|
Post by Starrlight on Nov 24, 2009 19:35:01 GMT -5
Dante watched. No, he did not watch. He observed. The two terms, so often confused, were infinitely different. The watcher is idle, his mind aware, but not active. The observer, on the other hand, assesses, cataloguing and storing information for future use. His eyes flicked from Mach to Tehya to Taboo almost unconsciously, taking in strengths, weaknesses, and tactics almost as a mentor follows a new student. It was how he was raised, and barely took thought. In fact, he would oftentimes find himself doing it without his own consent, some instinct making his mind jump straight to observation mode.
Taboo. New, the truly unknown in this equation. Her paws were fleet, her agility quite impressive, but from the fall that she took, it appeared as though she were thrown off by multiple obstacles. Mach. Again, fast and able, strong too, but against a skilled, larger bru, he could be overcome. Tehya seemed the same as Machiavelli. These observations took a split second to form as he watched the hunt progress, and the soldier in him filed them away for future use. No, he did not expect to ever need to, but family did not always do what one expected of them, and it was never a crime to be ready. He did not know these wolves enough, however, to complete the picture, and he could be mistaken. All he could do was gather the pieces of the puzzle.
Observation once more transferred to simple watching, however, as the smell of blood rent the air, and the final move was played by Tehya. As their Queen lifted her bloodied jaws, Dante felt a fierce surge, and he growled with pleasure. Food meant life, and right now, nothing sounded sweeter than taking his part. However, first his gaze turned unobtrusively towards Taboo, who appeared to be having some difficulty. Slowly, he walked towards the deer, not wanting to approach, knowing that to some wolves, pride was everything. Because of her new position in the pack, she certaintly would be more avidly protective of her weaknesses, and would not welcome aid. Surely enough, it was only a moment before she was on her feet, newfound strength coming from the prospect of a meal. Satisfied, Dante narrowed his eyes, letting the thrill of the bloodlust fall over him. Leaping forward, he tore into the deer, the flavor of the warm meat bursting upon his tongue and causing him only to become more ravenous. The tender deer was no match for his powerful jaws, and he fed until he was fully sated. He had been so intent on the meal that he had to force himself from the state of violence, the fury which came over him, bred by the demons who had raised him as a killer. It was always a chore to hold back, and once fully released, it was even harder to repress. Now, however, his eyes cleared, and he licked the blood from his maw, unconcerned. The ways of the wild wolf were savage, and none could profess that they were in control when the feeding was upon them.
Looking for Tehya, she saw the fem returning with roots for Mach and Taboo. Padding forward, he shook his thick pelt out, removing most of the dust and grit that had settled there during the hunt. Mach and Tehya had moved a bit away, speaking about whatever situations needed thought, and Dante actually felt the silence for once. Not much, but it was there, somewhat uncomfortable. Something needed said. He had yet to greet Taboo as a packmate, and he truly did wish to get to know the fem better.
"I saw the move you pulled on the deer. It was impressive." He smiled, looking at her. "I'm..." He trailed off, an unknown scent wafting on the breeze. Thought train shutting down, he went immediately into protective mode, turning his now intense stare on Dhani. Alert, but not agressively so, he shifted ever so slightly. Only Taboo may have been close enough to see the slight tensing of his muscles, the rigidness of his bearing underneath the guise of neutrality. Perhaps he was taking his job too seriously, but anything could happen, and there was nothing proving this bru was who he now professed to be.
Mach did not seem worried, however, and his packmate's response to the newcomer put Dante a bit more at ease. It was obvious that he somehow recognized Dhani, and that he was indeed from Cthonios. Very well. Still, he remained aware, readying himself as well as possible for anything that might arise. Focusing on Dhani, he read him. His cold, silver gaze often had an unnerving fact, but it did not bother Dante any that he made others uncomfortable. It was an imperfect art, but he could find no trace of insincerity or malice about the young bru. Rather, there was an urgency in the fire hessian that seemed at odds with his tranquil voice and mannerisms.
"I....... think perhaps we should listen." It was quietly stated, and his eyes never left Dhani's, but he was sure that Tehya would hear. He was not qualified to make such advising statements, but he figured that Tehya would not mind the input... not this once, at least.
|
|
|
Post by Asphyxia on Dec 1, 2009 1:29:08 GMT -5
“Hold her tight! We mustn’t let her escape!”
Shifting her bright spheres from one male to the other, the six month old pups ears pressed back against her skull, a frown darkening her features, pulling her pretty lips into a frown. Brows furrowed together in frustration at the two males. Their teasing game was no fun to Tehya and she was not the female that liked to play damsel in distress or to be easily taken down. Mikolaus grinned down at her, his dark features handsome, even for such a young pup. His plume was held high, his pads shoved into her chest. One of his ears surreptitiously flopped over, giving him a very childish, trouble-maker look. His muzzle tipped down to gaze at her, his grin lop-sided and heavy with excitement at their game.
Jacome was the one making the commands. Ordering Mikolaus about, playing a game of King and Pack. It was a game often played by the young males of Koel Herfst. As Jacome was the rightful heir to their fathers throne, he was quick to admonish the game and play the leader. Jacome had rightly knighted his brother, Mikolaus and their sister was a traitor in their game. This traitor was to be captured and punished. And captured her they had, from behind and without her knowledge of the game until they began playing it. Now, however, the young female was not in the mood for such a game. “Release me, knave!” She bit through clenched canines, her acoustics tilting forward as she glared upon Jacome. He shook his head, nose held high. Glancing at Mikolaus, Tehya requested, “Mikolaus.. I do not wish to play this game..”
To her astonishment, for once, he did not heed her disagreement. He did not even think twice on it. Instead, he chuckled. “Awe, shucks, sis. That would be no fun!” The whelps spheres narrowed upon the brother that towered over her. He was much larger, even for a six month old pup and he had no intention of letting her go. “Then fight me like a real knight, Miko!” Her challenge caught him off guard, causing his grin to disappear quickly. His worried glance shifted to Jacome. “She is a lady! Ladies do not fight men!” Jacome began bantering off about women and how they were supposed to remain home, tending whelps and hunting for their hungry warriors when their men returned home. Lips curled back to show her frustrated canines. Shifting her weight beneath Mikolaus, her hind-legs shot up, kicking him in the gut and shoving him off of her. Leaping up, her tiny jaws snapped at him before she lunged for Jacome.
Lazy, contented look stretched across Tehya’s features. Her eyes were growing heavy-lidded as she stretched out her front legs, giving a very cat-like stretch of the limbs, before she pulled them back toward her on the wet ground. Her spheres were closed very briefly before her acoustics automatically tilted in the direction of Machiavelli, listening to his words. Giving a very light nod of her crown, Tehya agreed. “While I wholeheartedly agree, Machiavelli, with a full belly and a tired body, I too feel that I can’t bring myself to move as of yet. Mayhap in a moment.” A yawn pulled the Queen’s jaws apart, her spheres squeezing shut at the gesture of exhaustion. Snapping her jaws closed neatly, her gaze lifted to observe about the surrounding land, her weight shifting to get her more comfortable. She would be muddy when she stood, but the cool ground on a tired, sore body felt good to her. Letting her gaze be dragged back to Machiavelli at his next words, Tehya lazily listened to him speak, before nodding her skull gingerly. “Aye, I did. I thought you could not yet bring yourself to move, my friend.” An amused smile tipped her maw, her head tilting slightly in his direction.
Tehya began to think upon Machiavelli’s words, ever-aware of Taboo strolling toward her to lay next to her. But the moment lasted very briefly as Tehya’s nostrils flared at the new scent coming upon the rain. Taboo and Machiavelli had both paused to gaze in the direction of whence a red wolf appeared. He was smaller than Tehya and appeared to be urgently wishing for their attentions. Slowly, she lifted herself from the ground, lips subconsciously curling at the bad timing of this male coming into the lands. However, it was Tehya’s sworn duty to allow others at least a trial, before she judged them and chased them off. His words were soft and he seemed quick to get them out so as not to be attacked by the strangers. Tehya’s spheres narrowed as she came up alongside Machiavelli, her shoulder brushing his. She was standing close to Taboo as well and Dante was soon next to them. The alpha, however, did not yet speak, but rather, left it silent for the other male to speak of his entering her lands. Though he lowered his muzzle slightly, she recognized quickly that him not lowering it any lower wasn’t so much out of disrespect than out of something she did not quite yet understand.
“You have found her counsel.” This was a situation in which Tehya suddenly felt uncomfortable. He came here, intending grave news and yet, he was a complete stranger who she had never known to enter her lands. Shifting her weight to keep it off her paw, she nodded her crown to allow him to continue his speech. Machiavelli was so close when he spoke, she could have swore she heard the way his breath left his lips. However, she thought more on his words. It took a moment for Tehya to catch her breath when she heard Dante speak, for he was a man of very few words. “I’m beginning to think we would be a fool as well.” Giving a slight nod of agreement to Machiavelli, she gazed upon the hungry-looking wolf. “You are free to feed, Dhani. We will speak on this in the shelter of the caves. I do, however, wish for my entire pack to be there. I hold no secrets from them.” Her mug lifted slightly, spheres searching for signs of what Dhani’s intentions were. She gave a gentle nudge to Machiavelli’s shoulder. “While I do feel we could be being fools to turn this man away, I also feel, however, that we could be being ignorant fools to bring him to the caves, when he is a complete stranger. I know nothing of monks, my dear friend. Clearly you do, so if you will please indulge me while he fills his stomach, it would be greatly appreciated.”
