texture like sun - 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: texture like sun (/showthread.php?tid=31125) |
- Temeraire Stormbringer - 09-10-2012 [html]
[444]
Since finding Lena a week and a bit ago and making sure she was okay, unharmed and happy to see him again, the boys spirits had been lifted. He planned on making the trip over to New Dawn more often to see her- she was fast becoming a good friend and the boy enjoyed her company, even with the dark cloud of Cody hanging over them. The Stormbringer boy still felt as though he was in the right, despite Lena pointing out that he hadn't been friendly to her brother. What was he supposed to do? Submit to her brothers 'wrath', apologise for saving his sisters life and be done with it? The boy didn't think so. Even thinking about it made him scowl and want to hit something. He'd taken to the trees instead, swinging easily up into the branches and higher until he reached the top and settled precariously on a flimsy branch to contemplate. #artTXT { font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, geneva, sans-serif; font-size:13px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #artTXT p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #artTXT p.sieImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:left; margin:5px; } #artTXT .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif text-transform:none; line-height:16px; font-weight:normal; } #artTXT .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #artTXT b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #artTXT u { text-decoration: underline; } #artTXT b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #artTXT b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #artTXT b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Shiloh Dawnbringer - 09-12-2012 [html] The white form stepped delicately through the trees, slender muzzle and dark nose tilted toward the boughs fanning out above and around her. Only weeks ago the forest had been a uniform green of differing shades, from the flat color of the deciduous leaves to the near-celadon of the pine needles. Now, there were an increasing number of bright patches: yellows and reds and browns, as if the leaves were sucking up the colors of daylight September was steadily snatching away. She anticipated the coming winter with a hint of nervousness, the memory of the blizzard all too clear in her mind, but she realized that she hadn’t yet spent a fall in Nova Scotia. And it was a pity, too—the land, despite its cold mornings and lengthening nights, was absolutely beautiful, something that kept her anchored to Vinátta half as much as blood ties did. Even if she did not have kin here, she didn’t think she’d be able to leave this sanctuary.
Shiloh inhaled the rich odor of the forest then sighed, before sniffing again quickly. She’d run into a few of her pack mates over the days since she’d joined, but there were still many scents flitting around the territory that were unfamiliar to her. This one was, in a sense, unfamiliar—but the undertones of Stormbringer, and her brother, were clear as day. Her brow furrowed before she made a conscious effort to unwrinkled it, and she pushed her pale hair back from her face as, nose pointed to the branches where the scent was (oddly) concentrated, she padded through the woods.
Her blue eyes widened as the trees cleared, and she looked at the mostly-finished construction with interest. It looked like quaint Jordheim wouldn’t be the only settlement within Vinátta, although this place was unpolished enough to make her glad she lived in her green little home. Casting a skeptical glare at the dirt and the blunt edges of the wood, she passed several buildings then found a large one that the scent trial vanished into. Her ears tipped back slightly as she approached the massive entrance, but that was the only trace of unease she let herself show before she stepped inside.
