relive the pictures that have come to pass - 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: relive the pictures that have come to pass (/showthread.php?tid=4580) |
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- Bane Kiles - 01-13-2009 [html]
- Cwmfen nic Graine - 01-14-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 700+ Cwmfen trotted silently in the lands outside of Dahlia de Mai. She was deep in thought, considering what had occurred the night before. Pausing in the brush, the black female shifted, taking on the luperci form. She lay there alone as she had spent every night. And yet, ever since the Long Nights, that solitude that she so required held a different quality.... Her mind turned the happenings of the prior night over, trying to reason through the events, attempting to uncover something she might have missed. Why had he been there? Unexpectedly, Haku had appeared at her den, seeking friendship. The warrior sighed, trying to push the thoughts away. She wanted to believe that there had been something more, but how could she demand that of him—or anyone? While the woad marked fae knew that the Lilium had a mate, there was still that primal instinct that called for challenge; while her belligerent ways may have functioned thusly, the world no longer accepted such archaic views, it seemed. Perhaps to follow it would have asked too much. The female considered her own confusion. Social confrontations of any nature were never really her strength. War. That was what she knew. She knew how to fight, and she was good at it. It was easy for her to decide who would die, or who would live. There was no complexity for her in such basic, aggressive instincts. But she had, and possibly could, never adapt fully to the social life. In the culture from which she originated, the wolves never took mates. They only took lovers; while usually the nature of these relationships was usually very similar to mateships in the respect that only one lover was taken, the relationship was not binding. Indeed there was love, but there was nothing restraining both parties from the freedoms of life. Lovers shared warmth in the cold nights. They made love in their dens. And (perhaps most importantly to this particular female) they were comrades in battle relying upon one another, protecting one another. Why could not the relationships here be of that nature. She found often—especially after the rites of womanhood—that she desired companionship. But she did not want the ties that would prevent her from being the wild and free warrior creature that she was. Suddenly, the woad-marked female found herself wandering in strange lands. She had never really explored these particular lands, but from what she could tell from the strange, exotic city that surrounded her, she must be in the place named Halifax. The female did not like these constructs of human existence. Of humanity, she found only their ancient weaponry to be fascinating. There was nothing for her in these concrete jungles. Yet, she could not help but feel curious about these graveyards of man. What caught her interest the most was the way in which the earth was re-claiming that which was lost. The white orbs wandered over those seemingly frail vines with tendrils that penetrated and grasped at the sides of these edifices. How curious it was that these thin tendrils were slowly but surely conquering these seemingly eternal constructs. It was evidence only that nothing was eternal. The road opened up into a courtyard—the way a forest gave way to a meadow. However, the warrior stopped immediately, for she scented upon the cold air the scent of another—a male. The glossy white orbs scanned the surroundings until they observed a form sitting upon a bench. The male was black and he was alone. His scent, as she sniffed the air again, held no trace of any pack. A lone wolf. Immediately, the woad-marked Vitis grew wary, for her experience with lone wolves had never been good, often ending in the death of the other. Suddenly, Cwmfen realized that she had left her spear within the shelter of her den (where too her pied Raven awaited her return). With a feral ferocity flickering faintly within her eyes, she discarded such thoughts, for she was quite adept without the use of weapons. And while the distance between them was great, her posture changed slightly as she observed silently, with a mild fascination, the cranium of a human held in his palms. - Bane Kiles - 01-14-2009 [html]