Tehya could easily feel Taboo’s tensity at newcomer and automatically leaned toward her, giving her a reassuring nudge as well. While she felt tense and on guard as well, she felt Taboo resonated a higher rated energy of such and wished to help relax her, if even a little. She did not, however, wish to stop any of them from being on guard with strangers. Did they too, feel that in someway, Machiavelli was familiar with the man, or at least with monks? While he seemed to falter at first, Machiavelli was extremely laid-back about the situation and seemed to be completely at ease. Brows furrowed slightly, pondering on exactly what the monk could be speaking off. Lifting her maw slightly, Tehya gazed upon the foreboding skies through the treetops. “We need to get moving.” As thunder clapped loud and wind shoved the trees, she added, “Now.” Giving a nod to the other wolves, she began to dig next to the deer. There was still too much carcass to take back with them and they would have to hide it if they planned on a later meal that didn’t involve a hunt. Especially with three injured. Forelegs stretched forward into her blossoming den, her talons extending as she gripped earth and shoved it back between her hind legs.
Taking the deer by an indecipherable body part, Tehya began taking lead to drag it to quick den she’d dug. With any luck, after it rained, the ground would solidify around the corpse, creating a tomb in which no other animals would be able to scent her. The body limply dropped into the earth and Tehya spun around to begin burying her with the dirt that was beginning to turn to mud at the base of the hole. Shoulders hunched as Tehya worked to bury the venison, her spheres quickly shifting to ensure her work was done before she gazed knowingly upon her pack members. The storm was on the brink of getting worse and if they didn’t find shelter, they’d be the ones dealing with her wrath. Nodding to Dhani, her lips curled as she spoke, “You’re welcome to join us and wait out the storm. In the meantime, I’ll ask that you remain patient before giving us this grave news you carry unless it is so urgent we cannot wait until we’re warm and safe within the dens.” Shifting her eyes to the others, her spheres flashed concern over the storm and how bad it would hit on their way there. “Taboo, Machiavelli, can you two run? If not, I will stay with you and give Dante directions to go on ahead with Dhani.”. [/size][/center][/color]
|
|
|
Post by Shadowed on Dec 14, 2009 3:12:04 GMT -5
Ooc May I have a brief update on what is happening in the pack so I may post accordingly within the next day or so? It would be muchly appreciated! =]
|
|
|
Post by Shadowed on Dec 16, 2009 22:21:52 GMT -5
What sort of trusting fools might I find here, I wonder?
A wraith-like figure stood at the border, his ghostly eyes taking in the scenery with care and thoughtfulness. He could smell the wolves, and he knew that several of them lived here, enough to be considered a pack. But he wondered with careful scrutiny what they were like; would they welcome him with open arms, or would he be under watch until judgement was passed? Depending upon their reaction to him, the phantom knew what course of action he would take; he could not pass up an opportunity to slaughter a bunch of naive pups, but if they proved intelligent enough to take caution of a someone like him, he would be impressed enough to take refuge with them, if they would have them, that is. But he could not enter their territory yet, not while there was light. His pelt was quite an eye-catching shade of gray, and he knew he could easily be picked out amongst the darkness of natural cover. But there was a scent that tinged the air that told him he needn't worry about being seen, and thus he waited.
By cover of cloud and darkness he came, his scent masked by the falling rain that drenched his pelt. He was a ghost with the way he floated along, undetectable. Though the assassin did not parcticularly welcome the precipitation, he knew it could be of use to him if he wished to remain concealed, and that he did. His coat dampened, he was a darker shade of gray, slipping in and out amongst the undergrowth, light on his paws and doing as little as possible to rustle the plants surrounding him. He would be invisible to the untrained eye, and his presence just an eerie, spine-chilling feeling that someone was watching you. They would not know he was here, not until he wanted them to know. He would observe them first, see what they were like, what they were up to. By the scent of blood that hung on the air, Demon already had one clue as to what the pack was doing; they were eating. He licked his lips, trying to think back to his last meal, but the memory was lost and he focused on the present.
When voices could be heard, the Phantom slowed his pace dramatically, creeping forward with expertise. Conscious of the debris underpaw, he stepped lightly, avoiding twigs and making well-chosen steps to prevent noise from arising. At last he could see them, and he strained forward to catch what was being said. He watched them moving, eating, already piecing together what type of wolves they were. A stranger was amongst them, and many were tense. His eyes were drawn to a wolfess draped in ebon coating, her eyes a most unusual lavender hue. She was not an unpleasant sight, but Demon was more interested in what she was doing, rather than how she looked at the moment. A sudden streak of lightning crossed the sky, silhouetting his form against the trees and brush, giving away his position for the briefest of moments. A short, low growl escaped him, but he did not break cover just yet. Her voice carried out above the storm, and with the decisive commands she let loose, he knew at once that she was the owner of this territory, and this pack's leader.
At last he moved forward, knowing now might be the only time he would get before the storm worsened to let himself be known and perhaps shelter with these wolves until the weather calmed. If they would let in one stranger, why not another? Although, a strong sense of importance radiated from the urgency in which everyone moved and spoke; there was something about this stranger that was of dire significance to the pack right now. He wondered what that could be about, for he had not arrived early enough to hear their conversations. Then he began to wonder if the pack was only welcoming the stranger because of his obvious need to be here. Shrugging, he decided that he would take whatever hand was dealt. He would go with them if they were open to that, and if not, then he would remain aloof and wait out the storm with whatever little cover he could find in the wilds.
A man of few words, Demon stalked toward the only Alpha he currently recognized, his eyes intent upon her visage as he drew nearer. Feeling frustration for the storm that brewed ever louder, he knew he would need to speak up to be heard, which was not a common thing coming from him. He was the silent type, and spoke with as few words and as little volume as possible to get his message across. But alas, he had to do what he had to do. "Miss, I wonder if I might also seek shelter with you," he stated calmly, saying nothing more and yielding no information about himself unless it was asked. It seemed, however, that the Alphaess was in a bit of a rush, and introductions were sure to come later when they were all out of the rain. That was, if she decided it was worth her time to drag another stranger along with her pack right into the heart of her lands - the dens. Ever patient in the game of waiting, the Phantom stood with ears erect and eyes direct, awaiting her response.
|
|
|
Post by Sighani on Dec 24, 2009 5:17:28 GMT -5
Dhani... The only reason we do not open our hearts and minds to others is that they trigger confusion in us that we do not feel brave enough or sane enough to tolerate. The eyes of the monk were black and empty, ciphers delving deep into the furthest reaches of nothingness, swallowing blessed light, smothering stray thought, betraying and revealing naught. Shadows stretched like shade-stained talons from that desolate stare to grasp at the brilliant phosphorescence of Taboo's lightning-laced orbs, clawing at the fleeting fangs of a storm, searching. The snarl upon the fatale's lips he ignored; it was of little consequence to the sunfired monk, he could sense it as easily as crackling electricity in the air, and it made his hackles sharpen to daggers as though it were. It was her eyes into which he fell.
Wat was it that made her react so rashly? What he saw, however, told him little: he gazed only into a shattered mirror, the jagged shards scattered so that he could make no sense of even his own reflection. Her mind was frayed and splintered, he could tell, for he was no stranger to such afflictions. Oftentimes wolves stricken with fragile or broken psyches, outcasts of society, found their way to the sheltering walls of the monestary, seeking a bastion from the world's cruelties and a place of enduring security. The monks never saught to reform those lost souls, but rather led them to the gates of enlightenment and offered the key. Shepherds and guides, but never tyrants. Only the violent did they turn away. Dhani's pools narrowing to glittering obsidian slits, he couldn't help but wonder if violence had blackened the heart of this monochrome maiden. He did not put his faith in such frivolity as demons and ghosts, but he did believe in the corruption of the spirit. What manner of iniquity had claimed this woman's will that she would so hastily brand a stranger with enmity? True evil did not exist in the form of external devils and damnation; it was found within, as integral a part to the souls of all those fortunate enough to possess minds capable of bleeding compassion and terrible malevolence as a heartbeat. Some simply resisted the call of darkness better than others. To which group did this female truly belong? He did not want to so quickly pass his judgement. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions in believing that Taboo was possessed of a much darker nature than her comrades. But Dhani's first instincts were not often wrong.
