[Unleashed Squiid]

Six. Tell your mothers you love them. This viscet seems on edge, and as you approach, ţ̣̦h͍͢e̢y̸͔͕ ̜͈̜̗̲j̵u͎̙̠͢m̷p̹ ̨̦̼̩͙̙̥a͙̯̰͢t ͇̼͚̮ your appearance. How odd. You walked slowly, and your steps weren't all that quiet. Something is bothering them. Tell me in 666 words or less w̜͙̮̘̮ͅh̠̞̣͍̫a҉̫̝̝̜͚̼t̙ ̥͙͍i͉͍t̞͚̪ͅ ̡̺is.

Though marking is allowed, please note that this prompt will end 6 hours after post 6 is reached, regardless of if you have finished or even edited your mark.

Posts after the sixth are still allowed. Just do not edit them after the six hour mark.

username: lex
name: sterling, also known as “the prophet”
gender: male [dmab]

[Killawolf17]

username: killawolf17
name: Keen (Nickname Roku (aka 6 in Japanese))
gender: Male
what is bothering them?: he seems to have lost something very dear to him, something incredibly fragile. A small pendant which he normally keeps tucked away in his scarf. It would appear that he's scared for his life, as he seems like a bit of a skittish, scavenger type boy, but he's risking it all to find that pendant. For all he knows, I may be trying to steal it from him. He's very strong willed, refusing to move, regardless of what I do. That pendant means the world to him. He has to find it.

[SkywardtheDragon]

username: Skywardthedragon
name: Syalla
gender: Female
what is bothering them?:
She stays awake most nights now. There are too many dangers, too many silent killers that will tear her apart given the chance.
It’s a wild world, she understands. She passes through ruins of monumental structures, a rag being the only thing between her and the choking dust. Sometimes, she finds something useful, like a knife, or batteries for her worn-down flashlight. Sometimes, she finds Viscets choked to death by the all-encompassing ash. Most often, she finds nothing not broken down and cloaked in dirt.
She wishes she has someone to watch her back. Even an animal companion would be enough. But life is rare in this wasteland, good lives even rarer.
The dust stings her eyes, and she tears up. Yet, she presses on.

[WolfTales]

username: WolfTales
name: Kiyoshi- Means quiet (Kiyo)
gender: Male
what is bothering them?:

Kiyoshi was offered a deal, one that could change his life. He witnessed a gruesome scene, one he wasn't supposed to and now the assassin he witnessed offered him a position or death. The assassin is long gone now and Kiyo is left wondering if it was all a dream or something he has to face. To live in fear or to become strong?

[Prince Audric]

username: Prince Audric

name: Juke

gender: Male

what is bothering them?: The looks of disgust he gets from others due to his broken jaw, so he weres the mask to hide it from site so that he can peacefully leave the house. He is also allergic to pollen so the mask helps keep it off his nose.

[sobble]

username: junkratss
name: Sentinel
gender: male
what is bothering them?:

The ink. Dripping from the walls. Only a madman could see it - the threat of the oozing, slimy, dreadful sludge was too much to bear. Watching out symbols in the wall, on the floors, painting the ceilings in achemal patterns long forgotten by anyone but him. The ink teased him, beckoned him to cast a removal spell, to stop its coming. To save himself, among others.

But he could only watch in wretched horror as the ink dissolved in front of his eyes, here, gone, slowly creeping towards him in a blurred consciousness. He couldn’t always see it - no- only when it wanted to come out, only when it wanted to be seen, to further coerce him into a state of stricken disrepair. It had wound around his legs, his arms, up his neck, threatening to overtake him. So be it. Sentinel was gone in body and mind, an irretrievable relic left to rot. Nothing could be helped, he would be forced to stand ground while the black, rancid tar captured everything he held so dear. He had failed. The tar was his fault and his burden to bear, he whispered, as the sludge made itself visible to him again, this time drawing out eyes and taunting him in a foreign tongue - one he had never learned, he noted - but could understand as if he had been brought up by it. As if the voice were... his mothers.

No. They were long dead. Long gone - as most viscets were - and it was his doing. Had they come back for him? Had they finally come back to reap what he had sewn? Impossible. None of them had known such intricate symbols, such cryptic tongues, none of them had such a deeply sewn vengeance, nay, even an ounce of hostility in their late minds... so what then was this... this seething, vile creature so painstakingly rendering him helpless, constructing him so that he must watch his own mind fall to madness, his body to disrepair?

Nothing was answered, of course the ink would not have been so benevolent as to reveal their identity - or his fate. He was resigned to die here, teetering on the edge of sanity - perhaps even consciousness - as it whispered such driveling, static, nothingness to him. Sentinel could not pull himself together, could hardly notice the viscet in front of him - for what he knew, none remained. He was doomed to die alone, in this very room.
[419]

[FrostyEeveeKing]

username:FrostyEeveeKing
name:Kael
gender: male
what is bothering them?: After being abandoned, betrayed, and used, you would be wary of others too. His distrust runs deep, maybe too deep to be fixed. But he wasnt always so untrusting, he had a group of friend's, like family, who he trusted very much. They had been though everything together and always had each others backs, which is essential in a dying world. They've known each other since they were all kids, a rag tag group, now grown up and struggling to survive in a dust bowl. They kept each other sane, and safe, joking and having fun when they could, trying to chase away the fear and hungry. You think people like that will be there forever, that your group is so tight not even a dying society could ripe you apart. Aparently it can. One day, they abandoned him, used him as bait and left him for dead....but..why? He tried to follow, tried to figure out why, to this day he still doesnt understand why. He joined a couple other groups after that only to have the same thing repeated over and over again till he decided that no one can be trusted, and that he would have to look out for himself and only himself. A hard way of living in this world of hunger and dust. Until a certain someone finds him huddled underneath some building rubble taking shelter from a storm. He eyes you warily..

[Unleashed Squiid]

T͏̲h͚̬͍̤̥̰̱e̸̟ͅ ̠͙̹͓͚̤͖s̝͎͍̝̲̼i̬͕̻͎̼͡ͅx҉̟̬̰t͓̺͓̬ḩ ̡po̯̕s̡̗̲̝̪t̪͈̣̩̭͚̯ has been ̷̳̭̱m͕ad̨͓̙̖̝̙e̘͎̗̩

6 hours remaining.
edit: new forms are allowed. Just do not edit them after 4:00 pm est.

[Placebo]

Gorgeous kid <3 good luck to everyone trying out!

[tenlittlesoldierboys]

username: tenlittlesoldierboys
name: Sense
gender: male
what is bothering them?: The noise. The noise, it just won't stop. It does not matter where he goes, the noise is following him, always whispering into his ears. It makes him nervous, it makes him feel followed, it makes him jumpy. The noise never approaches, it never leaves. It is always there.
By night, when he is trying to sleep, it keeps him awake. It comes from under his bed, inside the cupboard and from the ceiling. It comes from within his very self, mocking him, while he is shivering on his matress, trying to close his eyes, but being unable to, because he keeps imagining the horrible creature making the noise.
By day, when he is going around, doing his business, the noise is always right beside him, right in front of him, right behind him. Below, above, left, right, inside. Everywhere. It mocks him when others approach him, try to talk to him and make him jump out of fear.
The noise gets louder whenever he is angry or concerned or scared. Whenever he is not at rest, the noise grows, as if it seems to enjoy his suffering.
The noise, beating like drums, sometimes he is sure, that he can even feel it. Perhaps it is a demon, that has possessed his body. Whatever it is, it haunts only him, as others are unable to hear it. The noise, the steady pumping.
"It's your own heartbeat." They say, looking at him as if he is mad. His heartbeat? They have no idea. After all, they cannot hear the noise.
But if the noise comes from within himself, perhaps, would it make sense just to rip it out?