the return

for athras bb

POSTED: Tue May 21, 2019 12:58 am

He returned to the camp with little more than a pheasant, a single bird strung lamely over his shoulder. Iomair was no expert with the bow, and so he had checked traps that had been carefully set through out the forest at Tamlins behest. The pheasant was a welcome change from the rabbit and squirrels that had so often become regulars around their campfire. Iomair pined for the wealth that had so often been brought to his table – Vodeva had been a fine cook, but there had been others to help, hands upon hands to do washing and mending, hunting and fishing.

Here everyone did their own work – for it was a new beginning, but one that Iomair sought to eventually change.

The way to the camp was slow going, and for a moment The King grew lost amongst the trees and was forced to pause to find his bearings. He had scratched long marks into some of the trunks in an effort to make the return less meandering, but somehow he had allowed his feet to take him too far North, so that when he finally stumbled into the camp night had already begun to lengthen the shadows that gathered and clung like cobwebs against their tents.

The man coughed softly, bringing the bird to his front and gathering it up in his hands as he began to head for the fire.

The man sprawled there bade him pause, and his expression drooped with shocked surprise.

”Athras?”

pls let me know if you want me to change anything!!! :D

New Caledonia
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Amanda
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POSTED: Mon Jun 03, 2019 3:46 pm

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Basking in the blessed warmth just beyond the soft gold halo of firelight Athras lounged four-legged. His body was long and svelte his fur sleek and gleaming. Delicate forelegs were outstretched and crossed one over the other, his long feathered tail curled in around his hind legs. Slanted cyan eyes seemed to glow as they caught the light: ghostly, alluring. His silhouette was dark, his narrow features and soft feathering sharpened by it’s shadowy cast. His head was lifted, gaze intent on the flames, staring. His ears shifted forward as if seeing, hearing something that was not there. He did not blink until his eyes had long gone dry and his king spoke his name.

Slowly and deliberately Athras turned his head, but it was several moments before he breathed life back into his hollowed cheeks, his haunted eyes. “Your Grace.”

For days Athras had been anxious to set eyes on their benevolent king, their graceful ruler- their majestic master of the realm. And yet, now as they met for the first time since the fall of their kingdom, the half-shadow was resigned, slow and unhurried. He uncoiled like a snake, graceful as a dancer, unwinding his tail and coming to a stand on long slender legs. “Allow me to slip into something more comfortable, hm.” He sauntered away from the fire to his bed of moss, leaves, and peat to retrieve his dark robe then swift as a shadow retreated behind the canvas tent of the royals. As he shifted the fire cast his changing shape on the canvas until two-legged he dressed in his embroidered robe and returned.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” He said to Iomair, smoothing the edge of his robe against his partially exposed chest, “you look surprised to see me. What a shame we did not all burn with our forest.” His gaze was intent, the corner of his clever mouth twitching ever- so-slightly upwards.

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Stormie
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POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 11:46 pm

The boy was born of Druids, and it was evident in the way his legs twisted before him like reedy branches of Nanin. Athras Eryn was old blood, blood that ran through the very core of Caledonia and had somehow made it to the other side unscathed. The man rose from his place next to the fire and Iomair bowed his head to give the man his space as he trotted behind a backlit canvas – the tent igniting his shadow as he shifted to two legs.

Iomair flattened his ears to the sounds the body made as it went through its transition. He wondered about the Taur’s family, of the Clansmen that could have traveled with him.

He felt his heart tighten as he considered the loss that fell in the wake of Caledonia’s retreat.

While he waited Iomair plucked feathers from the bird, turning it in his hands and collecting the largest feathers in his belt. They would prove useful for something; arrows, bedding, or decoration – and against the firelight the pheasants colors flickered against the smoke. When Athras finally emerged with a robe thrust up around his shoulders, the front of it gathered with a tie that the man was still fastening as he spoke.

"Surprised and relieved." Iomair felt the lines about his eyes crinkle as he stepped towards the Eryn Lord, "I was not sure how many more survived." He held out a hand to clasp Athras' forearm in greeting, "Tell me, what all did you see? Are there..." He flared his nostrils as he inhaled, "What of the rest of your family?"

<3

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Amanda
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POSTED: Fri Jun 14, 2019 2:43 pm

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The Eryn man tipped his muzzle up as his king gave reply, not quite a sneer, but not entirely pleasant. Athras took the offered arm after a moment’s hesitation, eyeing the limb suspiciously. He squeezed just enough for dark claws to bud from his fingertips before letting go. “You have eyes, Your Grace.” His arm returned to his side, then swept back with the other where they crossed low on his back. He turned and faced the fire. “You can see I’m alone.” There was a long pause as the half-shadow stared into flames.