To the degree that we look clearly and compassionately upon ourselves, we feel confident and fearless about looking into and through the eyes of another. Any wolf could tell that Taboo was unnerved by the monk's presence and Dhani felt no shock when it was she who first broke eye contact, her attention flicking to a silver-eyed hessian of granite-forged stock. Dhani's maw dipped in a perfunctory bow as Machiavelli addressed him, and with such respect. A spectral smile cracked his lips. Perhaps he was not so many worlds away from home as he had assumed. Machiavelli had obviously spent time amongst venerability; the monks had not yet completely faded from the minds of the varg. Black orbs shifted then to the queen, crinkling gratefully at her offer to feed. "Thank you, Tehya," he said softly, crimson flame rippling down his spine as he stepped closer to the sovereign, the small monk feeling quite certain that they would not attack, at least not now. "You are most generous and I will gladly accept your invitation, but at a later hour. From sunrise to set of each day I maintain a fast that cannot be broken until moonrise. If your offer still stands as darkness falls, I will return and eat what I may. I only hope that what I have to tell you does not force you to rethink your generosity."
The serene smile faltered as graveness once again soured the air between the wolves. He was unaccustomed to urgency and felt himself recoil internally as Tehya's attention snapped from one wolf to the next, sharp and precise as knifepoint. He realized then that he had much to learn of the ways of society and pack structure, much more, he knew, than they had to learn of him. If he did not adapt, and quickly, he would surely be left behind. Torqueo Somnium was strong, tight-knit, and could not afford dead weight, no matter how enlightened. The farther one travels, the less one knows. He felt a whelp again. He carried vast knowledge and philosophical ponderings, but his obvious youth put him at a clear disadvantage to these wolves in terms of experience. But he was determined to catch up.
"Nothing is so urgent that it keeps the sun from setting," Dhani muttered in response to the queen, his voice still scratching with hot claws along the tattered silk of his throat. He did not remember the last time he had spoken so much, and so thoughtlessly, in one day. In one conversation, no less. It felt strange and alien, yet somehow liberating. A flicker of light amidst the fog. "The news I bear has lain in wait for a thousand years. I expect another hour or two won't do any harm." In the face of infinity, even everything was nothing. Compared to the fathomless reaches of the universe, even the most catastrophic messages were meaningless. Such thoughts calmed his mind, kept it from wandering too far. He doubted the others would prescribe to the same logic, but it at least offered to the monk the comfort of familiarity.
Pointed muzzle swung slowly towards the source of a new scent, keen ears straining to discern words from the growls of the storm. A stranger, following in Dhani's footsteps, but seeking shelter in place of open ears. Dhani couldn't help but guess at the extent of the queen's generosity. She was hesitant to invite Dhani to the caves. Would hesitance turn to outright refusal, her patience worn thin, or would she prove to be as equal-opportune and fair as her reputation claimed? Dhani's eyes slid carefully over Phantom's ethereal form, hardly able to distinguish him from the mist of the rain and the fog always present at the fringes of his vision. There was something about this new brute that seemed to make the fog writhe, thicken, creep out into his mind's eye in spectral tendrils. Blood draining from his face, the monk settled back on his haunches before he collapsed. He felt uneasy, threatened even, and it was such a new sensation that he almost felt detached from reality. He was thankful that he was such a nonentity in this pack that they would not note his behavior as out of character. Vertigo took hold and his world lurched sickeningly beneath his paws, but he struggled to keep his head above the encroaching fog. He would not let it take him, not here, not now. "The creator and all creation are One," he murmured under the hiss of the rain, the beginning of the mantra slipping from his lips before he realized he'd spoken, working to banish fear and anxiety, cutting through the fog. Indeed, it was the only thing that could, and within the words he found the strength to regain his feet and turn to meet the imploring Phantom's stare. Peace has no boundaries; serenity knows no religion When the eyes close, the mind shall see
|
|
|
Post by Sighani on Dec 26, 2009 7:00:15 GMT -5
Machiavelli Alighieri...No matter how many turns he took, all roads led back to his blighted past. His life was spent within the suffocating confines of a claustrophobic corridor, walls crumbling and stones decaying with each ragged breath the cruel world unleashed upon his only hope for sanctuary, a corridor lined with countless doors leading away from a monster that lurked and crawled through the rotting rafters, but each door, no matter how inviting, always seemed to open into a mirror image. Another day, another corridor. Different, because the problem was not indifference or inaction, as so many claimed, but rather choice, and somehow that made it all the same. Above all else, The Prince was a man of passionate action. Though he crawled shamefully beneath the black haze of his regret, he was consoled by the fact that he had, at least, put forth an effort when all others surely would have tucked their tails and surrendered. What good did it do him, however? He ran endlessly and crept through so many doors, all of them different, and yet he continued to confront the ghosts of his past, putrid corpses he thought he'd buried for good. It was not enough that they should haunt his dreams; now they sought to follow like a plague in his very footsteps.
This was all becoming very familiar very quickly. A new monarch in desperate need of companionship and guidance; a holy man descending from on high with words of prophecy and warning; illogical hostility locking fangs with blind acceptance and carving a deep, but unseen, rift between the skeptics and the bleeding hearts within the pack, clearly dividing but waiting until black days to truly damage. And now Machiavelli stood within the eye of the maelstrom, completely conscious of the madness whirling about him but wholly incapable of stopping the impending storm. No matter how far he ran, his vilest memories were like his shadows, always just a step behind and most striking when days seem brightest. He had hoped for a fresh start. But history, as all varg knew, was doomed to forever repeat itself. Machiavelli could not change that anymore than he could move the stars in the sky.
Choice and free will, he realized then, was an illusion carefully woven from dreamsmoke between those with power and those without. It was a belief, not a tangible thing a wolf could taste, touch, see. And what use was it really, when choice, in the end, changed nothing? Kill or be killed; no matter which a wolf chose, it could not stop the world from ending in a blaze of hellfire.
Presently, Machiavelli faced a decision, so hastily put forth by his midnight-robed queen. He could finally bend to her will and tell her of his winter stay in the mountain monastery all those years ago, or he could claim ignorance. For what did he truly know of monks? He was not one of them, he did not breathe sickly sweet opiate perfumes and then claim spiritual enlightenment, he knew nothing of meditation or how to unlock the powers of the mind's eye, he had never recited holy mantras or refused earthly goods in favor of purifying his soul. All he had learned of these men was from a purely objective point of view, just as with many aspects of his life. He was a scholar, a highly educated politician, and the vast majority of his life he had spent analyzing the world around him in his neverending quest for knowledge. He could not say whether the monks of the high holy mountains were good or evil or so outside the realms of ordinary comprehension that they did not fit at all on the spectrum of blacks and grays and whites. All he knew was that they had taught him more of the world than all his other teachers combined, and in just one winter. Wisdom of such a caliber was almost unheard of. And when Tehya implored him to speak of his experience, he felt unfit to explain a culture he had hardly begun to accept, let alone understand. He had a choice, a choice to speak or not, and while he knew no decision would ever save him from the inevitable end, he was not so jaded nor content that he would deny himself the path of least resistance. He was, after all, the alpha's adviser. He was her chosen voice of logic. He would not fail her there.
"I am familiar with these monks, my lady," he said at length, his initial excitement having dissipated somewhat. "I've no doubt that when I left my kingdom, it was Dhani's very order that had allowed me to take shelter in its monastery for the winter. That scent of mountain poppy is unmistakable and so unlike anything in this world. Quite an impressive plant. More than once I saw the monks use it to make pain and suffering disappear entirely. They safeguard countless similar secrets in those mountains, highness, things of which you and I can scarcely dream. Charged with the self-imposed task of collecting the history of the earth, they have developed a language expressed not through words, but through sacred runes and symbols. I would not believe such a language existed if I had not seen with my own eyes the scripts of the past hundred years carved into the faces of the mountains."
Wraithlike eyes passed with thinly-veiled intrigue over the flame-cloaked figure of the invading monk, searching among tresses of fire and ash for something he should have noticed upon first glance. But it had been so long since he had been among the monks that he had halfway forgotten what he was looking for in this lithe young man in the first place. Some kind of sign, some king of indication that Dhani was who he truly claimed to be, rather than some clever imposter. Orbs narrowing to silver flecks, Machiavelli stepped closer to the red wolf, spying a scar, thin and glistening like spidersilk, beneath the unfeeling void of the monk's starboard optic. No, not so much a scar as a brand, an intricate heiroglyph, deliberately carved into willing flesh, encasing the obsidian orb in pearl-laced whirls and jags. Machiavelli could not fight his smile this time. "See here, my queen?" he said, a little breathlessly, eager to present his sovereign with definite proof that what he said was not merely a concoction of a tortured tyrant's mind. "This scar about his eye . . . it is a rite of passage, a mark of honor amongst his order bestowed upon worthy subjects by an elder. I've witnessed the ritual; it's almost unreal to believe that none of these boys are granted the privilage of a name until he has proven his faith. Each marking is unique. This symbol, my queen, represents his name. If only I had lingered in those mountains long enough to study the language. Imagine what we could accomplish with such knowledge."
He had hardly begun to entertain such flights of fancy, however, when yet another stranger found his way into the welcoming emerald bossom of Torqueo Somnium. Silver eyes locked on the approaching brujo and the Prince stood unphased by Tehya's commands, his instinct to protect overwhelming him stronger than it had in years. He had greeted Taboo with an open mind and relative acceptance, believing the fatale to be of the best intentions despite the fact that she crept about as though harboring bloody, vengeful secrets; several times now, Machiavelli had even caught her staring at him with something less than respect, but he could not quite decipher the emotion nor did he care to do so. When confronted with this new male, it took all the monochrome hessian was worth to keep a warning snarl from wrinkling his maw. He was not strong enough this time to keep his hackles from spiking. Perhaps the day's tension had worn his patience thin, or perhaps he was merely slipping into habits too long repressed. In any case, he did not feel prepared to deal with another newcomer, especially on such short notice.
