let them ring out loud

POSTED: Wed Mar 05, 2014 10:44 am

Some of the feeling had come back, as it should. It had been a month. He was no longer numb and emotionless, no longer a silent, empty shell among his packmates. The guilt returned first, though it had never left, and shortly thereafter an onslaught of grief renewed and plagues of loneliness. Mistral had been scarce of late, likely wandering around Cour des Miracles territory but without more than a sliver of self-defense experience and no more than the Lykoi's dagger to keep herself safe.

That said, once his emotions returned, they overwhelmed. Fear for Mistral, contempt for his cousin's killer, guilt for his mistakes, inadequacy among his packmates. Micah had always been a victim to the sway of his feelings, but beneath them now he felt a personification of them, a creation, a stone carved by all that he feared and felt.

He hated it. Another emotion to add to the pile.

Apprehensive, doubtful, but seeking justice: That was what he felt when he approached Inferni borders that day. The granite coyote knew to watch for Priam and for the woman that had attacked him months ago, whom he thought derived from this wretched place. His home, though he hated to admit it. He was a Lykoi; this is where Lykoi seemed to have derived.

That was why he ventured there against all fears and doubts. Someone there must have known Lowry. Someone there would want to mourn him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Micah sent out a call calling for none in particular, a sound lacking confidence but requesting attention nonetheless.

As the coyote stared at the wolf's skull staked nearby, he considered how months ago it was sworn he would never return to this place for lack of courage and how, many months before that, Ezekiel de le Poer told him it would always be his home.


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Fri Mar 07, 2014 8:01 pm

That's how I roll, baby. Also just assuming he's at least near the Dampwoods so I can write scenery.


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Small paws stepped almost silently over the cool ground, the melted snow and carpet of wet leaves and pine needles creating a squishy, soft floor for the coywolf to walk on. She walked, seemingly, without purpose—but occasionally her head swiveled, her ear twitched toward some far-off sound, and more than once she paused along the border to mark it.

Quiet and alone with her thoughts, Vesper pushed most of her worries to the wayside and focused on the earth and the present as she usually did when she patrolled. It was an exercise, a meditation, almost, to be mindful. Her conversation with Ombre reminded her of their shared faith, or the basis of the ideas Ves built to explain the life around her. It took practice, but walking and looking actively for details in the environment helped her from being distracted by her thoughts.

But as soon as the coyote yowl pierced the quiet of the still woods, the floodgates to her thoughts opened. She speculated, worried, hoped, all from the singular sound, turning on a dime and bounding in the direction of the border.

Vesper slowed to a walk, her tail horizontal with her spine and her stance naturally confident; she didn't need stiff posturing and flagged tail to show her dominance. She sniffed, smelled Cercatori d'Arte, and fixed pale eyes on the strangely dark, flecked coyote standing nervously by a stake. Hello. What do you want? she asked, blunt in her choice of words but neutral in tone as she stood before him, looking up from her Lupus form.




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Raze
Luperci
tatter-winged phoenix
cunning linguist

POSTED: Mon Mar 10, 2014 2:44 pm

One torn and battered coyote responded to the call, one contrasting him in nearly every fashion. Four-legged she faced him, undaunted by the size difference, confident in her stance and presence. Micah did not know what to make of it though the woman filled his expectations of present Inferni members well. At first the Lykoi could not help but stare, almond eyes scouring each scar, each tear, and his tail inched deeper and deeper between his legs by each passing second.

Her stare was blunt, expecting, but the d'Artisan could mutter nothing at first. He did not like looking down upon her, upon someone who could quite evidently outrun him in such a form, could take him down like prey. His body should have been shaking. Why did he not tremble? He was afraid, was he not? How had the tremors gone away?

The difference in height bothered Micah. Biting his tongue he considered her briefly and made a quick decision, then held his breath and shrunk down to her size. Better to look her in the eyes to deliver the news, after all, whether or not she would feel full impact of it. "I'm, um, I'm Micah," he said, shaking off the hood of the now baggy sweatshirt that had come to droop over his eyes with the change. "Mi-Micah Lykoi."

"My cousin—another Lykoi—was killed in our pack recently," the granite coy continued, stopping his eyes from averting time and time again. "His name was Lowry. I... I thought he might have family here who would want to know."

The grief hit him like new, and the four-legged coyote fell silent.


