All these horses in my car got me going fast

Honrinnnn

POSTED: Fri Jun 01, 2018 12:09 am

ghost stories handed down

Life... what a drag. Everything was a drag. Everything had been hard from her since birth... and Mercy only knew half of it. By some grace, she and her brother were oblivious to the fact that their natural mother believed them to be demons and wanted to murder them at birth. The first mother Mercy knew was the jackal witch, Maelyx, and the snowy Avinalora, who seemed to abandon her to her father, Raine, when she was two months old. Really she understood. Mercy loved her father dearly, and understood her adoptive mother turning her over to him when she discovered his whereabouts... but why had she never come to visit her? Not once since she was turned over.... For a time after her father's demise... no, her father's murder... she wished Maelyx would show up and spirit her away from this place, but that dream never came to pass and with each fading day she felt her broken heart shut out the memory of the witch more and more...

Then there were these interlopers... all these people who said they were family when they had done something so awful to her. None of them cared about her and all of them talked behind her back. She wished they wouldn't, at least if they gossiped to her face she could punch them in the nose for it... she didn't even care what kind of punishment it would bring.

But... well, Veri wasn't that bad, but the more she and her foster mother bonded the more she began to think of the medic as separate from the rest of the pack. Then there was Damon, who was somehow wriggling his way in despite all her efforts to reject him. And then that crazy warrior elder, Jace, who had defended her against the brute Tessa... Mercy was learning that there was always a few exceptions to the rule, but not many, as these people proved.

As she thought about the drag of life she also took a drag on her cigarette. She was outside of the stables again, watching a couple horses enjoy some free time in the paddock, lazily loping the perimeter of the fence and nipping at a few green shoots. The acrid scent of her burning cig floated over the breeze, and when it was sucked up by one of the animal's nostrils the creature snorted and shook its head. She realized the scent bothered it, it didn't have the intelligence to understand that the burning smell was just small and not a big fire... her cigarette put the animal on edge, so in a rare display of conscience for another creature, she dropped the thing into the dirt and stamped it out beneath her bare footpaw.

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Luperci Nightshade Blood: The Devil's Mercy

POSTED: Tue Jun 12, 2018 1:41 pm

Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii
Word Count → 000 :: Out of Character text

Wasn't it always just when things were going well that these types of emergencies popped up. The horses were just like the wolves, they had their own likes and dislikes and their friends and not friends. Sometimes others put them back in the wrong stalls, without checking who they were by. Cecil and Apollo were not friends. If he ever found out who had put Cecil in the stall next to Apollo, he was going to wring necks.

He was fortunate enough to be able to simply walk over and remove Cecil from the stall. The two unfriendly stallions were displaying aggression to each other but Honrin simply tugged on the rope until Cecil came, with only a small attempt to kick Apollo. Hooves stamped against the wood and Apollo whinnied behind them.

He brought Cecil outside into the light, the stallion was riled up and began to circle around Honrin. The pale man let him circle, turning to follow the male until he finally calmed down. It was then he noticed Mercy nearby,

"Hey kid." He gave her a nod and turned back to Cecil who was now bumping his nose against Honrin's jeans, looking for the goodies that Honrin often carried with him.

He laughed and pushed Cecil's head away, rubbing at his muzzle affectionately,

"That was close, huh boy." The stallions ears pricked at the Denahlii's deep, accented voice. He harrumphed and pawed at the ground. Honrin laughed again,

"Naw, there ain't no way you could have taken him." Cecil laid his ears back. Low speech was a difficult language to learn, they both understood the general gist of what the other was saying though. Cecil nipped Honrin's hand instead and Honrin cuffed him about the ears in play.

And he became the sun, to shine upon the worthy

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Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii

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POSTED: Tue Jun 12, 2018 11:13 pm

ghost stories handed down

Her ears easily picked up the heavy clopping of hooves from the stable, but the teen didn't realize someone was leading a horse out until both equine and canine were in full view. Mercy's neck twisted around to peer at them, bristling. It was always an unnerving thing when someone from the pack approached because none of them trusted her, and she didn't trust a single one of them. Okay, maybe one or two were worming their way in but still...