Ears strained forward, tail scythed, Machiavelli raised his head in an obvious display of dominance as Phantom addressed the queen. "Do you think this polite, stranger?" he forced out, biting back harsher words, his voice wavering as it tread the thin line between bold and aggressive. He could not help but notice how Dhani weakened in the presence of this stranger, driven to mantric outcry as he crumpled to the forest floor as though in a trance. The reaction was unpleasant and did not bode well. Tensions were already developing in the pack. It was something to keep in mind when deciding the fate of both males, but especially the cryptic man seeking shelter from the rain. "Perhaps you grew up far from civilized varg, but from whence I hail, it is unspeakably rude to wander into claimed territory and ask a queen to share her den just so you don't have to sit out in the rain. How inconvenient it must be for you, to be so wet." He said this with a bitter stab of spite and sarcasm, shaking the rain from his own sodden coat in mocking emphasis. He knew he was being unbelievably brash in the presence of the alphess, but what could she do to him, other than deliver him a halfhearted tongue-lashing? Perhaps he deserved beratement. But he would not apologize for speaking thus to the stranger. A first impression was important, especially in these situations where inviting a stranger into the heart of the territory could spell disaster. "Speak your name, sir, and do not tarry. We are quite busy. Consider yourself fortunate you've found an audience at all." Is it better to be loved or feared?
|
|
Taboo
New Member
Posts: 46
|
Post by Taboo on Dec 27, 2009 1:38:38 GMT -5
Electric surges through her body created a shock. The quiet whispers of the forest expanded, the volume increased as adrenaline streamed through her internal network. A voice snared her from the nebulous fog beginning to descend. Taboo skirted her gaze to the spectral Dante. His praise, she knew instinctively, was rare and genuine. Blessed with a chameleon personality, gifted with the nature to adapt to society, the vixen receded from her aggressive approach to a reticent, sheathed weapon. Instead of voicing her thanks, a tender mystery of a smile graced her lips. The venus trap opening again after months of slumber. Dante would be the first to witness an innocent, yet terrible beauty. His only sentence distracted her enough for her to withdraw her inflamed temperment to relapse into objectivity. Her fiery lens latched onto Dhani once more, but her initial wrath smothered into hot coals; in control, but still carrying enough spark to reignite. Her quiet outburst drew many stares, cajoling Taboo into a meeker state, her emotions veiled by hasty stoicism. Tehya's gesture allowed the blazing hackles to return to a smooth sheen. Once she caught Dhani's attention again, the wolfess lowered her head into a quick nod, a minute apology for her prejudiced behavior. Yet even as she relented humility, her memories burned. The snake winding upon the meatier part of her left limb, the mound of lavender-pink flesh stung like the day it was created. Dhani's face transfigured into a whirl of persons: her mother, her father, the Arch Cardinal. He came from a religious paradise, and every aspect he revealed of it reminded her of the zealous hell she crawled from. The wound of her past was too fresh, and the pain of it created her to lash at the source of her remembrance. Even worse still, than the gripping claws of her past, he saw it. A beast lingered in Taboo that she kept under lock and key, yet its vampiric power grew from her bitterness, and turned it into hate. Taboo was not evil. But she was broken, fragile, and the only thing she knew that might sustain her was what she feared most. And from Dhani's intuitive touch, no, pierce, he glimpsed at her hidden regret. At least..he is only a messenger. He will be gone on the morrow. He will be gone. She felt naked. First her physical power stripped away from her. Now he unraveled the only comfort she had. Her privacy, her secrecy, her precious mask, all gone. As long as Dhani left soon, could safety be possible again. Fortunately, the Alphess presented a most timely distraction. They needed to reach shelter again, before the storm continued an even greater tantrum. But even still, her mind did not stop twisting the monk's warning relentlessly in her head. It escaped her, she knew nothing of Torqeuo's history. Or the history of Requiem. Bewilderment intricately designed on her brow, the subtle traces of confusion framing her electrifying eyes. Shaking off the prickling sensation of ignorance, Taboo prepared herself to follow Tehya's command for safety. Once again she was reminded of her foolishness when a strong ache welled in her chest. But the leftover adrenaline captured the sound of approach along with the sickly feeling of being watched. Despite her injury, Taboo snapped around, not willing to reveal her back to a stranger.
Her brow appraised the gilded phantom, crowning her face in waiting expectance. The Queen would indeed be torn by the need to protect her pack and the demand of fulfilling her duties and tending to every prospect. The silent chastisment from Dhani's arrival taught her to refrain from departing too much emotion. She considered it lucky he wasn't a hostile that thrived off brash action. Immediately her focus pinned on the arrival, deeming it as a priority. Despite his lowly entrance, Taboo couldn't resist a feeling of arrogance and selfishness. A thought struck her, and immediately she hurriedly quelled a laugh. She tossed a look over at Dante before returning to the intruder. They both epitomized the living dead. Hunched shoulders and a stalking gait. However, his timing factored badly, if not devastatingly.
Even though Taboo sensed a future dislike for this hovering, nacreous ghost...the bold warrior would allow him at least one chance. But only one, for he did not illuminate trustworthiness. However, her thoughts kept themselves within inner circles as she pondered Tehya's decision. All the while, her body stayed keenly aware of the anger brewing above.
|
|
|
Post by Asphyxia on Dec 27, 2009 2:59:48 GMT -5
A storm dwelled well over the lands of Torqueo Somnium, lightning flashing, lighting up the forest the group of predators stood in. Blood ran in a mixture with mud before disappearing into the dark colors of the earth. Still, as it rained and the storm drew back it’s great beastly claws, ready to lash out, its jaws parted, ready to release a mighty roar, the Queen still felt calm. But the stress in the current situation was high, leaving her slightly irritable and her patience thin. Talons preyed forth, gripping the muddy earth beneath her paws. The land was easy to dig into, the rain splattering mud up against her legs, turning her black, luscious coat into stringy, dirty strands. As thunder boomed overhead and Tehya felt it reverberate in her chest, she closed her amethystine spheres briefly to enjoy the calm before the true storm. Thoughts danced in her mind as she saw brightness flash through her lids, telltale of the lightning that flashed outside of her mind.
“Ah’, my dear Machiavelli.” A smirk tipped the corner of one of the alpha’s lips, her acoustics tipping back and forth gently, nostrils flaring as she took in the scent of the rain and storm. Glancing at Machiavelli, she listened to his words in silence. “Aye, I see it.” Her soft words were spoken to no one in particular as Machiavelli continued to speak, her spheres slipping to lock with Dhani’s forehead, spotting the scar that Mach spoke of. Her thoughts were reeling, unsure of what to think of all this new information as he continued. “Indeed…” Tehya wasn’t sure at all what to say to all this new information and was very curious of the ways of the monastery now. It was no wonder this wolf before them was so strange! He came from a culture that was so unlike theirs, so sophisticated and strict beyond their belief that of course he would be weird. As she took in the information, her eyes squeezed shut.
Giving a light shake of her coat, Tehya’s spheres peeled open to gaze upon Dhani as he thanked her, plume giving a light lashing behind her muscular frame. “A fast…” Her repeated words were whispered, lips parting slightly before her tongue wetted her kissers and she spoke up louder so he may hear her this time. “My offer shall still stand. I highly doubt your news so grave that my generosity should dwindle. Unless…” Acoustics flattened against her skull before tipping toward him, her plume lifting as her hackles slightly rose. Spheres met his before narrowing, “Of course, you plan on ambushing my pack and taking apart everything I have worked so hard to accomplish. In which case, Dhani… You may find that you get more than my generosity rethought.” As her hackles flattened once more, no longer spiked against her shoulders, she allowed her claws to slip from the earth once more. Spheres slipped warningly to the new stranger that approached, his scent assaulting her nostrils, having heard Dhani’s last words but barely processed them.
For now, this new stranger was approaching and if she heard correctly, was seeking shelter with them. While generosity and total courtesy told her to allow him, her mind screamed a warning that she was taking two total strangers to the dens. Unless… As Machiavelli spoke up, she hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything. Muscles tensed beneath her thick pelt as her hackles daggered, spheres snapping from the newcomer to Machiavelli, narrowing quickly, impatiently upon him. His tense, sudden attitude gave her a bad attitude as well, setting her mood slightly off. Lips curled back from her jaws. “I too will request your name, stranger, before I share my den with you, so as Machiavelli here calls it… However…” Her intense stare fell upon Machiavelli, locking with his spheres. “I asked you to be my advisor, Machiavelli. Not to speak for me to my pack or any strangers that should stroll in.” A growl rose in her chest, although she maintained the collected alpha that she was, her crown rising. “Do not simply assume I would be so ignorant as to take total strangers into the safety of our dens. I know of another place that we may seek shelter.”
