#moonkittenwrites

[writingmysinsfortheworld]

Flames

I FINALLY found time to actually write something! There’s probably a few mistakes, but oh well. I actually really enjoyed writing this, and maybe I’ll edit it later. Probably not, but ya know. 

Anyway, here’s what was supposed to be written on the 30th!

Flames

Apex Legends

Fuse x Bloodhound

         The sun had set hours ago, the moon taking its place high in the starry sky. Crickets chirped in the distance and a warm breeze blew. Walter absentmindedly picked and strummed at his old guitar.

         The other legends had all gathered around the fire hours earlier bringing marshmallows and good spirits. Even the simulacrum Revenant had joined, something that Bloodhound had found amusing. They noted as he has watched the others as they told tales of their homelands or bragged about their exploits outside of the games. The velafolk interested them, even if they did not understand his ways. There was a deep sadness in him, something the hunter understood all too well.  

         “Mate?” a heavily accented voice called, snapping them from their thoughts.  

         They quickly turned to the Salvonian. “My apologies, Walter Fitzroy. I was lost in the stars.”  

         “Ya okay there, Houndy?” Walter asked, setting his guitar to the side. “Somethin’ on ya mind?”

         Bloodhound sighed, their respirator whirring softly. “I am alright.” It wasn’t a lie, they thought. Just not quite the whole truth.  

         Walter cocked his head, watching the flames reflect off of Bloodhound’s dark goggles. He wondered for a moment, how they were able to see out of them, especially at night. Something he’d have to ask later. Bloodhound was unusually quiet. Well, quieter than they normally were around him. “I know ya ‘lot better than that, Houndy. You know you can talk to ol’ Fusey.”

         “I do not wish to bother you with my problems, Fitzroy,” they responded after a moment. They felt a tightness in their chest, and suddenly their binder felt even more crushing. They set their jaw, intent on keeping their emotions at bay.

         Fuse stood, gently making his way over to the small hunter and sitting beside them. “You don’t have to carry your burdens alone, ya know?”  

         They felt themselves cracking, the fear of opening up being swallowed by sadness bursting to be released. They felt tears begin to gather in their eyes. “I-” their voice broke softly. “I have failed. I have failed everyone. The gods. My people. My family. Uncle Artur.. Boone.. I have failed him..”

         “Houndy, darlin’, it ain’t your fault. None of this is,” he said, hearing the hurt in their voice. “You can’t save ‘em all.”

         The hunter broke. “It is! I should have never touched that illt vopn! Uncle would still be here.. and maybe he could have helped stopped this.. Stopped Hammond. But he is not, and that is on my hands. And Boone.. Dear Boone. I slatra in the games for him so that he might walk the halls of Valhalla one day, but I fear he is already lost. I fear that he is lost because of me.. Because my heart seems to have forgotten him.”

         Walter listened as they spoke, trying to understand their native language when it slipped through and fill in the blanks. After a moment, he reached for the hunter’s gloved hands, gently taking them in his own, rough, calloused ones. “Do ya really think you’d be this upset if ya truly forgot the bloke?” He gave their hands a slight squeeze. “Houndy, it’s okay ta move on. Just ‘cuz he ain’t here no more don’t mean that’s on you. Ya’ll had your time together, and then it was done. Nothin’ wrong with that. And there’s no reason why ya shouldn’t try ta make yourself happy, darl. You are allowed to breathe. You are allowed to only take responsibility for ya’self.”

          “I-I am not worthy of your kindness, Walter Fitzroy,” Bloodhound said after a moment. Their goggles started to fog, the fire becoming an orange blur. They gently pulled away from Fuse’s comforting grip, something they and the grenadier both felt a tinge of disappointment from. Almost hesitantly, they reached up to their mask, and slowly undid the buckles securing it to their face.  

         The respirator let out a hiss, the pressurized air escaping it’s confines and into the warm night. Walter watched in awe as the hunter’s face was slowly revealed. Goggles were pulled down from their eyes.

