All That {Jazz} [MUD!]

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[atrb=background,http://i304.photobucket.com/albums/nn179/hamjam647/hammer.jpg] The summer sun beat down upon Hexasol. The grass in Tempest Pack territory was dried and brown, shriveled and most dead from lack of water, and most canines were sheltering from the fierce heat. Hamish, in an effort to keep cool, lay in a corner of the Mental Asylum, his body stretched out over thee cool concrete floor. He was suffering more than many others, for his long black fur, so good at conserving heat in winter, was nothing but a burden in the hot months. He lay there, half dozing, half awake, listening to the lazy, murmured conversation of his Pack-mates as they too rested. His mind drifted to Simpatia; he'd seen her several times since their last encounter. She had checked his leg every time, and it was now more or less healed, meaning he could walk without the splint she had so skilfully attached to his broken limb. She was so earnest and kind; he'd met few other creatures like that, canine or otherwise, and he wished fervently that he had. Shifting so that he lay on his left side, the Scottish Terrier realised that he desperately wanted to speak to her, just to hear her voice. He had no idea why; she was a beautiful specimen of Scottie, it was true, but that was not why he longed to see her. Maybe, if she grew suspicious, he could use the excuse that his leg had been paining him and he thought he'd better see her again. Nae, he told himself firmly, no lying to th' lassie. She's a braw creature, an' lying tae her waed be a terrible crime, ye ken. Lyin' in itself is a crime. Stretching, he rose slowly to his paws, his jaws parting in a lazy yawn. His body was unmarred, as he had been one of the few canines who had stayed behind to guard the territory during the battle. He hadn't wanted to, but he suspected that it was because of his size that Brooke had made him stay here. Some of his Pack-mates would teas him about it, mostly good naturedly, and if it went too far for his liking, he would usually give a growl and stalk off. Some dogs just didn't know when to stop. Wondering where to search for Simpatia, he felt a moment's embarrassment. Around her, he felt like a clod, a barbarian; he was a fighter by nature and knew nothing of healing. He often wondered whether she had only helped him because she could and because she blamed herself for his broken leg, and if she did. that was fair enough. Sighing, he trotted over to the stairs and began climbing them; he surveyed the bodies below him through the banisters, and none of them looked remotely like Simpatia. Therefore, she must have gone to rest on her own in one of the upstairs rooms, or somewhere he didn't know about.

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[MudBug]

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/k32fxc.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Simpatia walked - no, she skipped along the long road to the Mental hospital at the heart of Tempest lands. Simpatia felt like she was only a few giggles from floating off into the clouds hanging in the bright blue abyss overhead. But then again, she felt sad. So very sad. It was a strange feel so happy and so sad at the same time. She decided to blame the weather. The weather was quite incredible today, she noticed. It felt ironic, such lovely weather during a time of such pain and suffering. The battles waged on at various places scattered across Hexasol. So much ground covered in blood, and yet the sun smiled down on the carnage. Perhaps it was for the sake of those left behind? The guards, like herself, left here to do nothing but sit, wait, and worry. IF the weather had been as gloom and doom as fate they may have been stricken with bone aching melancholy. Her light footsteps had brought her to the steps of the hospital and she took them one at a time, passing only a few other canines. Their faces looked grim, but still Simpatia couldn't bring herself to feel as completely distraught as it seemed she should. She decided it would be better to just leave herself be and not pay much attention to her own reason for being in a good mood during hard times. Best not let it show too much, however. It would look quite strange for her to be smiling like a child while others were out there shedding blood for her sake. She turned to her right and ducked into the first broken door down the corridor, finding an empty room waiting on the other side. There was only one window, adorned with bars and facing the late afternoon sun. The light beamed through the bars to make some interesting shadows all the opposite wall. Simpatia enjoyed the light trickery, it looked interesting and dreamlike. She welcomed the dreamy feel while reality was being so harsh. She stepped up to desk, just below the window, and braced herself to exert everything she could into one leap. Her legs released like tiny springs and she just barely caught the edge of the desk under her four paws. Landed safely on the wooden surface, she squinted her bright eyes to peer out of the window through the bars. The view was surprisingly nice, yet morbid. Her eyes cut a clear path over the back yard of the asylum to the Hexasol Cemetery. The tombstones look like a uniform collection of pebbles from this distance, but suddenly she was hit - like a tidal wave - with all of the sad feelings she'd managed to hide from these passed dark days. All of those graves, they were filled with passed souls of a species she hardly knew. It pained her to realize that graves much like those could soon litter Hexasol, but instead filled with the bodies of warriors of her own kind. Her packmates, her friends. Her thoughts drifted to Hammish - the black male scottie that had consumed more of her thoughts than she had planned recently - and she realized that in the future it could very well be her own family dying at the paws of felines. The thought disgusted her, but not as much as it pained her. Almost like a reflexive reaction, a low cooing howl came from her throat, like a moaning young girl. It carried in a cascading note until she choked up ever so slightly. The song, it wasn't really a song, but she felt she needed to sing it anyway. She was alone, and whoever heard would likely just think that she was weeping, they wouldn't be too far off the mark. She opened her muzzle to let another long howl float into the air, this time higher in pitch but still laced with the sadness of a lost lover, or a mother that outlived her child, or an abandoned friend, or a million other heartbreaks that fell fate to war by the thousands.