- Cwmfen nic Graine - 01-19-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Don’t worry about that~! I just like to ramble on, ^=^;;; 500+ The frosty white orbs held the male’s form, observing him from afar with a calculating gaze. She could not help but feel a curiosity towards this encounter as he found her with his gaze—clear blue eyes, juxtaposed by his ebony fur. Perhaps it was this symbolic imagery that intrigued her the most, for she lived in a world of such motifs. As the two shadows observed one another, she could not help but feel that there was something else about the male that intrigued her. Perhaps it was the implications of something darker, something bestial—primeval. Something that she felt was being lost in this world of humanesque creatures walking upright. It was ironic to think of such things when both creatures present had donned such guises, when the world about them now rose above them in skeletons of the past. This place of death, she thought. In this place was it meant for things to die, for wars to be started, to be fought, to be ended. The warrior had wondered why she was here. Perhaps this was why. The subconscious mind is never wrong. When the male rose, she did not openly respond in any way. The warrior was calm as she observed the one opposite her. He was tall, taller than her. And stronger. Yet, strength did not win all battles. Cwmfen knew of her own strengths, of technique and of speed. Yet she did not discard him, for she did not doubt that he would be a formidable enemy. Or perhaps a formidable ally, should these circumstances end well. He did not seem to portray hostility as he rose, and she sensed no immediate danger from the other. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, and yet carried in this human jungle. The woad-banded aurals pricked forward, and her posture straightened slightly, the kill feather in her hair twitching in the nighttime breeze. The white orbs considered the other, for the female continued to exercise her caution. Mere civility would not put her at ease, for in these ways she was not ignorant. She knew of that basic instinct—to kill the opposition, to rip the throat out of he who trespassed—and she felt it now. But she was the trespasser this night. "Indeed, but a wandering mind knows no hour." The silver toned melody rang in the silence. Her words held no threat. She was almost amicable as she replied. The woad-marked tail flickered behind her. "The same could be said of you. Or perhaps I trespass on your abode?" Pausing she sniffed the air once more, catching his scent like a stray hair. "You do not smell of any pack or tribe." The woman’s curiosity bid her to stay and explore this acquaintance. But not all souls were as her own, and she did not wish to press this male. He seemed to have a restlessness about him, yet it was different from her own. It was more feral, one that would scratch away the layers of control. And while such a thing brought about her wariness, she was at once greatly drawn by that state. "I will not linger for long...." In this way, she dismissed herself, and yet she hesitated there, as if wondering whether she would indeed leave him. It seemed, however, that intrigue held her there. - Bane Kiles - 01-21-2009 [html]
- Cwmfen nic Graine - 01-22-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ As her black, dual banded ears received his curt reply, they twitched. The sound of his words was different than those prior, for there implied something contrary and yet apparent in his demeanor. Something, a growl perhaps, stirred silently, clawing in the dark with violent tendrils. But she brushed away such dark tendencies, for they were needless here. She wondered what made such things move within her, for the blue-eyed male gave her no reason to become hostile. It was merely tone, and perhaps he had not meant to give it in such a way. The woad-warrior, still inept in the dealings of social behavior, was unable to discern the reasons for such things, and she held her self still in the dark. As he approached, a certain amount of tension returned to her body. Trained for war, trained to fight, the female responded to his approach without a second thought. The tension was not immediately visible, not like a flinch would be. It was almost an implication, a change in the air about her. His approach, however, was slow and unhurried, and his step did not betray any eagerness that would be held in the gait of one approaching to attack. Once more, she let the tension slowly slip from her muscles, but they remained tightly wound about her frame, ready to spring into action should she require it. But, as he stopped, offering a smile, it seemed almost as if this would be a friendly encounter. The female did not readily return the smile, and her body shifted, turning as if meaning to walk away. His request stopped her, as if his voice wound about her wrist like an iron-gripped fist. The ears swiveled back as she listened to the silence that followed his words. Their sound was different from his previous reply. They were, despite his appearance, quite calm. Perhaps she should have viewed this as dangerous, but she concluded that such things attributed to his ability to control himself. Quietly, she turned back to face the black male, nodding in compliance. "Alright," she said slowly, her voice almost a whisper. She decided that the male intrigued