Beyond the borders of reality

Arwen Stormcloud · 03-28-2011, 05:55 PM

OOC: I was bored so I decided I want to meet some more people!

The young woman stopped for a moment, adjusting her thin black deerskin dress so that it hung more comfortably around her, and listened to the sounds carried to her on the wind. Were there voices? She stood still, her breathing audible only to herself, and decided that she was just being paranoid. That seemed to happen a lot to her lately, but maybe it was just herself getting used to the change in climate and the escalating temperatures. She decided not to worry about it too much. It would only make her crazier.

She focused on the things she knew to be real, the crisp fresh spring air, the sound of the birds chirping, the warm feeling she was getting, that this was the start of a new era. Her shiny crimson hair flew back as she began to run, her long braids getting caught up in the wind. She couldn't even hear the sound of her own feet pounding on the ground. Was she really that stealthy from the months she spent in the world of espionage, or was it just the soft ground absorbing the sound of her footsteps? She didn't have time to try to figure it out. This feeling of bliss wasn't going to last forever, she might as well make the best of it.

Little did she remember of the time that passed. She climbed trees, ran, explored the packlands, occasionally put her hand out lazily and trapped a startled rabbit. After about two hours, she stopped, sitting down and deciding that four rabbits was more than enough for her to eat. Actually, it was doubtful whether she would eat even one. She made her way to Thornbury. Maybe someone would want to eat them for her... after all, who could say no to free food?

Slade Auctor · 03-28-2011, 06:24 PM

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It had been a couple of weeks since Slade had met Deidre. While he looked forward to returning to Ethereal Eclipse to see her again, he had made himself a promise to meet at least three more packmates first. It would be pretty bad if he ended up knowing Deidre like a sister and his packmates like strangers, especially since Deidre was a loner.

The young coyote had decided to stay around the general area of Thornbury, where activity in the pack was high. He had already met Krystalle, the strange-looking horse owner; Gunnar, adopted son of an old 'friend' Valinta, and even attended a pack meeting in which some rather dramatic facts were learned. After that, he couldn't help but be a little paranoid; Cercatori d'Arte likely hosted a murderer. Real-life murder mysteries had proved to be far, far worse than any kind of imaginary ambiguity Slade could dream up.

Still, he had kept to his vow and stayed around the little town. Just one more to go, and then he would be staying as far away as possible from Thornbury; he didn't want to have a run-in with a serial killer. It just wasn't on his agenda at the moment.

Slade's ears were pricked, and his gaze swept to and fro as he searched for somebody, anybody, to talk to. Eventually his eyes rested on yet another unfamiliar canine in optime form. He couldn't see the stranger clearly thanks to his myopia, though the scent told him that this was a female who was somewhat new to the pack. Oddly enough, he also picked up rabbit.

As he approached, he got a better look at her. She was wearing something that looked a lot like a deer's pelt, had amber eyes, and long hair. He didn't see Luperci who wore an extra pelt every day, nor did he see anyone who was carrying four freshly-killed rabbits.

"Hello, there," Slade greeted when he was a short distance away from her. "Hunting's gone well for you, yes?" It was just another conversation-starter he had come up with since that awkward introduction to Krystalle.

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Arwen Stormcloud · 03-28-2011, 06:44 PM

"Hey. I don't seem to know you... but then I don't know anyone around here. Probably 'cause I'm new. I'll probably get to know all of you in no time at all, plus I plan on being here a while, so get used to me. But anyways, now's a good time for hunting, it being spring, plus this is a place where there are incredibly many lil critters running around. I spent two hours hunting earlier today and managed to catch four of them. Here, want one?"

She gently tossed one at him, purposely aiming low so that it didn't startle him. It was probably good that she did that too, as she was way more than twice his height in optime form. Her common sense told her to shift into lupus form.

"Excuse me for a second..."

Dropping the rabbits, she took off her dress, exposing her bare body. It made her uncomfortable because she knew she looked even better naked than she did with clothing, and that scared her. She didn't want to be the victim of rape just because of her good looks. Slowly, her hair began to shrink into her neck until it became short, fine red fur, and her limbs shortened so they all rested on the ground. Her chest and hips became those of a normal, unmutated canine. In just a few minutes, she had become just an average (but tiny) wolf-dog with no especially remarkable characteristics.