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Mon Mar 17, 2014 5:21 pm

Sorry for the wait. x_x Also omg hoodie over Micahface <333


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The dark coyote stared, and Vesper was unashamed. Each scar was a story of how she'd survived violence, her skills and courage recorded in flesh; she did not quiver or lower her tail, did not allow painful memories to well in the wake of silence. His posture grew more submissive or timid, but when he shrank, it was more than just illusion. Minutes later the coyote was on four legs before her, and someone with an extremely perceptive eye might have noticed the faintest tension leave Vesper's neck.

Dwarfed now in his green sweater, tossing the hood back, Micah stuttered a polite introduction before he spoke what was on his mind. He fell silent, and Vesper was left to stare at him, pale eyes a little rounder, tail lowering.

A Lykoi died—but not one of their own. You were right to tell us, Vesper said, offering a small, sympathetic smile. If he has family here—Lowry, Lowry... She fell to murmuring the name, tasting it twice, that she might know who he belonged to.

The image surfaced: a sandy-colored, bright yearling, runty but vibrant with energy that wavered between nervous and aggressive. Eyes widened again, and she frowned. Lowry... A little light tan coyote? I think I met him, he— She shook her head. He'd got it in his mind that we were warriors like in puppy stories, and he was upset when he saw the skulls... I'm sad to hear he's dead. Though not surprised, she thought. She'd thought him so naive...

I don't know if he has family here, Vesper said, or if he did, he didn't name them. My mate has a book of the Lykoi lineage, though. She'll know who he's related to, if anyone does. She frowned again, and her blue eyes sought to grab his almond ones with more urgency. He was killed, you said? In your territory?




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Raze
Luperci
tatter-winged phoenix
cunning linguist

POSTED: Wed Mar 26, 2014 8:21 am

Micah watched as her spirit dissipated, her words momentarily faltering like her confidence folded inside-out. The nameless woman found a memory and clung to it, small as it was, and try as she might to stifle the uneasy energies that spawned as result. Perhaps she wanted to feel greater sympathy but could not. Perhaps she thought Lowry a fool, regardless of words, like all the rest.

The d'Artisan nodded sheepishly at the provided description, teeth closing on his tongue and jarring tiny pain before images of Lowry could drown his mind and shatter what confidence Micah had summoned that day. The Lykoi recalled the tale once delivered by Lowry himself: his rejection of Inferni ideals, the reputation, the unfortunate connection of his lineage. Like Micah he divided and sought to make a new name for himself, one unassociated with the Lykoi.

Had Lowry stayed, would he had learned to defend himself? Would he have become unwittingly tangled with the madman from Halifax?

Scolding himself and refocusing almond eyes, his ears perked at mention of a book of lineage. Why had Priam mentioned nothing of it when Micah had come calling some many months ago? "Would, umm, would that book know the whereabouts of my sisters?"

But that was not what he had come here for. "Y-Yes," Micah replied, startled by revitalized urgency. "A man from Halifax, he... I think he, umm, I think he killed Lowry to get back at..."

Ears flipped, eyes lowered. Me. "W-We're doing our best to find him."


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Sun Mar 30, 2014 3:51 pm

I am slow and my writing is shit and meh


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Recalled memories and words spoke of some faint sentiment, but Lowry remained a canine she'd met but once. She'd little opinion of him other than brief amusement and much sympathy. She was only sorry that the granite male before her had to deliver these words, and that a family member might hear the news.

Caught up in these thoughts, oddly sluggish and idle for the topic of death, Vesper took a moment to pull herself back into the present. Her good ear swiveled forward, and she frowned at Micah. Maybe, she said after a moment. She knew there were not enough pages in Inferni's history book to catalog every wayward Lykoi, but perhaps one of his sisters had done something more notable. The book tells the clan's history. Not everything, but... She shrugged.

What are their names? she asked, wondering if she'd know them, and—on the subject of names, dipped her head in brief apology. I forgot to give you mine. I'm Vesper.

The tension that clenched her muscles and sharpened her senses dissipated somewhat at the other's stammering explanation, because it seemed the motive was personal—and therefore, unlikely to fall back on Inferni. It was a selfish view, but Ves put Inferni and her family's survival over that of an outsider's, even that of a pack whose leader she had respected before. I wish you luck, she said, not untruthfully.

Anything else? she added as an afterthought, patient rather than prodding.