          Years of fighting, of creating the perfect bombs, the biggest explosions, and yet none of those could compare to the absolute beauty that was Bloodhound.  

          Their skin was pale, almost glowing in the dim light. Faint pink scars covered their thin lips and soft skin. A single silver stud adorned their bottom lip, and red and black lines were painted across their chin and cheeks. Their face was rounder than Walter had expected, something that he found simply adorable.  

          Bloodhound’s helm cast a shadow a shadow over their face, ending at their Grecian nose. Tear streaks glistened in the light of the fire.

          They turned, meeting Walter’s gaze. Their lips moved, speaking to him, but he was lost in their eyes. Bright amber eyes with dark rings and heavy black eyeliner made his heart absolutely race.  

          They were even more beautiful than he could have ever predicted, and he briefly wondered if he was in the presence of divinity.  

          Hound’s sudden movement snapped Walter’s attention back. They stood quickly, beginning to fasten their mask back on.  

         “Wait, wait, wait!” Fuse said quickly, scrambling to his feet. He gently caught the hunter by the arm.  

         Bloodhound kept their face away from him, staring into the dying flames. “I apologize. I did not mean to offend you. I shall remain masked in your presence.”

          Fuse shook his head, “Houndy, ya got it all wrong. I ain’t.. I didn’t mean ta stare. It’s just..” he stepped in front of the shorter hunter, taking their mask and gently setting it aside. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid me eye on.”

         His words caught them off guard, as they had always tried to hide their scars, believing them to be hideous. But Walter’s words were heavy with honesty. For once, Hound was the one caught off guard.

          Time seemed to slow around them as Fuse gently caressed their scarred cheek, Bloodhound leaning ever so slightly into his touch. A single thought crossed the Salvonian’s mind, and he was never one to deny an impulse.

          Tilting Bloodhound’s face up, Fuse pressed his lips against theirs, his metal arm pulling them closer.  

         They let themselves be pulled closer, their arms finding their way around the taller man’s neck and deepening the kiss.  

         After a moment, they pulled away nearly breathless, and rested their helm against Walter’s warm chest. Strong arms held them in a comforting embrace, and Bloodhound felt a smile find it’s way onto their face.

They were so going to finish him off tomorrow.

[writingmysinsfortheworld]

The Hunter the Gods Have Sent

Revenant x Bloodhound

*Unholy Beast/Young Blood-Intimidator skins are used*

         The forest was cold. Leaves had fallen from the trees and covered the ground in a thick layer that crunched under the small hunter’s feet. They shivered, watching as the sun began to set in the distance. It would be night soon, and the perfect time to meet him.

         They walked quietly, their respirator making a gentle hum. The forest was unusually quiet, as though it lived in fear of the deity that resided there.  

          A cold breeze swept through the dead trees making the feathers from a successful hunt in their earlier years that hung from their tunic sway. They paused, catching their breath. The trek was rough, even for a seasoned tracker. Their scarred lungs burned and screamed for a moments rest. Instinctively, their gloved hand found their axe at their hip.  

         Memories of Artur flooded their mind. Would he be proud of them now? Even though they were here? They toyed with the axe for a moment.  

         Yes, the breeze seemed to whisper.  

         A chill ran through the hunter, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if their uncle was here with them now.  

         Finding the strength through the ancestors, they took a breath and started back up the unseen path. This was their purpose, their calling. With maybe just a little extra help.

         ..................................................................................................................................................

         They were pulled out of their roaming thoughts after some time by the smell of burning wax. Looking up, they were greeted by a sight that most would find unnerving. An old, crumbling temple lie ahead of the hunter, moss growing up the side. The glass in the windows had been broken long ago and pieces of them glinted in the moonlight. Candles were scattered everywhere from the ground outside, to the hollowed out windows, and even on the caving roof.

