[M] lies the snake in my disgrace

p. Micah, Octavius

POSTED: Sat Feb 08, 2014 1:22 pm

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

The snowstorm that had suddenly sprung up and died down almost immediately after had erased all tracks of the killer, rendering Jace unable to track him down. Skye didn't blame her - the death had happened recently, but she was certain that the killer would have had plenty of time to get away and hide. She wasn't sure what she was up against, and although it didn't frighten her (she was certain that she could take him on) it set her on edge. She wanted her warriors to stay put in d'Arte, in case he had any companions that wanted to take out his rage on her pack.

Micah had told her that he knew where he had found the cage, and that that was likely where she would find the man. The cage was broken and in tatters; she had melted it in a fire while Jace was gone, rendering it a small, nearly-unrecognizable lump of metal, although one could see the remnants of the cage's bars betwixt the swirled edges of the now-cooled substance. The day that she merely gave a killer of her packmate's what he wanted and left was the day that hell froze over.

They were in the midst of Halifax now, where Micah had directed her to go. She told him to stay close, but once they found the killer, to hang back and not let himself be seen. She didn't want him to get mixed up in the fight; he could barely fight worth a damn, and was reduced to a puddle of half-formed words at almost any contact with other canines - she didn't want to know what he turned into when faced with conflict, and she didn't want to have to deal with protecting him and fighting the killer, in any case.

They were near the place now, and Skye could place the scent that she had smelled on Lowry's body - it repulsed her, the scent of the one who had killed her Ringleader, and she felt her lips curl up in a snarl. The scents were dull, old, but perhaps he was still around, lurking, waiting to come back. She threw the chunk of melted metal at the wall with more force than she intended, and it bounced off with a loud clang!

minor pp on micah's part, let me know if you want me to edit! :) they're sniffing around his house/place he lives.381+ words

by the amazing Alaine!

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Sunny
Luperci Mate to Jazper
crown of clay
My Sunny One

POSTED: Mon Feb 10, 2014 10:23 am

The shaking had stopped.

It was not because Micah had been hollowed, had his emotions carved out of him like a knife chopping free fruit from the husk of skin. His anxieties had not simply disappeared, but neither had they augmented; the terror remained and the Artist endured well aware of its continued vice. His feelings were all the same, though numbed to a visible state of nothingness as if he knew their presence but could not quite feel a thing. Would the shaking of his body, those panicked tremors he had known all his life, return when his emotions renewed?

Mistral had been forced to stay home. There had been some argument with the Spitz mix—now two-legged with shifting ability gifted in wake of sudden trauma—but Micah had no mood to fight with her. His word was firm, absolute, and delivered in such a way that Mimi resigned to it. Looking back, he wondered if he might have been angry then.

He and Skye discussed little in their travels, committed to their thoughts until arrival in Halifax. Micah provided a few meager directions, wary to return to that wretched shop where the pup had been trapped in the cage, but his terror was not the same. Though the Lykoi glanced his shoulders at times it was with no sense of immediacy; though he fidgeted in place, he blamed it on the cold. He led her to the front door and took his place behind her, proceeding up the stairs and wincing when the destroyed cage was "deposited" as directed with as much noise as possible.

He remembered this place; he saw it in his nightmares long after the rescue. Now returned, Micah could still hear the muttered cries of the two-month-old Mistral here, on this very table, in that now melted cage. The Lykoi noted the odd shards of glass distributed throughout the small living space, the coyote skull on the shelf, the papers beneath his feet marked with red. He could not read, but he could recognize letters—and those pages were no letters he knew.

Ears flattened, Micah waited. Likely Skye would insist to stay a while, hoping to catch the criminal and pay him every amount of pain he deserved. He said nothing. The Lykoi lingered at the walls, drowning in that awful scent, picturing the red eyes Valerie had drawn buildings away with no connection in the least.


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Mon Feb 17, 2014 3:43 pm

(—)

One did not track Judas' comings and goings, least of all an occasionally absent-minded older brother. However, Octavius was on edge after Genova added her voice to the accusations, the lies; though used to roaming the forests, equally there and gone, he had not left Halifax for some time. Only the briefest trips at the outskirts of the rural woods provided meals for the giant, necessitating that he gorge himself each time. And each time a kill was delivered at Judas' door, but the last meal had gone untouched.

