there will be mountains you won't move

POSTED: Wed Jan 08, 2020 6:42 pm

Sugar Loaf Resort can sometimes be isolating depending on the weather! Have your character spend the night trapped in the lodge during a bout of bad weather.

dystopia! fen's just in the town square right now :] [+430]

Pale fingers deftly wove strands of hair betwixt one another in perfect rhythm. Braids were as natural as breathing to her at this point, and she didn't need to constantly check to make sure everything was lining up perfectly; she had enough confidence in herself to know it would turn out beautifully, just as it always did. Her fiery hair had been twisted in countless different ways by now — she'd done this particular braid a million times before. Fishtails were second-nature and deceptively simple, despite the illusive intricacies.

Macha was asleep in her lap, trying to get warm in any way she could. Her tiny little feline body could only hold in so much heat, after all. Once she tied off the braid, the Aear sighed to herself, a paw gently rubbing against the cat's downy fur. As much as she hated disturbing her, it was inevitable. She rose to stand, collecting the kitten into her hands, despite Macha's sleepy mewls.

The warrior was still in the house, having just come in from checking in on the horse, presumably, given the light powdering of snow on his shoulders. "Amon," she greeted, approaching him quickly before he could protest. "Won't you watch Macha for a moment? I am going out."

The gray cat, for one, was thrilled to cuddle against the giant; she gasped and called his name incessantly, pawing at him mid-air before he reluctantly took her into his arms. "It's not for a moment," he said blankly, ignoring as Macha reached her head up to his chin to nuzzle against it. "When will you return? It is getting worse."

The Moonwraith had already retreated to her quarters to don her winter cloak, clementine hair hidden neatly beneath the fur-trimmed hood. "I won't be out for too long," she reassured him flatly, smoothing out the fabric of the coat against her lithe form. "You could begin dinner preparations, if you'd like. I am just going for a walk."

"'Fresh air again,'" he said cynically, as she had told him many times over. "All you will see is snow." Amon didn't outwardly show it, but she knew he'd rather her stay in, if only so he could account for her in the worsening weather.

"Oh, come off it," she returned easily, waving a dismissive hand to him before unlatching the door. "Must you be so cynical?" And with that, she exited the stone house, white legs almost blending in perfectly with the freshly fallen snow littering the ground.

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POSTED: Fri Jan 10, 2020 9:32 am

come get lost in the static

The snow began to pour down harder by the hour, and if Dystopia hadn’t joined New Caledonia in time, she might’ve been wandering around looking for a suitable shelter to ride out the storm in out there. She imagined her old tent buried under the snow by now, possibly collapsed by the weight. The campfire is likely no longer visible, and the rocks she used to sit on to cook her meat were probably hidden beneath it all, too. She was grateful for her decision and fast-action, and no matter how much her brother sought to deny it, she knew he was always grateful to have a roof over his head, too. All he needed to worry about was keeping the snow off the roof of their new house, to keep it from collapsing.

Why was she out in it? One might wonder. She was set on trying to memorize her new home, and when she left the house to go do that, the storm had gotten progressively worse since. Walking through the snow had been easier before, but now it was accumulating and make her have to trudge. If she had a horse or a sled, it’d be worth it, but now she was tired, she was cold, and she was cranky… but home seemed like such a far walk away.

There was a large building in the distance that looked closer to her than her actual house was. As she made her way towards it, she spotted another woman trudging in the snow, too. What lunatic would be willingly out in this? The woman’s coat was the color of the snow, and without the brown, furry cloak she was wearing, Dystopia doubted she would’ve been able to see her at all… save for her fiery orange hair. ”Did you get stuck out here, too?” she called over to her, wondering if she had possibly been doing something similar to Dystopia when the storm worsened. The Massacre woman gripped her arms – she was poor compared to the others here. Living as a Loner for a while, one doesn’t carry much… not even a winter cloak. Dystopia eyed the woman’s cloak jealously.

Crimson eyes drifted over towards the resort again. Had the woman not been out here, she would’ve been warm and safe in there by now. An impatience began to bubble in her form, and she pointed desperately. ”Let’s go there and talk!”

(404) woop! :)

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POSTED: Mon Jan 13, 2020 3:46 pm

:>! [+349]

She was acutely aware of how the snow was pouring down harder and harder by the minute — and either out of some spite towards Amon or out of carelessness, she did not pay it any mind, even as it nipped at her toes and ached her fingers. Her thick coat was made for winters, after all; her wolfish blood would not fail her.

