'Souls RPG

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ooc [+443]
The sound of dry twigs brushing against the uneven flooring was strangely peaceful. It could perhaps with relative ease put any onlooker to sleep. Not the one causing this ambiance however. His Lordship was gradually growing accustomed to his station, and even considered, occasionally, the importance of wearing signs of distinction, if only on special occasions. This time however? He bore only the trappings of his task, that is to say – the usual medicine bags and a broom in his hands.

The Circle’s domain was spacious – they would pick nothing less to serve the joint task of being an infirmary, a stockpile of medicinal supplies and a place for the weary to rest all at once. There were even a few nooks and crannies one could use for a quiet conversation or to keep a patient away from prying eyes. There would be more of them, were some of the rooms not in a rather precarious state of disrepair. In some way, the building too was a patient and Bellad would occasionally consult his peers to get some able hands to patch it up bit by bit. Collecting rainwater is one thing. Having it tap on the head of a resting wounded Soul is a whole other.

What he was doing now seemed a small task in the face of the calling of the Circle, but a necessary one. With no immediate patients here, with the few patches of soil outside already being tended to and with his children in the care of their loving uncle, this was about as good as it would get. He could only count how many batches of lavender they had so many times to let him feel comfortably preoccupied. Good thing nobody was here to call him out on not just using the lull to rest.

Besides, he rested. He was sure of it. He must have. When was it again? It was probably recently too. He was sure it was recent anyway. He hasn’t rested today or even the day before today. But he must have somewhere between the feast and this fine day. How long ago was it again?

He swept the futile tally of when the last time he simply rested out the doorway, particles of dust flying off then settling down on the approach to the building. Pausing with broom in hand, he looked up, amber eyes staring at the murky clouds above. Their insistence of lingering above with nary a drop of rain seemed frustrating. Like a test of their preparedness just waiting to happen but not quite following through. At least it gave them time to get that roof fully fixed.
Since the recent run in with a stranger, and her cousin Sólveig, Valkyrie had a certain… arrogance to her, the flippant Savoy was curious walking around, a sound of straw hitting wood drew her orbs, and those radar ears around with it. Where was that noise coming from? Who would possibly be sweeping?

With one large step her body followed her legs, creeping near the entrance, staring out at a most peculiar site. It was one of those old guys, with burns, for the life of her she couldn’t remember who he was… and he was staring up? Why? Was there something else inside ? Or was he simply looking at the skies? Valkyrie’s glacier orbs flickered upwards, towards the clouds, and screwed her nostrils up with her nose wrinkling.

Man, old guys were weird. Then, the same motions over and over, before she stepped in, arms crossed across her chest. She wasn’t going to help him, that much was apparent, but the mischievous smile on her face and the pallid fingers that thrummed on her elbow, was indication enough that she was up to no good. As per usual, what else was there to expect out of the bastard child from Tora and Kalypso?

Why you doin’ that? A’in’t got nothin’ better to do?

Suddenly, she drew her chin downwards, towards her chest, and looked up at him, the skin around her chin made her appear plumper than she actually was. And with it, such an unladylike grin.
WORD COUNT -
ooc [+269]
The sky had little to say to him, unlike a certain young Soul who came to the doors of the Circle. It was not unusual for part of Bellad’s conversation to be non-verbal, and the young Savoy before him was treated first to an attentive glance. No smell of blood, no sign of distress, and an expression he couldn’t quite read as anything but strangely indignant.

“I am keeping the place clean.” He said, matter-of-factly. As though there was any other use for a broom in an empty building left over from The Gone. “There is nobody to treat for the moment. Nobody hurt or sick…” Now that he had company, he would return his glance neither to the floor at his feet, nor to the ceiling or sky. Instead Valkyrie, apparently, had his attention. “Are you hurt or sick?” The healer asked just in case, neither looking nor sounding disingenuous.

There was a sharp contrast between them - the grimacing girl and the unflinching healer. Managing to glean nothing out of the look she was giving him, he set the broom by the nearest wall and looked back into the building. Still a fixer-upper, if better swept now, waiting to have new dirt dragged in by whoever showed up. It was no reason not to try to tidy up of course.

“If you require no help, I am not sure what I can offer.” He mused, sounding somewhat distracted, as though he really did try to identify something better to do. He certainly had no idea what plans the girl may have had aside from questioning his activities.
The two of them had stared at one another for what felt like forever, and her orbs shifted to the Circle, looking up towards the skies then towards the healer. Glacier orbs went to the broom in his hand, and lord help him for her childish antics and the teenager hormones. The Savoy child would be in so much shit of her mother and father caught her, or maybe, just maybe, they would be sitting in the sidelines laughing at Bellad unable to handle their rambunctious teenager.