As her spheres snapped quickly back to Phantom, her lips parted once more, her growly, irritated voice not giving way to an agitated feature upon her pretty visage. She was very good at keeping her irritation out of all but her voice. And although it wasn’t that this varg had come in and requested safe haven with them, so much as she was irritated from being kept idle, instead of able to get her pack safely out of the storm. Ignoring Dhani’s seemingly childish, in her opinion, outburst, she locked gazes with the new male. “For now, I hold judgment. You may come with us, wolf.” Acoustics shifted backward, her skull tipping in the direction of Taboo and Dante, as they had yet to be involved in any of the current situation. “There are some caves in the valley that we may seek shelter in. Should this storm get any worse, we should be safely out of harms way from the lightning or any dangers it may bring with it.” Although her foot remained tender, she felt she was fine enough to make it to the valley, which, if she calculated correctly, was fairly close.
“Come, follow me, all of you.” She gave a warning look to her three companions to keep their guard up with the new strangers following them, although she said nothing more. Pads slipped in the mud as she leapt forward into a lope. “Taboo, Machiavelli, can you keep up? I am not questioning your strength, merely your injuries.” Her worried brow was cast into a frown, lips curving downward as she glanced at them. They seemed to be fine, and so, the alpha continued on her way. Acoustics flattened as a loud boom or thunder clapped above them, her pads making a path toward the valley. A few times, she lost her footing in the slick mud, causing her to slip and pause to catch her footing before moving again. If she got more injured, surely she wouldn’t be able to get them to the valley, in which case, she would send them ahead of her, but she had no intentions of that happening. Pride shone through her spheres, although concern and worry flitted through as well. Tongue lolled, catching the salty taste of the fresh rainfall.
Pads tore through the trees, giving way to bare land. Trees littered the land here and there, blanketed in darkness. Everything lit up as each streak of lightning stretched across the dark, angry sky. Everything appeared to be churned into mud upon the ground, winds causing trees to sway. It was when she came across the valley, however, with a quick glance to ensure everyone was behind her, that she finally looked toward the caves that they would seek shelter in. Spheres flashed in frustration at the sight she was given. The river in the valley bed had flooded, the water pouring into the valley. The caves were low, the waters surface rising too dangerously close to the caves for them to seek shelter in them. Acoustics flattened as a growl rumbled in her chest, attempting to hold in a roar. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. They would have no choice but to try to make it back to the dens. She had not counted on the storm causing the rivers to flood. But if the main river had flooded, how many of their waterways had as well? Caution signs flashed in her mind as she stared at the scene below.
“We cannot stay here. We have no choice but to seek the shelter of the dens. We’re in the middle of this storm showing it’s true anger. So we must be quick. Do not slow down the rest of the pack.” As the storm roared above them and lightning struck out toward trees, Tehya spun around to move toward the dens. “Move!” She could only hope her urgency would show them the true emergence of the situation and get them all moving faster in the direction of the dens. And although she was the only one who knew of their location, she hoped to all heavens that they would all make it there safely. Including the two strangers that had strolled into their midst. “Machiavelli, you are my advisor and as such, you hold the greatest rank beneath me. If something happens and I cannot make it, I fully expect you to take the others to the dens yourself, understood?” Her shoulder brushed with his as she gave a quick, worried glance around to her comrades, moving back toward the forests to seek out the dens. “They’re on the northern end of the forest, hidden in stone behind a great wall of vines and foliage. The main entrance is maybe three feet up, but you can’t miss it.” If… [/size]
|
|
|
Post by Shadowed on Dec 28, 2009 0:49:38 GMT -5
Sure, he hadn't expected a warm welcome, but he was a little surprised by the various looks and reactions he drew from those around him. He had been expecting the unexpected, as always, but he normally had some sort of guess as to how the wolves might respond to him, an estimated prediction, if you will. Some of them gave typical responses, things he would expect and let roll off his back, but there was one wolf amongst them that caught his secret curiousity. The wolf crumpled to the ground as though a simple look had drained him of his strength, his eyes filled with a strange kind of fear. He muttered something too low for Demon to hear, though he almost wondered what the monk spoke. Dhani could see right through him, couldn't he? His muscles did not so much as twitch as he held in a smirk, rather amused by what he had seen. His attentions were soon stolen, of course, by wolves much more bold.
He did not look nor turn his head in the direction from which Machiavelli spoke, and not until he was finished did Demon quirk a brow in the male's direction. With an unwithering attitude patience and aloofness, he craned his neck boredly to face the advisor, his body motionless as the rain continued to seep through his coat. "How fortunate, indeed," he echoed with carelessness, "Though I am sorry to have met you on such a bad day." His words were slow and slightly sarcastic, though he did not stray far from monotone; he ignored the wasteful small talk of the rain, manners, and growing up. He had not asked for the varg's life story - in fact, he hadn't spoken to the brute at all, and cared not for his words or reprimand, though he was not about to ignore the request for his name by someone with stature in the hierarchy. The Queen, of course, was quick to turn her attention upon him as well, waiting. He would not delay them further.
"I am Blood Demon," he said shortly, speaking no more than needed to get out the necessary information. And just as the words left his mouth, Tehya had a few to say to Machiavelli, and he felt sheer satisfaction at the advisor's beratement. He did not let his delight slip through, though it was impossible to resist the slightest of tugs at the corner of his lip as the Queen held judgement for him and allowed his presence with the pack as they seeked shelter. Machiavelli had been too quick to speak without regards to how Tehya felt, letting his anger boil forth with little restraint. Rolling his shoulders, Demon discontinued the gaze that was set upon Mach, and turned to Tehya, folding his ears back as he gave a dip of his head. As long as she allowed him to be with the pack and he behaved himself, the others would have nothing to say about it.
As the Lady went about rounding up the pack and giving orders, he let his spectral gaze drift to the other wolves of the pack. He had seen mostly unpleasant looks thus far, though it did not phase him; their acceptance was not most important right now, that would come later. Maybe. He was aware of many things, but one thing he had no inkling about was the untrustworthy, creepish air he held, which seemed to radiate off of him in a strikingly obvious way. The female in the background had looked up him with clear dislike and distrust, though her personal judgement remained reserved for the time being. He shrugged it off, glancing to a male who had remained in darkness, unconcerned, it seemed, with the current situation. He didn't bother looking upon Machiavelli again; he already knew what the brute thought of him, and he needn't view Tehya again. Instead, his eyes fixed upon Dhani, a thought flickering within his devious mind.
He showed weakness and fear, but the pack was to follow Tehya immediately. Perhaps he could be of... assisstance to the frail varg. Barely containing a grin, he marched over to where Dhani was crouched, tilting his head toward the monk. "Did you need help, friend?" he asked lightly, eyeing the brute, "We should be on our way, the storm will not show mercy." He did not wait for a reply, bending down slightly and lending a shoulder, nudging him to his feet, or so he tried. He could only wonder if the brute would cower or faint, or perhaps surprise him altogether with some other action. No matter, he was merely gauging the monk's strengths and weaknesses, seeing if he could have a little fun toying with the brute. He tried not to let his intentions seep forth in the malignant way they formed in his mind, merely lending a paw to one who seemed to need it. Then he strode off, slinking after the Queen, glancing over his shoulder just once.
Suddenly it seemed the woman was off in a dash, eager to lead her pack to safety, though the mud slowed her considerably, and even the Phantom found difficulty with the slippery terrain. He picked his way through the brush and sinking ground as carefully as possible, trying to keep tempo with the lead. The storm brewed more heavily above, lightning striking more often with rolling thunder in pursuit. His mind briefly wandered to the cause of the storm, wondering what force could be behind it, strong enough to send the skies crashing down in a torrential wave, electric teeth flashing from dark clouds with a growl that shook the foundations of the earth. It was almost frightening, but he knew that it could do no harm, not unless the trees came crashing down around them, but that could be avoided. The valley opened up before them and he was wrenched from his silly musings to view a valley flooded with water. This did not seem like a haven, and he glanced to Tehya to see frustration broiling within her. This was not what she'd been expecting, clearly.
Her voice struck the air loud and clear, and she began moving again. She was shoulder-to-shoulder with Machiavelli now, but he could not make out what she was saying over the pounding of rain and the continuous roar of thunder. A sudden fork of lightning struck down, splitting a tree in two with a deafening crack and a blinding flash. It was loud enough to force a startled bark from his lips and set his heart racing, sopping hackles rising straight into the air, though they sagged with the weight of the rain. He was hardly able to regain his senses before he spotted a half of the tree tilting precariously before it started to descend, gaining speed as gravity took control. Eyes widened slightly and he called out, a rare show of consideration for others. "Heads up!" he had to shout to be heard, before making a dash to escape the tree's descent. Tehya was right; the storm was truly angry, and it was getting dangerous and out of control. He did not know this territory, so he depended upon the Alphaess for guidance at this time. Though the pack had obvious distaste for him, he was certainly lucky to have arrived when he did, and this time he did not object within himself to trusting his life to someone else for once. Besides, what other choice did he have? Glancing to where the tree had fallen, he waited to see if everyone had gotten away without injury, for there was nothing else he could do.
|
|
|
Post by Starrlight on Jan 8, 2010 21:15:51 GMT -5
Machiavelli could speak better than any Dante had ever heard, his loquation surpassing reason... but in this instant, even the silent Guardian could tell that his packmate had spoken too freely. The newcomer was disconcerting, a shape in the shadows, but nothing that rated that sort of hostility. True, his introduction had been a bit.. sparse.. but Dante, a man of few words himself, could appreciate the brevity. The weather was worsening, drops falling in more of a deluge now than a shower. It was hardly the time for lengthy hellos.