"We can probably communicate better this way. So anyways, as I said before, I don't think we've met before. I'm Arwen, Arwen Stormcloud. Would you mind introducing yourself?"

Slade Auctor · 03-28-2011, 07:01 PM

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Slade was, to say the least, surprised by the female's actions. As her scent had revealed, she confirmed that she was new to the pack. He was slightly impressed that she was able to speak so casually; they had just met. She also offered him one of her rabbits, which he nodded gratefully for. He had been told that it was rude to eat in front of strangers when they weren't eating, but when she asked him to excuse her and took off her pelt he ducked down and began to eat. He was used to seeing naked Luperci running around, but if she was ashamed he wasn't going to stare, even if he did wonder exactly what the process of shifting looked like.

He was just starting to think that this rabbit was so warm and tasty, and that he might just be hungry enough to down another one, but her voice startled him again. Because he had been eating, it had only felt like a few seconds since the female had stood before him in a deerskin pelt. He looked up at her, noticing that she had shifted - it was a kind gesture, shifting for their convenience; most optimes just looked down at him when they talked, and while Slade wasn't offended he usually left those conversations with a sore neck - blood dripping from his muzzle. He wrapped his tongue around it, leaving a red stain, and spoke as prompted.

"I'm Slade, Slade Auctor." He paused for a moment, thinking of something to say, and simply settled on the obvious. "Thank you for the rabbit. It's really good." He glanced from Arwen to one of the three rabbits on the ground, not saying anything but silently asking, "Aren't you going to eat one so I'm not just standing here rudely eating in front of you?"

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Arwen Stormcloud · 03-28-2011, 07:20 PM

The girl stared at him for a second, not getting his message; she wasn't quite used to having social interactions with others. Then she understood, and began to eat one of the rabbits. It was plump and juicy, more like the fat rabbits commonly found in autumn than rabbits in spring, starved over a long winter. She continued eating, letting herself realize how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten for two days, she'd been so afraid that the smell of blood would lure scavengers (or murderers) to her hiding place not so far away. It took a while for her to finish the rabbit and lick the blood off her mouth. Mmm. Tasty.

"Would you like another one? One's more than enough for me to survive a few days on, plus it'll take years for the supply of rabbits in that forest to run out. Of course, that's probably because I'm small, and lightweight at that."

She pounced playfully at a log nearby to demonstrate her point. Although she was extremely mature for her age in most aspects, sometimes she acted no older than a little pup. That was when the week-old stench of blood coming from the log froze her in her tracks. It was all she could do to keep from throwing up.

"Eewww. Disgusting. Smell anything? Gosh, someone must have had a really bloody kill, tried to gut the animal, and poured all the blood and gore into this log to keep it out of the way. Or... I don't even want to think about that..." she said, as another possibility, one much more frightening, took control of her mind.

Slade Auctor · 03-28-2011, 07:37 PM

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After a brief moment's hesitation, Arwen got the message, and they both downed their rabbits; Slade finished a bit earlier than she, as he had started earlier, but it wasn't long after when she offered him another one. Common sense told him that he was full and really shouldn't have another one; his tongue protested. That was some really tasty rabbit....

Still, Slade chose to betray his taste buds and was about to reply that he was fine, but noticed that she had already walked away from her rabbit's carcass and towards a nearby log. Then she froze. Slade stiffened. It was just a log... nothing wrong.... Then she spoke.

He lifted his nose to the air and caught the unmistakable scent of blood. His ears flattened. Only a cruel canine would smear the blood of a victim on a log, no matter what kind of prey they had caught.... He shook the thought away, but a low growl escaped his throat. That had to be connected to the pack's drama in some way.

Right now, though, he wasn't going to think about it; as his anger subsided he became extremely thankful that he hadn't decided to take another rabbit. He managed to choke out an answer. "I've lost my appetite." And with that, he didn't really want to think or prey or blood or anything along those lines anymore. Arwen's description of what she thought had happened was enough to make him want to retch already.