Octavius was used to his brother not always being at home, but surely Judas was too intelligent to leave the safety of his bodyguard's proximity. Worry festered until, on a whim, he abandoned his daily walk and veered toward the old hatshop. The path was familiar, bringing him in front of the building quickly—and just as quickly his nostrils flared, and he knew something was wrong even seconds before the crash of metal striking wall.

As he'd done the previous time, the large Luperci thundered inside, and the stairs groaned under his rapid ascent. Like a machine he climbed, not hesitating, and all at once filled the doorway above the hatshop, broad-shouldered and huge and hackling before the intruders. Red eyes snapped from the small coyote to the small wolf, and his lips peeled back to reveal big white teeth in a booming snarl.

What are you doing here?

i’ve got a fever and a childish wish for snow

POSTED: Sun Mar 02, 2014 9:19 pm

Extra patrols - more training - just some of the things that would be necessary now that d'Arte had a new enemy, and one that would not be happy at "his" cage being returned in such poor conditions. However, Lowry had been alone - and weak - and Skye knew that full well. This would not be able to happen twice, but she still didn't like the idea of Lowry's murderer getting off free.

Her thoughts were cut short as a sudden sound - boom, boom, boom - and a new scent snapped her senses to reality. She whirled around, instinctively moving in front of Micah, and looked towards the staircase. Someone was coming up - she braced herself, readying for a fight, and hoping that Micah would have enough sense not to get in the way.

She could see him before he full came into view - a huge, white wolf, easily more than a foot taller than she was, hulking over the staircase's entrance like a gigantic roadblock. His lips curled into a snarl, his stance becoming threatening as he demanded what they were doing there - Skye took on a defensive pose, rapidly drawing her blade in case it needed to be used.

"Catching a murderer," she snarled, although she knew he wasn't him. The scent - however vague - was off, and the description Micah had given her, however brief, did not match. Nevertheless, this canine was a bit too angry to see them in the room, and she wasn't taking any chances - even if he wan't the murderer, he had some connection to him. "Tell us where he is or die." Her tone was serious - she had taken on enemies larger than he before, and successfully chased them away from her territory. She'd be damned if she was going to back out of this one.

if you need anything changed, just let me know <3 000+ words

by the amazing Alaine!

User avatar
Sunny
Luperci Mate to Jazper
crown of clay
My Sunny One

POSTED: Fri Mar 14, 2014 1:17 pm

This behemoth was not the man they came for.

Micah knew it from the moment thundering steps reverberated in his ears, from the jumpstart of his heart. The pages of indecipherable script slipped from his fingers and his back pressed against the wall as the red-eyed giant burst within. Fuming as he was, Micah knew as if by instinct that he was not the criminal they sought. It made no sense: The creature before them towered with a frame so built that he could not have been the same scrawny man Mimi described. A man with that strength would have easily overpowered Lowry without need of the blade that sliced the Lykoi's throat. Red eyes fit Mistral's description. Nothing more.

Beneath that voice like trembling earth Micah cowered and sank into his shoulders, unconscious of his gaping maw and the lack of panicked tremors that characteristically once possessed him in such instances. The undaunted Skye poised and deflected him with an answer equally intimidating, and before he realized his actions the coyote was prying from wall with hands raised, "Pl-Pl-Please, m-maybe we can just talk th-th-this out!"

This was not the killer described and the leader knew it. Surely more people did not need to be harmed!


User avatar
Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Mon Mar 17, 2014 6:32 pm


See galleries for image credits.

The copper-haired woman spun and shielded her comrade, dagger drawn, as the dark coyote flattened to the wall. Octavius might have relaxed at that, or heeded his tremulous plea for talk, but the female snarled and threatened, and so Octavius shook with a growl.

No murderer lives here, he shouted. His brother did not torture. His brother did not kill. The pair did not smell of AniWaya, so Genova must not have sent them, and their story was different from the scarred female's. All carried the same theme of blame and darkness, the demon that so many believed lived in Judas. Leave! Octavius ordered, and without hesitation—surprising himself—he stepped toward the woman and swung his fist with enough force to knock her unconscious, should the blow connect with her head.

i’ve got a fever and a childish wish for snow

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