Feb 5, 2022 13:38:24 GMT -6
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[attr="class","wassup1dangerhead"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangerbody"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangericon"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertxt"]
Winter was a cruel, obnoxious season. The world froze over, hoarfrost clinging to trees and snowflakes making a sea of cold powder across the ground. Throughout their history and presence, Cato despised the cruelty of the bitter season. Winter was a representation of hardships, the season being a marker for food struggles, cold and misfortune centuries ago. While nowadays individuals prepared themselves for those hardships with endless advancements, Cato failed to appreciate the season of white snow. Snow would provide moisture for the upcoming spring and summer, but their species made winter difficult.
[break][break]
The chilling temperatures resulted in Cato binding themselves in scarves and thick, long-sleeved shirts to avoid the devastating chill. An annoyed groan escaped the reaper’s lips as they shuffled through the deep snow. They were a puppet on the Assembly’s strings, forced to follow the trail wherever they wished them to be. Due to a pressing issue, the Assembly of Phantoms dragged them out of the safety of their home and into the headquarters. The Assembly desired assistance with medical matters, thus, as a trained and practiced physician who learned and expanded their knowledge, Cato was called in.
[break][break]
The fortress was in Cato’s sights and they picked up the pace, attempting to get inside as soon as possible. They stumbled through the door, grumbling as powder fell way onto the carpet. The stomping of their feet released the snow from their shoes before shaking out the jacket. Attending the headquarters was something Cato despised. Being surrounded by people who genuinely believed their ridiculous cause was tiring for the plague doctor. The ancient reaper was hastily ushered into the medical quarters by awaiting Assembly members; they always fretted about their loyalty.
[break][break]
The reaper kept their head down, avoiding any troubles from the surrounding Assembly members. As they moved down the hallways, the situation was explained. On this afternoon, Cato would play the role of assistance, probably to assure they would be supervised. They knew their loyalties failed to align with the Assembly, their position only maintained through threats and force. Once showed the room, Cato shuffled in, silent and eyes wandering around the room. Inside was a man with white hair, somebody they never once spoke to.
[break][break]
The reaper cleared their throat, attempting to loosen any gravelliness their voice regularly contained. Nothing could permanently free them from their questionable voice, but occasionally it eased the circumstance of their throat.
[break][break]
“Greetings,” their faded voice narrowly left their lips. “I was asked to assist you?”
[break][break]
Gradually, Cato moved closer to the man, eyes wandering about. They were uncertain how busy the Assembly of Phantoms were around this time, however, they were expected to oblige. A single step out of place, and they would lose the single remaining family left in this twisted world.
Winter was a cruel, obnoxious season. The world froze over, hoarfrost clinging to trees and snowflakes making a sea of cold powder across the ground. Throughout their history and presence, Cato despised the cruelty of the bitter season. Winter was a representation of hardships, the season being a marker for food struggles, cold and misfortune centuries ago. While nowadays individuals prepared themselves for those hardships with endless advancements, Cato failed to appreciate the season of white snow. Snow would provide moisture for the upcoming spring and summer, but their species made winter difficult.
[break][break]
The chilling temperatures resulted in Cato binding themselves in scarves and thick, long-sleeved shirts to avoid the devastating chill. An annoyed groan escaped the reaper’s lips as they shuffled through the deep snow. They were a puppet on the Assembly’s strings, forced to follow the trail wherever they wished them to be. Due to a pressing issue, the Assembly of Phantoms dragged them out of the safety of their home and into the headquarters. The Assembly desired assistance with medical matters, thus, as a trained and practiced physician who learned and expanded their knowledge, Cato was called in.
[break][break]
The fortress was in Cato’s sights and they picked up the pace, attempting to get inside as soon as possible. They stumbled through the door, grumbling as powder fell way onto the carpet. The stomping of their feet released the snow from their shoes before shaking out the jacket. Attending the headquarters was something Cato despised. Being surrounded by people who genuinely believed their ridiculous cause was tiring for the plague doctor. The ancient reaper was hastily ushered into the medical quarters by awaiting Assembly members; they always fretted about their loyalty.
[break][break]
The reaper kept their head down, avoiding any troubles from the surrounding Assembly members. As they moved down the hallways, the situation was explained. On this afternoon, Cato would play the role of assistance, probably to assure they would be supervised. They knew their loyalties failed to align with the Assembly, their position only maintained through threats and force. Once showed the room, Cato shuffled in, silent and eyes wandering around the room. Inside was a man with white hair, somebody they never once spoke to.
[break][break]
The reaper cleared their throat, attempting to loosen any gravelliness their voice regularly contained. Nothing could permanently free them from their questionable voice, but occasionally it eased the circumstance of their throat.
[break][break]
“Greetings,” their faded voice narrowly left their lips. “I was asked to assist you?”
[break][break]
Gradually, Cato moved closer to the man, eyes wandering about. They were uncertain how busy the Assembly of Phantoms were around this time, however, they were expected to oblige. A single step out of place, and they would lose the single remaining family left in this twisted world.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"]
463 words for @alaric
463 words for @alaric
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"]
notes.
notes.
[attr="class","wassup1dangercredits"]cyan of pixel perfect
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