It was Honrin, the pale, scarred son of Jace The Elder. That's how young Mercy always thought of her – Jace The Elder. Jace was one of those that was finding a way past the pained yet strong facade. She wondered if such grace extended to the son... but did not expect so. Still, he greeted her calm deference which belied the bad thoughts he was probably thinking about her.

The girl nodded, gave a swipe of the hand to serve as a wave, and said Hey.

Honrin's attention immediately left her and returned to the horse. He was good with his charge, kind hearted. It gave Mercy pause, and she watched closely with her violet and crimson eyes. After a few beats she could not suppress her curiosity and stepped down from her perch and braved a few paces toward the herdsman. Shoving her fingers into the belt loops of her denim skirt, she found the courage to talk.

So, you like, can understand them? she quizzed, head cocked to the side like a curious house mutt, floppy ears flicking in the breeze.

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Luperci Nightshade Blood: The Devil's Mercy

POSTED: Wed Jun 13, 2018 12:27 am

Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii
Word Count → 000 :: Out of Character text

Honrin focused much of his attentions upon the horses when they were in his grasp, they could be dangerous animals when mishandled. Many of the scars on his legs (covered now by his jeans) were from horses that had kicked at him, or bitten him. He was aware of every flicker and tensing of muscle, every exhale and twist of the ears, Honrin could read it like he would read the body language of another wolf. It was all a matter of being able to interpret the signals.

Cecil's attention turned to the girl as she moved closer, and thus so did Honrin's too. The breeze tugged at his cowboy hat and in reflex he reached up to push it more securely onto his head. The girl was as all teenagers were, not quite done growing and had a scraggly underfed look to them. He knew his mother often fed the boy, Rumpa.

Cecil stretched his head out towards the girl, blowing air softly at the lingering scent of smoke but not overly concerned. Honrin smelled enough like smoke sometimes that the stallion was used to it. He grinned, an easy going thing that exposed over-long canines.

"Kinda, they got their own language just like we do, simpler but it's there. You just gotta learn how to understand them." Cecil was reaching out even further now and rubbing the strong muscles of the end of his muzzle against Mercy's skirt, hoping for a treat or for head scratches.

"He wants you to scratch his neck, like this." Honrin stepped forwards and began to drag his nails back and forth at Cecil's withers between his two shoulder blades and the stallion began to bob his head up and down, prompting Honrin to chuckle.

And he became the sun, to shine upon the worthy

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Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii

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POSTED: Wed Jun 13, 2018 2:04 am

ghost stories handed down

Until this moment, Mercy had never realized that other animals might have their own language, too. Everything that was not the common canine speech of growls, barks, and whimpers seemed like just the cacophony of the earth... like nothing special. Little did she realize that everything was special in its own right. She allowed herself to grow distracted for a moment, eyes trailing up to the skies just as a few dark-winged birds coasted overhead. Was that chipper whistling of theirs a form of speech, too? Honrin had the girl questioning her world. It was good for her.

But the teen couldn't remain distracted for very long as the steed stretched its soft nose out and poked at Mercy. Her ears pinned and she jumped back, arms up defensively. Don't bite! she chirped, but Honrin quickly set her straight. The creature wasn't trying to bite her, he was being friendly. He just wanted a little scratch. Mercy could relate. Perhaps it was her dog ancestry, but she always wanted to cuddle and scratch when she was in her lupus form. She hated it because there was never anyone to snuggle with. It was weak.

Forgetting that pathetic fact about herself for a moment, she looked from the horse to Honrin. He showed her what to do, and the animal's head began bobbing in a move that seemed both inviting and cheery. The girl allowed a half smile to overcome her short muzzle, and slowly and hesitantly a hand reached out to gently touch the mount.

When her fingers touched she felt the animal's coarse fur, so unlike her own. She didn't realize how wiry they were, but she kind of liked it. After a tentative touch and a flick of the eyes to the ivory herdsman, she gave a self conscious chuckled before digging her fingers in for a better, heartfelt scratch.

The animal snorted and nudged her arm, and she shied back for a moment before, again, realizing he meant no harm, and she continued to pet.

He's really nice, she said to Honrin. Her reaction was strange, childlike, not that of a teen at all, and certainly not that one one with a boulder-sized chip on her shoulder like Mercy. He was giving her a piece of her childhood back. Does he have a name?