Trying to change the subject, he let himself return to a casual stance and asked, "So what bought you to Cercatori d'Arte?" It was a fair and honest question; he wasn't trying to intrude her privacy, and she wasn't obliged to answer if she had some sort of dark or sad reason for coming. He was just curious, maybe nosy. He also wondered if they had anything in common; the reason he had gotten along so well with Deidre was because they shared a somewhat-similar past. Nothing said he couldn't make friends with this female, too.

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Arwen Stormcloud · 03-28-2011, 07:55 PM

Oh good. The male got the message quickly, not much she had to explain. She hated explaining things, because most of the wolves who needed things explained were stupid and not worth being friends with. And she didn't care much about him refusing another rabbit; the stench of the log was enough to make anyone want to throw up. But when he asked about her past, she stiffened. That wasn't something she wanted to talk about either, it made her afraid she would burst into tears. She decided to go on with it though, and took a deep breath.

"I was born on a late autumn day a fair distance from here. Nothing to say about my first few months of life, it was basically just my siblings hating me for being the 'best', not that I was, and me running away. Then I went to New Brunswick and met a really nice female gypsy wolf who taught me who I was, and how to sing. I lived there for about 8 months. A group of vicious coyotes attacked us and killed her, and wounded me." She stopped, revealing a giant cut that ran from her left shoulder blade to her right hip, marring her otherwise perfect beauty. "I ran away again, came back here, and stumbled upon Cercatori d'Arte."

She wiped a tear away, ashamed at herself for crying over her own story. The fact that it was an indelible part of her life made her want to kill herself. It was her own true tale, she was familiar with it, she had told it many times, yet it never failed to make her cry.

"But as to what brought me here; I heard there have been murders going on." She lowered her voice so that only herself and the male could hear. "I don't quite think I can trust you, so I won't tell you my part in this yet, but anyway, that's what drew me into this place. Can you tell me more about the scandal?"

Slade Auctor · 03-29-2011, 01:18 PM

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WC: 328

Slade hadn't asked for a biography, and when that was what he got he couldn't help but think, Arwen: dramatic much? Aside from hoping that she wasn't prejudiced against coyotes for what they had done to her, he wasn't usually the one to sympathize with sob stories. He also wondered why her siblings hated her for being "best"; unless they were hideous, Slade didn't notice anything particularly striking about Arwen. Maybe she had some sort of rare beauty mark he couldn't see.

When she had finished her story, he gave a small nod with half-false sympathy. As soon as she mentioned the murders, his ears pricked. Here was something he was interested about. He had to admit that she was right not to trust him, making him wonder if he should be more suspicious of her as well. Of course, why would the culprit ask about their own actions? Unless they were sneaky.... He had to shake the thought aside.

"I don't know too much about the murderer," Slade whispered, feeling like he was sharing top-secret information--which he partly was; he would never tell this to an outsider, "but he had the heart to kill a mother and her formerly-orphaned puppy in cold blood." His fur bristled and his lip curled as he remembered the meeting he had attended few of days ago. He wasn't fond of puppies and never had been, but he knew the identity of the victim: Valinta LeStrange. She only had one puppy as far as Slade knew, and that puppy was Gunnar, who Slade thought might be a bit more sensible and smart than other puppies out there.

Returning his thoughts to the conversation, he added, "That's about all I know. And Shawchert said 'he', so the culprit is probably a male. A cruel, heartless male." Talking about the murder made him want to lash out at something, and he just hoped that Arwen wouldn't do anything annoying before he calmed himself down.

Arwen Stormcloud · 03-29-2011, 01:55 PM

OOC: Now you get to see a little bit of how her mind works... feel free to react to her sudden mood swing however you want.

Interesting, she thought to herself, the scene finally starting to make sense. A cold-blooded murderer who went after puppies and their mothers, a male, probably a member of Cercatori... The blood in the log made sense too. One possibility was that it was a storage area for the murderer, and another possibility was that the murderer tried to recreate the murder scene... but that wasn't too likely. There was a fair chance that the murderer was a cannibal. It explained his love for killing females and puppies; their meat was probably the most tender... She was shocked out of her thoughts by this disgusting revelation. Why would she even think of such things? It was not as if she had ever tasted canine meat herself.

