you stand there shaking by your pew

Sparrow · 05-17-2012, 06:56 PM

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Posting Order: Once Vesper and Axatia reply, the order will follow as so.

NPC Participants & Player Controller: ~~A general Boreas wolf~~ EDIT: Boreas: Louis; I am assuming he will be controlled by all three of us

Desired Result: The wolf, after being confronted by Vesper and Axatia, will retreat with some injuries. He will not be killed.

Participants: IF: Sparrow (Aly), Vesper (Raze) SL: Axatia D'Angelo (Shem)

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sorry for the wordy post. ; ; I've been feeling really inspired with Sparrow as of late; only the last three paragraphs sincerely matters.

Word Count → 734

Despite the chaos, Sparrow felt an eerie calm come over her. The transition into battle was not that of grace that was wove into the stories of battle. It was ugly, seeing a fellow canine suddenly become ravage and sought for blood that could not be found in the bodies of prey; enemies and allies alike underwent this transformation. It was natural, instinctual even, for them to act like this, so it did not faze the woman as she herself curled her soft lips over glistening teeth. They were virgin white, but these wolves have harmed Inferni, her friends, family, and they welcomed the chance to meet with staining crimson.

Though her face was crinkled, tarnished like those of the clan and thistle kingdom, some veil was casted over her, allowing her peaceful rage to stay and kept her intimate fear away. Yes, she was afraid, she was terrified about so many things, but her mind was cooperating with her for once, knowing that its own being was at risk if it was to freeze up in the middle of battle. So she went, feet moving quickly over the ground, but it made no noise that could over achieve the rabble that surrounded her now. She hopped between places to hide herself, the while knocking over supplies that held no interest for her besides to destroy it, as she looked for a wolf that would meet the end of her arrow.

She had to take a pause behind a pile of wood, gripping the chopped trunks from behind to steady herself. Her mind reeled and relayed every detail it saw, but her body was weak, it was not trained to do this. Her heart thumped like it begged to tumble out of her chest, but Sparrow swallowed it down and took a glance around the logs. There she saw a lone wolf, though he had a few bloody marks here and there, must’ve just gotten released from a scrap and was now looking for another, probably weaker, combatant. Her right hand gripped tightly over the bow she carried, her skin straining over her knuckles until it became painful, which only egged her on.

She was quick to draw the arrow from the leather quiver and fast to notch it into place, the process smooth and oiled from the training with the white, yellow-eyed man. Only a second had passed since she laid eyes on the monster before her and she stood at the ready, hard eyes narrowed upon the wolf’s throat, and fired a half-second later. Her hesitation was not long, but it was enough; her hands had trembled at the realization of what she was doing, and even if it was on purpose or accident, the arrow whistled by the man’s ear regardless.

The beast whipped his monstrous gaze upon her, seeking a warrior to only find a fragile woman. Teeth smirked into a smile, and for a moment, Sparrow wondered how they could claim themselves holy when their actions showed how demonic they could be. She attempted to dock another arrow, but fingers fumbled, and the arrow fell uselessly to the ground before it could even meet the string. The wolf may have toyed with her longer, but she guessed her insolence with her own weapon annoyed him, and though he seemed to be far off for a moment, a second later he was upon her. Though he did not smell foul, the scent made her think evil; it reminded her of Marcel, yet different in its own way. She thought about slipping into the blackness as she felt the first hit connect to her arm that was raised to defend herself. But, she was too alive, her blood still at a boil so that she was unable to faint, and could tell she would not die a peaceful death that she wanted.

All she could do was to raise her hands in a weak attempt to ward off the male, even going as far as to kick him when she was knocked to the ground, but it was barely a fight. The male knew he would win, Sparrow knew she would lose. The only reason she fought back was the thought of her sister and her mother. She knew they would at least like the idea that she had tried to fight for her life before it was torn from her.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to patrickhashley

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