“Hello?” Shiloh called, and her voice echoed through the long, low hall. She frowned and stepped forward again, her eyes trying to adjust to the dimness—but not before her toes struck something blunt lying on the ground, and she let out a squeak. Word Count →413 Bahaha, taking Shiloh not so seriously this time. <33 .issola-b {background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/KeTKF.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:top center; background-color:#aaabaf; width:500px; margin:0px auto; padding:300px 0px 5px 0px; color:#4c5056; text-align:justify; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:15px; border:1px solid #4c5056; letter-spacing:-.1px;} .issola-b b {color:#fff; text-shadow:#4c5056 1px 1px 2px;} .issola-b p { text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .issola-b p.ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px; border-top:1px dotted #fff; margin:15px 15px 0px;} .issola-b .wordcount {letter-spacing:0px;font-weight:bold; font-size:11px; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; float:right; margin:20px;}</style>[/html] - Temeraire Stormbringer - 09-14-2012 [html]
[323]
Pushing the door aside, Temeraire inhaled the scent of a fresh building. This was the only building so far in what was to become the Sveit village and Tem was pleased to see his family had done a good job. While the hall wasn't massive, it was a comfortable size that would serve to fit the pack in should they have need of it. The giant table that spanned most of the hall, two equally big benches set on either side for seating, seemed the perfect get-up to him- there wasn't the awkward situation of too little chairs should they actually intend to get everyone in here. The fireplace that sat almost at the head of the table was big and Teme saw that his uncle Bran had done a good job in building it. Taking in the sites was easy for him, blue eyes wide as he looked towards the large map of Vinátta on the wall, the big book that recorded important events they wished to document. #artTXT { font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, geneva, sans-serif; font-size:13px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #artTXT p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #artTXT p.sieImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:left; margin:5px; } #artTXT .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif text-transform:none; line-height:16px; font-weight:normal; } #artTXT .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #artTXT b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #artTXT u { text-decoration: underline; } #artTXT b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #artTXT b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #artTXT b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Shiloh Dawnbringer - 09-21-2012 [html] Her toes throbbed from their contact with what seemed to be a hammer, but Shiloh did little more than grimace after her initial outburst, recovering from her compromised balance. Months ago, the recoil might have sent her sprawling on the floor, but training as a fighter had given her good enough pain tolerance and reflexes to recover without too much incident—other than that pathetic little squeak. She started to curl her lip at the offending tool before she heard a snicker from a short ways down the hall, at which point she flat-out scowled. Already her crude image of him as an illegitimate whelp haphazardly raised by a single father began to swell, at least until she could make out his dark form coming closer and heard his greeting.
And you must be Temeraire, my bastard nephew, Shiloh thought before immediately feeling guilty as he wagged his tail and reached out for her, proving that, while perhaps born out of wedlock, he was Saul’s son and that was most important in his upbringing. She took a tiny step back but dipped her head as thanks for the offer, wanting to show that she could take care of herself and that she wasn’t, at least, the same girl Saul had known as his sister before.
“It’s nice to actually meet you,” she said aloud, a smile flickering across her lips. Her cerulean eyes darted over him: his dark Stormbringer’s eyes, his black coat accented with hints of white, and the muscle and bone structure underneath these colors. “You look like your father,” she murmured, a bit out of wonderment, but she decided that he looked a bit like Gideon, too, if only for his dark coat.
Realizing that she was letting the seconds tick by in silence, she pushed some of her blonde hair out of her face and glanced around at the hall. “This place is really nice,” she commented, peering at the long table and the great hearth at the end of it. “Did you all work on this?” She wasn’t quite sure how long Vinátta had been around, or how much time they’d spent constructing this part of the village. Word Count → 363 Crappypost. :C .issola-b {background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/KeTKF.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:top center; background-color:#aaabaf; width:500px; margin:0px auto; padding:300px 0px 5px 0px; color:#4c5056; text-align:justify; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:15px; border:1px solid #4c5056; letter-spacing:-.1px;} .issola-b b {color:#fff; text-shadow:#4c5056 1px 1px 2px;} .issola-b b.npc {font-style:italic; font-weight:normal;} .issola-b p { text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .issola-b p.ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px; border-top:1px dotted #fff; margin:15px 15px 0px;} .issola-b .wordcount {letter-spacing:0px;font-weight:bold; font-size:11px; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; float:right; margin:20px;}</style>[/html] - Temeraire Stormbringer - 09-29-2012 [html]
[435]
For a moment, it felt like they were sizing each other up. Blue eyes met blue as his words hung in the air and Temeraire felt judged. At the same time, he felt as though he was similar to his aunt- or his aunt was similar to himself. There appeared to be a confidence about her that Teme admired despite the slightest suspicion that they were looking each other up and down. As quickly as it had come, the feeling dissipated and Temeraire relaxed slightly. He shouldn't be judgemental of his own family- that would get him nowhere in life. Instead, he plastered the smile on his face, his tail automatically wagging as she politely declined his offer of assistance. He stepped back also, feeling no need to hover close to her personal space. White rimmed ears flickered forward at her words, polite as ever. #artTXT { font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, geneva, sans-serif; font-size:13px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #artTXT p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #artTXT p.sieImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:left; margin:5px; } #artTXT .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif text-transform:none; line-height:16px; font-weight:normal; } #artTXT .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #artTXT b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #artTXT u { text-decoration: underline; } #artTXT b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #artTXT b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #artTXT b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] |