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⛧ woods / leslie ⛧
about me
• it/its 〚 agender 〛ΘΔ
i am a multimedia artist. there are a great deal of interests that i am passionate about.if you know me, you have probably seen art or mentions of "angel", which is the umbrella title for a fictional universe. i co-write all of it with my dear friend killchips
this large floating diamond says that if you're reaching out to private/locked accounts of mine (i.e. twitter), then i will likely only accept a follow request if i know you well.
ANGEL contains depictions of violence, alcohol & drug-use, and several other dark themes.
The moth stood up with what little strength she had remaining. Staggering off the commanders now-limp body, she slowly made her way to the battery consoles. Dark olive-green blood flowed from several deep wounds in her right leg.Nearly collapsing on the desks, she held herself up on the console. Allowing herself to fall back onto the wheeled office chair, the moth continued her work typing in coordinates, and adjusting the skew of the laser barrel. Her hands were shaking badly, and her head was pounding. She knew she'd been nearing her limits for a while now.She flipped the auxiliary power panels, and the station began to fill the SMES power banks. The man she had stabbed six times in the stomach approximately four minutes ago weakly sputtered behind her."Y-you don't know.. how many-" he coughed, wheezing for air, "people y-you're about to kill..."She turned, stopping her work to respond to him. He was glaring at her with an intensity that may have matched her own, despite his incredible blood loss. His eyes reminded her of someone she knew a long time ago, though she couldn't place it. In fact, she couldn't remember much of anything right now.There was a great, burning hatred in her core, and she knew that it was driving her to fire the orbital cannon.The moth did not respond to the commander. She turned back around to the monitors.AUX CHARGE: 44.6%
STATUS: REDBy now, it was just a matter of waiting for the SMES banks to finish charging. The lack of activity to busy her mind and body began to catch up exponentially.Pain seeped back into her muscles and bones like water washing over her. The leg wounds felt like they were scorching hot, and her shoulders, chest, and neck were extremely sore. She attempted to straighten her posture for better breath control, though a cracked rib did not allow this. She glanced at the bleeding man again.He appeared to be dead, though his eyes remained open and fixed on her, just as intense and bright as they had been. She couldn't bring herself to stop looking at them, her mind bringing her elsewhere.