Still, that wasn't at all to say she wasn't uncomfortable. But Fennore would be damned before she admitted any sort of wrong-doing or defeat to him.

And it appeared she was not the only one out here in the cold, either; a voice called to her, causing the white wolfess to pause and look for its source, no small feat in the hazy silhouette of a world around her. Go where and talk? Magenta eyes narrowed at the distant form before looking off into the distance where she indicated hurriedly. The Resort?

But Fennore supposed it was better than returning home and facing the music.

With a rigid nod she caught up to the stranger — surely a newcomer to the Realm, there was no other explanation — and the dark red of her eyes caught her attention only momentarily before she urged them to continue on, out of the cold. At least inside they could properly be acquainted; out here there was little chance of that happening.

It was a dirty, stale place, the Resort; the Aear had visited it before, but it hadn't felt so dead in the fall. Idly she wondered if creatures had found solace here from the winter, but hopefully they wouldn't come across anything unpleasant. Speaking of 'they'...

She brushed the snow gathering on her shoulders, melting somewhat into the cloak's fabric. "To answer your question, no," the Moonwraith finally answered, pulling back her hood and fixing her braid. "I wasn't stuck, though it appears that is no longer the case." She looked over the other woman in full now, her pretty hair and her brown pelt.

"You are new to the Realm, I see."

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POSTED: Mon Jan 20, 2020 12:27 am

come get lost in the static

In the resort, it was quiet and warmer. The wind threatened to turn her to ice less than outside, but even though it was shelter, the windows were still cracked and broken and did not encase them in a windless place like it may have before the Red Star fell. Snow collected on the dirt carpet near the windows and the wind whistled between the broken panes of glass. Dystopia pushed the door closed behind them and removed the hood of her cloak, too, and fluffed the snow that settled on the fabric. It was slightly wet, though it was still pretty warm inside. She held its bulk out with her arms to allow it to dry a little.

Dystopia looked onto the woman with dead, emotionless eyes. ”I am.” Her tone was even, though it wasn’t dead like her gaze. She dipped her nose to the woman, who she assumed to be a higher rank than her. She was eager to fit into her new pack. ”My name is Dystopia Massacre. And you? Who are you?”

Her eyes idled on the woman a moment, awaiting her answer. She studied the way Fennore’s hair stuck out against her fur like a fire made in the snow. She had many interesting features that made her stand out – usually having a plain, white coat was boring, but not her. Magenta eyes flashed against the white, and fiery orange hair struck out. It made Dystopia jealous that she didn’t have a coat like that; though she was also proud of her colors because she took after her father in appearance.

A creak in the back of the resort claimed her attention as her head snapped in its direction. Likely a sound caused by the weight of the snow on its form or perhaps the wind, but it was a sound made by seemingly nothing. It was interesting. It was worth looking into. Eyes flicked back to the woman once to regard her, to let her know she was still listening, though Dystopia took a few steps forward and peered down one of the dark hallways. At the end of it was a light, a window, where the white flakes of the outside storm fell, collecting on the shallow window sill and the gold-speckled, dingy, green carpeted floor. The wind roared outside, and the building cracked and creaked again, and Dystopia's eyes rose to the ceiling, which looked pretty sound despite the noises.

”I guess the resort doesn’t like the storm either,” she commented, looking back to Fennore, noting the braid the woman’s hair was wound in. ”Have you explored this place thoroughly before?”

(440) woop! :)

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POSTED: Wed Jan 22, 2020 7:31 pm

:>! [+319]

Her face seemed vacant, disconnected, but her words were present, livelier and a betrayal of her front. The Aear blinked, nodding slowly at the other woman's name — also quite... interesting, she supposed. Not exactly the happiest of name combinations, she had to admit, and it was certainly different than what she was expecting. Names were always one of the more intriguing parts of a person, and most things sounded foreign to Fennore; most everything seemed to lack the Gaelic flare, which was a blessing. She knew far too many Aidan's (including her own father) and Molly's, and it made things quite boring when everyone shared a name.

Dystopia, though it indicated quite a bleak future, was a welcomed change of pace.

"I am Fennore," she answered in kind, and her eyes drifted towards the direction the brown female looked off to; side effects of the storm, she figured, which was not showing any signs of slowing down. It was good they found shelter, but... the Resort did have her somewhat longing for the comfort of her own home. Even if that meant seeing him.

The newcomer, for what it was worth, could hold a conversation much longer than Amon, and they had just met. But really, anyone in the Kingdom was friendlier than him, anyway.