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[atrb=background,http://i304.photobucket.com/albums/nn179/hamjam647/hammer.jpg] Turning back to look straight ahead, Hamish trotted up the stairs, his little legs just able to step from one star to the next. Reaching the top, he paused for a moment, not exactly to catch his breath, mainly to take in his surroundings. (Heavens forbid that a Solider of the Bloody Paw would be anything less than fit!) He'd seldom been up here; although he'd climbed two trees in the last eight months, he wasn't overly fond of heights, but it couldn't be said that he feared them, either. Being as small as he was, he usually decided that heights weren't for him, as if he fell, he'd have a longer distance to fall than other, larger canines. And since he'd already had such a thing happen to him, twice over, he wasn't going to be anything less than a bit cautious. It was not in his nature to be so, but he was determined that he was not going to make the same mistake three times over. That would just be too humiliating for words. Flaring his nostrils, the Scottish Terrier detected a familiar scent among all the other, older canine smells. It was, without a doubt, Simpatia's. Not knowing why, his heart rate suddenly increased, and his nose felt dry. Why was he suddenly feeling so nervous? Mebbe Ah cuid go tae see her another day? After all. . . But he realized that there was nothing to stop him; why was he procrastinating? Shaking himself as if to shake the uncertainty away, he followed her scent down the corridor, his nails clicking on the concrete floor. It was a rather desolate place, this, he realized, perfect for the Tempest Pack. It definitely matched the current mood: most of the dogs were still licking their wounds, and in some cases, bemoaning the loss of a loved one or comrade. Hamish felt somewhat detached from it all; having not participated in the battle, he hadn't seen for himself how bloody and desperate the fight had been. Oh, he had heard recounts of it, some boastful and some more sorrowful than anything else, but none of those could compare to seeing it with his own eyes. A howling distracted the Scottie from his musings, and he pricked up his flopped-over ears curiously as he listened. It was a beautiful sound, lovely and sad, and in that moment he knew the battle for the tradgedy it was. What if it had been so important that everyone had been required to go? What if Simpatia had gone into battle at his side? He knew, without really thinking about it, that he'd try to protect her; he couldn't bear the image of her lying perfectly still, her charming eyes glazed over, her body stiff, her white fur stained with her own blood as she lay, unmoving. In that instant, he realized that it was her voice that he was hearing, the melancholy solo that drifted out across the Tempest lands. Locating the room that she was in almost immediately after that, he padded inside and stood there, watching her for a moment. She stood on a desk on the far side of the room, her back to him as she faced the window. In a voice that was almost a whisper, though he didn't know why he felt the need to be quiet, he sighed, "Lassie, tha' song ye're singin' is beautiful, an' et's fair breakit mah heart."

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[MudBug]

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/k32fxc.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Bombs exploding into plumes of earth and flesh, horses baying as the blood of their riders painted the white roses red, the cries of mothers and the moans of lovers. All these images that would consume your mind, should you be crying a song of war, your soul barred. Being a canine at war with other beasts, the images differed in subject matter, but not in emotion. Torn tendrils of fur met with bloody paws and red fangs instead, weighed on her mind and soul. Her song, her weeping, continued in a waterfall of changing tone and pitch. Her final noted drifted from her lips and fell on the ears like a snowflake, melting as it faded into the silence. A drop of sparkling liquid, pulled from the swirling pools of weeping wide eyes felled upon her cheek. She closed the pools, shutting out the blinding light of the world to rescue herself from the darkness she had given her heart up to in this past moment. Her foolish heart had sought to feel the pain, to know reality instead of blissful ignorance. Now it chided itself, beating - thrashing - in her chest, as if it sought to break free of her body and run away from what it had learned to feel. A faint whisper, a ghost perhaps, reached her ears. The voice was familiar in it's lilt, the face it brought to the surface of her thoughts brought the feeling of a smile, even though the smile was unwilling to be seen. Small paws padded a circle on the wooden surface to bring her white form around to face the whispering ghost. Still wet eyes fell on a handsome black canine of her own breed, standing in the doorway. Her heart and her mind fought for control. The heart wanted to drive her into the arms of comfort, while her mind sought to not let itself be dulled, and keep hold of thoughts of hardship and pain that consumed the present world. Not knowing which should have victory, and fearing the outcome of either one, she leaped from the desk to feel the cold tile floor under her paws. Just a small feeling of cold gave her mind more hold than her heart, bringing thoughts of reality's cold grasp. She looked up from her paws to Hamish once more, and the opposite effect occurred. Her heart leaped up to push her legs forward, toward the other scottie. A voice in her mind, telling her that her heart could not take much more of reality digging at her soul, got louder and louder as each step brought her closer to Hamish. A decision made, heart over mind, she shook out her coat. Feeling some of the weight of the sadness fly away, her tears scattering to the wind, she looked at her companion and let her smile be seen. "Broken hearts, broken minds. The world is shattering, Hamish. My song is merely an attempt at sowing myself together." Despite her decision, her mind still made her words painfully solemn.

