i dig my hole, you build a wall.

Myrika Tears · 07-24-2011, 01:55 AM

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aJIfiejwfiwjefiw i am the most awkward character-picker-upper ever

It had been weeks since death had visited her. Thamur had been a weak and old coyote -- it had not been a shock to Myrika when he had passed. Nonetheless, she could not have predicted the effect his death had on her. Grief struck with surprisingly deftness, burying a poison-tipped dagger in her ribs. That poison had been a slow rot, one as unexpected as Thamur's eventual passing had been expected. Loneliness.

It was with that heaviness bearing on her that she had set out from the camp she'd called her home for the past year. It was close to the place where they were supposed to have ended up eventually, that mythical place that she had not even been certain of at first. It might have been as much legend and falsehood as it was reality, and the coyote hybrid had been very nearly surprised to find it was real. She had been afraid to travel to the coast and see this place for what it was, but loneliness had driven her here at last.

Her horse's movement beneath her was slow and calculated, the rope of twisted sinew extending behind the mare somewhere to the donkey. On his back were most of her possessions -- what little she had, anyway. It wasn't as if she had stockpiled a great many things -- most of it was simple and made by her own hand, or Thamur's. Thamur hadn't been short of skill, and failing as his eyesight had been, as much as his hands had trembled, his work was sturdy and had proved its use time and time again.

Their movement was slow -- the land was sloped and rocky, impassable in some places. She had avoided places deemed too rough for the equines' hooves, and now had crested the uppermost ridge of the mountains, peering down a slope as foreboding as the one she'd just climbed. Far below, storm grey water swirled, the white breakers against the beach just barely visible to her turquoise eyes. She watched this, the horse shifting beneath her and the donkey bleating his objection to the climb and packs saddled upon him.

Arkham Lykoi · 07-26-2011, 02:36 PM

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He had stayed longer than he had intended, but he could have guessed that that would happen. He was not nostalgic, exactly; not for this side of the mountain, in any case, but there was something intriguing about it and all that he had chosen to abandon. He didn't care to think too deeply about the why. He had lingered, but this was goodbye. The strangers he had met had all been ghosts of people he had known; they were echos of their parents, and his memories. It made it difficult to deny the time that had passed and the worlds that had turned, but this only added to the reasons he had for going. This had never been his home; that was all.

Kharma felt older than he was. Perhaps his father had been the same way. At the top of the mountain, he did not look back. The other side did not seem so different though -- steep slopes leading towards a rocky outcropping holding back the sea. Distantly, he thought back to conversations from long ago, of travel and exploration, of finding oneself. Of things he knew he would never do, but which sounded nice as words. The sea had never been a friend. The wind picked up and the traveler pulled his cloak closer around him. If he was lucky, the mountains would be behind him by the next afternoon, and the sea, the several days after that.

Climbing down cautiously, the sound of shuffling hooves caught his attention. His own poor horse had fallen to its death during the wretched storm of a year ago, bucking his rider before slipping into a ravine. Kharma glanced over the next ledge and caught his breath. A dozen emotions rushed to his throat and he let out a soft, quiet yelp. Shock, relief, realization, more relief mixed with guilty disappointment, gratefulness. She looked just like her mother, after all, but there was a sharpness to her that Rachias had not had, and her favorite purple scarf set her apart as well.

"Myrika!" Carefully, he swung his legs over the side of the ledge and slipped down to a firm dirt path littered with rocks.

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Myrika Tears · 08-11-2011, 01:04 AM

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myri = dork

She had seen the shore before, but the water of the bay was an entirely different beast, swirling and foaming with each change of the tide. The rivers and streams dumping into the bay had reversed their current with each rise of high tide, and many were nearly emptied as the low tide rolled in. The marshes and mud of the other side were not quite like this dark thing snaking between the mainland and the far island.

The tide would not be so strong here, but even the inexperienced girl in her knew better than to test those waters -- it was not the tide to be feared, but its brother current. No strong desire to cross entered her in any case. Neither did she wish to continue down the mountain -- in truth, part of her wished for nothing more than to turn around and return to her hovel, hiding there until the end of days. Indecisively, she resisted this idea, and was about to start forward when a noise startled her nearly from the saddle.

