Welcome! We recommend starting here.
Fri Jul 18, 2014 12:08 pm
336 The Black River Reserve, midday. Mara's in optime form. Dated for the 21st or thereabouts?
Cour des Miracles was a great haven for the pirate's daughter, but there was a feeling of grief that endured, and she couldn't blame anyone for it. They'd lost their Queen, and that was significant to them, but she couldn't mourn someone she'd never known. Begrudging them their period of mourning was not in her nature, but neither was the capacity to simply sit around until it consumed her as well.
Having spent a prolonged amount of time at the borders and within the hotel, Mara smelt as much like her pack as she possibly could given the brief amount of time she'd been there so far. The gardens, de-weeded as they were and decidedly lacking in nutrients after their long neglect could use a rest. Whether the damage could be mitigated completely was another matter entirely. Their medic, she thought, might know of some remedies for the earth that she was as-of-yet unaware.
Until then, she was taking a break from the constant patrols and glassy eyed looks.
It grew hotter on her second day of travel north, and despite plans to circle back and take a look at the Drifter Bay horses once more, she headed east. The horses were magnificent, and some small part of her desired to see the wildling again, but the chances were slim to none that it would be the same woman to spot her on two separate occasions. Just after midday when the heat began to take on an oppressive, almost unbearable temperature, a lagoon came into view, and she'd never been so happy to see a body of water in her life. Pausing just long enough to shift from her quadruped form to her two-legged one, it was like this that she took to the water, a venerable dart of bister and gold. Her dog heritage was a wonder, wicking water away as though she'd been coated in oil.
Water was where she so obviously belonged, and the shallower waters had already been warmed by the rocks.
Sun Jul 20, 2014 3:28 pm
Sun Jul 20, 2014 4:02 pm
Truly unawares that there was a pack nearby, Mara swam idly and almost entirely without thought. Where her hair was wavy when dry, it straightened in the water, a dark curtain of bister hair. Eying this stranger just now stepping onto the scene, Constantine's
The woman's scent was poignant — she belonged to a pack, and yet the wolfdog found herself... Uncaring when it came to this particular fact. If she were here to defend her territory it would not be by taking a swim. Sinking back into the chest-deep waters, she fanned her arms around her with a languid grin. Not at all, True, it was a hot day, but that didn't necessarily mean it was a bad day, or one unfit for company. She'd sprinted from the Court's borders looking for a refuge from the darker turnings of her mind, and perhaps this was the form it came in.
There is a pack around here, non? Her French was abysmally poor, but she was Creole. There was a touch of it in her, if not by blood, than upbringing. With a casual flick of her tail and the subtlest flex of her legs, the water nymph propelled herself a mere foot or so further into the water. Alcohol held no place in her heart; she found it bitter and troublesome to get down, but this, she loved. It was, for her, the equivalent of being drunk.
Mon Jul 21, 2014 9:21 am
Mon Jul 21, 2014 9:56 am
There was nothing severe in her—she was not her father, to cut a man down, but her gaze could be coined as bold. That was not a gift from her parents, but her grandmother who had been full of steel. Grey-eyed and dark, she could strip her fellows down with a glance. Mara was not harsh, like a man, nor as buxom as a woman in her prime such as this one was; rather, she clung to her girlishness, and was not likely to give it up any time soon. She could (and would) trade on her youth so long as youth remained with her.
A feral pack? Feral how? She bared her teeth somewhat, as if to question whether it was brute strength to which she credited the term, or something simpler. Even becoming aware of the fact that she might be in the presence of a fighter did not move her. Her companion didn't put her in mind of an Amazon though, as she bore no obvious weapon, but something more primal. Be wary of setting brushfires, her brother had warned her, and at the time she'd been confused as to what his real message entailed. Now, she understood; a little, anyway. Was it so wrong to want to ignite others every so often?
At the mention of a water nymph her smile grew toothy. Finally, someone who recognized her for what she was, or could be. Cour des Miracles, but before that I lived on an island. It was much warmer there than it is here. Come winter, she would likely have difficulties keeping warm. In time, maybe her wolf ancestry would help her in that aspect of life.
What is your name? Her tone was insistent but not unkind, her curiosity shining through like a candle behind her eyes. Did her name suit her, or did she need a new one? A picture was forming in her mind, but it was fuzzy at the edges and did nothing to help the childhood fable come to fruition within the confines of her mind.
Mon Jul 21, 2014 6:41 pm
Mon Jul 28, 2014 12:21 am
New Dawn did not sound like a place she would like overmuch. Even if she didn't employ their uses often, she did like human artifacts — her backpack, for example, or the occasional garment of clothing. During the winter months during snow squalls and late nights she expected she would have to don clothing; the darkest days of the year were also the coldest, and she was unaccustomed to its bitter touch. Eying the other woman, she wondered what had convinced her to join this so-called feral pack. For all that she wore no clothing, as Mara did, she didn't seem particularly given to go without things that made life easier.
So you don't... build homes, or make weapons or anything? It seemed a silly thing, to rely entirely on what remained of the wilderness to live ones life. Shaking her head slightly in disbelief, water droplets scintillated and shifted in the bright sunlight.
On one thing they did seem to agree; that island nice was life, but not ideal for a long stay. Its mild weather and warm water had been nice. Safe, even, while growing up, but she no longer needed the same things as an adult. Strangers were no longer something to be feared, but were curiosities instead, and she, too, liked to wander. It was, She agreed to Grace's comment about it being restricting. Still, it had been home, and she'd plumbed the depths of its secrets until it had no more to give her.
The other stood more than a foot taller than her at her full height, and still she did not take a step back when approached. Tilting her head, cinnamon strands of hair fell sideways, dripping water. Mara Savoy.
Smiling wryly, she couldn't quite help herself. You're quite tall. She would never, alas, be a poet, to woo with words.