M - I'd bet on the birds cuz they don't get caught up

Outskirts of Winterwynd | FD Aug 10

POSTED: Mon Jul 15, 2019 8:25 pm

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.


{400+}

IC:

The air was warm, but in the shade of the age-old cedars beyond Winterwynd, it was calm and cool. Rialu sat in a creaky wooden chair, hand built no doubt, and its gawking complaints made her lips curl just that little bit more. So she lit a smoke.

Eyes out on the prowl as hers did in their sharp professed way. Professed, at least in her own mind. When the watchful gaze cantered onto the man's shoulders. His taller shoulders unless her mind had skipped a beat, which it never did. Virue was in his two legged state for the first time she'd seen in what must have been six months. Somehow the creaking chair quieted and her hand felt the chairs rail, fingers tracing the gravelly ravines laid there in the old oak. She waved that hand lightly in his direction, more gentle than she might admit to another soul. But there was only two in the field it seemed, but Virue's deadened walk was not what it seemed because he was lugging a chair. Then it was placed, and the shadows barely crawled further when he returned, this time with an easel and his supplies. He was going to paint, and when this became what he was to do Rialu watched with wider eyes, but she had cut fresh stock beside the house that afternoon, and after the first strokes came a nap.

When she awoke, the air was a tad cooler than before, and the arid breeze was a chill utter nothing. Rialu snapped her head around with urgency, eyes still foggy. She grumbled some French and reached down for the bottle beside her seat. She gargled four or five gulps before she saw Virue moving odd in his chair. Then his arms went sliding fearlessly across the canvas for a moment of blind magic, but before the trees bloom could live. Something, someone moved his arm, then both limbs, fingers thrashed madly as if he'd been thrown alee. At this Rialu felt something was deeply, and completely wrong. She dropped her bottle in the grass, she screamed his name as she came shot out of some twisted hell. His lips parted with foam that fell in blobs in the high grass. Rialu shook him, only painting the field more in white as his eyelids fanned.

The hunter howled and yipped at full height, she screamed it out as loud as her lungs could bear.

"Someone!" Rialu hollered out with disdain. "Help!!"

She had to get Virue on his side.
Mistfell Vale
Hawkesond
User avatar
Jordan
Luperci Mate to Virue

POSTED: Sun Aug 11, 2019 9:20 pm

OOC :: Words→ 276

Falcon hoisted an armful of branches over her shoulder and turned away from the gnarled old tree they had come from. A summer storm had knocked down branches all around Winterwynd, as if it, too, was eager to add to their firewood stores. Autumn was still a moon or two away, but it never hurt to get a head start. She hummed quietly to herself as she padded back to town. Once the branches were dry, she could start making deliveries around Winterwynd.

Zuri and Baelish were always cooking something; maybe they needed some more firewood.

The Elkenfrey froze mid-step at Rialu’s desperate, frightened voice. She dropped the firewood before she could stop herself, branches scraping against each other as they landed, and ran toward the sound. ”I’m coming!” she shouted back, weaving through the trees until she found a small clearing on the outskirts of Winterwynd. Rialu was stooped over someone in the grass, but Falcon couldn’t tell who it was until she got closer.

Virue, a man she barely knew, was seizing at Rialu’s side.

”What happened?” Falcon asked, skidding to a halt near the couple. Painting supplies and globs of thick, white foam were strewn throughout the grass around them. After a beat, she dropped to her knees and stared into Rialu’s scared, maroon eyes. ”What do you need me to do?” Falcon wasn’t a healer, but she didn’t need to be—she just had to help. And Virue wasn’t… Virue couldn’t be… the hybrid took a deep breath and waited for instructions.

Everything was going to be okay. It had to be.

Note: Falcon uses he/him pronouns publicly (i.e. to most packmates, acquaintances, and strangers) and she/her pronouns privately (i.e. to specific, close friends).
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Elkenfrey
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Alexander
They stole my dirty socks... :( MV Top Poster!

POSTED: Tue Aug 13, 2019 7:04 am

Virue's face was closed shut, tight and his eyes ricketed like an old vicious wind was filtering through his shutters. Rialu couldn't help but look into this writhing thing that was once a calm painter, and feel as though she would be burying him that night under the moon and stars. Then Falcon's voice, he was by her side, asking what they should do. "I-I..." and her mouth remained caught in that beginning, while her hands grabbed at the coydog's side. "We need to roll him he's gonna choke!" She decided with urgency. "And get something for him to bite he'll chew his tongue off!"

When his body was pulled onto its side, he stilled as she wiped the spittle from his lips with a gentle finger, rubbing the spit off absently in the grass. His breathing was shallow. She whined low and painful, snapped her head back over a red shoulder to a tree. "Shade..." Rialu said, and not waiting for Falcon's ideas on the matter, began dragging Virue under the shelter of a grand old oak at their backs. He sputtered and made unintelligible noises from his throat as the grass flattened around his shoulders. Rialu propped him up against the wide trunk so his shoulder blades were flush, and then grabbed his arm, shook his wrist. Touched his face with three fingers, which she had forgotten to do until now. She had forgotten a lot of things. Rialu was sorry she had never loved someone the way he deserved to be loved, not forgotten.

"Virue?! Virue?!" She called to him with a waning voice, praying he could hear her somewhere deep inside. Then the time for hope was completely and utterly over with no response. "Virue if you die in this field I swear to fucking God!" She was angry, bitter, but her voice was breaking and chaff like some vice had gripped itself around her vocal chords.

The canvas sat unfinished yards away, but when she looked at it she saw herself reflected. He had been painting her the whole time. "I'm so sorry." The woman wheezed. "I'm such a piece of shit, I'm such a piece of shit..." and this went on as her face sunk into his small chest. She was a piece of shit.
Mistfell Vale
Hawkesond
User avatar
Jordan
Luperci Mate to Virue

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