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/10786co.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Darkness swirled around him like a cloak, showing it's solid form in stains of red scattered across his pelt. Open flesh and misplaced fur showed on his form, telling a tale of battle and loss. He felt none of it, however. Nothing but raw rage and indignation swelled in the chest of the large male canine. His constantly exposed pride had taken the largest blow, a wound that would not be healed with time. Only an act of great power could repair the whole that had been punched through his pride be feline claws. The feline claws refused to know their place. Waging war on the superior race, only to win small skirmishes and lose the war. His head nodded to the floor, boldly demonstrating his feelings of certainty in his prediction. The useless creatures, bringing their miniature selves to the battlefield. They attacked in hordes, like rodents. They leaped on backs and tore at ears, winning only with the power to overwhelm. He walked down a narrow corridor as he licked his wounded pride. A shrill cry of sadness landed on his ears, and annoyance whined in his mind. The very presence of another canine would make him wince. Why would a single soul stay behind from the great battles being waged? His sharp gaze flitted across the scene before him, landing on the dark coated, small form of a familiar annoyance. Two familiar annoyances, sharing a sweet moment of release, as far as Braker's assumptions could tell him. Loose lips pulled back into a savage snarl, silent in it's presence. The darkness that had surrounded his presence now crawled back into the mind of it's creator. Thoughts of pain and suffering, inflicted not endured, danced across his mind's eye. The fee for safety would be their heart's desires. The world was pain, and pain would not be eluded. He kept to the shadows, playing the scene of pain, as he imagined it, through his mind again and again, savoring every detail. Braker gleefully awaited his opportunity to be pain's right hand.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #90a98c; border: solid 2px #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px; width: 400px; padding: 0px;,true] - -MudBug vomits language; [div style="color: #ffffff; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1[br"]em 0.1em #6a6a6a; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px;]Simpatia is way too caring for her own good, Braker is so f**king creepy. Um yeah, Simpatia really could use a good giggle with her pal. Braker's waiting in the next room for a chance to try and rape her. I. love. this. thread.

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[atrb=background,http://i304.photobucket.com/albums/nn179/hamjam647/hammer.jpg] Hamish watched as Simpatia continued to sing for a moment. Then, obviously hearing his voice, she turned from the window to face him, a small white angel with a radiant smile and moist eyes. His paws tingled and his own bearded face formed a smile to mirror hers, his shining eyes just visible beneath his long, thick black eyebrows. A warm paw squeezed his heart, causing it to thud against his chest; his nose and paws felt suddenly hot. She was so beautiful that took his breath away, and yet so unattainable that it filled him with a terrible emptiness. She was older, more mature, far superior to him in each and every way, and for once, he found it easy to admit it to himself. She'd done that for him, as well as healing his leg, made it easier for him to see the truth and admit it, rather than remaining the proud, stubborn male that he had until recently been. She'd frayed the blindfold of hate and pride and thirst for vengeance that covered his vision, until finally he was able to see as he never had before. The Scottish terrier watched, spellbound, as the female's paws pushed her body off the desk. She landed smoothly on the cold tile floor; her expression was complicated, a riddle that he couldn't solve. His heart, though beating fast, still vaguely echoed the sadness of Simpatia's song; he thought suddenly of the lives lost in the war that constantly raged in Hexasol. The lives of canines who were someone's mother, daughter, father, son, brother, sister, or mate. The indescribaly pain that comes when all that is dear to the heart is ripped away with no warning, no time to say goodbye. He remembered, then, that day, that cruel, cruel day, on which he had lost his whole family. That was why he was here, in the Tempest Pack. To avenge his father and mother, brothers and sister. To destroy those creatures - felines - who took them from the earth, from him. He may have been only small, but he would do what it took, whatever the cost. Realizing that he had been staring into the distance while these thoughts filled his mind, the little male looked up to find Simpatia stepping towards him. Meeting her eyes as she stopped and shook her fur, as if to shake off the sadness that engulfed her like fog, he wagged his tail once. Her beautifully poetic lyrics belied her smile; they made Hamish want to comfort her, though he was not sure how to set about doing so. In the end, he decided that the best way of reassuring her was with words. His smile gentle, yet as serious as her voice, he told her in his gruff voice, “And ye will, lass, if you dae nae dwell on th’ sadness tae much. Daen’t let it drag ye down. Life must gae on, nae matter what whit happens.” His eyes hardened as he thought once again of his family, and how rage and grief had overtaken him for weeks. He’d been obsessed with revenge; to anyone it would see comical, really, a dog as small as he plotting to kill as many felines as he set eyes on. When the fire had left his body, only exhaustion and a terrible sadness had remained, and he had known that he couldn’t live as he had for those few weeks. Sighing heavily, he gazed at the other scottie once more, his eyes mild once more, all rage gone.

