04-07-2008, 01:12 AM
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1-2 Angheouligans, plz? 
WHEN I WATCH YOU, WANNA DO YOU, RIGHT WHERE YOU'RE STANDING.
It was an unexpectedly sunny day for only the second week of April, and between the warmth radiating from the sky above and the calm winds that curved gently through the land, the weather was remarkably pleasant. As the chocolate colored Luperci rested on a rounded boulder near the sea, he penciled small symbols and letters of his native Welsh tongue into the damp sand. They didn't appear to the trained Welsh eye to mean anything specific or concrete, and even if they did, to any passerby who had been born to Nova Scotia, the anarchy of sketches would be indecipherable gibberish at worst and maybe peculiar jargon at best. This left Zacor completely unconcerned as he doodled, moving thoughts from the mental medium to the physical as they gasped to life and faded out just as soon. There was a lot to think about lately: leaving his home back in Wales, then losing the ship he had claimed with Anathra, and now his newfound feelings for the blue-haired girl. All of these things shook his world, altering it at its core. It was hard to picture how everything was going to come together in some "new life," but he guessed that things would fall into place as each day marched on. In his apathy and sloth, he would trudge behind the march at times, but it wasn't as if he had any reason to rush ahead to the front just yet...in his lack of a damn to give, he would speculate introspectively until he knew if there was anything waiting at the front of the march, and only then would he take action, sprinting to the lead to take whatever goodness was there to be had before trudging along once more.
After dropping his piece of skeletal driftwood, he stretched his arms with a long yawn before his hands came to rest upon his knees. He was here to survey the available resources; Anathra and he could not rely solely on a dusty street in old Halifax to sustain them, so it was vital to know what flora and fauna they could find in the lands nearby. If it had been any less than vital, Zacor probably would not have set out on a long trek to investigate this new world around them. At least, he wouldn't have done it without Ana for company. But she had other things to tend to today, like replacing that poor excuse for a bed, although she would probably need Zacor's help in moving any suitable replacement to its proper place in the abandoned apartment. And since this was, in fact, quite vital to their continued existence here, Zacor resigned his apathy enough to take up the task. It had given him some time to think and also confirmed that there would be more than enough prey and water to keep the two of them alive if not thriving, and if they wanted to stretch their claim out just a bit farther than his walk had taken him today, then he was sure they could accommodate several others as well. Zacor was not a very social creature, but he supposed he wouldn't mind the extra company given that Ana couldn't always be home the same time he was, and he couldn't always be around when she was home, either. Life was much different in Nova Scotia than it had been back in Wales; as a Prince of Eidolon, he hadn't needed to lift a finger except to summon some lowly subordinate who would be forced by the duty of his rank to fulfill Z's every wish. But although things were not at all the same, they were how he wanted them. He didn't want to be the prized and coddled heir of Zephyrin Sian; he wanted to be whatever he actually was, even if that whatever was nothing grand at all.
RIGHT ON THE FOYER, RIGHT ON THIS DARK DAY, RIGHT IN PLAIN VIEW.
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It was an unexpectedly sunny day for only the second week of April, and between the warmth radiating from the sky above and the calm winds that curved gently through the land, the weather was remarkably pleasant. As the chocolate colored Luperci rested on a rounded boulder near the sea, he penciled small symbols and letters of his native Welsh tongue into the damp sand. They didn't appear to the trained Welsh eye to mean anything specific or concrete, and even if they did, to any passerby who had been born to Nova Scotia, the anarchy of sketches would be indecipherable gibberish at worst and maybe peculiar jargon at best. This left Zacor completely unconcerned as he doodled, moving thoughts from the mental medium to the physical as they gasped to life and faded out just as soon. There was a lot to think about lately: leaving his home back in Wales, then losing the ship he had claimed with Anathra, and now his newfound feelings for the blue-haired girl. All of these things shook his world, altering it at its core. It was hard to picture how everything was going to come together in some "new life," but he guessed that things would fall into place as each day marched on. In his apathy and sloth, he would trudge behind the march at times, but it wasn't as if he had any reason to rush ahead to the front just yet...in his lack of a damn to give, he would speculate introspectively until he knew if there was anything waiting at the front of the march, and only then would he take action, sprinting to the lead to take whatever goodness was there to be had before trudging along once more.
After dropping his piece of skeletal driftwood, he stretched his arms with a long yawn before his hands came to rest upon his knees. He was here to survey the available resources; Anathra and he could not rely solely on a dusty street in old Halifax to sustain them, so it was vital to know what flora and fauna they could find in the lands nearby. If it had been any less than vital, Zacor probably would not have set out on a long trek to investigate this new world around them. At least, he wouldn't have done it without Ana for company. But she had other things to tend to today, like replacing that poor excuse for a bed, although she would probably need Zacor's help in moving any suitable replacement to its proper place in the abandoned apartment. And since this was, in fact, quite vital to their continued existence here, Zacor resigned his apathy enough to take up the task. It had given him some time to think and also confirmed that there would be more than enough prey and water to keep the two of them alive if not thriving, and if they wanted to stretch their claim out just a bit farther than his walk had taken him today, then he was sure they could accommodate several others as well. Zacor was not a very social creature, but he supposed he wouldn't mind the extra company given that Ana couldn't always be home the same time he was, and he couldn't always be around when she was home, either. Life was much different in Nova Scotia than it had been back in Wales; as a Prince of Eidolon, he hadn't needed to lift a finger except to summon some lowly subordinate who would be forced by the duty of his rank to fulfill Z's every wish. But although things were not at all the same, they were how he wanted them. He didn't want to be the prized and coddled heir of Zephyrin Sian; he wanted to be whatever he actually was, even if that whatever was nothing grand at all.