Still, he tilted his ears back slightly in sympathy when the other bru was rebuked, Tehya's words harsh in his auds. He hated to hear his packmate disgraced so in front of so many newcomers, and he knew the stab it would give Mach's pride, though he may not show it outwardly. Ahh, well, he would need to learn to hold his temper, no matter how sour his mood at the moment.
It wasn't that Dante had any love for the new prospect who was now standing before them, asking for refuge. In fact, his own hackles rose as he looked into those familiar silver eyes. It was as though he were glimpsing a reflection of himself, the Dante that Raziel must have seen when he had first approached those distant lands of Fantasy. A Dante who had done unforgivable things, who was no stranger to death and destruction, who had brought both with ease. A monster. He was on edge, wary and ready to strike at a moment's notice, but not openly hostile. For many reasons, but mostly respect, he would have perished before shaming himself before Tehya.
At least he had no chance of doing so with words. In fact, his voice seemed to be working less and less as time progressed. He did not speak without reason, but he knew that this continued discomfort with opening his maw would have to end eventually. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to offer any contributions. "Before confidence comes humility, son. You may be destined to lead when I am gone, but while I am here, you will know your place." That was what his father had told him when first he had spoken his mind, all those seasons ago. Just before punishing him, of course. The words of the youth could not be tolerated, of course. A familiar anger welled up in him at the thought of his father. Nay, Dante. Family skeletons have no place here. He sighed, looking up at the sky, blinking rain from his eyes. They would need to move on soon, and delays kept on coming.
Catching Taboo's laugh, he glanced over to see her looking at him, and smiled back. He didn't know what amused her so, but it broke the tension of the moment somewhat. Shaking water from his pelt, a pointless gesture, more a habit than anything, he listened with relief as Tehya made her decision, allowing the newcomers to travel with them to temporary shelter in some caves.
She urged them forward, yet he ran at a steady pace. His eyes flicked around, seeking Taboo and Mach. Three of his packmates were injured in a potentially slowing manner, and it was his task as Guardian here to make sure that everyone made it safely. If that came at his own risk, so be it. He took his responsibilities with dead seriousness, for this was the first rank that he had ever earned in his life. He had been chosen at birth as heir to a growing Empire, but somehow, this honor was a hundred times greater than that. Here he was shown that he had true merit. Nothing could replace that, and it was another reason that he counted himself in Tehya's debt. Perhaps it was not a big deal for her, but to himself, it was everything.
The crack that rent the air a few moments after their flight began caused Dante's head to snap right, just in time to see the blinding flash tear through the darkened sky. Shit. Skidding to a stop, he dug his claws into the soil, the trunk landing just in front of his paws. A stray branch struck his cheek, a light sting that barely registered before he leapt backwards, looking about wildly. Was anyone caught beneath? Sprinting around the tree, he searched for his companions. The blinding rain made it hard to discern anything, the rising wind whipping the droplets into his face and eyes. The sky was releasing it's fury, and what a display of raw power it was! Despite himself, Dante was immensely awed by the unrestrained majesty of the storm. It truly showed how small they all were in relation to their true master, nature itself.
|
|
Taboo
New Member
Posts: 46
|
Post by Taboo on Jan 9, 2010 20:44:06 GMT -5
Words would not save a soul now. Taboo's senses wired around the heightening storm and the Queen's words. Any stream of consciousness given to analyze the others vaporized as the survival instinct coiled around her nerves. At Tehya's question, she once again placed controlled weight upon it. Pain seared through her abdomen, and the fae bit down on her lip. She dealt with similar injuries before, so she knew how to move quickly without placing weight on her left leg. Still, she could not possible run at full speed along with the others. The idea she created a risk for all others who waited for her ripped inside, but there was no time left for self pity. A quick glance skimmed across the rest of the pack. Everyone now gathered themselves for flight. The muscles of her frame contracted in ready for any surprise threat. Before throwing herself into the middle of the storm, however, one last suspicious glare deigned upon Blood Demon, who now jeered at Dhani. Other than that, all thought of him washed away as she tilted her crown to Tehya. "I'll be fine..." Taboo snuck a side-glance at Mach. She did not know the extent of his wound, but he was probably in good enough shape to keep up. Auds pulled back against her skull as she warily shifted her weight as she trotted next to the Queen. Within seconds, the obsidian cloak of the fatale disappeared into the curtain of rain and fury. Determination arranged on her face as she braced herself for the pain to come.
Claws scurried forward, tearing deep into the earth for a decent grip. Momentum was hard to carry as furious wind blasted against her tired body. The elements darkened her vision as she searched for Tehya and her advisor. She kept within ten feet of them, though searing agony continued to ravage her chest. Taboo kept her sights only on them, to look for the others might mean losing sight of her leader. The idea of being alone in the storm created a brief shudder. For now, she could only hope her packmates followed behind closely and in safety.
|
|
|
Post by Sighani on Jan 9, 2010 23:09:21 GMT -5
Dhani... A sanguinary thread of corruption runs through the otherwise dove-gray skein of life, and it was not the purpose of a mere monk to unravel it, isolate it, expose every bloodied inch of it to the colorblind souls who see their world in cold shades of black or white. It was the duty of a monk not to call attention to that crimson vein, but rather to soften the cutting edge of such a bloodred stream, blur and tangle the lines until violent red fades instead to a temperate rose and then to a blushing pink, so indiscernable from the smothering ash that it was hardly there at all. Not to point out, but to assimilate. Not to exterminate, but to accept.
This certain knowledge bubbled briefly to the surface waters of Dhani's fog-choked mind, dragging him from the dark comfort of the running internal mantra and into the glaring light of responsibility. Obsidian orbs regained their lackluster film of careful neutrality, the dredges of his fear draining away into forgotten realms alongside the glinting flints of shame. They were self-indulgent emotions, so base and ordinary, he believed he had purged from his body so many years ago, and although their sudden emergence came as a nasty shock, he was not confused as to their origins. In the mountain sanctuary, he had lived a life free of and from sin, wickedness, turmoil. Survival had not been easy--far from it, in fact, and he had no doubt that he had hardened to the fierce fangs of nature better and swifter than most--but survival had, nonetheless, been assured. Here in these lowland realms, where the air was thick and wet and green with life, the varg led much more wild, solitary existences. The earth was kind in these parts, her bounty rich and plenty, and so the wolves prospered. And with prosperity came competition. Wolves did not so often rely on one another here merely to stay alive. A pack, it seemed, was little more than a commodity rather than the necessity it had been in the savage mountain clime. And the more that competition rose, the more it brought out black instincts--bloodlust, suspicion, hatred, fear. Most of all, it brought out fear.
Dhani had little time to reflect on the nature of the new brute's calling--Blood Demon--before the Phantom himself wafted toward him on a tide of fetid menace and an intent almost unreadable, but not to keen eyes. Dhani could recognize childish cruelty; he could spy it quite clearly in the ill-concealed grin betraying the ethereal brujo's otherwise blank features, predatory curiosity evident in every step and word. The Phantom feigned chivalry, but poorly. Dhani couldn't help but wonder what had twisted the hessian's mind into something so dark and vile, and if it could ever be bent back into shape. His flesh crawled with chilled waves as Blood Demon brushed against him, nausea rising the gorge in the back of his throat, the fog reclaiming his vision in vicious white claws. Such contact was strictly taboo. And though fear had no part in the monk's slight recoil, he could not restrain the wide-eyed stare that snapped instantly to Blood Demon's gently smiling jaws. He could not recall the last time he had been touched. The Phantom's gesture was most unwelcome.
"You are most helpful," Dhani said coolly as he stepped back from the brute, expression fading into blank oblivion as he retreated further into his own psyche, building up immovable psychological barriers. He made it a point to attempt to understand the Phantom; he would not shun the man, in spite of the warning that whispered in the deepest recesses of his mind. After a moment, he cast a smile of genuine warmth in the other man's direction, heart softening, as it was so wont to do in the presence of the deprived and the suffering. "I hardly know what came over me. But I assure you, the feeling has passed, it will not happen again. You need not worry on my behalf."
Tehya's commands became the voice of the thunder and the wolves moved as a unit behind their dark queen. Dhani leapt forward, a fluid line of liquid fire coursing through the verdant underbrush, nimble paws skirting over the tangled terrain with relative ease. The monk was swift and lithe, hindered by none of the bulky pelts or sinew that so burdened the larger varg, his footing sure and true, even as those around him struggled. He had spent his childhood dancing amongst ice-slick boulders and ravines and navigating such treacherous paths was as integral to the monk's sense of self as his very heartbeat. Lush eyelashes accustomed to blinding snow cleared the rain from his sight with relaxed ease; the deluge did not penetrate his thick undercoat and so he did not feel the cold sting of the storm's teeth. And although the thorns and brambles ripped at his coat and wore unpleasantly at the pads of his feet, it was a decided improvement over razor-edged stone and ice.