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[MudBug]

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/k32fxc.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Words were all but empty, not much other than face value to the generic line of comfort. Still, Simpatia smiled, and she did, genuinely feel a small release of pressure in her chest. Hamish's care was worth far more to her than whatever it was he had said, and she had to stop herself from gazing at him, lovingly for an awkward few seconds. Small white paws fidgeted slowly, willing the mind in control to give them a purpose, but finding none. Her eyes flitted about the space behind the handsome scottie before her. A dank hall with white walls, tile floors, and an overabundance of flickering florescent lightbulbs for the cherry on top of the creepy scene pie. Being in a place like this at a time like this was so ironic she laughed openly. A maniacal sound, even in her soft, elegant voice. Well, she could always explain the irony to Hamish later, or just let him think the trying times had driven her a wee bit mad. Details details. Her face grew grim, brow furrowed, as she begin to feel as insane as she sounded. The small space seemed to grow smaller - Since when have I minded small spaces? - and she felt the overwhelming need to go for a walk, again. Spontaneity would be fitting for a day like this, she thought. More irony, perhaps? She walked out to the hallway, not sure where she was headed, but feeling rushed to get there. Still, she had the presence of mind to ask Hamish along. "How about a walk, hm? This place is giving me the creeps, not that I'm not already creeped out by reality, but you know."

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #90a98c; border: solid 2px #ffffff; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px; width: 400px; padding: 0px;,true] - -MudBug vomits language; [div style="color: #ffffff; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1[br"]em 0.1em #6a6a6a; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px;] Here's the thing: We gotta separate the love birds long enough for Braker to go all medieval on Simpy. Come up with whatever you want. Hamish goes to take a dump, or something. Just need a few minutes without him around for Braker to...ahem...charge in. ;)

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[atrb=background,http://i304.photobucket.com/albums/nn179/hamjam647/hammer.jpg] Hamish felt his heart respond to Simpatia's smile, opening to her as a flower opens to the sun. He hoped his words helped her to feel better, but even as he hoped, he knew that was actions, not words, that made the difference in the world. No one had ever one a battle by speaking; too often words could be spoken, and not even be believed by the creature speaking them. He sighed quietly to himself, eyes on the concrete floor below them, before returning his gaze to the female. He'd come to the realization recently, (after spending a lot of time in the Mental Asylum due to his injury), that it was a rather dank, dark, and thoroughly depressing place. Especially so if one was alone. Following the white scottie's line of sight, the little male took in their surroundings. Yes, it was an utterly alien place, and yet it was home to the canine of the Tempest Pack. It was originally the territory of the humans, and the dogs had made it their own. But that did not make the place any more cheery. Simpatia's laugh was completely unexpected, and it was unlike her normal, tinkling, bell-like laugh. It was dry and almost hysterical, rather like this place, really; doubtless it was the result of a thought passing through her brain. He'd done that before, groaned or laughed or reacted in some way to a thought of his own. Even so, he cocked his head to one side, concerned for her. Maybe they should get out of the Asylum for a while, away from all the gloomy thoughts and musings that it seemed to bring to them. The black scottie was about to ask his companion when she trotted out into the hallway. He followed her unquestioningly, glad to get out of the confined space, a small smile on his lips as she spoke. "How about a walk, hm? This place is giving me the creeps, not that I'm not already creeped out by reality, but you know." Dipping his head to her in an oddly formal gesture, Hamish replied, "Och, tha's a braw suggestion, lassie. Ah ken juist wha' you mean. Thi' place is nae exactly a guid tae keep a dawggie's spirits up." Looking into her eyes, his smiled more widely, and lead the way down the corridor. Soon, however, his body began to tell him something that he'd rather not know of at this point in time. Still, he couldn't ignore it. Hastily he told Simpatia, "Mah apoligies, lassie, but ah have some business tae attend tae, if'n ye catch mah drift." He grinned ruefully at her and headed down the stairs. Picking his way back through the sleeping bodies of the other canines, he trotted outside and found a spot under a tree and began to circle it, ending by squatting, his face towards the Asylum so that no one could see what he was doing. Sometimes, a dog had to do what a dog had to do.

