Do you have to let it linger?


POSTED: Wed Feb 05, 2020 4:50 pm

It's morning in Saint John, and the snow is letting up.
Your character feels a prickling sensation on the back of their neck. A cougar stalks them from the quiet.

Don't let it burn, don't let it fade

Winter clasped over the land like a passionate lover, unwilling to let go. Larka's paws kissed the frozen earth, unable to sustain life as it had during the warmer months. Her breath billowed into vapour as she knelt to examine a rubbish pile, hoping to find something of use. Her scouting was interrupted by the girl's curiosity - junk glittered beneath pale sunlight held a splendour to it as though it were fabled buried treasure. Larka's haphazard tracks spoke of her waning attention as she followed after a bird she had seen winging past, or an interesting plant still clinging to life despite the chill.

Her typical dresses were unsuitable for the weather, the wind a constant threat as it threatened to snatch at the fabric. Larka had opted for a practical shirt and pants that were too wide for her insubstantial waist; a more discerning Luperci would have scoffed at the threadbare quality of the garments, yet to the girl, they were strange in their luxury.

A sound of disappointment left her lips as her search came up empty. All she had seen so far had been broken things and objects whose purpose was undefined. Perhaps John was faring better. The mention of his name made Larka smile, but her features were tinged with bitterness. She had smelt women on him; males loved to pursue female prey. She was no stranger to that fact and yet, it opened up fresh pain all the same.

Why? Larka couldn’t find the answer. Nor could she keep avoiding John for the rest of her life. If John would not make the first move, then it fell to her to take the bull by its horns. Even if she were crushed by the sheer weight of the task, it would be worth it in the end.

Larka stilled and glanced about her suddenly. Her ears perched forward and flicked back as she tried to determine the source of her discomfort. A heaviness prickled down her spine as fear-dilated eyes swept over her surroundings. The snow perfectly silenced the world, reminding the coydog of how lonely the streets really were. “J-John?”

<3 +000
Avatar by the lovely Despi! <3

Del Cenere Gang
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Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Wed Feb 05, 2020 5:41 pm

hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long

Whisper breath billowed from his mouth, and though it were freezing cold outside, inside of his parka he was warm from the energy he spent.

During the night a tree had fallen, as Alonso kindly let him know.

So with his trusty steel headed axe, he had trudged out through the snow, leaving a trail in his wake, to the spot where Alonso had told him the tree lay, right across the main path. Amazing.

Though he did have to admit to himself, at least it wouldn't take so much energy to drag back to Charmingtown with the mule, as it was just down the road a ways. As much as he could, he shoved all of the encroaching thoughts away, as he did every day, though they still circled, snarling like scavengers at a guarded kill. He was the rotting carcass, and what was left of his pride warded them off, only just.

Hefting his axe, he managed to get the spindly tree cut into sections. During a break, was when he head his voice, waving gently on the breeze.

Stiffening, he turned about himself, looking for her. She shouldn't talk to him, be associated with him, not really. She should fade into this collection of mostly good and honest folk and forget he existed. The broken down, shredded person that he was, with barely nothing left to him except self hatred and bitterness.

Still, he couldn't stop himself,

Larka? He called into the wilderness, holding onto his axe securely, she sounded scared. But then, she always sounded scared.

Padding through the snow, he felt it, the creeping sensation, and there he saw her, around the other side of the tree.

There y'are. He rasped, green eyes sweeping about them for the thing he knew was there but couldn't see. John paused himself in the motion of reaching out to touch her, his hand curling into a fist, and then settling back down to his side.

Ah'm jest choppin' sum wood, ov'r here. He gestured with his muzzle, back the way he'd come.

backdated to the time with the thing [wc — 000] template by hilli
Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
Del Cenere Gang
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Luperci Maestro Cervecero You have to love yourself a fire