i dig my hole, you build a wall. - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: i dig my hole, you build a wall. (/showthread.php?tid=19452) |
- Myrika Tears - 07-24-2011 [html] aJIfiejwfiwjefiw i am the most awkward character-picker-upper ever
It had been weeks since death had visited her. Thamur had been a weak and old coyote -- it had not been a shock to Myrika when he had passed. Nonetheless, she could not have predicted the effect his death had on her. Grief struck with surprisingly deftness, burying a poison-tipped dagger in her ribs. That poison had been a slow rot, one as unexpected as Thamur's eventual passing had been expected. Loneliness.
It was with that heaviness bearing on her that she had set out from the camp she'd called her home for the past year. It was close to the place where they were supposed to have ended up eventually, that mythical place that she had not even been certain of at first. It might have been as much legend and falsehood as it was reality, and the coyote hybrid had been very nearly surprised to find it was real. She had been afraid to travel to the coast and see this place for what it was, but loneliness had driven her here at last.
Her horse's movement beneath her was slow and calculated, the rope of twisted sinew extending behind the mare somewhere to the donkey. On his back were most of her possessions -- what little she had, anyway. It wasn't as if she had stockpiled a great many things -- most of it was simple and made by her own hand, or Thamur's. Thamur hadn't been short of skill, and failing as his eyesight had been, as much as his hands had trembled, his work was sturdy and had proved its use time and time again.
Their movement was slow -- the land was sloped and rocky, impassable in some places. She had avoided places deemed too rough for the equines' hooves, and now had crested the uppermost ridge of the mountains, peering down a slope as foreboding as the one she'd just climbed. Far below, storm grey water swirled, the white breakers against the beach just barely visible to her turquoise eyes. She watched this, the horse shifting beneath her and the donkey bleating his objection to the climb and packs saddled upon him. @import url(http://sleepyglow.net/rp/profile.css); #location{background-image:url('http://www.soulsrpg.com/images/BSMapPixels_subterr.jpg'); width:150px;height:150px;float:right;border:1px solid #000000;margin-left:5px;background-position:50% 2%;} #pushpin{position:relative;left:50px;top:10px;} </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 07-26-2011 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 08-11-2011 [html] myri = dork She had seen the shore before, but the water of the bay was an entirely different beast, swirling and foaming with each change of the tide. The rivers and streams dumping into the bay had reversed their current with each rise of high tide, and many were nearly emptied as the low tide rolled in. The marshes and mud of the other side were not quite like this dark thing snaking between the mainland and the far island. The tide would not be so strong here, but even the inexperienced girl in her knew better than to test those waters -- it was not the tide to be feared, but its brother current. No strong desire to cross entered her in any case. Neither did she wish to continue down the mountain -- in truth, part of her wished for nothing more than to turn around and return to her hovel, hiding there until the end of days. Indecisively, she resisted this idea, and was about to start forward when a noise startled her nearly from the saddle. Eira twisted her head and narrowed her eyes, a snort issuing from her as a figure slid down the sloped ground toward them, stamping her feet. The donkey watched with his usual contemptuous indifference, though even his ears folded back as the figure drew nearer. Myri, however, was already halfway out of her saddle, toes in the dirt and running forward. Whatever words she was trying to say were tangled up somewhere in her throat, issuing forth as a series of squeaks and yelps rather than words as she rushed at him, already flinging her arms wide and flailing them about in excitement. She appeared very much the child, whatever supposed reserved maturity she had attained in her time since the storm evaporating in the instant of recognition. @import url(http://sleepyglow.net/rp/profile.css); #location{background-image:url('http://www.soulsrpg.com/images/BSMapPixels_subterr.jpg'); width:150px;height:150px;float:right;border:1px solid #000000;margin-left:5px;background-position:50% 2%;} #pushpin{position:relative;left:50px;top:10px;} </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 08-11-2011 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 08-14-2011 [html] only because you're replying to a terrible post 8D also idek if i'm doing her early childhood or whatever right. beat me if not. ;_; ♥
Her mother was little more than a faded memory, snatches and pieces of a face Myrika might not have recognized, had she come face-to-face with her mother. For that absence in her life, however, the russet-hued woman had not been left lacking; her father had provided for her everything she might have ever wanted. He had never denied her knowledge or comfort -- her youngest memories were absent of turmoil and strife, at least up until the storm.
