Username: Raleigh
Name: Val
Gender: Male
sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴜᴛᴄʜ
ɪᴛ's ᴄʜɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ
ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ
ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ
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Val for short. A quiet young man of french heritage with a reckless demeanor.
sᴏʟᴇᴍɴ ▬ ᴠɪʀᴛᴜᴏᴜs ▬ ᴏʙsᴇʀᴠᴀɴᴛ ▬ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛᴇᴅ ▬ ᴘᴇssɪᴍɪsᴛɪᴄ
He gets anxious a lot, though tries his best not to show it. Often hard-working but self-destructive.
Upholds high moral standards but is quite the pessimist.
Works in relief operations but took a indefinite leave due to mental and emotional stress.
Live a normal life but still has bouts of PTSD.
Used to be an impetuous teenager, an alcoholic, and got into many street fights. Was a gas station attendant.
Lost his family while trying to save them from a wildfire he started. Became a social recluse as a teen.
Saved from harming himself by his now close friend , Inori. Currently lives with him as his roommate.
ɪᴛ's ᴄʜɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ
ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ
ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ＶＡＬＥＲＩＥ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Val for short. A quiet young man of french heritage with a reckless demeanor.
sᴏʟᴇᴍɴ ▬ ᴠɪʀᴛᴜᴏᴜs ▬ ᴏʙsᴇʀᴠᴀɴᴛ ▬ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛᴇᴅ ▬ ᴘᴇssɪᴍɪsᴛɪᴄ
He gets anxious a lot, though tries his best not to show it. Often hard-working but self-destructive.
Upholds high moral standards but is quite the pessimist.
Works in relief operations but took a indefinite leave due to mental and emotional stress.
Live a normal life but still has bouts of PTSD.
Used to be an impetuous teenager, an alcoholic, and got into many street fights. Was a gas station attendant.
Lost his family while trying to save them from a wildfire he started. Became a social recluse as a teen.
Saved from harming himself by his now close friend , Inori. Currently lives with him as his roommate.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ＴＨＥ ＶＵＬＴＵＲＥ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
ᴛᴜᴍʙʟᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ʙᴇᴅ
ᴅɪᴢᴢʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ
sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ
ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ
A flood-lit, floating highway, headlights slicing up a pathway into the driveway. You, a southbound train-track traveler, adds another film roll, quick, into the camera. Capturing paintings in the dawn sky, colorful in contrast to the cold steel interior of your cabin. Something to bring back from your trip towards home. You loved this. The quite hum of the engine and the fine, linear motion of the metal beast it powers. Planes or trains, sky or land-- It mattered not, for today was your day.
Working for disaster relief leaves you with so little time for yourself these days. Day-shift, night-shift, the endless stream of calls; something you've grown to deal with on a daily basis. After all, it's true that you do take a lot after your own name, Valérie. (However feminine it may sound.) When your work involved putting your life in danger to save someone else's, you kind of develop that nagging habit to seize every moment. It's why you brought along that old, beaten camera.
You catch your reflection on the window and study yourself. White fur peppered with black. Broad streaks of rusty red line your silvery eyes. As a dear friend once said: "As intimidating as you may look, you always had this warm, welcoming aura."
- click -
Figured you'd save a picture of yourself to show them when you get back. You grab your backpack and search for your photo albums. A small, old photo album topples to the floor with something peering out from between the pages.
You pick it up and open it.
[400/1000]
(Click to view larger version)
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sᴛᴇᴘ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀ
ʜᴇᴀᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʀ
ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀs ғᴀʀ
ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ
A faded picture slides out of the tiny album and into your palms. A picture from back when you used to pump gas. Wearing the same old red, buttoned up shirt and tattered black pants. In the mornings-- never looking up from the sidewalk-- your scuffed high-tops pounded beats into the pavement. A resigned youth who spent his days mulling over all you've lost to the pyres of yesteryear. How the cinders danced as they slowly burned holes through your heart... All the goodbyes that you wanted to say but were left unsaid.
You remembered the chilly nights spent drinking bottles of cheap whiskey in the bathroom, hoping you'd head straight into a heart-attack. And one particular night that painted red streaks in the sink and left tufts of black fur littered the linoleum floor.
"Yeah... I'm a little bit wasted. No, I'm a waste." you slurred. Body shivering, covered in glass cuts and bruises.
"Try not to speak so much, please, you'll swallow the blood." A three tailed stranger holds you by a stained shirt collar, trying to keep your head up. Crimson droplets seeping into the tiles below. "How on earth did you end up like this?"
"I'm sorry. Couldn't help it." you say, laughing weakly.
You feel a cold wave engulf your chest. The searing pain in your arms intensifies. Just like a six-string, your thoughts sung out only when you're pressured. Or when you're alone with a rhythm and a reason... You knew you can't keep feelings bottled up forever. And only then did you manage to find the right words to say... to this stranger who kept you from, as you called it, 'doing stupid things'.
You tell them about your regrets. Your sorrows. Your hopes. Slowly, the pain dispersed and you could feel your fingers again. The words kept pouring on and on until the loud blaring of sirens drowned them out. You close your eyes.
On that day, two young men headed for the season of winter jackets and frostbites parted ways with heartbeats as heavy as the piling snow.
[700/1000]
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sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴜᴛᴄʜ
ɪᴛ's ᴄʜɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ
ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ
ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ
A conversation over the phone. Voices faint and far away as they bounced off the satellites.
"You were much different then. Young and helpless. A mess of fur and blood." a familiar voice says. "I remember that was when I came to realize how fragile other lives were. And with a bleeding heart, I chose once again to put a broken stranger before myself. Your will to live was strong. Strong enough that I was able to save you. But I didn't want you to come to depend on me all the time. That night, after they lifted you onto the stretchers, I figured it'd be best if I disappeared."
"Why, though? I mean, you know I owe you for it." you say, sighing. "But don't you ever leave me again... ever."
"I'm sorry. Couldn't... help it?" he chuckles.
"That's my line." you roll your eyes.
Years later you find yourselves living together under the same roof. Sleeping in the same room. He has become accustomed to the scent of your morning coffee still lingering in your fur, red like blood but now unmarred by scars. You find comfort in his voice when he greets you in the morning. Even more so when you sneak into the room and catch him singing to himself. And likewise, that old stranger finds solace in your presence and joy in your happiness.
They saved you. And now you live to save.
The vulture and the fox.
An unlikely tryst forged in the midst of an unforgiving winter.
[900-950/1000]
Logo, art and story by Raleigh
Photo credit to "basicbill"
Viewed best on Chrome, CS Business Theme
Photo credit to "basicbill"
Viewed best on Chrome, CS Business Theme