I’m just sweeping.” She mimicked him, mocking him, Hands went to her hips then, and Valkyrie dared to step forwards. It was only a few steps, wasn’t long enough strides to be upon him. Not yet anyways. He wasn’t her dad, he wasn’t her mom, and for some reason she got a wild hair up her ass, and wanted to pick on him. Why? Because he was obviously an old man, and he was obviously an easy target.

No I ain’t sick, nor am I hurt. Just wonderin’ why you’re sweeping when you could be doing something else?” Because house work was for the women, and the children, except her, because she was neither. And then she approached, fast as lightening, and then grasped his broom, yanking it out of his hands.

A childish joke, one she found hilariously, and one that Valkyrie would certainly rub the Songthorn the wrong way. But she didn’t care. Instead, she stuck a tongue out and ran outside with his broom. The Savoy woman hid around the corner, and the second he came outside she’d scare him. Yes that was the idea!
WORD COUNT -
ooc [+457]
“The Circle has no one in their care for the moment. And supplies are organized, which mea-…” His very first mistake was assuming she actually wanted an answer in the first place. And taking her words at face value only gave the girl the opening she needed. Some part of him rebelled at the heinous theft of the broom. Of course he could have stopped her. He just couldn’t fathom that someone would try to steal it. If he knew that such a thing even existed in the list of possibilities, then of course he wouldn’t have been duped like that.

Another part of him, one that actually got to express itself, groaned and rolled his eyes. “Give it back.” He said simply. When that yielded no results, he was about to repeat himself, but one flash of pink tongue later the girl was out the door. “Myriad Spirits, why do you even-…”

Frustrations mounting, Bellad made his way outside, looking around. “Girl, return the broom.” He said, trying to sound firm. He very nearly added “in the name of the Court of Dawn”, but even Bellad had a decent understanding of just how absurd that would be. Come to think of it, he couldn’t even see her. Did she actually run off with the broom?

But no, it hadn’t gone nearly that far. In fact the broom’s bristles just about smacked him in the jaw. The girl must have attempted to covertly poke him with it from around the corner. “Oh this is ridiculous. Cease this nonsense and give it back!” A hand swiped through the air, but she drew the broom back, almost as though she was about to spear him with it.

A creeping suspicion that words weren’t going to have any effect made its way into the Songthorn’s head. In a mere moment concrete proof let itself in and took over said suspicion’s shift – the girl took two steps back for every one half-step Bellad would attempt in her direction, then finally ran off outright.

Myriad, were his children going to be like this post-shift?

Post-shift… That’s it! Acting on the spontaneous idea, he loosened the cords of his medicinal bags and prepared.

For a few minutes it would appear as though Bellad wasn’t even trying to chase the girl, in which case her sole companion would be the broom. However, instead of a frantically running two-legged Soul, she would soon see a large black wolf turn the corner. The burns that mimicked those of the wolf she robbed clearly indicated it was still Bellad, though now in Lupus.

“Give it back!” Ineffectual words devolved into a frustrated snarl as she darted away from him and the healer gave chase on all fours.
She shouldn’t have been surprised he would give chase, they were both acting childish by nature. He yelled at her to give it back, she blew a raspberry at him. Sometimes it felt good to act as such, she thought, before her thoughts changed yet again.

Valkyrie had run away, that’s right, as a personal game of cat and mouse. However, which one was the cat, and which one was the mouse was unsure. But in an attempt to conceal herself from him and all but scare the daylights out of him, the Savoy hid behind a corner of the building. Not even her silvery toes were visible and when she heard thudding paws his the earth, she jumped out prepared to spear the man, not actually to injure him, but in jest, and instead said; “Boo— What the—” and began to trot backwards, before the child ran in a full on sprint.

The broom was gripped with iron like fingers, claws almost digging into the palms of her hands. A heartfelt giggle erupted out of her mouth, as she sprinted towards the tree line. He was fast, she would give the old man that much. And just to stir the pot a little bit more, Valkyrie practically screamed at the top of her lungs at him. “Come and GET IT OLD MAN.

Lupus or Optime, the child was sure stamina was on her side, however, her father always told her not to run with objects in her hands, surely she may find out as to why.
WORD COUNT -
Feel free to use this hook however you like hahaha [+298]
He wasn’t even that old! Was he?

Every word out of the girl’s mouth was adding to the frustration, but focus on pursuit somewhat helped tune her out. They were insults lacking in injury. He’d just chase her down, trip her, retrieve the broom and maybe, just maybe he would then ponder the meaning of it all and sense profound embarrassment.

For now however, he stayed on Valkyrie's tail. One had to wonder if she'd ever been chased by a full grown wolf of the pack. If not then perhaps the sight of him would be somewhat intimidating. Still it would probably fall short of being outright monstrous. Probably. 

If anything, Bellad was tenacious and showed clear experience for the beast-like form. It was in Roaming Paw that he would hunt. And apparently chase down thieves. Bursts of speed for a chase were among its many gifts. He, for one, considered it vastly superior to Deft Hand in that regard.

The large black wolf bounded over obstacles, rapidly closing the distance if not for failing to anticipate a few feints on Valkyrie's behalf. Besides, unlike her, he was actually watching where he was going. More so of course as they exited the more civilized part of New Caledonia. Fitting, considering how decidedly uncivilized their impromptu game was becoming. He may not have brushed up that much on nobility, but this had to count as stooping pretty low for a High Lord.

“Will you just stop already!?” He snarled through his teeth, spending most of the chase at this point with mouth open. The distance between them was closing rapidly. But the next time Bellad called out to the girl, his voice, still hoarse and growl-like, was not another demand. No, instead it was something else entirely.

“Look out!”
For some reason it wasn’t like she was going to stop anytime soon, a fueled giggle erupted from her muzzle, and she turned around to glance directly at Bellad, his heaping form was charging after her much as she could imagine a bear would, and the grin was suddenly turned into a look of shock.

Two things happened; one, she ignored his warning and stuck out her tongue at him, and two, Valkyrie turned back around in time to not only run into a low branch right at neck level, but she bit her tongue, and went tumbling down the small little “hill”. There she lay, ears ringing and vision cloudy, her coughs were futile, she felt like the tree sucker punched her right in the throat, and she gasped for air. The broom though, was still intact and in her hand, clutched onto for dear life.

Only when she tried to release it and count not, did she realize that the handle of the broom had broken on the fall, and the jagged part was now sticking out of her palm. Yet, she was still coughing, a whimper escaping her muzzle as she tried to swallow and it felt like someone had started a fire in her throat.

Unnggg.” Came a shortened reply, followed by more coughing, and another whine. Today it would appear as if Karma instantly hit back, for picking on the old man. Clutching the broom, she hastily pulled it out, and clutched the wound to her chest, splinters left in the hole in her pad, and her throat still felt like it was unable to work. She coughed again, eyes brimmed with tears.

Holy ow.
WORD COUNT -
ooc [+466]
Bellad slowed and skidded ever so slightly just under the precarious branch that sent the immature thief tumbling. From a vantage point, he got to watch the trail of destruction terminate in the girl crumpling to the ground. His own descent was a far more careful affair, even as his breath took some time to steady. At some point he padded past the splintered top of the broom. Past the little menace of a girl getting swept off her feet, there would be no more sweeping to do with this implement.

Soon he was close enough to hear her whimper and smell her blood. “No, wait, don-…” She ignored yet another warning by just yanking the larger chunk of wood right out of her palm. The healer let out a frustrated groan but had no palm to put to his face for emphasis. Even so the girl was clearly in pain. Largely warranted. Possibly deserved. But what truly mattered was that an injured member of the pack was in front of the healer lord.

“Show.” He ordered curtly, still in his quadruped form. She didn’t listen to words much at all, so a lot was instead gesture. Such as nuzzling her palm from the side until she showed it to him. He sniffed at the wound, he examined it with his eyes, he gave it a cursory lick and felt the metallic taste on his tongue. The healer tsked and uttered the single word "Myriad" under his breath like a curse.

“Right…” He summarized simply after the display of displeasure ceased, and stepped to the side. Bellad was a skilled shifter who often changed between his forms for various purposes. Admittedly this one had been fairly unorthodox. But the work he would soon have to do would require actual hands. Within minutes, the wolf towered over the still-downed pup, then reached down to pull her to her feet.

“Not with your injured hand. Don’t touch it. Don’t touch anything with it. You can lick it.” Bellad remained rather grumpy as he instructed her. Needless to say he was still very much aware that the girl’s very own antics resulted in this unpleasant injury. Just as he was aware that this would not alter his duties in the slightest. He still didn’t have to be elated.

“We return to the Circle. I clean your wound. Payback later.”

Though he let her hold on to him, he didn’t guide them to scale the ditch. Last thing he needed was for her to fall again, even if she now had nothing to further injure herself with. Instead he led her along a somewhat less straight path with a far gentler slope. While in his mind fumed a steady stream of unspoken but doubtlessly unflattering judgment of the girl's folly.