#staghorn

“you’re probably gonna haunt me too, huh. figures.” the sword is shaken, rain running down the blade before it’s withdrawn, claws replacing the cold steel as you kneel down. it’d be easier to separate the top half from the bottom half seeing how little remained connected at this point. hands slip in, reaching deep until you can feel something familiarly dense. pressing against the underside of the ribcage, you scoop above the main mass of organs with your other hand and pull back. the pressure pushes them out suddenly, slick sounds splashing against thin red puddles ringing out like an alarm. nearly up to your elbows now, gore-slicked, you reach deeper to claw and scratch at the nerves coating his spine. “you talked so much about dungeon diving.” dig. pick. “you wouldn’t have lasted a minute in there, bud.” feeling solid bone, dig a claw in like a spinal tap. “j’st like i told you. i can leave you there though. since you wanted to go there together so bad.” any more pressure and it’ll sever completely. “that’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

better late than never, i guess?

Parade Saddle, made with staghorn, limewood, rawhide, birchbark, metal, and paint, Central European, ca. 1400-20

Saw these thought they would be fun :D

There are so many new unfurling leaves, seedlings and spores.

It’s easy to love plants.

(More pictures from my plant cabinet).