God left yesterday, but I remain
#1
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Thread Information
Date: March 26

Setting: Hill of Graves

Time: Early evening, fading light. Windyyyy.

Character Form: Optime
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Joining
Character Name: Orin Takekuro, currently in disguise as Desdemona Moonsong

Character Birthdate: March 24, 2009

Wolf/Luperci: Luperci Ortus

Gender: Female

E-mail: nuki@solacerp.net

AIM: OrinTakekuro
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WC 600+


Demons danced in the darkness that closed in on the exhausted woman. One more step and she would collapse, but with such precious cargo bundled and held so tightly in her arms, she could not allow herself the respite that fainting would afford. Instead, when she realized that every muscle screamed with the burning desire to surrender, the woman simply stopped walking and stared blankly at the impossible sight around her.


The woman had no idea where she was. She wandered aimlessly for days after the horrific events that unraveled the life that she once loved. Everything had been so perfect, but it had all come crashing down with one unforgiving stroke of fate's hideous claw. In barely the span of a day, one of her children had been murdered and during her flight from from the hellion's presence she had fallen into the clutches of a monster that had taken control of her body. She had done what he wanted, succumbing to the violent act with little fight, afraid that the devil would discover the hiding place of her infant daughters and end their short lives. The only thing the wolfess was thankful for anymore was that he had not found them; or if he had seen them, had no want for their lives. Her son had not fared as well at the hands of the murderer, Argul.


Now it was as though fate was walking her path, just a step ahead and twice as cunning, guiding the stupid woman into its terrible game. For in the moment that she felt the most weak – in body and in mind – she now also found herself surrounded by the symbol of death. Just before she became still, the woman slipped through the frost-deadened trees and stumbled upon an old cemetery. In the fading light of evening the old, crumbling gravestones cast terrible sidelong shadows, many with great, terrible claws reaching out silently for her and her children. She gasped at the sight and her breath caught in her chest. The beating of her heart thrummed in her ears, and for a long moment the woman was stark still until finally a small sound broke through the walls of her fear.


It was the soft, gentle sound of her daughter. The small gray pup squirmed in the bundle of furs next to her sister. She was growing restless and hungry. The other pup was silent but awake, and probably hungry too. Yet in the weeks she spent aimlessly wandering and without a pack, Orin found sustenance in short supply, and now her body was having a difficult time producing the valuable milk needed to keep her children alive. They required food more frequently now, and the creamy-white child that had been ill at birth now seemed even weaker. She feared for the lives of her fragile daughters.


Yet she was helpless. There was nothing more that she could do for them. Devils stalked her, looming just off in the shadows and threatening to come steal her body again or to her babes from her arms. Not even the disguise she wore would protect her; not even the mud-stains that now littered her pelt and caked in her matted hair could keep the demons from knowing her true identity, and even behind the mask painted over her eyes they would find her. Instead, though, they conspired with Fate to let the woman and her daughters waste away in empty, chilled loneliness.


The woman sagged, her head dropping down to press gently into the bundle in her arms, and a grievous wail oozed from her. Despite her coaxing, she could not force her thin form to take even one more step forward. She could not care for her daughters; they would die.


Her arms tightened around the bundled pups as the woman fell to her knees. The unforgiving wind whipped through the graveyard and battered her kneeling form. Flurries tried to shove her to the ground, to the place where she, too, would give in and die. She was down, eyes squeezed shut, but she fought against the invisible imps that tugged at her hair and coaxed her to surrender.


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