Eira twisted her head and narrowed her eyes, a snort issuing from her as a figure slid down the sloped ground toward them, stamping her feet. The donkey watched with his usual contemptuous indifference, though even his ears folded back as the figure drew nearer. Myri, however, was already halfway out of her saddle, toes in the dirt and running forward.

Whatever words she was trying to say were tangled up somewhere in her throat, issuing forth as a series of squeaks and yelps rather than words as she rushed at him, already flinging her arms wide and flailing them about in excitement. She appeared very much the child, whatever supposed reserved maturity she had attained in her time since the storm evaporating in the instant of recognition.

Arkham Lykoi · 08-11-2011, 03:20 PM

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This is a terrible post, omg.

From the very beginning, parenting had been a rocky adventure for him. His own having been so distant left him uncertain about the entire affair and he had mostly played it by ear, doing his best to act in accordance with what he believed to be right and ideal. Going it alone had made it even more of a challenge, but in the end, however it had happened, his daughters were beautiful, charming, and self-capable, and he loved them more than anything. Along with their ghost of a mother, he had missed them and worried about them every day, and a million years melted from his mind the moment one such child was in his arms again, safe, solid, and no different from when he had last seen her. But that wasn't true.

He held her tight, needing the assurance that she was real, and then he pulled her back to study her. She was older, like he was. She was wearier, a bit more worn on the edges. Perhaps the world had not been too kind to her; he didn't know. He would not let her go again until he had a chance to ask. "You're beautiful, you know," he said, then hugged her again. "Are you all right? Your sister isn't with you?" He was happy to see Eira amongst her companions, but stark white Cassandra was not amongst them. He forced himself to stuck those worries though; they were the same each day, and today, he was lucky enough to have found one of them, at least.

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Myrika Tears · 08-14-2011, 10:12 AM

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only because you're replying to a terrible post 8D also idek if i'm doing her early childhood or whatever right. beat me if not. ;_; ♥

Her mother was little more than a faded memory, snatches and pieces of a face Myrika might not have recognized, had she come face-to-face with her mother. For that absence in her life, however, the russet-hued woman had not been left lacking; her father had provided for her everything she might have ever wanted. He had never denied her knowledge or comfort -- her youngest memories were absent of turmoil and strife, at least up until the storm.

Arms wrapped around her, arms she thought were as big and long as tree branches in the earliest recesses of her memory, and held her close. She mimicked this and clung to him with a fierceness that surprised even her, squeezing him around the ribs. Myri released him reluctantly as he drew her back, her arms dropping to her sides awkwardly as he complimented her, fidgeting for a moment. She was relieved of reciprocating a response, and hugged him again.

I'm okay... are you? I missed you, she said, however unnecessary the last statement. I haven't seen Cassie since the storm, she added, both large ears flicking downward. I tried to find you guys after, she added. Many afternoons on the farm had been spent wandering through the forests until dark. Without Eira, of course, the search hadn't been as productive as it might have been, but she had searched. If her father was asking after Cassie, he hadn't seen her either.

Arkham Lykoi · 08-29-2011, 08:41 PM

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pffff, it's fine. I should really proofread my crap before posting though. x_x

Too much time had passed, and none at all had. She was still a child, but oh, how she had grown. Kharma was a time traveler, but he didn't know when he was anymore. The machine was broken. They were trapped in a strange place, a strange time. He wanted to fix everything with simple words, with reassuring touches, and perhaps a story about irrelevant characters -- they would draw the shutters to the windows and the storm would pass. "I'm okay, the father echoed. "Hemlock bucked me off a good distance from where we'd been originally before falling to his death in a ravine. I broke my leg and had to stay put a while. I think when I was well enough to look for you, both of you had already moved on."

