Set my world into motion

Valdís & Roz

POSTED: Tue Jan 02, 2018 3:11 pm

Word Count → +423 :: I assumed Valdís made a camp out in the Dampwoods. Let me know if you want anything changed <3

Tendrils of mist curled about the gnarled boughs of the sprawling Dampwoods. Its weight muffled the sounds of its denizens. Muted birdsong wavered and stopped abruptly, in tune with the staccato of wood being chopped. The task was repetitive, but the constant motion of Everett’s body kept the autumn chill at bay. His chest rose and fell with his exertion, as the male paused in his work. Various lengths of roughly chopped firewood were piled about the stump he had been using as a chopping block. Pale eyes counted their number, and satisfied he had enough, he left the axe where it was.

An observer might notice that the dog was dressed sparsely for the season; a canine who knew Everett well would be shocked at seeing him at all without his usual formal garb. The simple fact was that fine clothing and manual labour did not make good bedfellows. Loose black trousers, gathered at his ankles with strands of ribbon garbed his lower body. A shirt protected his upper-half, its sleeves drawn back to his elbows whilst the front of his shirt billowed open.

His frail torso was exposed to the elements, as a hand rose to trace the outline of a scar upon one shoulder. Everett bent to retrieve an armful of wood as he brought it over to the firepit that had been dug earlier. The male knelt at its edge as he carefully arranged the logs and prepared them for kindling. He turned his back on his handiwork as he rummaged in the bag of supplies he had brought with him, and pulled several furs from its depths. These he flattened on the ground close to the fire, as he smoothed their surfaces further with the flat of his palms.

Seated comfortably, Everett held a chunk of flint roughly the size of his hand as he struck it repeatedly against a smooth stone. His efforts were rewarded with bursts of sparks and light as he repeated the motion over and over. As was always the case in life, a flame erupted at the edges as the male was about to give in. the scholar extended his arm toward the firepit, and into its centre. Once the sounds of crackling and popping reach his ears, the dog drew his hand back and let it rest on his knees.

Heat emanated gradually outward, and instinctively Everett raised his palms to outward. A rustle of movement from the opposite the camp had his ears perch forwards as he called softly, “Valdís? Rozenn?”

Art by Nat

Avatar by Lin <3

Everett Moreau


Art Credit: Skizophrene
Casa di Cavalieri
First Officer
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Ketsuki
Luperci Scholar
THAT'S IT! ~

POSTED: Thu Jan 04, 2018 1:27 am

[406]

Nearly nine months old, and still she walked on four feet. Had this been of her own free will, her mother would have had not a single qualm with her. But no, rather than choose to live a more feral lifestyle (which she most certainly would not), she was confined to one against her will. If she had her way, she would have shifted to two legs and never looked back. There was no reason to live on four legs if you asked Rozenn. No one ever did, of course, but that would be her answer if they had.

In fact, no one ever really asked her opinion on anything. Like, did she even want to be a loner? No! No, she didn't. It was a subject of hot debate between her and her mother, along with the taboo discussion of whether or not she would ever be capable of shifting. Valdís seemed to think her child was cursed if incapable of shifting. Rozenn thought otherwise. She didn't feel cursed or anything, and if anyone would know, wouldn't it be her?

They'd had another spat this morning, though not over either of the previously mentioned discussions. No, this time Valdís had yet again forced her daughter into some 'family bonding time'. More like family fight time if you ask me! Even though the Icelandic woman was clearly capable of hunting on her own, she'd dragged her tiny adopted daughter to supposedly help with the endeavor. Rozenn had not helped. She hadn't even snarled in the prey's direction. She was a daughter, not a hound dog!

After that eventful morning, Rozenn decided to take the lead, stomping off in the direction she knew so well now. With her mother only a few yards behind her, the coyote girl didn't stand a chance at escaping her now, but that wasn't her intention. Instead, she single mindedly trudged to the one person who ever took her side.

When his scent grew near, she sprinted forward, ears pinned down and eyes wide. Her anger melted away into the relief that just ahead would be someone who understood and respected her as she deserved. "Daddy!" She leaped into his arms, her thin forelegs carefully positioned on his torso and her hind feet firmly planted in the ground, tail wagging fiercely behind her. "I missed you so much," her voice cracked as the tears threatened to escape. "We had another fight again."
Rozenn


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Kris
Luperci

POSTED: Sat Jan 13, 2018 4:38 am

By the power of East and West; I command you
*********

It was a mother's duty, first and foremost, to worry over their child. Without worry, a mother wasn't truly a mother, now was she? It was like a right of passage. No matter the land, the culture, the creed, everyone had a similar experience with raising children: complete and utter frustration. Some children were far easier than others. Valdís would swear up an down, thrice over, that she would take a thousand hot tempered Brandrs over another angst-ridden Rozenn any day of the week. It was like the girl had been given very specific instructions on how just to get under her mother's skin that particular day.

If the girl wasn't running off chasing after some hair-brained scheme she'd come up with, she was running away to her adoptive father, or running straight off a cliff and into who know's whose arms. Valdís was about ready to leash her child when morning came and guess who was gone yet again.

After chasing Roz around for half an hour, trying to keep her out of trouble, Valdís finally settled the coyote girl down back at camp to give her the day's instructions. Today, they would go out hunting together. It would be a team effort and finally Rozenn would participate in their survival, truly. The girl had observed a time or two before, but this would be her first true hunt with her mother. Or it would be if she would listen to her mother!

Valdís spent painstaking time tracking their prey down, a feral flock of goats. They would be simple for a first time, but given the size of the herd, Rozenn would have to use her brain to cut out the weakest one to kill. Of course, the girl couldn't even follow that simple task. Instead, she preferred to roll her eyes at her mother's instructions and sit while the woman did all the work. Valdís was ready to murder her own child for the shame she felt. Nine months old and she couldn't shift; that was an unfortunate event. Nine months old and she couldn't hunt? A disgrace.

Valdís shifted back to her two legged form to tie the prey to Hestur while Rozenn yet again scurried off. The dark huntress let the girl have her way, preferring to let her anger out where her daughter couldn't see. It would just lead to yet another unproductive fight.

The woman was risen from her thoughts by a cry from her daughter before the girl leapt ahead into the underbrush. Stoically, the mother followed after, raising a solitary eyebrow at her daughter's remark but offering no comment. Everett would ask if he felt the need to and Valdís wasn't exactly in a sharing mood with her student.

The silver dog had come to her, begging for the lessons that Rozenn threw away so freely. He had come, asking for help and in return he would watch her child when needed. It had seemed a marvelous arrangement until her then nameless child took a shine to Everett's strange, heathenish ways. She wanted to grow up to be just like him. He'd even gone so far as to give her a name, though she supposed that was his right at this point. He had become the unwanted father figure to her daughter who would never shift and never take her naming ceremony. Might as well keep the brat happy.

dated to xx | [wc —570] template by hilli


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Kris
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Canon