring it. Hunt has been bad since the fighting started. All the animals scared off. He’s 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ Slowly… painstakingly so… the elf emerges from the safety of the trees. Crouched like a feral little thing, dirt and dried blood smeared on a pile cheek bearing dark black tattoos. His permanent sad. “… Cillan.” ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ Everything thinks it’s wild. He shows them better. Wild means empty. Empty until all you’re filled up with is wild. But the mention of food… has his stomach growling loudly. Loud enough to hear. And he’s… considering it. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ “Only wild things here. Gobble you up, bet you taste stringy.” Maybe he should just become a beast and eat the man; be done with it all. It would make his night calmer. “Not wild, you.” ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ ||: I routinely apologize for Cillan’s behavior —— but I also think he’s the most adorable feral weirdo in the world ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯' 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯'… After a moment, the voice comes from the man’s opposite side this time. Near a small break in the tree line. “My woods. Leave.” ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ He’s not creeping forward because he understands. Most things——words——useless to him. Acts… not useless. “No bark,” he hisses from around a tree trunk, “no bark. They’ll hear! Ssshhh!” ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ Bright blue eyes blinking in the night. Against the grass one moment——then up high in a tree——then down in the underbrush. The elf easily mimics the beast’s growling timbre, echoing it back at him. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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⠀⠀ Cue a limber elf silently creeping on all fours, out of the shadows where the firelight can’t reach. He smelled cooking meat——it can’t be helped that he wants to investigate. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
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