         And yet, there was still a sense of beauty surrounding the temple. The way the moonlight shined through the cracks. The candles that cast shadows into the night. It was truly fitting for a god of the hunt.

          The tracker entered through the broken doorway, gently pushing open the heavy wooden door. Their gloves fingers brushed across the wood. The old door appeared to have deep burns across it, even cutting through the iron bands. What’s more, is they mimicked scratches.

         They pondered the origin of such. What could have made them? What kind of horrifying beast would have the ability to burn the wood in such a manner?

         A fallen leaf skittered across the stone floor, causing the tracker to nearly jump into the air. Upon realizing there was no real threat, they chuckled and shook their skull covered head. So much for those nerves of steel that Artur had trained them so harshly to develop. So much for the skills of the hunter the gods had sent.

        Suddenly, a glint of light caught their goggles. Unlike the candle lights, this light did not move.

         They stiffened, and slowly turned towards the source.  

         There, lounging comfortably in a stone throne, was the one they had travelled to find. The god watched him, his horned head propped up by his arm. He appeared bored, annoyed almost.

         They counted the beats of their heart that should have been pounding in their chest.  

         This? This was the god of the hunt? A mechanical being? Uncle Artur would be losing his mind in the grand hall.

         Piercing white eyes watched them. A black, unkept mane framed his skeletal face and trailed halfway down his chest. Even in the dull light, they could make out the red markings on him, appearing as though they had been painted with blood.

          “Well,” his gravelly voice rumbled. “Are you just going to stand there, or do you want something?” He said, unmoving.  

          As if pulled from a trance, they shook their head, and pushed further back into the temple. Broken pews were scattered along the wall, as if destroyed in a fit of anger and tossed aside. Hundreds of candles lit up the dark room, and for a moment, the hunter wondered if they would ever burn out.

         They found themselves a few feet in front of the robotic being, and knelt before him. “I am Bloth Hoondr. You can call me Bloodhound,” they began. “I have come to offer myself as your servant, and in return, I will slatra in your name.”

         “No,” the beast said coldly.

         Bloodhound froze, taken aback. “I-I do not understand?”

          “ I’m not interested.”

          “But I have trained in your honor,” they spoke, voice nearly breaking. “I have perfected my body and mind to be sharper than the sharpest steel! I have slain beasts no other could! I am the hunter the gods have sent!”

           “I didn’t send you,” the god growled.  

           Bloodhound quickly got to their feet, holding back all fears. “Then allow me to prove myself! Surely you have seen my kills! You are the god of the hunt, and you watch over all hunts!”

           In an instant, the revenant’s dagger-like claws were around their throat, pinning them to the wall and leaving them dangling above the ground. “Do not call me that!” he roared. “Do not make me out to be such a simpleton, as you humans always do.”

          The tracker pried at the metal around their throat, gasping for air and kicking out in attempt to gain any leverage. They coughed and choked, their respirator cracking under the god’s tight grip.  

          Leaning close, the revenant spoke lowly, the threat of sharp teeth a little too close. “I am no mere god of the hunt. I am god of the chase. God of the attack. God of the kill. You will do well to remember that, little hunter.”  

          He pulled back, releasing bloodhound and allowing them to fall to their knees in front of him. He towered over them, watching them regain their breath and strength.

          They stood, defiant and unwilling to fall so easily. The beast was almost impressed. He turned to return to his throne.

          “You have seen my hunts. You know who I am,” they coughed. They did not travel this fair, train this hard, to be made afraid of the god they followed so closely. “I will be the hunter of the gods. I am Bloth Hoondr, and nothing will stop me, even if the gods will it.” Their hand found their axe, and with all their force, threw it at the beast.  

         They blinked, and to their horror, the beast had already caught it.  

          Their heart beat for the last time, or so they thought.

          “Hm. You might be of use to me yet,” He said with a slight laugh. He rolled the axe in his hands for a moment before tossing it to land at Bloodhound’s soft leather boots.  