her after all, and her curiosity bid her to stay and explore this unexpected personality. As a creature of ancient custom, she found him to be refreshing—one of the best encounters she’d had with lone wolves (her mind went with particular disgust to the rude Nikolai Russo). Thus far. The woad warrior never allowed herself to express optimism too eagerly. The white orbs considered the male as she offered him a soft, amiable smile. "I hail from Caledonia, in the lands across the sea." But she could not return there. Though now she knew that her father had not raped her—yet—she could not leave the safety of these lands without making herself vulnerable to a life she did not wish to have. And now she knew why that crow-wolf wanted her, and she would not give it to him. The warrior, while timid and humble, was a proud creature, willing to face and defy Death until she would have no choice but to relinquish life to Death’s hungering jaws. "And you, sir?" the Tilia inquired. She was a curious creature, and she wondered at the origins of others as much as they wondered about her. Perhaps, if this encounter continued to prove unthreatening, she would allow herself to introduce herself—yet, perhaps she would do so anyway, for her curiosity and politeness would move her to do so. Her face softened slightly as she realized that she was enjoying his company. - Bane Kiles - 01-25-2009 [html]
- Cwmfen nic Graine - 01-28-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... banner.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ The black male seemed to be watching her as carefully as she was watching him. The warrior approved of that trait, for, while knowledge could not alone be gained through mere observation (simply because perception was an unreliable way of knowing), there was still much that could be learned through such scrutiny. The inflection of a movement, the hint of a gesture. At times, she found that it was the things that went unnoticed that proved to be the most significant. And often, such things did go unnoticed, and she felt that she offered such things in vain. Yet, with this male who was strangely attentive, she did not feel that such things were wasted. It was a refreshing notion. Perhaps this, too, made her linger there with him. As he spoke, repeating the name of the lands from which she hailed, the female’s curiosity heightened. In the way he said it—and perhaps within the silence left after the winds had taken the quiet tones—there was something curiously dark. It made her want to lean in, to peer into the well of his thought and listen to the waters of his memories and contemplations, to have a taste of that strange darkness that lingered briefly upon his surface. The black fae knew, more in the back of her mind than openly, of the danger of her present desire, and yet she disregarded it, unconcerned with her own safety for once. And she did not doubt that instinct and muscle memory would serve her well. But now, she was thirsty. When the male spoke again, it was to speak the name of his origin. She heard the lilt of his dirge change, and wondered at it. The name of the region was not familiar to her, but, from her experience gained with her travels, she guessed it was from a place within a similar northern region as her own country. The sounds of the languages tended to gain a rough, yet musical quality in those regions, quite different from those of Africa or even of the lands far to the south of the AniWaya. The female thought that she rather liked the strange variation of this accent’s chords, but when that song started again, it was gone. Discretely, suspicion rose in her as a dry riverbed fills once more with the waters of the wet season. And yet, the female remained placid as she stood before him unmoving. There was a strange pride that drifted along those waters of suspicion, as if she were a woman of consequence. And yet, it seemed almost as if she held herself in that way naturally, and in such a way that contradicted her tentative demeanor and was dismissed. Her stillness was not of hesitation or fear—its quality was different, as if it merely bid him wait, allowing him to know that when she did come—and she would—that it was of her own accord, and that his words did not bind her to any unsaid promise. A light smile carved gracefully into her maw, and it held almost the qualities of a sneer. But her face was not unkind, and slowly, her woad-banded feet slid forward. As she closed the distance with painfully slow and fluid progression, his curiosity became more apparent, and she sensed within him a conflict. She received a strange satisfaction—or perhaps satisfaction was a poor descriptor—as she experienced his struggle. And then the warrior’s progress stopped, her adroitness ceased. And when she spoke, her voice was strangely calm, assuaging and forthcoming. "What do you see here that was not clear before?" And the challenge rang clearly in the cold air. - Bane Kiles - 01-31-2009 [html]