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[MudBug]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/10786co.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" The light click of small claws on the tile floor brought a smile to Braker's lips, as the sound meant his prey was walking right into his grasp. Still, the problem of unwanted protection was apparent. Surprisingly, Braker was not in the mood for a fight. No, he had gotten his fill of raw battle during his time with the felines. Easy pickens is what Braker was after in this moment. Something weak, helpless, easily broken, mentally and physically. The mental scene of how he would ravage Simpatia had played through his mind at least a dozen times over in the last five minutes. Short, sweet, to he point. In and out. Like a flashing nightmare, but he was certain the pain would last far longer than the deed. If he had to guess - or hope, he would imagine it would be a lifetime before the little white female was right with herself again. Meanwhile he would carry on his way, going about his usual business like all was right with his world, which it would be. Nothing wrong in a world where he's brutally raped his packmate. Of course, thoughts of consequences and others' revenge had briefly concerned him. He doubted the pack would care much. Besides, who would believe her? Why would a dog of his breed take advantage of such a runt? That leap of logic was more than enough to dismiss the case. As for revenge - likely to be taken by Hamish - he relished the thought. Let the pest come to him, blood boiling, and pick a fight to the death. It would be like Christmas for the sadistic Saint Bernard. Voices in the hallway brought his mind back from his dark fantasies. "Mah apoligies, lassie, but ah have some business tae attend tae, if'n ye catch mah drift," and just like that he was gone. As the small black canine slipped out of view, Braker let out a loud menacing chuckle. Simpatia's gaze shot up to meet his eyes. The eyes of her lover, she just didn't know it yet. As quickly as she could inhale, Simpatia was jerked into a room by her nape. Powerful jaws clenched the skin of her neck as she fought with every ounce of strength she could find. It felt so futile. Every kick only drained her more. Every twist of her body in an attempt to squirm free, only felt like it brought her closer to the fate she had only just realized. Of course, cries for help had never ceased since the moment she saw those menacing eyes burrowing into her soul. Her cries, however, were met with nothing but dead silence. In that moment, she couldn't fathom how the entire pack hadn't heard her. It didn't matter. He was far too tall for her to feel the weight, but still Simpatia felt the overwhelming presence of the Saint Bernard looming above her. Despite her struggling, he had her right where he needed her for his plans. Her body thrashed in every direction, but her mind payed no attention. Time passed in slow motion, as she counted the seconds before she knew the pain would begin. One... two... three...

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[atrb=background,http://i304.photobucket.com/albums/nn179/hamjam647/hammer.jpg] Hamish sighed in relief as he straightened up, kicking dirt over his excrement. He felt so much better now. Maybe that had been the reason he had been so nervous before. . . But no. As he thought about Simpatia once more, an invisible paw squeezed his heart and it beat faster. Ah better goo back before she thinks Ah’ve run awa’, or saethin’, he told himself. Trotting across the grass, his paws dragged, making him slower. He was so afraid of making himself look foolish in front of her. It was silly, he knew, because he already had revealed much of himself to her, and made a fool of himself in front of her, several times. Ah will goo and talk to her. Ah will tell her hoo Ah feel aboot her, he thought determinedly. Picking up the pace, he held his head proudly erect, and marched into the Asylum, through the throng of sleeping canines. He would tell her how she felt, without stammering and stuttering. If she rejected him, he would take it like a dog. The little male was so engrossed in these thoughts that he didn’t notice when his paw came down on the tail of a Great Dane named Shaun. The huge male, lying on his own, blinked drowsily and stood up, stretching. “Ah’m fair saerry, laddie,” Hamish apoligized in a hasty undertone, having noticed what he had done. His manufactured courage was fading fast now. “No harm done, Hamish,” the good-natured giant reassured him quietly. ‘Why are you in such a hurry? Can I come with you? I need a walk myself.” The Scottish terrier winced slightly, and whispered, “Tae be truthful, lad, Ah’d rather ye didnae. But if ye want tae, Ah cannae stop ye.” Turning, he trotted towards the stairs, reaching the bottom one and pulling his little body upwards, taking all the rest at a jump. Shaun followed slowly, padding quietly up the stairs behind him. Reaching the corridor where he had left Simpatia, the Scottie knew instantly that something was not right. Her scent hung in the air, still fresh, but mixed with that of none other than Braker. Forgetting all about the Great Dane behind him, he ran to where he could hear noise. Sure enough, the fresh scents of the Saint Bernard and the white Scottie greeted him. A moment was all it took to evaluate the situation, and what he saw caused his blood to boil in fury. Braker towered over Simpatia, in an unmistakable, chillingly familiar pose. With a growl of fury, he launched his small, square black body across the room. “Get awa’ from her, Braker, ye fiend!” There was not time for any more words before he grabbed his enemy’s fluffy tail and bit down on it, hard. He wasn’t going to let go any time soon. Shaun, forgotten by Hamish, trotted into the room and stood before the tableau, rumbling threateningly. “Let go of her, Braker, or there will be trouble.”

