literature

CC Round One: Demons 1-0

Deviation Actions

Tamway-Doyle's avatar
By
Published:
311 Views

Literature Text

Scourge of Pripyat, Scene One Act Zero: Sleepless Night

The night was cold and slightly windy, filled with the yawning of dogs and the creaking sounds of the Pripyat amusement park's slow and steady rot. The tournament started tomorrow; for now, every dog was trying to catch their forty winks before the bloodbath began.

"Time to hit the hay, Soot!" a smallish, fluffy-white dog yapped to the cat on his head. "Tomorrow, it's time to start bi-winning!"

Not far away, the quick red fox snored on the back of the tired brown dog. Beyond them, a large grey dog with a deer-skull on his head murmured in his sleep: "Myne, Myne, Myne." A bizarrely-coated dog, golden on one side and black-and-red on the other, twitched and winced as he dreamed of blood and death.

Marx, just on the edge of the concrete lot where all the others slept, watched in agitation. He still felt like he - and Piba and Trinity, who were asleep just a pawstep or so away - was slightly removed from it all. The coincidence of this all just seemed too much to be real.

So, instead of trying to assimilate the situation, or even sleep, Marx contented himself with glaring at Beyra. He was close enough to her that he could tell that she noticed, and he could see her glaring right back. He wished he were on Beyra's other side, so that he could see the scar on her lip. The one wound that there had been time for.

"Damn cur," Marx muttered. He knew that Beyra couldn't hear him, but it felt right to insult her.

"Mmm, wha?" apparently Marx's quiet curse had woken Trinity. The crow was pulling her beak out of her wing, her eyes half-closed and bleary with tiredness. "Marx? what are you doing - eck, eck - awake?"

Marx looked back at Beyra, but the great brown dog had shut her eyes. He started to scan the other competitors, trying to guess which one he'd have to fight, trying how to figure out how he could win while killing no dog.

"I couldn't sleep, Trin," Marx said quietly. "Not here. Not with her around."

Trinity obviously knew who Marx was talking about. She stepped closer to him, moving slowly. He could hear her wheezing grow with each breath she took. "You need to sleep, though," Trinity told him in a rather maternal tone. "What will happen if your insomnia causes you to slip up in a fight? Loss of breeding rights, loss of the Tournament, or worse."

Marx sniffed disdainfully. "I don't care about breeding rights, Trin. Anyway, I'll be fine. I've had my share of sleepless nights and I always function."

Trinity narrowed her eyes at Marx, looking suddenly exasperated. "Marx, do you even care? Your life is on the line! You need to be at your best - what if you do die? I'm dying and Piba can't provide for herself. If you die now, it will be just like what happened to you."

Marx stared at her; it was as if she'd pecked him on the nose. "Where is all of this coming from?" he asked, glancing at Piba. Trinity's tirade had not woken the young corgi, but Piba's snoring had stopped. "You've never blatantly attacked me in conversation before!"

Trinity coughed a couple of times, covering her beak with her wing to contain the contagions. "Marx, I've been saying this since the day we met and it hasn't gone through: you need to focus on the present, not the past. You need to take care of yourself, which I suspect you only do because you have Piba and me around. And since the message hasn't exactly gotten through before I'm trying a different tactic."

"You have lousy timing," Marx muttered.

"You need to learn how to heal yourself," Trinity ignored Marx's remark. "Otherwise, you will die emotionally. If you can't do it for yourself, then at least do it for Piba and I. We need you to be at your best, Marx. You can't do that if you keep living in two moments: the death of your father and of your mother. Please, go to sleep."

Marx stared at the ground, ear-tips burning. He couldn't help but feel that Trinity was right, but what was Marx supposed to do? Forget his parents? Unlikely. Forgive Beyra? That was almost worse. He shook his head. Trinity was right about something else - Marx needed sleep. He curled up in the grass and closed his eyes, wrestling with the dilemmas in his head.

In moments, he was asleep.
I love stupid pointless prologues. <3

CAMEOS

Captain, Soot, and gratuitous use of the phrase bi-winning (c) to :iconrocketmeowth:
Mancs and Iridium (c) to :iconberkelis:
Conall and Myne (c) to :iconkaheaniehal:
Orthros (c) to :iconcaligon-boom:
Beyra and Chernobyl Curs OCT (c) to :iconshinkoryu14:
© 2011 - 2024 Tamway-Doyle
Comments11
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Songdogx's avatar
Cursing Beyra under your breath? Someone has some gall~