i'm coming for you,

@Daighre post first please!

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As a storm held into the background, giving a ominous sign to all — the bird, was the foreteller of what was to come. They saw the earth giving the signs, and them as the faithful follower to. Though the mind came, and there was only one to tell and foretold to these mammals of the land. A beacon within the distance, the sun bright and red as the storm raged far away.. It meant find them.

Find the one with red eyes.

So, did Vanish the crow believe that the earth was telling.

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Overhead, a crow flew by.

Dark feathers and noisy flight against a backdrop of storm-grey clouds.

He circled, where he stood.

Once, then twice.

Dropping heavily onto the dirt, haunches first, then hip. Settling against the dirt.

His head resting against his forelegs.

He huffed.

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A beast with red-eyes, upon the ground did he lay. Peaceful, despite the upcoming storm that held at bay, and was like death itself approaching. The world was trying to speak, but alas no one ever listened.. Except for the birds, that is. Vanish hovered above and slowly descended, creeping upon a branch.

"The world has spoken, and it has words to tell you," so the crow spoke, though her voice twisted in but chirps of an annoyance, for the wolf-tongue seemed to be voided ; like the Gods had struck away the crow's voice, and decided they had done too much.. But she didn't know that.

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Overhead, the crow came to land on a branch above him.

Crowing, and cawing.

Its feathers shuffling as it settled on the branch. Its black, beady eyes staring at him.

He huffed.

He was there first.

It was the crow that could fucking move.

His ear flicked, and he turned his head to rest it more firmly against one of his forelegs, his stomach and chest pressed against the dirt.

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Together they moved through the trees in search for their usual thing; food. Perpetually hungry and seeking anything to eat that was easy for them to feast on.

The sound of cawing in the near distance wasn't anything particularly alarming for the two, but it was enough to twist ebony auds in their direction as well as catch the blonde ignoring the corvid who tried to talk to them.

How rude.

The bird clearly had something to say to them and the man just wandered away without giving it a second.

“Bird wants to talk.” He croaks to the man, almost wondering if he was deaf or something and if his voice too would go unheard.

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They were ruffled ; words ignored that was brought to by the heavens itself, where the world spoke and they were to deliver. But the man stared, not acknowledging of the so-prophecy that was needed, must be given. The sign of red-eyes was due, but within the distance the man of black approached, speaking as so.

Though they were not one of the heavens itself, though cloaked like a messenger it was of the wolven kind — dominators, of the land itself that were the ones who needed the prophecy. A looking toward them though, for perhaps.. The world spoke if the man cannot hear the prophecies, they will deliver so.

"He will die soon."

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‘Bird wants to talk.’

“What?” He asked.

His ears twitched, and he lifted his head from his forelegs. His hackles bristled, at his approach.

What the fuck was he talking about?

It was a bird.

Birds couldn’t fucking talk.

They were fucking birds. Noisy things that flapped and flew, and dropped shit—literal shit, as in, actual liquid feces—from the fucking sky.

From behind him and over him, the crow croaked, once more.

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Both corvid and wolf looked over to the blond with a gaze that spoke levels of their annoyance to his ignorance.

Cocking an ear toward the still trying to communicate corvid, Caw flapped around and landed on his own branch away from the wolves as though feeling the electrifying energy in the air and not wanting to be caught in the middle of it all; leaving behind a flurry of fluttering dark feathers cascading around his matching wolven companion.

“Tsch.” Annoyed he had to play translator with such a lowlife like this. “Die.” His scraggly voice continues, he too struggled with the wolven tongue as the man barely used it himself through his few years. “It says you die... soon.” He said with a dismissive tone.

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"The eyes of dark sun to beware of death," Vanish crowed as the other delivered the message — though wolven as they were, they spoke in low hue's like of a corvid friend, but not of their own. A messenger does not have such love in life, for the crow had croaked it's ways to man below, one who held a storm above his head in an enteral light, and the other, flocked within darkness and feathers — obsessions blooming and the world to be calling.

They had delivered it, twice in the matter of another receiver to say so ; and the crow wondered, if the world would give him some messages as well. With so, there was no need to stay any longer and flapped their wings.

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vanish is now skippable.

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His ear twitched, and his posture straightened when he pushed himself upward with his front paws, somewhere part-way between stood and crouched with his back legs bent. His hackles bristled along his shoulders and spine.

He had heard his nickname.

A nickname not used in weeks, in months.

Ruined, when he spoke again.

‘It says you die... Soon.’

“You’re fucking with me.” He blurted. The fur on his shoulders and back bristled, and he stepped forward, once.

His eyes looked from bird to wolf.

“It didn’t fucking say that.”

It was a crow.

What the fuck did a fucking crow know about life and death, especially his?

And the bird was gone, when he looked again. All that remained a branch that wobbled.

It was convenient.

It was a trick.

“You’re lying.” He demanded, again, his upper lip curled and twisted, peeled, and his teeth and gumline exposed.

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