[P] There are sunbeams and moonbeams enough to shine
#1
[html]

Drifter Bay, Basalt Headlands.

It was mid-noon, and the clouds pressed down heavy and opaque, like overripe fruit.


With only her skirts for warmth, Verity shrank against the wind, though her legs pressed forward at a steady pace. While it was certainly not her first time venturing outside of Infernian territory since she had joined, Vera still curious as to what exactly might await her in the lands beyond.


Silently, the Tirones trudged on. A few paces more, the shore had grown nearer, and Verity seemed to catch a whiff of something that she could not quite distinguish. It was like rainwater, but sharper; a bit more acrid. She broke into a brisk jog, taking in mouthfuls of the strange scent with each inhale.


Finally, her lungs swelling with sea-breeze, Vera came upon a little craggy slope overlooking the bay. Beneath her, its dark water roiled and threw itself down violently upon the rocks, and as she stood there—wide-eyed, panting, the winds whipping her hair into curls of pinkish sea-foam—the coy realized that she had begun to sing.


The melody started out relatively soft—tuneful, even—but gradually, it morphed into something far greater, and each note was punctuated by a shrill, shrieking howl: the cry of a coyote.


<style type="text/css"> .temp-feb15 { width:96%; margin:0px auto; } .temp-feb15 p.ooc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; border-bottom:1px dotted black; text-indent:0px; } .temp-feb15 p { font-family:'Libre Baskerville'; font-size:15px; line-height:180%; text-indent:50px; margin:8px; } </style>[/html]
  Reply
#2
  • Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil. Skies burdened with clouds created a sombre ambience. A hardened breeze prowled across the areas of the Bay, tussling the few weeds and wildflowers that managed to permeate through the snow littered ground. This world is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. What perhaps had once been beautiful rolling fields now carried nought but a solemn reminder of the effects of winter. Cold, callous, and unforgiving. Yet perhaps, one could find something of beauty here. A kind of natural elegance that provided a stark contrast to the ethereal scape that the wolf walked through. His paws moved slowly across the ground, somehow without presumption or intent. Indeed, he had only come here to find a moment of peace. A moment for which he could spend with his Lord and Creator, to indulge in the splendour that was life. To break away from the mounting conflict. A peaceful mind is strong, let not your thoughts be troubled. Lo, I am with you always. But alas, it seemed that even out here, one could not escape from the heathens of old. Those few damned souls who threatened all that was good.

    The sound came to him, carried on the wind like some haunting melody. Where one might have found it exquisite, the rising and falling notes of an angel, to the man from Zion it heralded nothing but hatred. It was the song of the enemy. Let my ears only hear the Word. Let my tongue only speak the Word. Let all other noises be extinguished. Hark, He is coming! It wasn’t right. How dare they walk freely, without consideration for how they might taint the world with their filthy speech and deceitful actions. Hark, He comes! On vengeful wings, He rides. With sword in hand, He is like fire. Methuselah felt the rising heat of anger still within him, churning up painful memories. Once more he could picture a wolf, nothing more than a mere child, enduring the mocking of those coyotes. His speech, his words, they lacked the elegance that some would expect. They wavered, they stuttered, they had no flow. But as he grew older, the Lord had given him strength. The Word, it had renewed his tongue. Those scriptures, they had become his speech.

    Let my words be like a spark, setting ablaze an inferno to the souls unworthy of salvation. Repent, all you heathens! Somewhere the scent of the ocean reached his nostrils, the lingering aroma of saltwater strangely unmistakeable. Though Methuselah had come from Zion, a region abandoned of coastline, since arriving to these forsaken lands, the man had discovered the joys of the ocean. Even the seas shall bow. The storms listen to Him, and He alone. Hark! But now, such thoughts of admiration for the waters had subsided for another pressing matter had presented itself. There she stood, embraced in the sea drift. The water seething beneath the cliffs, heaving like a dangerous animal. Hungry. Waiting. Watching. Judging. And the angels of the Lord shall descend. They shall impart judgement on the unworthy. Hark! But there was slightly hesitation. Her back was towards him. Could he do such a thing? Would there be honour in it? Was there such a thing as honour in such a thing as war? Is that what this was? War? “Do not be fooled by false gods, their idols untested against the fire,” Methuselah said aloud.