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[MudBug]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/10786co.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Read Simpatia's mind! Vengeance was so close, he could taste it. His body was ready. He felt the warmth coming from the small female beneath him, felt her shakes of fear pulse into his own limbs as he held her, like a fusion of their beings; he held control. Still, it wasn't meant to last. What felt like a quarter of a second to Braker, he had his way. He moved inside her. The feeling, so unpleasant. Pain; immeasurable. The seconds - were they seconds? - didn't tick. Time stood still, or maybe it rushed past her consciousness. She couldn't think, couldn't feel, except for the pain. Everything was pain, and then voices... Braker pulled from the female, but not quite fast enough. The black Scottie's teeth sank into Braker's tail flesh, greedily. With a rawr of indignation, he spun in circles. Quite literally, chasing his tail. Three full, powerful turns of his body eventually sent Hamish soaring through the air. His teeth lost purchase, tearing tufts of fur from Braker's tail. The momentum threw his small black body into the nearest wall with a forceful thud. Before he could unleash his horrors on the Scottie, however, it seemed there was a large stranger in their midst. The pain, it pulled away. She still hurt, but the numbness was near. Her legs turned to gel. She slumped to the ground. Weakness, it was all she knew. Her mind could not remember what it felt like to be whole anymore. Her senses faded. Sweet unconsciousness just barely eluded her. Oh, how she wished it to take her away. It wouldn't come, though. She heard growls, curses, and threats. A thud came last, and a haunting large shadow replaced itself. The fear, it awakened with a start, and she lost control. Thrashing, screaming, flailing in whatever direction would take her away from the brown and white demon before her. Then, unconsciousness finally came to wrap her in it's cold arms... "You best mind your own business, giant. Hamish here thinks this female is his own concern, I'm simply teaching him to look out for himself, and himself alone." A smile hung on Braker's jowls, but still it dripped with condescension, and disdain. He held the Dane's gaze, steadfast, almost daring him to take this matter into his own paws.

[style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; color: #EDEDED; background-color: #515151; border: 1px solid #06080d; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px;][style=text-align: center; font-size: 23px; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia; color: #EDEDED; border-bottom: 1px dashed #e1e1e1;]MudBug vomits language!

So.. yeah... he actually did manage to rape her. But, just a little bit? -horrible person-
She'll recover, eventually.....[/style][/style]

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[atrb=background,http://i304.photobucket.com/albums/nn179/hamjam647/hammer.jpg] Hamish held on tight to Braker's tail as he was swung around like a child on a roller-coaster. But, unlike most real roller-coasters, it went out of control; after he had performed three circles in the air, his teeth, aching with the strain of holding his whole body anchored to the appendage of the other male, slipped. Spitting white and red-brown hair, he sped through the air, only to hit a hard, concrete wall side on. Dizzy and with his who body aching from hitting the wall so hard, he lay there for a moment. When he remembered Braker and what he could be about to do to him, or wore, what he had already done to Simpatia, he struggled to his paws. The Scottish terrier had forgotten about Shaun, however. A growl left his mouth as he took in the scene: the gigantic Great Dane, bigger, even, than Braker, facing the other large male quite calmly; Simpatia, lying motionless where Braker had left her. Angry words bubbled to his lips in response to what the Saint Bernard said to Shaun. "All yer teachin' me, Braker, is hoo right Ah was tae nae trust ye, when Ah first joined Tempest. Ye lyin' scumbag!" Instead of walking over to Braker and going face to face with him as he spoke, he turned his back on the two giants and trotted over to Simpatia, his face filled with worry and guilt. Had Braker really raped her? That was what it had looked like. He would never forgive "Simpatia?" He whispered close to her ear, nosing her face gently. "Lass, are ye alright? Ah'm sae sorry, Ah ne'er would ha' left ye alone if Ah'd kenned tha' Braker wis aboot." Meanwhile, Shaun faced Braker, his eyes calm as he responded to the other male's brush-off. "I believe it is for me to decide what is my business or not. Leave Simpatia alone, please, or I'll have to report you to the Mistress. I don't think she'd take very kindly to this, do you?" His tone was mild, with a hint of rebuke in it. "If you need to teach Hamish a lesson, why do you need to involve her?" He indicated Simpatia by pointing his nose. Then his gaze returned to Braker, boring into the Saint Bernard with its intensity.