"Whoever the murderer is, he's experienced, he's dangerous, he's probably a relatively new pack member. He might also be a cannibal, as far as I know. Do you know who he might be? Can you give me a list of all the males who you think might have done it? Who were the victims? Does Shaw have an idea who the murderer is yet?" She stopped, embarrassed, her voice still quiet but shrill with excitement.

She looked around warily to see if anyone else was watching, listened for any breathing but her own and the coyote's, and was satisfied. Good. She couldn't afford anyone overhearing her, especially the murderer. But then she suddenly got angry; if this male also thought she was one of those little weaklings who couldn't kill a flea, she would show him what she could do.

"If you think I'm dead meat if the murderer decides to attack me, think again." She extended her both her paws, her sharp three-inch claws dangling no more than two inches from his face. "I grew them out especially for self-defense, if some crazy dude decides to attack me. So don't get on my bad side, kid. Even though you're probably older than me either way." Then she stopped. He was probably going to attack her, and she wouldn't dare use her claws on him, he'd go to Shaw and say she was the murderer, and she wouldn't stand a chance against Shaw, no matter how long her claws were. She sighed. "Sorry. I'm really sensitive when it comes to size."

Slade Auctor · 03-29-2011, 05:29 PM

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Fortunately Arwen didn't try any wild antics, and Slade managed to become calm again as she listed the facts about the killer and asked him some questions. His mind began to whirl. Slade didn't know many of his packmates; Shawchert and Mars were the only males he had even talked to, and they had both been in the pack for a while. Mars seemed a little sketchy, but somehow Slade couldn't see the bicolor male as a murderer. Shawchert couldn't have done it; what reason did he have for killing his own son? According to what Shawchert had said there were three victims thus far: Valinta, a puppy - likely hers - and Shawchert's own son. Nothing made sense. Phew, being a sleuth was tough work.

Slade was about to say this when Arwen's claws flashed near his face. He jerked his head back in surprise, especially confused when she spoke. Her past, given she was telling the truth, suggested that she thought herself to be nearly perfect; apparently she was really defensive over what she saw as a fault. Arwen didn't seem arrogant, but if she was going to flip out when Slade didn't say anything he wondered if he was really willing to put up with it long enough for them to become good friends.

"Calm down," he said once she had retreated. "I'm on the small side, too; I never said anything about your size. And I don't know your age!" He didn't say it out loud, but he wanted to add, "And I don't care about how big or small I am, either!" This was true enough; his size had never bothered him. In fact, when he thought about it, he really didn't see a point in trying to look "good". Suddenly he wondered if Arwen was completely sane.

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Arwen Stormcloud · 03-29-2011, 06:10 PM

OOC: No, she is not sane at all if you were wondering. Neither am I. Smile

Tsk tsk if you ever thought she was... you should know better! Tongue

"Okay, okay, sorry. I know I should go see a psychologist, psychiatrist, whatever you civilized people call those crazy voodoo doctors." She cracked a smile. No matter who you were, you for sure couldn't call her civilized, unless you were some vicious crazy maniac who killed people for a living. She overused the word crazy nowadays. What words could substitute for 'crazy'? Insane, psychotic, demented, unhinged, the list went on and on, leaving her too lazy to continue thinking of synonyms. Her smile faded as she came back to the task at hand. "You just... how exactly should I say this... haven't experienced... don't know anything about what I've been through. That I will murder, but only in self-defense. I've never really felt happiness, never felt love. If such things even exist in this world." In reality she had, and it showed in her expression, but she wasn't about to share her story with this male. She longed to feel love again, but it would never really be the same as it was with the one person she had ever really loved.