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Luperci Nightshade Blood: The Devil's Mercy

POSTED: Sun Jun 17, 2018 9:00 pm

Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii
Word Count → 000 :: Out of Character text

She was wary of both him and the horse and he didn't blame her. From the angry words his mother had spoken in Honrin's hearing, she and her brother had not had the best of treatment from certain cavaliers. Honrin glanced around for any who might be viewing them with disapproval but there were none really out and about in their vicinity.

"He's a softie, when you give him a good scratch. Sometimes he's feisty though." He blew out a series of breaths, and Cecil's ears pricked and he turned his head to look towards the pale herdsman. He gave a quiet squeal and pawed at the ground, suddenly arching his neck proudly in a showy manner. Honrin laughed, and mock scolded "You big show off."

Honrin rolled his shoulders, and the joints beneath them cracked, he pushed escaping hair back out of his eyes.

"His name is Cecil - he's a communal horse but Guinevere and myself are training him. He might be a war horse one day." He grinned at the way she was so preoccupied with the horse, cracking her 'tough and loner' facade.

"When you meet a new horse, scratching right here.." Honrin reached out to scratch at the area about Cecil's withers, where the two shoulder bones rested besides the spine, "This is a gesture of friendship, because it's a hard place for a horse to scratch by himself." In true horse fashion Cecil swung his head around and began to scratch at Honrin's own shoulder with his muzzle.

"You wanna give it a try? He'll love you for it."

And he became the sun, to shine upon the worthy

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Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii

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POSTED: Sun Jun 17, 2018 11:36 pm

ghost stories handed down

Her eyes narrowed as Honrin talked about the horse. It was all so tempting. Too tempting, perhaps, because Mercy sure didn't believe that anything “too good to be true” was. This giant creature was supposedly gentle. She had witnessed quite a few friendly relationships between horse and master in her time here, but she always supposed some kind of radical training was behind it. And in a way, it was, just not quite the way Mercy suspected.

He showed her the sweet spot on the animal, the way to make an instant friend, and her ears perked up as she watched the prey animal swivel its head around and give Honrin a return scratch. Now, that couldn't be staged. What would the reason even be to teach a horse to do such a thing?

Mercy took a few more careful steps to horse and handler and nodded when Honrin asked if she wanted to scratch the steed. She stretched out her arm, pale fingers extending despite the look of trepidation wrought on her features. With Honrin's encouragement, she touched the spot between Cecil's shoulders gently and dug her claws in ever so slightly. When the creature stopped snuggling Honrin's shoulders to peer at this new girl who touched him she pulled her hand back a moment, but at the sound of the animal's snort she placed her hand on him again and gave him a scratch, crooning softly, Hi there Cecil, my name is Mercy. Well, aren't you just a big softie, huh? After a moment a smile cracked her muzzle.

Shifting her focus from the animal to Honrin, she asked, War horse? Isn't it mean to make a creature go into battle for someone else's gain? She was being honest, not cynical and rude like always, and in that statement shone a small tendril of the innocence that all youth carried. It seemed that not all of her purity had been beaten out of her by time and circumstance.

The mount made a funny raspberry sound and the hybrid giggled, looking at Cecil once more. She stepped in closer and pressed her cheek on the creature's shoulder as she reached up high to scratch him again, muttering in near baby-talk, Yes, you don't want to be a yucky war horse do you? You just want scratches and to eat flowers all day, I bet.

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Luperci Nightshade Blood: The Devil's Mercy

POSTED: Thu Jul 05, 2018 11:35 pm

Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii
Word Count → 000 :: Out of Character text

He could remember Kjintora and Azazel at Mercy's young age, so full of questions and life about every topic under the sun. He compared her to them, the smiling bundles of joy and was incredibly sad that her smiles held edges to them, like fragments broken that had yet to be smoothed down. It was a dismally affecting thing and whilst Mercy lavished a child's affection upon the horse Honrin looked off into the distance, a hand coming to pull down the tattered hat more securely. Where are you.