The scenes played in his head as he recounted them. He felt like it had happened to someone else. He could hardly remember anymore. All he had were endless days of searching, of worrying, of hoping. The traveler back leaned against a rock to properly inspect his daughter; she seemed well off enough, uninjured, unharmed. He could feel weight lifting off his shoulders as he confirmed it. "I'm so glad you're all right..." he whispered. "I'm sure your sister is as well. You're both strong girls." They'd find each other again; he would believe in that. He had to.

Red eyes swept to the valley for a moment, looking over the distant forests and towards the sea, then he turned back towards Myrika. "Your mother isn't here," he announced quietly. "She hasn't been here in a long time. I don't know where else she would be... so... from here, I'll be going back to Thornloe." In his heart, he already knew that he would be going back alone. It had been too clear from the beginning that his daughters had had little interest in finding their wandering mother -- they had had their eyes set on adventure and new things, new places. They had spent their lives at home and were ready to see the world. Certainly, they had had many adventures in the year that had already transpired, but Kharma continued to see their mother in them, even if they weren't really looking for her. "What about you?"

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Myrika Tears · 09-18-2011, 07:12 AM

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(387) have I ever told you I suck? :3 i also powerplayededed a hug because fufufuf

The tawny hybrid shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the horse's death. Sure, it was just a horse, and she'd much rather have her father standing here than some dumb equine, but she recalled the big animal with fondness, expecting to see him some distance behind Kharma, perhaps hobbled or tied to a tree. That he had died in some ravine where her father sat mending a broken leg seemed unbelievable.

I should have looked harder, she said, dipping her head and looking at the earth between their feet. She should have found him and taken him somewhere, anywhere -- Eira could have lived or died at that godforsaken farm, for all she would have mattered. Eira spooked out from under me, too, but she ended up at some farm, the hybrid said, lifting her eyes back up and wrinkling her nose at the thought. Got her back, though, she said, proudly -- as if it were not evidence enough that the blue roan stood some distance behind her, peering curiously at the ghost from their past.

You, too, she said, reaching forward to seize him for another hug. Most of Myrika could not believe he was standing here before her; she had very nearly given up hope, assuming the worst of the storm had gotten her father. His reassurance about her sister was met with a fierce nod as she stepped back again. She was not so certain, but she would not let her doubts surface here and now. Myri considered her mother ponderously for a moment, and nodded slowly, as if the absorption of this knowledge was difficult. She hadn't truly believed in her mother's presence -- it had only been the vaguest of hopes, anyway. Still, there was an undeniable sense of disappointment clouding her, and she flicked her ears downward. It even took a moment to absorb just what her father had said, and this was met with surprise, even frustration.

I want to stay here... won't you stay with me? What if Cassie comes back? Or mama, she said, shifting anxiously from one foot to another. She did not want to face everything alone, and with her father, everything would be worlds easier. Thornloe is nice, but... she paused, tawny face contorted with some strange mix of eagerness and nervousness.

Arkham Lykoi · 09-18-2011, 11:46 PM

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It had been a long time since Kharma had thought about his horse. It had been maddening those first several weeks. Unable to hunt properly as a result of his injury, he had been driven to eat portions of the poor animal while he healed -- it would have been wasted as a carcass after all; even uninjured, to fell an animal of that size would be an amazing accomplishment. But of course, the coywolf was sentimental, and Hemlock had been a friend, and when he had been able, he had buried the rest the best he could. He tried not to dwell too much on it beyond that; there had been more pressing matters than his survivors' guilt.

The time traveler needed the reassurance that his daughter was real and solid in the same way that the reverse was true. It seemed outrageously foolish to let her go so easily after their long time apart. Pulling back again though, the cold emptiness he had walked through on the other side of the mountain returned when he thought about staying.

He hated Inferni. He hated what his family did to each other and others. He hated that, even knowing the fact that they were destined to tear each other apart, they were all content to keep things the way they'd always been. Gabriel was no longer Aquila, but while Ezekiel was not his father, the madness remained. He knew it was there. If it were any other valley, if Myrika wanted to go anywhere else, he would join her in a heartbeat. But here, but Inferni...

