bury your head - 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 LASKY (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=52) +--- Thread: bury your head (/showthread.php?tid=25742) |
- Myrika Tears - 03-02-2012 [html] 7 June 2010. Near Thornloe.
The day was upon them at long last. The simple knowledge that today, she'd be leaving and heading east, heading toward where their mother was supposed to be, along with all the rest of her family -- no matter how frightened she was of them, Myrika looked to the future with feverish hopefulness. Alongside it, of course, panicked anxiety bubbled and gurgled, broiling in the pit of her stomach. These feelings had brewed for months, and now the day of their departure served as alembic to her feelings of apprehension and hope both.
More than she wanted to arrive in this new place, however, she wished to leave behind this old place. Their small cottage was peaceful enough, a place of pleasantry and good memories, but the rest of Thornloe... Myrika was not so sure. Leaving today meant she'd go quite a few months without seeing Alina anymore. The petite girl, with her straight hair the color of sunlight itself, seemed to never tire of reminding Myrika how ungainly and big she was, especially for a coyote. There was at least this piece of good fortune, and though Myri did not like to admit it, leaving behind Alina and her vicious pack of supporters was enough of a boon without all the rest.
She picked up the last of Eira's hooves and inspected it, using a thin piece of metal to pick at the dirt and occasional small rock stuck between shoe and hoof. She had done the same for the other horses, and this was the last of it. And then... what? There was little else to do but up and go, she thought. The mahogany-haired woman took her time with this last hoof, sliding the little bit of metal here and there until Eira grew impatient and snorted brusquely, pulling her foot. Myri released it and stood, frowning. A moment later, she turned back toward their cottage, moving toward the entrance to see Cassie's progress. #myriAlaineLup { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #myriAlaineLup p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #myriAlaineLup p.sieImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; } #myriAlaineLup .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #myriAlaineLup .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #myriAlaineLup b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #myriAlaineLup u { text-decoration: underline; } #myriAlaineLup b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriAlaineLup b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriAlaineLup b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Cassandra Asylum - 03-02-2012 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 03-02-2012 [html] (306)
The cottage had served as the only home Myrika had ever known. Her earliest memories were of this place. As most did, she looked back upon the past with golden fondness, forgetting whatever hardships they had endured at the time. As she stepped through the doorframe, the innards seemed almost gloomy. Though their things, still quite filling the room, were warm comforts, the cottage itself seemed small and dreary to Myrika, who even then needed to stoop a bit to avoid hitting her head on the bared wooden beams.
Her sister turned, seemingly come to the same conclusion Myrika had outside. She deliberately interpreted the question in as literal a manner as possible and surveyed the room, her turquoise eyes eventually returning to her sister. She shook her head slowly, mahogany curls moving with the motion. I think that's it, she said, lifting her shoulders in a rather helpless shrug. The tawny coyote offered what she hoped was a smile of reassurance toward her pale sister, though she was uncertain how it fit her face.
She wished she could bring more books, but as it was, she'd settled for just one. They were valuable and one of her favorite possessions, but they were also heavy and did not fare well on hard trails. She moved to one end of the little room, looking over the assortment of them stacked haphazardly along the rickety shelf. I think it might be good, she began, throwing a glance back toward Cassie before returning it to the books, to get out of here a while. This was nothing new she said, but in the high tensions before their departure, the comment might come across differently. The mahogany-haired coyote offered it in the hopes it might provide strength, but good intent did not always end with good results. @import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css'); </style>[/html] - Cassandra Asylum - 03-02-2012 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 03-03-2012 [html]
She reached for one of the books, brushing a finger against the hard cover. It was darkened and dotted with signs of age, the sturdy cover even warped in one corner. What would it be like, never seeing these books again? The woman thought it entirely possible they were leaving forever, and perhaps even some tiny, yet unknown part of her was already committed to never returning, but Myri's conscious mind had every intention of coming back. Her chestnut-splashed muzzle curled into a frown, and her shoulders seemed to droop.
Maybe. Probably not, she said, unwilling to lie to her sister outright. But it's worth trying, even if not, she added, and not too quickly. She did not wish to defend their choice to leave -- what else was left for her and Cassie once Kharma was gone? Their family was not liege to Thornloe, but the pack had treated them kindly enough -- were they supposed to join up? The thought sent a flutter of nervousness through Myrika, who could not imagine belonging to the same pack as her tormentors.
