'Souls RPG

Full Version: [M] Beyond the ocean, a lighthouse is waiting for me
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: violence, death.

[+000]
Ooc: Ember League Plot - Dated June 6th just after midnight | Cavaliers are using single-person sailboats
tNPC: Haylee Bronze, Stanhope Tanner | cNPC: Mistee Softfoot (Kai Wolfe-Denahlii), Lorenzo Knight (Caspian Knight)
And if I fall on my sword
Turn my bones to ash

[Image: CaspianAv.png]Caspian's eyes burned as he blinked to clear them of his weariness. Days without sleep, with the pervasive cold of his Uncle's presence were taking their toll. He pummeled it back, holding it at bay with the terrible idea of how frightened the children were and the corpse of Theo laying still and silent in the Medico office never to rise again.

Standing by as Cedric and Lucian both set off with the others Cavaliers and staying behind with his own task sitting squarely in his chest had taken more strength than he'd thought it would. Sending them off with hugs, lingering hands and promises to be safe. Zasha likewise did he make promises to, to come back.

He had wanted to be there when they reclaimed his beloved nieces and nephews but Cedric had asked this of him personally, directing himself and their Uncle towards where they could do the most good with their dual knowledge. Swallowing the fury at the kidnappers down in his throat Cas drew on the ghost's calm, frozen presence and stilled the shaking in his hands; Clenching them into fists.

They were a small team chosen, and Cas' purple and green ringed gold eyes swept them, glad of the luperci at his back. They had a little more time than those that traveled on foot and by horse, and this was spent blackening the sails of their small craft with soot, ash and charcoal at the behest of the ghost. The less noticeable they were then the more likely their plan was to succeed.

Likewise too, were dark cloaks found for them, to don, especially the light pelted Pushok and Artoia who would stand out against the dark night. Briefly there had been discussion about darkening their pelts too like the sails but the idea was abandoned as their swim to the Avalon would wash it from them making it pointless.

When the time came and the Avalon's sails began to pull her away from shore, Caspian watched with hard, condemning eyes as his ship was sailed once again by pirates. Casa had taken her from the grasp of those unworthy and renamed her, giving her a new life and new purpose on the side of virtue. He would see her burn and sink before he'd accept her release into privatizing hands, even if he had to throw the torch himself.

Following after it, four single-manned crafts slipped out into the water. Keeping to a hidden distance, Cas could feel the tension as it thrummed through him; the knowledge that should they be spotted then Cedric's children could pay the price lay as an iron weight in his stomach that threatened to drown him. Not even Uncle's presence could soothe those thoughts as they bounced from the corners of his mind and rattled his hands upon the boom line as he made minute adjustments against the current of the loch.

Night was their salvation and their struggle. Navigating treacherous water shores whilst keeping beyond sight yet remaining close enough to cleave in the Avalon's wake so as to not lose her. Caspian's head turned, green and purple ringed gold eyes cutting through the gloom to keep tabs upon those that sailed with him, counting each craft as it cut through the water silently.

The dedication that came back to him was heartening beyond what he might have believed it to be.

A deep breath that was lost below the rippling of the bermudan sail above his head. Uncle supplied memories, of other crafts and sails reaching across their speed across the loch when it had still been open fully to the ocean. He even found a fragmented moment to be amused at a secondary name for their sails, as a leg of mutton jib but it lasted for a gleaming second before being ripped away. The wind was picking up, beginning to bluster but erratically, filling the sails one moment and then abandoning them to collapse the next. Cursing under his breath, he prayed to Fenris in hopes the enigmatic god would steady the breeze. To Artoi and the All-Mother too, since those children had been born to that family line too. Surely they would wish to see their scion's returned home safely.

Time passed, spent in stomach-twisting anxiety as they labored against time and the riptide that threatened to rip them out into full view of the Avalon. The wind steadied but worked against them too in a new way, turning to push them starboard in bream reach, joining together with the tide's pull to add increasing pressure to their desperate desire keep close to the shore on their port side.

Finally, blessedly, Caspian steered his craft into a small rocky cove just beyond which the Avalon had finally stopped, having reached the arranged meeting ground. It was a scant hideout but was thick with brush and overgrowing willows reaching trailing arms out to gentle linger in the surf. Every muscle in his body was painful with stiff tension, and he flexed his hands trying to loosen them as he rolled his shoulders.

Pushing back the cloak's hood now he looked to Pushok, as the highest ranking Cavalier present to lead the way forth from hereon out and offered his and Uncle's advice,

"We shoods sweem frae haur, onie closer an' we risk bein' seen." Catching sight of the moon, the time of the meeting was bearing down upon them quickly and there was little left for them to get themselves into position. Stars glimmered in the dark sky, and Caspian took heart from them knowing that somewhere above his mother and father was watching over their mission.