- Cwmfen nic Graine - 02-02-2009 [html] http://img141.imageshack.us/img141/3402 ... 985rw1.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ Cwmfen saw that empty smile as she approached, and a fierce one of her own flashed across her face. But her lips did not part to reveal the strong teeth behind them. And soon that smile was gone, as quickly as it had come. The white orbs sought his eyes, and she thought them beautiful—as if the colour of the wild sea had been tamed there, and they seemed to shimmer in the moonlight as if a soft breath had shuddered across its surface. But the sea was indeed wild, and its waters treacherous. The sea would easily break one against the rocky shores, or pull one deep into its dark embrace. The sea was hungry, and it was ruled by no one. The female took note of such connotations, and yet, she found herself willing to brave the waters that seemed so still now. But how long would it be before that eternally beating life was released? She wondered if she would be able to resist that force. Her own eyes were dim in the darkness, though they shone visibly for their whiteness. They flickered with intrigue at his simple response. And what do you see? The warrior asked silently. She thought, then, that she could feel the hunger of his eyes’ waters, more so than before. Her hackles bristled slightly, and yet it was not with hostility. That darkness in his voice intrigued her, perhaps more so than anything else. The woad-marked female knew not why she was so drawn to such a darkness, but she found something there that she could not help but revel in. It was like a strange, black stone. She wanted to hold it in her hands, to feel its smooth, cold surface and feel the weight of it in her palm. She wanted to become it, to crush it in her jaws. It was a curious thing, the darkness, and her curiosity desired to be sated. It was a hunger of her own. And so she smiled softly, an enigmatic smile that invited much more. As the male continued, the female laughed quietly—inaudibly—a rich sound. "Such dangerous words," the female remarked, almost to herself. Then, with more volume, "Perhaps it is safer to completely lose oneself before finding oneself once more." She did not directly answer his inquiry—or perhaps her quiet laugh had been her reply, a knowing sound, a troubling sound. Now the alto melody rang quietly with silver tones, and her voice held the same inviting quality as her smile. And yet, as she stood there, her challenge was withheld, as if it were some test he must pass. And once he passed—she did not know. Did this even matter, this change encounter? She knew that she did not believe in mere coincidence, in chance, but did he? The female shifted her weight, placing her hand on the higher hip. The black tail flickered dangerously behind her, but her curiosity peeked quietly from behind her fierce exterior. Who was he? What did he want? These hostile questions were questions of curiosity too, and they desired to be sated. She flicked her head, forcing her hair to become orderly. Even such a curt movement was graceful. Her eyes never left the other as the smile left her maw. - Bane Kiles - 02-06-2009 [html]
- Cwmfen nic Graine - 02-08-2009 [html] http://img141.imageshack.us/img141/3402 ... 985rw1.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> 500+ His grin was unexpected. Mirthful, amused perhaps it was, but not entirely. There was something savage in that mere gesture. Her response was a twitch of her lip, as if she wished to smile in return but was unmoved. The female’s mind was considering the other fully now, calculating everything he had said, everything he was doing. Perhaps even what he might say, what he might do. She wanted to find that savage beast hiding beneath that calm exterior. She could not help but admit that she was more than marginally curious about this stranger, and that this stranger, though she did not even know his name, had excited a more primal curiosity in her—one that was purely physical. Yet, the female was unsure if such a response was due to the black male’s own desires. She wondered why he desired her then. She wondered if he was influenced by something else. And she wondered if she even cared. The female was not a creature that followed the rules of society—or at least the society in which she lived. Promiscuity, while she herself did not practice it—was not something looked down upon. Males and females were equals. And so why should she not be curious? Why should she not explore her curiosity? She had only recently come into womanhood, after all, and there was much she did not know. She did not flinch when he touched her. But she had not expected it. Her eyes lifted to find the male’s blue ones, a question held in them. The woad-marked female was certain that he was capable of so much more, and yet his touch was so gentle.... The black female found his control to be