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[MudBug]

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/k32fxc.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Come on skinny love, just last the year. Pour a little salt we were never here. And I told you to be patient, and I told you to be fine, and I told you to be balanced, and I told you to be kind. . . . Now all you're love is wasted, then who the hell was I? Brown eyes opened to blackness, but not darkness. The blackness was moving, shining, speaking. Hamish's voice sounded so frantic, so worried. "He should be," she thought. No, she didn't think it. Her thoughts were no longer hers alone. A new voice, a bitter, cold, pained voice had sprung up, birthed from tragedy. It argued with her now, kept her from getting up and fleeing to Hamish's embrace. But he cares about me! He didn't hurt me, Braker did, and this time the thought was her own, aimed at the angry voice inside. Unfortunately, it never seemed to be at a loss for words. "And who let him, Simpatia? Who left you? Hamish left you, alone. He found you crying in a room, and then left you there. Braker is nothing but a brute, we can't expect him to know any better than to take opportunity; the opportunity left open to him by our black coated friend." Her eyes still searched his face for something to save her, pull her out of her silent insanity. Nothing could do it. She heard his words, and yet she was deaf. She felt no longer felt pain, she no longer felt anything. The emotions were a cauldron bubbling inside, and still she lacked the care to feel them. Anger, sadness, bitterness, loss, fear - it all tossed around in her heart, right on the surface, and yet, no feeling hand went out to touch it.

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/10786co.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Everything was crumbling. His plans were failing, again! Simpatia was with Hamish, he was backed into a corner by a damned giant, and the giant was dribbling on about reason like come kind of professor, or life coach. Insanity is a volatile substance . . . Claws, teeth in their wake, sprung forward to meat the meat of muscle. Braker's weight barreled into the Dane. What he wouldn't have given to weigh a thousand pounds, just for a second. He would give everything to crush the life out of that canine simply by sitting on him. Still, the job would get done. Braker's claws met Shaun's shoulder, to which Shaun replied with an instinctive chomp to his right, which Braker had been ready for. Blood soon pooled at Braker's feet, as Shaun's life blood drained from the gaping wound Braker's jaws had left in his neck. Braker wheeled on the Scotties yet again, and now having quenched his blood lust ever so slightly, happily remembered that he had succeeded this fine afternoon - Simpatia's empty gaze was fine proof of it. Without a word, Braker just slipped away, like a ghost - no, a demon. He would be back, of course, and he was certain that Hamish would be waiting. That was the beauty of it: the waiting. How mad with worry would Hamish be driven? Braker could only imagine.

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[atrb=background,http://i40.tinypic.com/sbmv6x.png,true] After what seemed like an age, Simpatia opened her eyes. Relief allowed Hamish to breath again; she was alright! He'd never heard of rape killing a female, but Braker was so much bigger than her, and. . . He didn't want to think about it. It didn't bear thinking about. Gazing down into her eyes, he saw that they were emotionless, almost cold. His whole body tensed as he remembered something else about rape. Some females were said to go mad with the trauma of what had happened to them. What if that had happened to Simpatia? The little male's breath caught in his throat, and he spoke to her again, "Simpatia, please, speak tae me, lass. Are ye alright? Say saethin', anathin'!" Behind him, something terrible was happening. He could hear snarls that belonged to Braker and Shaun, the Great Dane. He heard a gasp that was Shaun's, and turned to see the Saint Bernard blocking his view of Shaun or anything else. Standing protectively in front of the female Scottie, he barred his teeth at his foe. If Braker was going to attack him or Simpatia, he was ready. But instead of this, the huge monster glanced at Simpatia for a moment, then turned and left without a word. He left behind a mortally injured Shaun. The Dane sat where he had fallen, and Hamish could see that he resisted collapsing on the ground -at a great price to his strength. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Hamish. Look after her. She'll be alright with time and care. I don't need to tell you to watch for Braker - if he's willing to kill me, who knows what lengths he'll go to in order to destroy you or those close to you. . ." Shaun's eyes closed abruptly, his words trailing off as the breath left his lungs forever. The Scottish Terrier, with sadness, guilt and hate threatening to overwhelm him, turned back to Simpatia. Why he felt so much on her behalf alone was a mystery to him - they'd never really been more than acquaintances - or tentative friends. But he knew that it was partially his fault that this had happened. If Braker hated him as much as he seemed to, then anyone who Hamish formed an attachment to would be in danger. Yet, he couldn't leave Simpatia alone, in case Braker did decide to go for her anyway. He'd learned plenty of things from all of this, but one of them was foremost in his mind: the Saint Bernard was completely and utterly insane. Nosing the white female gently for a second time, he told her gently, "Lass, we should get oot o' here an' get ye saewhere safe." Then, his voice cracking, he added, "Ah'm sorry thi' happened tae ye; et ne'er should have. If ye hate me, Ah ken why. Juist let me help ye." OOC;; I apologise for the lateness of this reply. Starting school is always a bit hectic!