“They burned.” Fiery tendrils and black smoke played upon the black of his pupils, but it’s heat sunk deeper. His nostrils filled with the acrid stench, gaze unfocused staring into the void. “I am the last of my house.” He said, dispassionate and removed. It was all he could do to contain himself in the presence of a man he blamed for their home's destruction. Athras glanced back over his shoulder. “Do you want to know how I survived?” He did not wait for an answer.

“I climbed a tree. There I heard every scream, every whimper. I smelled their hair burning, their flesh roasting. And all because we believed you could save us.” He turned to face his king, resplendent in his fine clothing, the pin of colored gems sparkling in the firelight.

“And now here we are.” He advanced towards Iomair slowly, hands still clasped behind his back, his head lifted, ears forward. “The King without a Kingdom, and the Lord of the Ashes.”

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POSTED: Mon Jun 17, 2019 1:00 am

Iomair was patient as the man collected himself. The embroidery upon his robe glistened as he turned, his bright eyes filled with an expression that Iomair could read even at this distance. It was one that had been common in the safe house, one that demanded answers and placed blame. It was a burden that even then Iomair had not truly understood, for as the war had gone on around them there had been no time to think, no time to ponder.

He could remember watching Inuven leave the safe house, his dark hair streaming behind him with dirt and blood.

Athras Eryn was of the old blood, the old gods. The King was sure that the half-shadow could trace his lineage back to the beginning of all things. Iomair hummed in his throat and tried to push away the vision that the man painted for him, but he could taste it - hear the heatwrenching screams and the burning.

”I am…” Sorry did not seem enough, and so the man held out his hands, at a loss for words.

Silence brewed between them until finally Iomair found the words to offer.

”We all lost something.” He spoke and gazed solemnly into the flames. ”My children are lost, Vodeva injured.” A deep sigh rippled through him and he glanced back towards the Eryn. ”There is much work to be done.” His brows lifted, "And I cannot do it alone."

<3

New Caledonia
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Amanda
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POSTED: Thu Jun 20, 2019 9:44 pm

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Athras had been a young man when the four clans united for the very first time. How his family had prayed then, beseeching the verdant stag for guidance for fear of what the union would bring. But there had been hope too. A faint ray of light that this Iomair, this king would be the figurehead they needed to push back the usurpers and take back their homes. In the end, it was chaos.

The four clans lacked the organization to effectively combat their enemy. They did not know how to work together, to combine their defenses. And so their flank had been left open, a fatal oversight. Their lines broke and the usurpers seized upon their fumbling. Athras’s training had been enough to ensure his survival in the battles lost, striking turned backs from the shadow of the trees. He had tasted blood, his, theirs. It was not enough.

When the citizens of Taur fled into their sacred forest, the usurpers razed it to the ground. None had survived the blaze, save him (that he knew of anyway). And for the first time in his life Athras had felt loss. Loss so deep it sunk into his heart to fester like the rotting hollow of an ancient oak choked by creepers and nettles, blackened sap oozing out of split bark to dry and crystalize. He carried the shards, sharp as the dagger so often at his hip.

It did his hardening heart little good to hear Iomair’s regret. He had no use for it! He did not see, he did not hear, he did not know what it was like to burn. What it was like to watch with eyes too dry to cry as his mother, his father, his brother withered into skeletal husks. He did not see their skin as it blackened and cracked, oozing their lifesblood out of deepening fissures as they boiled in their own fluids. He knew nothing!

“Lost.” Repeated the half-shadow in a hollow voice. “Is not dead. And injuries can be tended.” His face was a mask of tranquil fury as the fire sputtered and crackled before them, sending embers floating, free into the summer sky.

From Iomair’s lips came a weary sigh and Athras pondered over the man’s face, how very old he looked in this light. His hands had fallen, no longer crossed at his back and he had long since turned to face the fire. Their eyes met. He swallowed down his fury and turned his thoughts towards the future, dipping his head once in agreement. “No, I daresay you can’t.” On that they could agree. His tail twitched once behind him in time to his thoughts, the anxiety that set the wheels turning in his quicksilver mind. “So what is it you plan to do?” His eyes narrowed. Your Grace.”

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Stormie
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POSTED: Tue Jun 25, 2019 11:07 pm

Iomair could feel the electric crackle in the man even from their short distance. The flames only added to the crimson fur in his cheeks, brightening the cerulean of his eyes so that they practically glowed against the din. Iomair stood with his arms crossed, quietly listening as the man tossed his shiny head. His voice rung hollow like the keening of a bell and still Iomair listened.

"I am sorry." There was nothing else he could say, but it was evident in the way he hung his head that what he said was true.

He was lucky that Vodeva was still able to heal.