    “Wh-why do you sing?” he asked, his stutter creeping into his speech. Perhaps it was the hesitancy that fuelled it. Perhaps it was the uncertainty that gave it life. The man from Zion hadn’t had incident with his speech impediment in what felt like a while. Curse them and their evil ways! Hark! They seek to make you less than yourself! He detested it. And now he was angrier than before. He had shown weakness in the face of the enemy. Woe to those who mock him! He is the soldier of the Lord. But what would the coyote female do? She didn’t seem a threat. Yet, she was coyote. She was a shameful, sinful thing. To dust we have come, to dust we must return. “You must repent!” he growled, his blue eyes burning with religious fervour. “Repent, and your life may just be spared,” Methuselah said again. He held no weapon with him but his words and his hands. These hands, may they do the Lord’s work. Like the sea below, he watched, and he waited. Silently judging.
    • Word Count: 763
      Form: Optime.
      OOC: Your writing is beautiful! <3 Also, I'm so sorry for taking so long to get to this :|
[html]<div id="signature-icons">
<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/icons/signature-icons.css');
</style>
<center>

<span style="font-variantConfusedmall-caps; font-weight:bold; text-shadow:#748881 1px 1px 2px;"><span style="color:#A60000">it's not the lies that you sing</span></span>

<hr>

<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.MethuselahCapello" target="_blank" title="CHARACTER WIKI" class="character-wiki"></a>
<a href="#!" class="optime-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Master at melee and close-quarters."></a>
<a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material, only if requested." class="will-mature"></a>
<a href="#!" class="reply-fast" title="REPLY SPEED: FAST"></a>

<hr>
<span style="font-variantConfusedmall-caps; font-weight:bold; text-shadow:#748881 1px 1px 2px;"><span style="color:#A60000">but what the silence will scream</span></span>

</center>
</div>
[/html]
  Reply
#3
[html]

Oh, everybody wants to think that they’re good at heart, when they’re full of hate.

The Infernian’s pulse thrummed like a live wire, and his voice startled her to an abrupt turn. The sound of her song quivered on for one, final note, and then died away entirely. “Come up with that yourself?” Verity teased, though her hackles had begun to flag up in the breeze. "Why not?" The yearling then returned. She had for him no good answer–and if she had, would not have found herself much inclined to share–but his inquiry seemed to ease some of the tension that she strained with.


At Methuselah’s next words, however, this tension returned threefold. “Repent? The hell are you talking about?” Frowning, Vera leveled her gaze upon the man, and her eyes smoldered like spring caught in overexposure. She felt a cold flush of fear, creeping up between the hollows of her ribcage. (Betrayed by her own, baser self.) There was madness in him, and it surged like a blackened, seething beast.


‘Twas was a madness that she’d seen once before, reflected in the stare of the beast that had etched his mark upon her.


Whatever anger he had inspired was now tempered by fear. The coy shifted as far from the drop as their mutual positioning would allow, for the worry had arisen that the stranger might choose to make good on his threat, and send her tumbling down to the blackwater below.