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Raze
Luperci
tatter-winged phoenix
cunning linguist

POSTED: Mon Apr 07, 2014 9:59 am

Mention of the book on Lykoi was his first glimpse of positivity in weeks. Between pressure of his pack, guilt for Lowry's death, and Mistral's incessant requests to return to Cour des Miracles, the granite coy had been a humorless wreck for some time. Admittedly all hope had been lost on the whereabouts of his sisters; they were children of the migratory Juniper Peace, after all, and the wanderlust of each had started when they were young. Their father had been just as unsteady in his housing, and the almond-eyed Lykoi had recognized the symptoms too in himself.

And moreso as of late than ever, he had wanted so badly just to run away again.

"Sage River, Clover Love, and China Rose," he said, a certain tenderness in the sound, a momentary respite before reality returned and his sisters were lost to him once more. She said her name at long last. "Vesper. Th-Thank you."

"Y-You are much kinder than the people I have met here lately," he said, eyes dropping to his toes and teeth pulling at the scars in his lip. "Is it... is it usually this safe to approach these borders now?"

"I-I mean, when I was younger..." he started, but trailed off.


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Sun Apr 13, 2014 11:50 am


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Two of the three names meant nothing to Vesper, but her ear perked at the first. Discomfort welled with old memories, the connotation of her fears heavier than any closer association with the name Sage River Lykoi. In hindsight, she might have liked Sage -- but she hadn't known her for the same reason she felt that twinge in her belly. Sage was the Optio before I was, years ago, Vesper said. She left Inferni to join Ichika no Ho-en. She was named a traitor by Ezekiel, and Vesper -- wary of her own relationship with Kiara and X'yrin of the same pack -- had fretted about how her own friendship would be viewed. But it was a moot point now.

I don't know where they might be now, but I'll keep an ear open, she promised Micah. He seemed to have been close with his sisters, and she was sure that at least one of the siblings would return to Inferni. They always did, if briefly.

The nervous coyote dropped his muzzle, and Vesper blinked at the stammered query. Eyes trailed to the mounted wolf skulls, and she contemplated an answer. Depends on who you are, she said, and who the people meeting you are. She frowned and looked the other over again -- dark-furred, d'Artisan, but very coyote. Lykoi. Who mistreated you? I don't condone ill treatment of coyotes here -- or wolves, either, without reason. Her own scarred face contorted with a scowl as she admitted this.

Inferni has -- changed, several times, she said, in the wake of war and the wake of peace. Some are more scarred by their pasts than others, and some believe more strongly in... our old ideals. I personally don't care for mindless violence -- but I don't like the threat of wolves on our border, either. Some older Infernians -- like the twitching fool of an old coydog Cotl -- probably saw the Legatus weak for it. Vesper's own paranoia was at odds with her kinder views toward wolves, too. Soon it might change again, she thought. Traitors and wolves.




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Raze
Luperci
tatter-winged phoenix
cunning linguist

POSTED: Fri Apr 18, 2014 12:32 pm

Sage was not an Optio but the Optio according to the battered woman, cementing two things in his mind: Not only was this Vesper of some Inferni hierarchy, but so too had his sister been. Perhaps Priam had never met her when her brother came to inquire some months past. Word of Ichika no Ho-en unconsciously wrinkled his features. His father's pack was long since gone, and so was Razekiel. If Sage had been there, it was likely the two were still paired somewhere in the wilderness.

Damn. "I.. see."

Sights averted, he felt her eyes shift from his pitiful self and back, pressuring as her inquiry was posed with the unmistakable tone and charisma of accountable leadership. "I-I-I don't know their names," he said, a partial truth. The scars at his lips twitched, the prize of an altercation with one reeking strongly of the coyote clan but unconfirmed as a member. Micah reminded himself that Priam had done nothing wrong—it was a misunderstanding, that was all. It was best not to cause trouble.

They still rejected of wolves, then. At once he felt the presence of the intangible Storm Lily in the vicinity—the runt of their litter too wolfish in appearance for their father, or so Micah had always surmised—before she vanished again, just as quickly as she came. How many months had it been since brother and spirit held conversation? When would the resentment of Mistral end?

"I-I understand," said Micah. The clan had improved, but the culture maintained. So it always would, until the day Inferni perished in its own fire. He had no place there, even among kinder folk like this one. "I am no threat, but—but if I keep you any longer I will be just as bad as the others."

Humbled and head low, he stepped back. "Th-Thank you for your help."


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

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