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[MudBug]

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/k32fxc.jpg] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" What if this storm ends.. ..and I don't see you.. ..as you are now.. ..ever again? A perfect halo.. ..of gold hair and lightning.. ..lit you up against.. ..the planets' last dance. So this is how you lose your mind, Simpatia thought to herself as she gazed into Hamish's eyes without seeing him. Her face frozen with a look of sadness and confusion, but why would she be confused? Was it because her very being had seemingly been split in two - one voice shouting with indignation, for justice and revenge, the other voice simply sobbing with loss and despair, seeking someone to hold it? That must be the reason, but which voice would she beckon two? She had become a trinity of trauma, but Simpatia was no leader. How could she be expected to make the right decision in her state? She willed her eyes to focus on the black male in front of her, pleading at her, though she hadn't heard a word he said. He called her back to him, but would she go? Why should she go to him? What was he, what could he be? She looked at him, still deaf but no longer blind, and thought of what name she could put to his features. Hamish, was the obvious, but what would his title be? Friend, Foe, Lover? The word "lover" screamed across her mind like a banshee, and suddenly all of the physical pain threatened to return, even without a real infliction. She would carry it with her forever, she thought. Like a bullet to the heart, even when it's over, you can never forget how it feels when the flesh is being torn from your chest. No. She would never forget being torn. Never. "Non è colpa tua..." she said, almost as a whisper. She new she had to come back to the world, but she wasn't sure how to start. On instinct she began to comfort Hamish. Even a deaf man would know the emptiness in her words. "It's not ... your fault," she said again, forcing the meaning till she believed it. She brought her head up, her gaze reaching his eyes - falling to the floor again almost instantly. It wasn't his fault, no, it wasn't. She wouldn't let herself believe that. It would only do her more harm. More pain. Still, he couldn't be her ... special someone. No one could. No one would ever want to. She was ruined, done, her life ripped from her body by a disgusting beast who it pained her to share a species with. Focus, girl! Who is Hamish? What shall he be? What could he be to her? How far into her heart could she let anyone reach? Not far, that was certain. He could be - she stole another flash of his pleading eyes - caretaker. She could surely let him have that much, right? Was that what he wanted? He couldn't possibly want more, not after tonight. Maybe, long ago, in a long lost life could they have been something more, but that life is gone, taken. No more.

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[atrb=background,http://i40.tinypic.com/sbmv6x.png,true] Either Simpatia had not heard Hamish, or her mind was somewhere else. Suddenly exhausted from the stress of the last ten minutes, he sat down in front of her, heaving a deep sigh. Any other creature in his position would have walked away by now - there wasn't anything he could do for her if she didn't respond to his words and nudges. Glancing out the window, he saw that the sun had almost started to set. Deciding that the best thing to do if the white Scottie couldn't move from the room was to spend the night in it, making sure that no-one set paw inside the doorway. The black male wasn't going to leave her now, not when she was in such a fragile state. Recalling how tenderly, or at the very least how carefully she had cared for him when he had broken his leg, he vowed silently, Ah willnae leave her oontil she has caepletely recoove'ed. Hamish brought his gaze back to rest on Simpatia's face, his own eyes reflecting in hers as she looked up at him. Was he protecting her for her own sake, or for his, so that he would not be cut by something happening to her? His consciousness was pulled, quite suddenly, to that day when they had first met; his first thought had been that she looked like an angel, white and pure and perfect, the sunlight causing her flowing, wavy fur to glow at the edges. Then he had made the biggest mistake of his life and spoke to her first time, without out thinking, saying the first thing that came to his mind - which she had taken for an insult. How far they'd both come from that first encounter! Still, he didn't know where he stood with her. The Scottish terrier blinked, startled at the break in the silence that had started to set set like concrete, when Simpatia spoke. Her voice was as her eyes had been until a minute ago - flat, emotionless. She spoke in Italian, so he could not understand her; he was about to say something when she spoke again, and this time he understood her. Her eyes met his for a moment before darting back to direct their gaze at the floor, as if she was too scared to see his reaction. Relief filled Hamish in the moment after she spoke; she was alright! Just how alright he didn't know, though, he reminded himself. "Thank you," he murmured, the burden in his heart lifting a fraction. Some of the fault did lie with him, but he wasn't going to be the martyr and protest against her words - that certainly wouldn't help her recover - although, maybe an argument was what she needed to, well, wake up properly. Then again, he didn't want to risk pushing her away, so he said nothing more. Pain causing his eyes to narrow slightly, he met her eyes for a moment and wondered if that was all he could ever hope to be to her - someone who didn't make her angry because he was too scared of losing even that tiny shred of contact. Suddenly it occurred to him to ask her a question that she might not want to answer. "Simpatia. . . You don't hate me, do you?" His voice was almost a whine as he spoke, glancing at her again, his eyes filled with the devastation with one who prepares to have all his hopes of survival destroyed as one dashes a glass bottle against a brick wall.

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