I'm not your black cat

- Nicholai

POSTED: Tue Oct 09, 2018 12:53 pm

The sun rose over the steep Halycon mountains, weary in its ascent to the skies above. Weary just like the canine who's amber eyes caught the radiant sun beams as they shot through the trees overhead, glowing like suns themselves. It was an ethereal scene. Fog still lingered over the ground, consuming his feet and four feet of the deer in the distance who's antlers reflected the sun's light, shining brightly. Miniature suns analyzed his prey's every move as he crept closer with the added help of the fog.

His weapon was poised, an arrow already knocked and ready to be loosed. Although focused on his prey, Greed couldn't help but appreciate the ethereal scene before him. Always, he had a soft heart, and knowing that the great beast in the distance would fall to a single one of his arrows was a sorrowful thought. Still, the sharp twang in his stomach reminded him that there was always a reason for the hunt and his prey would never die in vain.

The umber Quill's lips mouthed an apology before he pulled back gently on the bow, flexing his muscles to get the most accurate shot so the deer would not suffer. With a grin spread across his face, the arrow was loosed and, in an instant, embedded within the deer's temple. An instant death. The sound of the lifeless animal dropping to the earth reverberated through the trees, sending flocks of morning sparrows into the watercolor skies. The fog dispersed around the lifeless animal, spiraling in modest tornadoes away from source of impact. With a sigh, Greed stood and latched his bow on his back where it belonged before retrieving his kill.

Once slung over his shoulder, Greed made his way back to camp where he started up a fire and once again waited for the passing Court members to stumble upon him. He still had not gained the confidence to waltz up to their borders quite yet.
The Order
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Luperci Bound by blood, never alone.
We still believe

POSTED: Thu Oct 11, 2018 9:05 am


here, take nick bein a creeper. let me know if you need any edits!

Anathema was gone. He knew this to be the truth. He'd left his things at his door, went and explored the caverns for himself. Anything left behind, picked clean by lone canines. It was likely they had funneled in as soon as news had traveled. Long before Nicholai had found his way back to this part of Canada. The process had come and gone, and it left the howling caves deserted. It was all he needed to see. The ex-Zepar didn't feel any grief at these sights, though he wondered if history would repeat itself. If the same would happen to the Vale. Would he leave and return again, only to find it abandoned?

I'd rather not become the definition of insane, he thought of the long passed on phrase, and dreaded repeating the same thing again... He only had so many years left. Most of his youth had passed him by without him even realizing it. Nicholai hadn't changed much—but he'd changed enough to know better.

He started heading home.

Though Nicholai masked his scent, he was still a Mistwalker in spirit, padding lightly among the morning fog. As Lupus, he could travel farther and faster, yet he could also stay hidden easier. In the present moment, he remained hidden from a deer. He'd ate much to prepare for his travels, always expecting the worst. Hunger didn't consume him at the sight, but the stag caught his eye nonetheless, the way light clung to it stopping him from disturbing the quiet.

An arrow disturbed it instead.

From calm to alert, Nicholai slowly backed away, further from the section of dispersing fog, eyes glancing towards the flying, cawing birds. He crouched in the underbrush and waited. It didn't take long for the hunter to appear. ...Something was odd about him. A minute later, he realized it wasn't oddness, but familiarity. Nicholai's ears perked and he stood up, but by that time the man already headed in the opposite direction, footsteps retreating. He took in a breath, allowed the following silence to settle in. Then, he followed.

Nicholai began to shift when he thought he saw a camp in the distance, the shape of the man tending to what would soon be a fire. Who was he? The wolf searched his own mind, gaze on the ground as he tried to think it over. A loud crackle emitted from his body as his hind legs grew, akin to a twig snapping. It was singular in nature, a simple oddity from the usual quiet shift that meant nothing. But it was sure to alert the other to his presence. As such, Nicholai took this chance to begin walking forward, allowed by most of his body completing growth. The only thing left in the process was his hair. By the time the wolf revealed himself to the supposed stranger, the final bang dropped, covering his eye as it always did.

That was a clean kill, the Crowstooth from the mist told him, and now that they were close, it hit him. Greed Lykoi. As he rolled the name off his tongue, recognition settled harder. A friendly, mischievous smirk curled its way onto his face as he remembered their exchange. It was one of the only positive ones he'd had in Anathema, though not enough to convince him to stay. They'd had a few banters, trades of wits. Someone more forgetful might have let the memory slip, but Nicholai wasn't one to spend his days prattling on forever. There'd been exceptions, but he didn't learn the names of many, and this helped him to recall most.

What a happy coincidence, that he would run into someone from those times today.

Nicholai Cecil

Mistfell Vale
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Seabreeze Brink