breathtaking, and a small breath was released from her maw. Cwmfen was impressed, and yet she was not yet moved. She could smell his desire and the power it had to engulf her, but she resisted its pull, almost effortlessly. Seemingly, the black fae did not respond as she felt that claw brush against her skin. Such a touch was not foreign for her, as she had felt many more of the likeness in battle—less gentle and more deadly, but it was similar. The she-wolf sensed his controlled curiosity and felt that she was in no immediate danger, though she did not dismiss that dark threat lurking beneath the surface. Her body was relaxed as she allowed him to look, unconcerned. "Perhaps its time," she responded simply, and she allowed a small, knowing smile to appear. She wanted to see what lurked in the dark sea of his soul. No, she agreed silently, but she did not respond aloud. The white orbs were curious as that smile faded. As his fingers wrapped about her wrist, her gaze was averted from his face, and she observed his grip as if it were something to consider. The woad-banded fingers clenched and unclenched as if testing his strength and her ability to escape that grip, but she did not remove it. It was as if she had been waiting to assess his physical worth, and her eyes had traced his upper torso on the way down to her own hand. As if content, the female looked back up to him. What does he want? And the question lingered timidly upon her breath. How far would he go, and how far would she allow him to go? She was satisfied with what she had assessed of this stranger—he was of the personality and build that caught her attention. But was he merely playing with her? The snarl lingered on the bridge of her maw. And yet his desire was beginning to permeate through her tranquility. Who is that beast I can see lingering beneath that gaze? - Bane Kiles - 02-16-2009 [html]
- Cwmfen nic Graine - 02-17-2009 [html] http://img141.imageshack.us/img141/3402 ... 985rw1.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> OuO 500+ There was some distant look in his eye, or perhaps there was something too near. She saw a darkness, a wildness, a chaos come forth within him. A slight, barely discernable smile of satisfaction flickered across her woad bound maw. That was what she was interested in seeing. But rather than sate her curiosity, it merely made her seek it more. She knew that it was this creature—this wilder, feral creature—that was his true quality. That creature of reason was the mask, and, no matter how much that mask had become prominent, the creature of reason was never the true essence of a wolf. A wolf was wild and free, and that wild creature of chaos drove her life and soul. She knew that it must be there within this black male as well. The white eyes flickered back to his grip upon her wrist, and she saw broken in the snow the skull that he had held. This symbol of a broken skull—a broken control—was proof enough that such a thing existed. The black male approached her with bared teeth, and she responded by unsheathing her own hungering fangs. She let him come, for his control was still intact. The woad warrior had not, however, expected the contact that he gave, but she did not reject it. Her jaws lingered at his exposed throat, and it was almost as if he had given it to her. The warmth of his body embraced her gentle curves, and her well sculpted body, pleasantly toned with the labors of war, involuntarily moved up to greet the male’s worthy form. But she felt his grip upon her tighten, and there was a different hunger on her mind, and her jaws wanted it, to crush life as it was meant to do. It was his voice that stilled her, that broke through seething silence, and bid her come. He wanted to know her, he claimed. The implications of his request were clear, and as his hand fell to her shoulder and down her back. And he began to pull her to that human edifice. At first she did not respond and passively resisted him. The white orbs stared their challenge openly, and her vicious maw released a quiet snarl. She wondered who he was to demand such a thing. But she found that his demand did not trouble her. She found that she did not want to resist this male, the stranger that he was. The woad swirled fae had seen a part of that darkness, and it was the darkness that she loved. And her curiosity with him bid her to move, and so she did. The black fae let her face grow calm and allowed him lead her into that human building, for the darkness was there too. Because he was there. She felt a different hunger then, and it was as a hot, glowing coal. She hungered for that darkness, for the beast that harbored it. She found that she wanted to know him too. She wanted to let him explore her, to lose himself in her. And she wanted him to loose that darkness harnessed there so that she may taste it and know that too. - Bane Kiles - 02-19-2009 [html]
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