<style type="text/css"> .temp-feb15 { width:96%; margin:0px auto; } .temp-feb15 p.ooc { padding:0px 5px 5px 3px; opacity:.75; border-bottom:1px dotted black; text-indent:0px; } .temp-feb15 p { font-family:'Libre Baskerville'; font-size:15px; line-height:180%; text-indent:50px; margin:8px; } </style>[/html]
  Reply
#4
  • Heathen blinded by the lies of the deceiver, let the mouth of the Holy Soldier guide you to repentance! Her song halted entirely, the final note cast asunder to the breeze. She turned to look at him, her eyes seemingly carrying some kind of surprise that someone would have such a response to her melody. The sinner’s own remark to his quoting of scripture only served to make the Zion wolf quiver in anger. They mock the Word of the Lord! They sully His Holy Language! Foul creature, be gone! Methuselah pulled back his lips, revealing the flesh of his gums in an ardent snarl. “I could n-never be worthy of b-being considered of s-such Holy Words!” he said with fervour. “The Lord fills the tongues of His Soldiers, giving them boldness to go about His plan,” the great wolf echoed, finding solace in repeating the scripture for it was only in speaking such words that strangely his stutter was never at the fore. “Your song is the work of e-evil. Your melody casting a sp-spell over those too weak to kn-kno-know any better!” With each passing moment, the Boreas soldier found himself growing in ire. It surged like a rising tide, like waves raging against the haggard shoreline below them.

    But the woman didn’t appear phased by his words, instead there was a kind of strange confidence to her, something which though not wholly unfamiliar to the man from Zion, was still something of an oddity given their current predicament. One would usually presume the smaller and decidedly lesser of the two beings to back down without presumption, but apparently, this woman held herself in too much of a high esteem to give such regard to the fact. They come to bring death and destruction! They use the words of the Soldiers of Light against them! Beware! Do not be fooled by the appearance of weakness, for in the shadows lie deceit. Methuselah took a single step forward, her accusation only serving to rile him up further. “Y-you dare ask my name! You d-dare ask who gives me this right!” The words were hurled at her like barbs arrows, a barrage of unrelenting accusations and truths. Stand firm in the knowledge given by the Lord, know you power lies in Him. Do not fear! For lo, He will give you strength! “I am the soldier of the Lord! I am fearfully and wonderfully made in His sight. Born to bring the truth wherever I go. That is my right. Methuselah took in a deep breath, fists clenched tightly at his sides. These heathens, they had become so lost in their sin they could not even see how far they had fallen.

    “Repentance is the only way to save your soul,” the man from Zion continued. “You are tarnished with the blood of sinners. Absolution through death is the option by which someone such as you might reach the Holy Land.” The road to Heaven in narrow, the path to sin is wide. Redemption comes in the form of sacrifice, but it must be a choice. A for those who give into sin cannot be saved. For the wages of sin, is death. “Y-your kind figure you are a-always better. You take away a-all that is good and right in the world. You are heathens! You don’t d-deserve to live! What gives you that right? Who gives you that right?” The man spat, memories of his childhood haunting him once more. Come to the Lord, and He will give you peace. He had found peace, found solace in the Word. The Lord had shown him the light, given him a purpose. Made him realise he was worth something, despite the words of those filthy coyotes. They had tried to bring him down with them, but he wouldn’t falter. He had his purpose now, and his purpose was just in sight of the Lord. This woman would learn that. “There is only the truth of the Word,” Methuselah added, tossing his head to view the skies above. “And I pray I find favour in the sight of the Lord. Beneath heaven, may He find my actions righteous.” The man returned his frost hued gaze upon the pale furred woman, his mind still a frantic swirl of emotions and thoughts.

    • Word Count: 718
      Form: Optime.
      OOC: Let me know if you want me to change anything <3
[html]<div id="signature-icons">
<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/icons/signature-icons.css');
</style>
<center>

<span style="font-variantConfusedmall-caps; font-weight:bold; text-shadow:#748881 1px 1px 2px;"><span style="color:#A60000">it's not the lies that you sing</span></span>

<hr>

<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.MethuselahCapello" target="_blank" title="CHARACTER WIKI" class="character-wiki"></a>
<a href="#!" class="optime-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Master at melee and close-quarters."></a>
<a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material, only if requested." class="will-mature"></a>
<a href="#!" class="reply-fast" title="REPLY SPEED: FAST"></a>

<hr>
<span style="font-variantConfusedmall-caps; font-weight:bold; text-shadow:#748881 1px 1px 2px;"><span style="color:#A60000">but what the silence will scream</span></span>

</center>
</div>
[/html]
  Reply


Forum Jump: