Username Byteme
Name Delaney
Name Meaning Dark rival/From the elder tree grove
ExtrasPersonality: Delaney is much more quiet than he is excitable, in fact he seems to be as silent as death itself. Rarely one to talk, he seems to spend his time woefully missing days gone by, and feeling both melancholy and sorrow excessively on any given day.
He'd much rather observe and listen than contribute, and such things only leave him with excessive knowledge that he cannot fully attribute for, making Delaneys brain a thing filled with knowledge and information with no cortex to understand and detect it all clearly, and no mouth to blurt anything out as a way of exhausting negativity.
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Little red vulture, small resting crows, circle 'round the dying child, with the bones of deer and the feathers of ravens, cover them in flower petals, tell them to hide away
The cool trickle of rain hitting his head, leaving small trembling beads rolling down fur as pale as the skull beneath it made the sentinel shiver with little control. Softly, a little whistling noise sprang up into the air and he watched a quarrel of gray birds flying above him.
Hidden away he sat, peering around the trees surrounding him with such care, crestfallen in his breath, with discomfort of visibility hanging off his skin amidst each set of movements.
At the time of his birth, parents circling the small patch of flower the meek child layed upon, it was raining just like this, and he was hidden away... Just like he was today. Fushia petals beneath him crumbled easily, their pale yellow tips an ever bright shade, the dark child shook. First his clawed hip quivered, then his tail as bloody red as any gash twitched. Soon, the little one came to life, despite his appearance imitating that of someone long wounded and gone. From the soft fade of his small forepaws to his dark chest, to the deeply covered sickly burgundy of his neck he came into conscious awakening, for the first time in his existence.
As his eyes opened for the first time, the parents would find just one more thing that added to this masterpiece, his eerily characterized body. They nudged him up, upon four feet, and whispered to him words of encouragement softly against the little ones pelt, their breathes and their muzzles pressed with the utmost amount of radiant love. Their will to protect him was strong, stronger than the teeth they bore and the haunted atmosphere that followed them. Stronger than the gems on their flesh, an ironclad sense of affection and care kept them going.
Oh, how he was wistful for such days to come once more. No, they had not been easy, never easy... But, they had been the only days he truly knew as those that held some sort of silve lining, calling out in the distance, a feeling of alluring worlds turning, singing far off of their sense of hope.
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Well, guess who's planning to die?