Arms wrapped around her, arms she thought were as big and long as tree branches in the earliest recesses of her memory, and held her close. She mimicked this and clung to him with a fierceness that surprised even her, squeezing him around the ribs. Myri released him reluctantly as he drew her back, her arms dropping to her sides awkwardly as he complimented her, fidgeting for a moment. She was relieved of reciprocating a response, and hugged him again.
I'm okay... are you? I missed you, she said, however unnecessary the last statement. I haven't seen Cassie since the storm, she added, both large ears flicking downward. I tried to find you guys after, she added. Many afternoons on the farm had been spent wandering through the forests until dark. Without Eira, of course, the search hadn't been as productive as it might have been, but she had searched. If her father was asking after Cassie, he hadn't seen her either. @import url(http://sleepyglow.net/rp/profile.css); </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 08-29-2011 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 09-18-2011 [html] (387) have I ever told you I suck? :3 i also powerplayededed a hug because fufufuf
The tawny hybrid shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the horse's death. Sure, it was just a horse, and she'd much rather have her father standing here than some dumb equine, but she recalled the big animal with fondness, expecting to see him some distance behind Kharma, perhaps hobbled or tied to a tree. That he had died in some ravine where her father sat mending a broken leg seemed unbelievable.
I should have looked harder, she said, dipping her head and looking at the earth between their feet. She should have found him and taken him somewhere, anywhere -- Eira could have lived or died at that godforsaken farm, for all she would have mattered. Eira spooked out from under me, too, but she ended up at some farm, the hybrid said, lifting her eyes back up and wrinkling her nose at the thought. Got her back, though, she said, proudly -- as if it were not evidence enough that the blue roan stood some distance behind her, peering curiously at the ghost from their past.
You, too, she said, reaching forward to seize him for another hug. Most of Myrika could not believe he was standing here before her; she had very nearly given up hope, assuming the worst of the storm had gotten her father. His reassurance about her sister was met with a fierce nod as she stepped back again. She was not so certain, but she would not let her doubts surface here and now. Myri considered her mother ponderously for a moment, and nodded slowly, as if the absorption of this knowledge was difficult. She hadn't truly believed in her mother's presence -- it had only been the vaguest of hopes, anyway. Still, there was an undeniable sense of disappointment clouding her, and she flicked her ears downward. It even took a moment to absorb just what her father had said, and this was met with surprise, even frustration.
I want to stay here... won't you stay with me? What if Cassie comes back? Or mama, she said, shifting anxiously from one foot to another. She did not want to face everything alone, and with her father, everything would be worlds easier. Thornloe is nice, but... she paused, tawny face contorted with some strange mix of eagerness and nervousness. #simple-text { font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #simple-text .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:11px; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text b:before { content: open-quote; } #simple-text b:after { content: close-quote; } #simple-text b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } #simple-text .infotable td {vertical-align:top; text-align:center; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 09-18-2011 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 09-21-2011 [html] (310) PO' HORSE. also po' kharmaaa. also also i made assumptions that he wouldn't be all explicit-like with the tales of ferni? >_> idek. LEMME KNOW BROSEF. also hi i am a poop post
She knew enough to realize it was a foolish hope at best, and silly to have even asked; she knew the words to the warnings and recalled them even now, though it had been countless weeks and months since they'd last spoken. She had recalled her father's cautions about the pack with the skull-lined borders with special frequency those first lonely weeks in the cabin, before Thamur showed up. Her mind had been little more than an echo chamber, bouncing madly back and forth from leaving to staying and then back again; the cycle had only broken at the older coyote's presence in the first place.
Though the answer was inevitable and came as expected, her ears turned downward despite her protests, and she could not stymy the frown from her face. She did understand, or she thought she did -- he had been there, and he had not liked what he found. Perhaps they had changed in those long years, or perhaps Myrika would find there were misconceptions all around. Understand as she did, the thought of going alone still petrified her. She did not share this, for if she showed weakness, there was a very real possibility he would sway her from taking another step to the east.
I understand. I think I have to go, though. Not forever, she said, attempting to brighten at this second statement. I'll come and find you in Thornloe when I'm done here, she added, sweeping her tail meekly a few times. When she was done what? She did not know; Myrika was not even certain what she hoped to find here, much less what she would find here. Will you stay here a while with me? I mean, here where we are now, she ventured, clarifying quickly afterward. Just for a little while, a day? Two? #simple-text { width:95%; margin:0px auto; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #simple-text .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:11px; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text b:before { content: open-quote; } #simple-text b:after { content: close-quote; } #simple-text b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 09-21-2011 [html] [/html] |