Endeavoring paws slowed to a halt as the monk came up behind Tehya, steam ghosting from panting jaws, skull canted at just the right angle to catch further orders. What he heard instead of triumph, however, was a snarl of unmistakable frustration. The valley had flooded and, from what Dhani could gather, the caves along with it. They would need to make for higher ground, and quickly. He wasted no breath on idle comments as they struck out once again in another direction, ebony eyes casting about in the malevolent gloom to ensure that none lingered behind. He was not accepted into this pack as an equal, but he nonetheless knew Tehya had, upon inviting him to come along, entrusted him to safeguard the wellbeing of her subjects.
As he made his way through Torqueo Somnium, it seemed to the young monk that he had seen the ancient afternoon of this land sometime before. From the moss-slung rocks and lupine ferns, to sudden revisits with the roaring storm with its electric-laced blades and apocalyptic haze, there was something inexpressibly broken in his heart as though, in some past life, he had walked these same paths under similar circumstances with a fellow bodhisattva, but perhaps on a more important journey, one of revelation, one of discovery. A sudden urge to simply stop in the midst of these cloud-kissing trees and breathe the earthen musk and remember it all suddenly washed over him. It was familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead brother, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across murky water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on so many hundreds and thousands of years ago. The clouds, as they roared and raged overhead, seemed to testify, by their own lonesome and universal familiarity, to this feeling. What he was moving towards, he did not know, but the longer he lingered in the realms of Torqueo Somnium, the more he felt like he truly belonged in these mythic lands, ever a part of the wrestling light and dark, caught between the black fury of the oppresive skies and the maternal bastion of the green, green forests.
A sudden crack, a flash from above and a stinking slap of scorched wood, dragged him from his reverie and he whirled around in time to see a tree crashing to the earth in a maddened flurry of splintered bark and tossed leaves. Not that he needed to see such a thing to know it had happened; it smashed down against the earth with the sound of splitting heavens, and with just as much force, rattling the bones all through his body until his fangs clacked. Heart slamming against his chest, the monk abandoned his position atop a sylvan ridge and sprang towards the fallen monolith. "Has anyone been hurt?" he called as he caught sight of Dante and Blood Demon, his wide-eyed startlation in stark contrast with his usual air of nonchalance. He glanced to the surrounding trees, concerned that the felled tree had loosened the roots or branches of the surrounding trees, the monk expecting another to come crashing down the longer they delayed. He could see that the fallen tree had rotted through to its lightning-touched core. Was it simply an effect of age, or was it an indication of disease? Perhaps other nearby trees were blighted with a similar rot. If that was the case, others were likely to collapse now under the storm's force. Tehya's urgency was infectious and for the first time, Dhani felt agitation creeping along his spine and he tried desperately to force it back, but to no avail. The longer they lingered, the more they risked further mishap. But they needed to make sure no one had been trapped.
Unable to offer his assistance until all were accounted for, or not, Dhani simply stood at the Phantom's shoulder, panting hard, head bowed in silent reflection as he tried to recover, gathering his energies within and without. He conrolled his breathing, slowed his pulse, steadied his thoughts, cleared his mind, and prepared himself for whatever commands may come. Peace has no boundaries; serenity knows no religion When the eyes close, the mind shall see
|
|
|
Post by Sighani on Jan 17, 2010 18:36:15 GMT -5
Machiavelli Alighieri...Deep in the bellies of black anvil clouds, furnaces blazed and roared with phosphorescent flames of nature's most lethally perfect design, the fangs of an electrified hell gnashing down on the lands of Torqueo Somnium. And it was as that wet and snarling beast smote the emerald terrain with its seemingly endless wrath that Machiavelli truly realized the blighted darkness that doused the kingdom in a black poison so vile that the trees themselves grew twisted and monstrous, boughs ever clawing towards the condemning skies. Upon first glance, Torqueo Somnium had seemed a haven, a retreat from the cruelties of dryer climes and bleaker terras, but she showed her true colors now--green and black, an infected wound pulsing with putrid life, spreading, infecting. Indeed, Machiavelli could sense that it already had its hooks deep in him and although he had always been a wandering soul, he was beginning to doubt whether he could ever uproot from this place. It had called Tehya here, and now it would not let them leave. Terrible beauty had a way of cursing its admirers. Torqueo Somnium was no exception. It was a land unlike all others, and its shaded lure was as tangible as the raindrops that now lashed down in great needling torrents.
Tehya's reprimand rolled off Machiavelli's hide as easily as water and the brute gave no acknowledgement of hearing it at all, knowing that picking up such a loose yarn would only prolong their exposure to the elements. He did not regret snapping at Blood Demon and would readily do so again, but next time he knew he would have to go about such a task with a bit more finesse. Tehya had proven herself to be a capable and tolerant leader, but her patience would only stretch so far. Unlike the monarchs of old, she would not let others speak in her place. Sharp ears flicked forward when her voice crept into his senses once again, inquiring as to the extent of his injuries. "It's merely a fleshwound. It shouldn't give me any trouble." The words had hardly left his mouth before the pack was off again, picking away through the dense and writhing flora with Machiavelli bringing up the rear.
At first, the Prince's footing was hesitant and unsure, Machiavelli finding himself crashing through the forest as carelessly as a bull in rut. The mud proved a challenge and he slogged through it with difficulty, his lush coat dragging him down, heavy mitts sinking down through eons of muck and mire until the granite-hued hessian was stained to the throat in earthen filth. His muscles strained, overtaxed, and he knew that even now Torqueo Somnium was conspiring to pull him deeper into her embrace of wolfsbane and belladonna. Frustration wormed its way into the forefront of his mind and he growled under his breath as he fought to free himself from the mud. Spectral eyes snapped up in desperation and he could see the figures of his packmates already disappearing into the trees. He had given Tehya his word that his injuries would not slow him down, only to find that his own incompitence is what kept him lagging behind. But he had been in such a position many times before, having spent some months in far-off swamplands with a tribe of savage mongrels. He recollected their chieftess with clarity, but her advice came into his mind through the haze of age, unclear and muffled. She had taught him early on the methods of successful navigation, and although he could not recall much, he knew that she told him not to struggle. Nature fells all mountains in time, but the breeze remains free and untamed. Be like the wind.
Swallowing the bitter lump of his aggitation, Machiavelli took a deep breath and instead of straining against the, he began to move with it. Leaning forward, he removed the bulk of his weight from his paws and found travelling much easier. In no time it all, it seemed, he had escaped the bog and, spirits lifted and body freshly invigorated with the satisfaction, worked on closing the distance between himself and his pack, tongue lolling, jaws parted, mud flying up from beneath mitts that had reclaimed their nimble tact from so many years ago. He found his way to the edge of the valley just as Tehya ordered the pack in another direction, anger splashed red across her fair features as she tore past him. He did not need to waste a glance over his shoulder to know that the valley had flooded, and the caves along with it. With the way the rain had been falling since daybreak, he had deduced as much.
The slope of their path inclined sharply, the wolves seeking higher ground, moving, he knew, towards the dens. Tehya would not be pleased to invite strangers into such close quarters, but her will had been forced, and what other choice did she have? Let them come along, or cast them back into the storm to catch their deaths. Maternal instincts, if nothing else, compelled the ebon queen and although she was not half the bleeding heart Dhani was, she was also not the steel-hearted warrior Taboo seemed to be. The image of brilliant yellow eyes flashed in his mind and he wondered what had become of the mysterious fatale, but Tehya's voice forced him from internal concerns to the real world. Shock registered visibly on his features when she declared him, in a split second's decision, her sole heir. Obviously she trusted him with such responsibility, but could he trust himself? Tehya was, perhaps, his dearest friend, but how long could close companionship outlast old habits? For the sake of all, he prayed the way down that path had been shut for good. He nodded curtly and before he could speak, Tehya was off once again. Always running ahead. Such was her way.