He looked back down at her question and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, he had been useless in the last war. Just a drunken fool that had put his mother and Iorek in danger to have to come and rescue him. He exhaled slowly, trying to smile and not quite succeeding,

"This is their home as much as it is ours, stallions will fight each other to protect their harem or mares but all horses will fight to defend from attack by predators." Abruptly he looked about them and then quick as a flash, pulled out a small flask from a concealed pocked and took several long swallowes before stashing it away as though it had never been, he coughed once and then continued on,

"Danger is everywhere. Sometimes when you feel most secure is when the ground is pulled from under your feet." He spoke solemnly to the young girl now; the jovial manner sunk away, water trickling into sand.

She would know about having your world tilted, her father had been outed as a rapist and a murderer and her comfortable family had been torn to shreds. Honrin had watched them hang Raine and Brita, had needed to see for himself that the monster was gone and his adoptive and blood siblings, his daughter, they were all safe.

And he became the sun, to shine upon the worthy

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Last edited by Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii on Sat Aug 11, 2018 10:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii

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·AM I DREAMING·

POSTED: Wed Jul 18, 2018 4:12 pm

ghost stories handed down

She was just a kid, she didn't know the weight of the words she spoke. It was an idle question to her until she looked into Honrin's face as he gave his reply. It turned the moment grim, her ears tipping back and hiding in her spiky brown mane. He was right, this was their home to fight for, too, but there was still a deeper question in there about whether the animals were actually willing, or if they were just slaves. If not for the pack that owned them forcing them to fight, would the animals fight or would they flee?

It was too deep of a question for Mercy to ponder.

Instead, she gave an awkward chuckle that probably seemed rude, because she really didn't know how to respond. His next words, those meant something to her. Each time Mercy got comfortable, her entire world shifted. This had happened more than once in her young life... with Maelyx giving her up, with Raine's crimes being exposed and both he and his slave, and Mercy's aunt, Brita, executed. She turned her eyes away from Honrin, her uncomfortable smile fading. She stared blankly at the mount when she said, Yeah, well, that's why you don't let yourself get so comfortable. It was sadly cynical for a girl this age, but it was also true.

Her violet eyes flicked back to Honrin, and they searched his form. He'd snuck a sip from a flask and it had not gone unnoticed, and Mercy knew grown-ups only carried one thing in those flasks. Of course she wouldn't report Honrin. She would just hope to find that flask for her own use, later.

This wasn't how she wanted this to go. If things were going to be dumb and grim, she could do that all on her own. In a totally reckless and probably stupid move, she put her hands on Cecil's flank and leaped, trying to get up onto his back, but thankfully for her sake she didn't make it. Damn, that would have looked so cool... She poised, ready to try again...

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Luperci Nightshade Blood: The Devil's Mercy

POSTED: Sun Aug 12, 2018 12:04 pm

Honrin
Word Count → --- ::ooc

It was indeed rather sad and Honrin found himself dwelling on things left for the darkness of the night. His suffering he had tried to keep contained, and perform in silence in the loneliness of his Wetu.

Suddenly she lunged to leap on the horse and didn't quite make it. Cecil snorted in surprise and Honrin's face was pulled from its melancholy and into barking laughter. Honrin was keen to throw off the shrouds of the past, and maybe Mercy could see from him that the pains could be cast away with good company.

Okay wait, wait. Let me help. He shifted around to the other side of the stallion who was shuffling with some energy and tossing his head again.

Honrin set out his hands so that Mercy could use his cupped hands as a leg up and helped her to settle onto Cecil's back.

Alrighy. You gotta sit tall. Pull your head back and arch your spine. A gentle arm at her back helped her to sit up properly so she wouldn't get an ache in her back. There were no reins for her to grab but he demonstrated to proper technique for holding them with his own hands and arms.

Just enough to show the horse that you're still there but not enough to be pulling on their soft mouths.

He stepped back, with the long lead thong clenched in his hand,

Do you want to ride or just sit a while? Honrin's own first ride had been a bare-backed dash through the forests of Cercatori clinging to the neck of a white stallion with too much piss and vinegar inside of him. It had been wild and terrifying and so utterly freeing, it had begun his lifelong obsession with horses.

Mercy being Mercy though, she wanted to ride and it was quite a while that Honrin led her around in soft circles, letting her get a feel for the movements. The reward at the end was the few circuits she made by herself, obviously terrified but swallowing back her fear to replace it with courage.

Some drink to remember, some drink to forget

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Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii

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