She remembered a day lying under the full moon miles away, just steps away from the house she had shared with her gypsy friend. The present faded as she went back to that seemingly perfect day. Her small body was curled up with her friend Eragon's, and he was telling her stories, tickling her, making her laugh her light, clear silvery laugh. Okay, maybe he had been a little more than a friend to her young mind. They were both just under a year old, him a bit older, both ran away from home long ago, both wanted companionship. That was the night she agreed to marry him. Four months later, he was killed. Killed before their wedding. Killed by the same coyotes that killed her gypsy friend and wounded herself. She looked at the male in front of him, and waves of hatred came. Not for the male in particular, but for all coyotes. She would never really stop hating them.

But she never hated anyone more than she hated herself. She hated herself too much to just cut her own throat with her claw. No, she must die a much more painful death. For all that she had done. For letting him die.

"Well anyways, I won't go psycho again, I promise." She vowed to stay true to her promise, no matter what her inner thoughts and feelings might be.

Slade Auctor · 03-29-2011, 08:01 PM

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OOC: Paranoid Slade is paranoid. Rambly mind-of-Slade = rambly post.

Oh yes. Arwen was insane. Psychologist? Psychiatrist? People? Voodoo? Doctors? Those words made absolutely no sense to Slade. Maybe she was from some foreign country and spoke with bouts of foreign language like Krystalle did. That made Slade even more suspicious of her; even if she herself wasn't the murderer, what if they both spoke the same language and communicated secretly through it? If there was someone nearby, right now, he was giving away Shawchert's side of the case, making him a traitor. What if "psychologist" and the other words were code words for "Kill the coyote, kill him now"? A shiver went down his spine and for a moment his eyes ran back and forth.

Slade, you're being paranoid, he thought, but as soon as Arwen revealed that she could be a murderer - reason was more or less irrelevant at the moment - his suspicion flooded back again. If she had apparently never felt happiness or love, that was a reason why she could be a killer; if someone was responsible for destroying everything dear to her, she would have plenty of reason for murdering someone. Slade felt his throat go dry when he realized that, if coyotes had killed Arwen's "mother", she had reason to kill him if she was prejudiced. Suddenly she wasn't just a happy-go-lucky, crazy wolf; she was a cunning, ruthless madwoman who killed for fun. What she had said, in Slade's currently distrustful mind, didn't mean she was a loyal friend; it meant she would kill anyone who was related, in any way, shape, or form, to someone who had done her harm.

He couldn't help but let out a small gulp before he replied. "I hope you keep that promise." Again he added another sentence to his statement but kept it in his mind: Especially if you're the wild killer that I'm suddenly imagining you to be.

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Arwen Stormcloud · 03-29-2011, 08:22 PM

OOC: Epic failpost

"I will. Actually, I probably won't get the chance to break it anyway before I kill myself." She managed a laugh, only it wasn't bright and full of joy like the many cute innocent giggles she had let out before; it was melancholy and a little bit insane. "I'm the only wolf I would ever really kill, unless I ever find the one who killed... him..." Her fangs ground together as she tried to keep herself from lashing out. She was contemplating horrible deaths for herself right now, her twisted mind making up all sorts of nasty ways to suicide. Hmmm... "I could hang herself, I could ask you to stone me to death, I could have birds rip me apart, I could..." she stopped, realizing she was speaking aloud. She didn't want to scare this coyote with her messed-up mind.

"But I would never hurt you. You or your friends or anyone related to you. I don't want to ruin your innocent, naive little minds by exposing you to the harsh pain of death and... reality. Take my advice; reality is much, much more painful than death, and you should always carry a weapon that you can cause your own death with in case of an emergency. I made a mistake a long time ago. And I don't want you to end up like me, always looking for an answer."

Slade Auctor · 03-29-2011, 08:39 PM

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OOC: I think Arwen's new nickname will be Wolf of the Flies, if you get the reference in the first paragraph. Tongue

Mad. Mad, mad, mad, mad, mad. Those six words fit how Slade thought Arwen was acting right now. Was she provoked by blood or something? She had seemed decent enough, then they began sharing information like they were actually going to try to track down the murderer - who for all he knew might as well be Arwen herself - and now she was just talking suicide and death... next thing Slade knew she was probably going to rip one of the rabbit's heads off, shove it on a stake, and put it right there in the ground. That was a sight as gruesome as the ones she was describing.