”Old Caledonia is gone.” Iomair ran his hands through his beard as the pair of them gazed into the flickering flames. ”We have the opportunity to begin something new in this land.” The High King ran a finger over the pin that symbolised the clans of old. "As the only living member of one of our oldest families I would ask that you serve as our Lord Regent.” Iomair leveled his gaze at the Eryn with a stern expression, ”There will be new hardships in this place. New responsibility. New tradition.”

He paused and offered a smile, ”But I will offer it to you if you are willing.”

Another pause. A grin that turned crooked with mirth.

"My lord."

<3

New Caledonia
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Amanda
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POSTED: Tue Jul 09, 2019 3:34 pm

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Athras searched his face, his gold eyes in which flames danced like the light of a forge, or a fire set to a forest of ancient trees. He took in the scars the raked across the man’s bearded muzzle, his fur rough unlike the smooth velvet of his own. The set to his brows was heavy, his nicked ears still and solemn. He wanted to believe, he imagined the burden on his broad shoulders weighing him, dragging him down. And yet there he stood straight-backed and regal the picture of majesty undeserved.

His gaze was drawn to the circle of colored gems, glimmering glittering like iridescent stars. His lips quivered, peeling back from jagged white teeth in what started as a sneer, as he prepared to correct his king. The Eryn’s were not one of the oldest families they were the oldest of Taur. But he paused. His eyes sharpened, ears lifting and drawing forward. He wet his lips, lungs inflating at the mention of “new” traditions. But his concerns were brushed aside (for the moment) at the mention of title. His eyes flashed and he seized the opportunity. “Naturally.” He drawled, not letting on to his true feelings, the suddenness with which the offer had come.

He accepted, it was his right, of birth, of title. Though it occurred to him how very little he knew of the king, and his talk of change. Surely, that was just talk? If not...These matters could be dealt with in their time and with subtlety. He was the most well-equipped to take such an office...even if it wasn’t the one he had his eyes on.

When Iomair smiled, Athras mirrored it. He laughed brightly, the sound refined and pleasing to the ears, his smile wide flashing stark white teeth and red gums.

It died, slowly like an ember growing cold. His expression sobered, suddenly pensive. “You’ve a vision, then?” Asked Athras, glancing at Iomair, the spark of curiosity gleaming in his bright cyan eyes. "What would you have us become? Where would you have us live? If I'm to be your regent- well, it's ever so nice to share, hm?" The corner of his lips quirked as did a brow.

New Caledonia
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Stormie
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POSTED: Wed Jul 17, 2019 12:37 am

There was so much of this place that filled the man with uncertainty. The old ways were trembling beneath his fingertips, rushing rivulets of memory and wonderful tradition that had been passed down from generation to generation. Here in New Caledonia there was nothing but opportunity and Iomair found himself reaching for it with hands that practically glowed. Athras was a bundle of pent up energy – and the King could see the way his expression remained unchanging even as the title left his lips.

There was still so much to learn.

Iomair listened quietly, placing one hand so that it balanced against the scruff of his chin. ”Every King has a vision.” He allowed the scruff of his muzzle to split into a slow blooming smile, ”I want to find us a place that we can flourish in. We will become something new, inspired by old.” He grunted thoughtfully and crossed his arms, ”Together I believe that we can accomplish this, but it will take hard work.”

He smiled again as the fire snapped and crackled, ”What do you see for us?”

<3

New Caledonia
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Amanda
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POSTED: Mon Jul 29, 2019 2:45 pm

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short post for the sake of conversation, xD

What a pair they made: the king’s rough edges lit and lightened by the fire’s radiance, blooming into a silhouette of burnished gold while the light only seemed to darken his own. Sun and shadow. A new dawn, and a new dusk. Even their eyes were a contrast, the king’s bright and warm, the lord’s cold and vivid, luminous in the fire’s glow.

Iomair’s face spread into an open smile, while Athras’s shrunk, reserved, and calculative. His reply left much to be desired, like the king had spoken yet said nothing at all. Athras returned the smile only just, sighing inwardly that he must bear this burden. So be it.

“Governance is hard?” He drawled, smile tugging just faintly upwards with contained mirth, as if this were a private joke only he was savvy to. His long bushy tail twitched behind him, rustling his dark robes. “For the sake of “togetherness”...” he began with that same ingratiating smile, “there are some things I would do away with, of course. But traditions must be preserved. Without them we lose our identity, everything that made us great in the first place.”

“For example.” Because he was of the mind that this needed to be said, “can we just agree that betrothals are altogether unnecessary?” He had his own reasons for saying so, and on the off-chance that Leena had survived the war...well, he wasn’t about to be beholden to a Lorn woman from a lesser house, not to mention breeding.

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