Fate, it appeared, had not wholly cursed this day. Machiavelli had found himself running at Dante's side, keeping a wary eye on the Phantom who ran just ahead, and a goliath crack and a startled outcry turned his figure to solid stone just as the tree fell in their path. Machiavelli's coat blew back from the force of the impact and forward momentum threw him to the ground, a mere hairsbreadth away from where the tree had collapsed. A sharp ache daggered through the injury in his shoulder as he found his feet once again, but miraculously, he was nonetheworse for wear. Had Blood Demon cried out a single heartbeat later, he might have been crushed. Cool gaze flitted over to the phantasmal brute, the Prince's heart wrenching, cleft clean in two, one half filled with mistrust and malice, the other half grateful because somewhere, in the deepest recesses of his mind, Machiavelli registered that the stranger had saved his life. Clearly, he was indebted to the man. But now was not the time for such sentiments. "We're fine," he called in response to the monk, glancing around at his packmates. He could not see Dhani but knew the monk was unharmed. Dante had sustained a scratch, but it was nothing to worry about, while Blood Demon remained completely unmarred. But what of the women? He had yet to hear their voices and searching eyes could not find their figures, but his nares told him they were still near. "If all are present and accounted for, it is essential we move on as soon as possible. Everyone is well, I trust?" Is it better to be loved or feared?
|
|
|
Post by Asphyxia on Jan 17, 2010 23:23:38 GMT -5
[bg=25252f][atrb=width,518,true][atrb=border,0,true]
The storms wrath had finally hit and with it, disaster struck everywhere. Floods were overcoming the main rivers and valleys. Tehya could only thank mother nature for providing them with a den that’s main cave was above ground. Still, wonder as to whether or not Machiavelli or Taboo would be able enough to jump the four or so feet up into the main entrance. She didn’t want to make them go through the back exit. That was solely for a getaway route should one ever be needed and she refused to give up the whereabouts to the strangers. They were not part of her pack and thus, did not hold the right to know. Coustics flattened against the onslaught of thunder clapping loudly, reverberating in her powerful chest. Crown tilted side to side before the shake worked its way through the rest of her black, soaking chassis. Pads slipped, but she quickly righted herself. Plume swung slightly to rebalance herself as she paused in her tracks. And it was then, that she noticed something wasn’t quite right with her pack. Taboo was far behind, while Machiavelli lagged. Pads slid in the mud as she skidded to a complete halt, crown lifting high, acoustics straining forward as she peered around to give a quick head count. Spotting Taboo far back enough to pose concern to Tehya, she nodded to Machiavelli to continue moving forward.
Dodging lightning streaking across the sky, the Queen quickly halted next to Taboo and circled around the fae, coming up quickly on her right side. Giving her a gentle nudge with her snout, her hushed and hurried whisper carried out to the other woman’s ears. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave any of you behind. Take care with your wound. I will make sure you don’t get left behind.” Acoustics swung backward before tipping ahead once more. And it was then that she saw a bolt of lightning strike out at a tree. Lips parted to call out, but Blood Demon had gotten to the warning before her. She could do little but give a reassuring and hopeful glance to her female companion before she bolted up ahead. She knew it wasn’t so far that Taboo would lose sight of her and by damn, she’d keep her promise to the fatale. She had lost sight of Dante, although she spotted Machiavelli and Phantom fairly easily. With a quick hop that landed her atop the trees large trunk, she finally spotted him. A mere scratch, but he appeared otherwise fine. Relief spread through the Queens veins, a sigh leaving her nostrils. “Over here, Dante.” A quick jump and she was on the other side of the tree, next to him.
Brushing her shoulder against his, she nodded to the tree and hopped over it once more to land next to Phantom. Observing her companions quickly, she ensured that no others were hurt and gave another headcount. She spotted Dhani fairly close by, although she hated to admit feeling more concerned for her own pack mates than for the strangers. Phantom stood next to her, and at the obvious flash of concern in his eyes and the warning relieved her. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so bad as so many of her pack members had so quickly judged him as. Machiavelli was close by as well and she saw no obvious signs of other injuries. Taboo was coming up and Dante was close by as well, proving that her friends were not more seriously hurt and that they could still yet, make it to the dens. “Machi is right, let’s move. The dens aren’t far off now.” Shifting her weight, after giving her quick headcount, she corrected her pace to one so that they could all keep within a good twenty feet of her. She would not risk losing any of them. Nasals spread open, taking in the luxurious scent of the rain, spheres snapping to a fro as she gazed around at her surroundings. As she entered the forest, however, the storm was less severe. Trees appeared to be swaying with the rough winds and lightning bolts seemed to lash out toward the trees like a mother cats claws at an adversary.
Her fur was tossed back and forth by the force of the winds, plume whipping behind her frame. Power launched from her hind legs into her chest, moving her body languidly through the trees, weaving in and out and hurdling those that had fallen. It was north in the forests that they would find the dens. And it was there that they would find safety. Glancing back over her shoulder, she paused once more in her tracks to do another head count. Still, she could see all of her companions. Panting, her jaws parted, tongue lolling heavily. Swinging her frame around, she lunged forward again, moving through the familiar foliage of the temperate forest, slipping in the mud that slowed down her pack dangerously. The storm was still upon them, threatening to leave them all in peril. But it was with sure determination that she refused to wait for the outcome of the storms anger. Already, the storm tore down trees, flooded the lands and threatened them with the ever present danger of their survival. Lips curled back in rage, but quickly sheathed her canines. Hauling back around like a hunting predator, she circled around her pack, urging them to keep moving, giving shoulder brushes and nudges of reassurances. As she circled around Taboo again, Tehya gazed upon her, before her sights were shifted forward and her pads slipped in the mud, causing her to lose her balance.
The female crashed to the ground. Although she was quick to rise again and hadn’t been hurt, she gave a shake of her bodice, shaking off the sudden rush she’d felt. What had caused her to lose her concentration and slip in the mud so, was the dens. There they stood. A gigantic wall of rock jutting up from the ground, lifting toward the tree tops with daring integrity. The wall was covered in foliage, protecting its rough surface with the fine tendrils of vines and plants. And there it was, constructed four feet above the ground, hidden by the foliage and barely noticeable at all in the dark of the storm, the entrance. Loping toward the cavernous wall, Tehya gazed toward the entrance before she glanced again to her pack mates.
“The entrance is above me, four feet high. Should be an easy jump. Be careful and watch your footing when you land. Do not move into the dens that branch off. They make their way into ground and I don’t want anybody being put in danger should the floods come this far. Now move!” Still, she refused to go anywhere until they were all within the safety of the den. Howbeit, she was concerned with leaving two strangers in the midst of their dens with her pack. Talons pierced the heavy, mud-laden earth, acoustics tipping back against her crown as she waited for them to disappear behind the wall of rock and foliage, into the dens.
wordcount;; one thousand, one hundred, eighty-eight. lyrics;; television in the background
|
[/blockquote] [/color][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
|
|
Taboo
New Member
Posts: 46
|
Post by Taboo on Jan 18, 2010 0:50:21 GMT -5
Irony lashed out in its cynical bitterness, with perhaps more fury than typical. These precarious affairs brought a sobering mind to many. In these rare flashes of uncontained reality, all creatures were forcefully brought to a level of equality. The eye of the storm ground the ego and guile to dust as all clung to the taut, thin thread so ready to snap. The most disturbing thing to the shadow cloaked frame winding through treacherous barriers was the idea that survival mostly factored from luck. Intelligence, brawn, agility, charisma and all other skills that take years of honing meant little to nothing against the disaster that sunk deeper still into Torqueo Somnium. The perfect example of this frightening concept crashed about ten yards away from her constant struggling into the fierce slashes of wind. Blood Demon shouted a quick warning as a dangerous bolt rendered a tree from its roots. For the first time, Taboo found herself cursing how effortlessly her coat welded with the tabloid of darkness. The only colors that even distressed her location were flaxen pools and the light neutral flaming her belly.
Most of her mind strained to capture the little amount of light left to coordinate her movements. Her footsteps placed awkwardly and slower than desired, but Taboo cleared every obstacle that flung in her direction by the calloused wind. Every once in a while did her gaze gauge the writhing bodies of her packmates. When her receptors flickered over to them once more, panic slashed through her intense focus. A great distance spawned between her and the other five lupines. Her caution and narrow vision placed her at greater risk than before. She halted in the slopping mire as her hope unhinged. The hovering night masked the dens that nestled in the distance. Only barbed figurines and twisted shadows were all that the nymph could see. Before despair hooked decrepit jaws into her heart, a spark of violet against the encompassing black caught her eye. “Tehya?” she called out, her voice twisting into a cry. The sound of her leader’s voice reassured her and even ignited a burst of adrenaline. Taboo sped up her gait considerably, determined to keep up with the others. She refused to be the reason that safety might possibly be compromised. Debris and dirt clung to her in ragged sheaves. Rain doused the random attacks of fire within the forest. An inch of water swirled about her mitts as her talons tore deep into the ground to stabilize herself. After a considerable amount of time battling with the elements, Taboo now closed upon the others.
A fractioned smile inched on her jaw whenever Tehya came within close range of her. Each lap around everyone surged more energy into her, and eventually Taboo managed a pattern of toiling through the mud. Her satisfaction wavered some when she peered up at the dens bearing down at her. The femme divulged a moan while shaking her soaked mane. In order to clear the jump, all four limbs needed to be used. The entire pack now closed together in the final task before relief of shelter. Her muscles coiled together as her legs dipped, her body parallel to the ground floor. Pain seared through her left side. Before it built strong enough to deter her, Taboo released and pounced almost blindingly through the air. Claws scrabbled for the maize of vines as her front paws clasped the ledge. Half of her body dangled as brown stained her silver underbelly. Wriggling exasperatedly, the vulpess finally pulled herself away from the edge and lay gasping for air. She ached heavily as her muscles twitched from the effort of the journey. Only when everyone cleared the jump would she once again stand up to finish what little was left to the dens.
|
|