Slade didn't say anything when she was finished. Would it result in an awkward silence if she didn't say anything? Yep. And if she was silent, as he hoped she would be, he would excuse himself and run. Just get the heck out of there before Arwen decided to strangle him with the deer pelt or something. He only stared and blinked. Now he wasn't nearly as scared as he was just purely confused. All of a sudden he was naïve? He had made progress in maturity since those bush-diving house-banging days, thank you. Back then, yes, he was naïve. Now? Absolutely, completely baffled.

Lesson learned, he thought, shaking his head quickly. Life is strange and wild. So is Arwen.

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Arwen Stormcloud · 03-29-2011, 09:03 PM

OOC: This is going to be soo freaking fun...

She knew what he was thinking. It said so plainly in the shocked, terrified expression on his face. He wanted to run. Oh well, she had that impression on absolutely everyone, ever since that painful day little more than a month ago. She missed the times when she could laugh at the things others laughed at, feel joy in the things others felt joy in. But now she was different. She was worse than crazy.

Right now, she was enjoying the obvious terror the young male was feeling. It made her feel less alone in this big wide world. To have someone else feel what she felt every second of every day, to know that he felt it, was enough to make her almost sane again. But knowing that she was what made him feel it made her withdraw from trying to make common conversation again. She caused almost as much pain as she felt. What sort of monster was she, trying and succeeding to make others feel pain for her own selfish reasons? She was no better than a murderer.

So she decided to run. She made up her mind to run, far far away, away from all society. Hopefully the male wouldn't follow her; but why would he follow her anyway, unless he wanted to be creeped out by her even more? She was almost positive that he didn't. But... all wolves (and coyotes) had their quirks.

Not even bothering to change into optime form so she could run faster, she ran. She was not a fast runner, having a narrow chest, and she knew the male could easily outrun her if he wanted to. Her long legs stretched as she tried to go faster, and then she tripped on a jagged stone, cutting her paw badly. She looked at her leg disbelievingly as blood stained it. Oh well, at least it wasn't broken. She continued running as far and as fast as she could, until she dropped from exhaustion.

Slade Auctor · 03-30-2011, 07:41 AM

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OOC: So I guess you can have this archived after my post? Because Slade is SO not going to follow her.
WC: 378

There would be no awkward silence now. Arwen just ran. Looked at his completely baffled and terrified face and ran. Gone. Like the wind. Here one second and running the next. Well. It looked like he was rid of her for a while.

Slade didn't even bother to see if she was having a mood swing and would end up coming back. Glancing at the rabbits she had caught, he recoiled, curling his lip. Maybe the reason his stomach had been upset wasn't because of the blood but rather because these things were poisoned. Wasn't that a nice thought? He had just eaten poisoned rabbit. Aha, so now he was going to die, all because he had eaten in front of a mad stranger. Oh, yes, then he would die and haunt her and tell Shawchert that she was the murderer....

He mentally slapped himself. Dang. Her craziness was rubbing off on him. He shook his head quickly. Paranoia and her utter madness were making him a very different coyote. What had happened to the peaceful, verging-on-boring life he had once lived? In a matter of minutes, it was gone, replaced by paranoia.

Shaking his head quickly, he was about to run away, but kept looking at those rabbits. If he was right and they were poisoned, he wasn't going to let anyone else eat them. That would make him no better than the murderer. No better than Arwen.

Gingerly, cautiously, acting like they were radioactive - as if he knew what the word meant - Slade picked up the scruff of one rabbit by the tips of his teeth, carried them over to an all-too-familiar thorn bush, and shoved it inside, making sure not to stick in his head while he was at it. He did the same to the second, reached in with his paw, and shoved. They were gone for good. The rotting flesh would stink soon enough, but it was better than the rotting flesh of a dead, poisoned wolf. Or dead, poisoned, slightly maddened coyote.

Slade, shuddering, backed away slowly, as if he expected the rabbits to jump out at him, and ran.

That night he was haunted by dreams of a wild sword-swinging Arwen chasing him, aided by her maniacal pet bunnies.

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