"Not thoroughly, no." Truthfully she hadn't quite made it past this room or the next; it hadn't seem the effort back when Caledonia first claimed their territory. It was surely abandoned and nothing of value seemed to remain, but Fennore supposed now, the two of them were kind of forced to do something with their time if they were going to wait out the snow.

"How did you find New Caledonia, if I may ask?" She started towards a doorway, methodically looking about the dark, stuffy room as she did so, beckoning with one hand for Dystopia to follow.

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POSTED: Sat Jan 25, 2020 12:35 am

come get lost in the static

When Fennore began moving around in the room, the sounds caught Dystopia’s attention and pulled her gaze from the ceiling. Footsteps on the old carpet sounded crunchier than they should have – probably due to the dirt and grime caked into the carpet from over the years. Dystopia wondered what they rooms on the floors above them looked like – were they like a flick caught in a picture frame looking exactly like what the last occupant left it as? Or were they a disarray from use over the years by different Luperci coming through here? There was only one way to find out, regardless.

”That’s a nice name,” she said, though she didn’t know if she really meant it. Fen-nore. It was certainly different from any of the names she had heard before. Though, many Luperci out there had many different names. Some of them were words, like hers and Catharsis’, some were actual names like her parents’, like Serana’s, like Aidan’s. And some… were unique. Perhaps Fennore’s name was unique.

Dystopia eagerly followed Fennore as the two moved out of the main room and into one of the hallways lined with doors, a stairwell, and a broken window that the wind gusted through on the end of the hall. ”I heard from a passing dog that it was nearby and they welcomed all sorts of Luperci, so I came.”

Dystopia turned a doorknob to her left and it easily clicked open (the automatic lock likely disengaged after a long time of rot), opening the way to a room that was trashed completely. Sunlight poured through the cracked and broken windows and the curtains flapped from the gusting wind. The comforter was peeled back from the bed – likely due to the wind as well. Glass littered the floor all the way from the windows to the carpet in front of the door. The toilet in the bathroom was stained brown from water damage and mold. The mirrors inside the bathroom were cracked and shattered – glass littered the sink and the bathroom floor as well.

”What a fixer-upper,” Dystopia mused, looking in, but not taking any further steps into the room. She didn’t want to risk cutting her paws on all the glass all over the floor. ”I wonder if they’re all like this…” Dystopia turned back to see Fennore’s expression or reaction to the room, wondering if she had anything to add.

(401) I hope they had electronically locking hotel doors in the 80’s :) LOL. They did, I checked xD

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POSTED: Sat Feb 01, 2020 2:06 pm

:>! [+4]

The new Caledonian seemed more preoccupied with the state of the room, which was fine by Fennore; it certainly didn't seem the safest of places, dilapidated and abandoned though it was, but now that it was within the Realm, perhaps efforts would be made to clean it up and repurpose it.

If they continued growing at such a rapid pace, it wouldn't take many more hands to make such a thing possible. After all, already efforts were being made in the Square in the Bastion, and the way both had been given an albeit minor face-lift since their arrival was indication enough of that. The blizzard seemed to put a damper on their progress, but no doubt it would resume once the freezing temperatures began to recede.

They explored further, their paws making odd, crunching sounds beneath them in the degrading carpet. But Dystopia had an interesting tid bit of information; their name was indeed spreading far and wide, just as Fennore had hoped it would. Thankfully, it appeared their diplomatic efforts were making somewhat of an impact; doubtless that she, Percival, and of course Athras were doing their jobs well. With the latter, they were even attracting the unsavory attention of the Thistle Kingdom, which to Fennore seemed a step in the wrong direction, but only time would tell how the Court had fared in that respect.

One on hand, the Aear was curious if the Resort was a popular place for squatters — perhaps not now that their territory had expanded to encompass it, but the degree of decay within perhaps suggested such in the past. It really was in a sorry state, so much so that the pair couldn't really even progress into the room without stepping all over littered glass and debris, so they didn't proceed further. "Indeed," she agreed in a murmur, a bit crestfallen at the state of things, but soon her curiosity led her elsewhere, into another room that was not nearly as hazardous as the last.

Still pretty filthy, as all the rooms undoubtedly were, but at least she could step foot inside without getting glass wedged into her paw. The windows had been long-since shattered, but the glass was all collected near a corner of the room, leaving the floor relatively clear — had that been the result of a previous "tenant," removing a potential hazard as they made their bed here? "It will take some renovations if we ever decide to utilize it," Fennore said offhandedly, magenta eyes sweeping back to crimson.

"If it is even worth the effort."

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