                                        Oh, tears make kaleidoscopes in your eyes; And hurt, I know you're hurting, but so am I


Kira was perhaps more scared than she had ever been, bar none, but she did her best not to let it show, fistfuls of her charcoal cape clutched in her hands and her pinned-back ears the only sign. She stood beside the craft she was to man; it seemed little more than a shaped log with a sail attached but perhaps that was for the best, given the supposed ease with which it could be controlled. Given how little Kira had bothered to learn about sailcraft, it was a lifesaver. Across her chest, beneath the cape, she wore a makeshift rope bandolier with her staff thrust through it, and a sharp knife in its sheath was tied to her right thigh.

As she went over the instructions she had been given again, Caspian signaled that it was time to go, and she dragged her boat to the water, stepping into the chilly surf to her knees to get it floating. Then she hoisted herself in, splashing as little as possible, took up the ropes that controlled the darkened sail's spar as she had been taught, and was pleased to see the fabric fill with air.

She stayed as near to the boat her golden-furred cousin manned as she possibly could, eyes slanting to watch his movements but avoiding his odd, purple-and-green ringed eyes. She absolutely believed that he was being possessed by their great-uncle, but could not comprehend why Enzo's spirit had not just moved on. Maybe sometime, when the lives of her packmates and especially of Cedric and Kai's children, were not hanging in the balance, she would ask himeither himwhy.

Those thoughts left her as the sail suddenly guttered, the breeze caressing her face changing directions rapidly, emptying and filling the canvas by turns. Kira silently wished she had her sister with her, as Quinn was far more familiar with the capricious winds and currents of the Loch, but she watched Caspian's movements and replicated them as best she could, muscles that she was not acquainted with using flexing and pulling with the effort of keeping her small boat moving the way it was supposed to be. 

Once within the safety of the cove, she relaxed, if only slightly, flexing her hands lest they cramp later when she needed them to hold firm on her weapon. When Pushok gave the order, she slipped into the water.
➧➧  Out of Character text | Word Count [409]
                                                                                                                                                                                               Stock image from DepositPhotos, edit by Nuki
[Image: caY5Y0t.png] Scout Prompt Tier 1 [562/900] Own Choice; Sneak into an area you're not supposed to be and successfully finish the task you went in for.

[+562]
Ooc::

[Image: jrw7XMO.png?1]
Volunteering hadn't even been a question. After soothing the rage that had stormed like blistering, scalding lava and ice through her veins, the path forward had been most clear; take whatever actions necessary to bring her cousins home.

Of course, those actions would not consist of doing the obvious, which would have been to simply give them what they'd asked for.

No, not they; Booker.

Artoia's lips curled at the thought of him, a rumble vibrating in her throat, but a sharp touch of cold close to her shoulder shook her back into the present, glacial green orbs slipping sideways, around the edges of her dark cloak, to the ghostly figure that hovered just nearby behind her, familiar golden fur dimmed in the darkness, and visible only to her eyes.

Arty hadn't asked for Veri to come, but the patient healer wouldn't have taken a no even if she'd tried; there was little she could do to stop the ghost from tagging along anyway, so she'd embraced the impromptu passenger that wouldn't even hinder her journey or weigh down the boat, and they were nearly there to the destination described by Caspian.

The Denahlii daughter had not sailed a craft like this before, and neither had Veri, so she was grasping at whatever her brother had passed on to her about it before they'd set sail in the wake of the Avalon, silently stalking the ship stolen from them during this whole endeavor.

She struggled occasionally with keeping her boat under control, the current threw her off every now and then as she went, and with grit teeth, she had to fight with putting it back on track where it should be to both stay out of sight of the Avalon's scouts and not knocking into any of her packmates that slipped through the water beside her. All without making a sound.

Blessedly, they reached the arranged meeting place, and Artoia guided the slight craft into the small willowy cove, letting it bump quietly into the shore before she chanced stretching her cramps legs to step out of the confines of the boat and onto dry land and tying off the boat so it wouldn't drift with the tide into open waters and possibly be seen.

Glacial greens touched upon all the Luperci standing with her, and though she said not a word, her look conveyed that she was ready, and wished them all luck. She double-checked the cloth she'd tied around each of her knives in their sheaths, this was to keep them muffled while put away but also keep them securely in their sheath as she swam through the waters toward the Avalon; the last thing she needed was losing a blade just before a fight.

When the word came from Pushok, Artoia slipped the cloak off her shoulders to be deposited into the boat she'd vacated, and she let the waters swallow her whole. She had to thank her training with Eros for being used to emersion in cold bodies of water, only a barely audible exhale could be torn from her maw before she was off, pushing off with her feet against the rocky waterbed to give her some momentum without causing too much of a wake or rustling of the liquid around her.