          They slowly picked it up, their hidden eyes never leaving the revenant, and slipped it back into it’s holster on their hip. They would not need it any longer, if the beast allowed them to live.

         “There is an arena, where those who claim to be the best warriors go,” he began, taking a few steps towards the tracker. “Prove yourself to me. Be my hunter. Show me what you claim to be made of.”

         They straightened, craning their neck only slightly less to look up at the towering beast.

        “And in return, I will make you the greatest hunter this world will ever know.”

        Bloodhound knelt, their head bowed. “I accept your terms.”

        The revenant crouched in front of them, long claws tilting their covered face to look at him. “Hmm..” he murmured. “Let’s make you look like something to fear first.” Claws brushed across their gear, and for a moment, they thought as though their garb was on fire. Their clothes blackened and turned to ash, flecks of it falling away. The ash hardened, a deep crimson colour replacing the faded blue from before. Hard armour replaced their soft clothes, and horns formed from their new mask, an echo of the one who created them.  

           At their side, their axe remained. They stood, meeting the god’s glowing eyes once more.  

         “As one, we will be gifted with victory.”

..................................................................................................................................................................

           The hunter stood at the world’s edge, the giant arena they would shed blood at. They took it all in quietly when suddenly a raven, an omen of death, cawed overhead. Glancing up, they instinctively held out their arm, and the bird perched upon them, cawing once more. It’s glowing eyes peering past the dark glass that protected theirs, reminding them who they belonged to, who they would slatra for.

         They still think this is a game, the deep voice rumbled in their head. It’s not.

....................................................................................................................................................................

          “One squad left. We taka victory and slatra,” they announced over the comm to their teammates.

           Caustic coughed. "The final Ring timer, my experiment reaches its end." He almost sounded disappointed.  

            “One more bad guy to go!” the stim junkie shouted with a laugh and injected another green stim. The trapper grumbled at his enthusiasm.  

           Through the golden scope of their triple take, they scanned the edge of the ring. They were protected by lava at their backs, so the final squad would be forced to cross in front of them.  

           Just as they started to take a breath, Caustic shouted “Enemy spotted! Firing!”

           A growl started in their chest and arose as a shout, the beast of the hunt taking over, the god coming out to play. They leapt from the sniper’s nest, following red hot footprints with speed they had never felt before. They could feel their enemy's heartbeat, smell the blood rushing through their veins. The god of the hunt laughed hysterically within their mind, finally allowed to have his fun.  

         Hot on the trail of an enemy Horizon, they pulled up their R-301 and shot her down. Lifeline scrambled, running back to her fallen teammate with D.O.C at the ready. She would meet the same fate, falling on all fours as they reloaded their assault rifle.  

          A bullet whizzed by their face, nearly shooting off a small red horn. Bloodhound growled, and rushed at the Wraith. She phased in an attempt to get away, but the beast was faster.

         I like when they run.. The voice echoed in their head.  

        Bloodhound holstered the gun on their back, reaching for their knife, another gift from Artur. Their blade, like themselves, needed to taste the blood of the final kill.  

        Wraith found herself cornered and trapped by Nox traps. She gagged, the thick gas filling her lungs.

         It was almost too easy.

         They shoved the blade into her chest, an instant kill. The skirmisher collapsing as the announcer called the games. Bloodhound regained their senses, the beast satiated for now. They placed the gun of the fallen in her arms, and offered a quick prayer to the Allfather.

         “I am the hunter the gods have sent!” They growled, raising their axe to the sky, and the raven cawing above them.

          Death is my gift, the beast spoke, only to fall silent until the next kill in the arena.  

[writingmysinsfortheworld]

An Update

Hey y'all. I know I don't have many followers, but I have received a few messages asking about any new posts.

That might be a bit.

Life has been unkind lately, and honestly, Im really struggling.

I'll post something soon when I can.