There was a sharp lump in his throat, and he swallowed before he spoke again, soft, sad. "I can't go back to Inferni. Anywhere else, I would stay with you forever, Myrika... but not there." And desperately, he wanted to tell her that she couldn't go either. He wanted to forbid her from going to the rest of her family. He wanted to tell her that they would poison her and destroy her. But, "I won't stop you if that's where you want to go, but I can't go with you there." Liar. You can, but you won't. You won't go back to Inferni. Not even to protect your child?

"If... If you find Cassie or your mother, or if you decide you want to go somewhere else, then you'll know where I'll be.

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Myrika Tears · 09-21-2011, 05:51 AM

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(310) PO' HORSE. also po' kharmaaa. also also i made assumptions that he wouldn't be all explicit-like with the tales of ferni? >_> idek. LEMME KNOW BROSEF. also hi i am a poop post

She knew enough to realize it was a foolish hope at best, and silly to have even asked; she knew the words to the warnings and recalled them even now, though it had been countless weeks and months since they'd last spoken. She had recalled her father's cautions about the pack with the skull-lined borders with special frequency those first lonely weeks in the cabin, before Thamur showed up. Her mind had been little more than an echo chamber, bouncing madly back and forth from leaving to staying and then back again; the cycle had only broken at the older coyote's presence in the first place.

Though the answer was inevitable and came as expected, her ears turned downward despite her protests, and she could not stymy the frown from her face. She did understand, or she thought she did -- he had been there, and he had not liked what he found. Perhaps they had changed in those long years, or perhaps Myrika would find there were misconceptions all around. Understand as she did, the thought of going alone still petrified her. She did not share this, for if she showed weakness, there was a very real possibility he would sway her from taking another step to the east.

I understand. I think I have to go, though. Not forever, she said, attempting to brighten at this second statement. I'll come and find you in Thornloe when I'm done here, she added, sweeping her tail meekly a few times. When she was done what? She did not know; Myrika was not even certain what she hoped to find here, much less what she would find here. Will you stay here a while with me? I mean, here where we are now, she ventured, clarifying quickly afterward. Just for a little while, a day? Two?

Arkham Lykoi · 09-21-2011, 10:04 PM

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Yeah, I think he would have just been general with the "crazy, violent, god-fearing" description, though he might have mentioned that they'd often find themselves at war and/or in conflict with others. Dunno if that counts as detailed. XD Also, idk, this can be done? Or one more post from you?

~

When his daughters had been young, there had been times when even he believed Inferni to be little more than a scary story. He had reduced it to a tale told on stormy nights, and for better or worse, he felt that the truths of prejudice and betrayal were lost on them because he did not want to dwell too much. He had been naive, and he had grown up kind. The reality of it was still that Kharma had come out of Inferni less broken than most. Though he still suspected that it would catch up with him sooner or later, he could not tell the stories of sinful Inferni from his own point of view.

The time traveler also suspected that Myrika -- and Cassandra, for he had no doubts that she would go as well, if she could -- would not be able to properly explain her want (or need) for a pilgrimage to the land of Lykoi. He was a man of logic and reason, but if there were any supernatural forces in the world that he believed in, it was whatever was in their blood that made them mad, and that made them go back. Kharma knew he had dozens of relatives he had never met. He knew that they were all over the continent, all over the world, perhaps -- across mountains and across oceans. But he believed -- he knew -- that almost all of them would go to Inferni at some point in their lives.

He wondered sometimes, if he had been born outside of the clan, if he would have been drawn there like all the others, but it was really a rhetorical question.

The grey coywolf chuckled a bit. "Of course, I'll stay. You didn't think I was going to let you go again so quickly? Myrika was scared, and he thought perhaps she ought to be. But she was curious and adventurous, and he could not try to convince her to ignore that. "Come on," he said, moving into the nearest cliff shadow and sitting down. "Tell me about your year."

Adventure was never really something he had set out to find, but of course, the less he looked for it, the more it found him. There had been adventure in the sea -- it had threatened to take their lives -- but it had been a promise of adventure all the same. Had he been someone else, he might have seen it as a challenge, and perhaps after everything had fallen apart, he would have sought to conquer the ocean, the waves, and the white seafoam.

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