And we'll be back, I'm sure of that, she added, now smiling. The tip of her tail even wavered, and she turned back toward the ghost-pale woman. But it will definitely be good to have a break. Vacation, like people used to do, she said, gesturing vaguely back toward the books. These were her only source of knowledge where humans were concerned; she had no inherent understanding of their culture, of course, but it seemed one which seemed to require constant toiling would also require breaks. #myriAlaineHorse { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #myriAlaineHorse p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #myriAlaineHorse p.sieImage { text-align:center; float:left; margin:10px; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; } #myriAlaineHorse .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #myriAlaineHorse .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #myriAlaineHorse b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #myriAlaineHorse u { text-decoration: underline; } #myriAlaineHorse b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriAlaineHorse b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriAlaineHorse b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Cassandra Asylum - 03-03-2012 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 03-04-2012 [html]
There was some troubling truth to her pallid sister's words, and Myrika hesitated a moment, seeming to churn over this last from Cassie for too long. Her blue-green eyes looked down to the floor, following the lines of the wood flooring. She looked up as the red-eyed girl -- woman? Were they old enough to be called that yet? Myrika didn't feel like it, but she supposed they both looked it, for the most part -- readjusted on the couch. Then, with Cassie's words, the tawny hybrid jerked, moving to clasp both hands around herself. She hunched even harder and her face showed obvious displeasure in the idea.
Aaah, no, she muttered, shaking her head. What if she was weird? Or mean? Or what if she didn't like us at all? What if they had kids and liked them better? There were a billion things that could go wrong that way -- it was much easier and neater for them to pursue a ghost, wasn't it? Even as Myrika said and thought these things, she knew they were wrong. Even then, she was not ready to admit such. She couldn't imagine their father liege to anyone but the fantasy-mother she'd cooked up from memories and letters, but maybe in time she'd adjust. I'd rather it was just us for a little longer, she said lamely, sounding even to her own ears as though she plead to convince herself. #myriNat { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #myriNat p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #myriNat p.sieImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; } #myriNat .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #myriNat .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #myriNat b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #myriNat u { text-decoration: underline; } #myriNat b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriNat b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriNat b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Cassandra Asylum - 03-06-2012 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 03-09-2012 [html]
Myri had not thought about these things, and it was plain to see on her stricken face. Her tawny ears were all but invisible in her hair, and her mouth was grimly set, both corners turned downward in a frown. She shook her head at her sister's apology -- though the words provided a hurtful realization, it was better to think of these things now and prepare for them rather than being blindsided when they came, she supposed. The woman followed her sister's movement with her eyes first, then her feet, creeping over toward Cassie. The rust-hued coyote wrapped her arms around her sister's cloaked shoulders and hugged her from the side, though whether the gesture was in reassurance of herself or her pale sibling was not certain to even Myri herself.
I like it here with just us, too, but it will be just us -- for a while, anyway. I hope, she added silently. It'll be okay, she added, more firmly. Stepping back, she put a hand to the side of her face, looking toward the window, where she could just see the beginnings of the horse's small paddock. They're ready and they know something's up, but I don't think they know they're going anywhere, the woman said, shrugging. The horses seemed to sense their owners' excitement and anxiety, and of course, they read these emotions, but Myrika doubted horses were smart enough to guess at the inner workings of a Luperci mind, if horses were at all capable of guessing. #myriRazeLup { font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size:14px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #myriRazeLup p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #myriRazeLup p.sieImage { text-align:center; float:left; margin:10px; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; } #myriRazeLup .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } #myriRazeLup .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #myriRazeLup b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #myriRazeLup u { text-decoration: underline; } #myriRazeLup b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriRazeLup b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #myriRazeLup b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Cassandra Asylum - 03-12-2012 [html] [/html] - Myrika Tears - 03-15-2012 [html]
HERP. SURE. Also awkwardest WoTD use evar? Y.
Her sister seemed to relent, though Myri herself was not absolutely convinced their journey would come to a good end. Maybe it was a good idea to stay home and pack up, but part of her also could not accept the idea she'd live here, on the outskirts of a pack, for the rest of her life. Perhaps even eventually, someone would take a liking to her and want to become her mate -- making her a part of Thornloe. The thought was iniquitous, and it almost made her shiver. She withheld and smiled instead, for the pale coyote's benefit.
Yeah, for sure, she said, though her voice sounded faint. She wanted her father to hurry up and slow down at the same time -- they should get going, and they should never leave. Myri almost regretted their insistence at accompanying Kharma on this venture, but she refused those feelings. Regret was for old people, and she was young and full of possibilities and likelihoods. Show-off, she said, louder and grinning with her sister's chosen amount of bags. For her part, Myri put two over her shoulders and scooped up three, though she almost dropped one of the three on her way out the door. @import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css'); </style>[/html] |