did you ever dream

we'd miss the mornings in the sun

POSTED: Sat Apr 19, 2014 8:47 am

Along the Quartz Shoreline, at dusk. ♥

His life of late had been something in shambles. His cousin was dead and murdered, indirectly at fault of Micah trying to play some sort of hero. Mistral had left for Cour des Miracles and spared the humiliation of her bumbling father and likely finding a better life than the pathetic granite coyote could offer her. With each day Micah practiced what Kali and Jazper had taught him in self-defense but if he had improved, the coyote did not know. The warriors of Cercatori d'Arte would not make use of him, and justifiably so. Micah could do only what they asked of him: basic responsibilities like scouting and manning the borders, but he excelled in no aspect. All the Lykoi thought himself skilled with was art.

And what good use was art? A can of spraypaint would not save his life if a stranger went for his throat again. Colors on a wall would serve as no salvation for a lost soul suffering misery and depression—and certainly not if it no longer did the same for the artist himself.

But he had tried. He painted the trees of Cercatori d'Arte as requested to no added ecstasy. He shaped and baked beads and strung them into colorful necklaces. He strummed at the guitar once promised to Faolan, but never taken. The Kido had not finished his lessons before departing for the Court with Mistral and, as like always, Micah could only blame himself. Had he been too poor a tutor?

Perhaps it was the migratory nature of Juniper Peace bred into him that strayed the Inspired from his Thornbury home for so long. With Bark in tow, Micah had started first for Cour des Miracles some days past, hoping to visit Mistral and inquire how she was settling into her new home, but at the last minute the man veered from destination with pounding heart and quivering hands. He could not bother her so soon, not if it meant humiliating her among her new friends—her new family.

Instead he traveled northeast with Cercatori d'Arte at his back. With wide margin from Halifax he and the auburn stallion nestled along the coast between packs and camped a number of days, savoring silence and independence and isolation, and practiced techniques with his hands and knife or painted.

And when he grew tired at approaching dusk, he took to his guitar and watched the colors of the sky decline with the setting sun. Back against a pine, Micah glanced once at the jars of herbs peeking from his satchel, grimaced, and paused strumming to tuck the fruits of his garden out of sight. Humming quietly over gentle acoustic, he told himself he did not need those drugs. He was not that desperate. Not yet.


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Sat Apr 19, 2014 12:48 pm

Excite! :D Sorry for the ramblings, the last two paragraphs are the important ones! (627)

Perhaps asking Skel to stay behind wasn't as good as an idea that Sparrow had originally thought.

She just needed her own space, even from her shadow of a raven that went nearly everywhere with her. But that seemed to be the case for the last couple of months -- she had stopped interacting with others in Inferni, secluding herself more than usual. She had been getting better, she had been throwing herself out there and making friends and bonds and memories but then, it came to a jarring stop, and all the progress she had made seemed to disappear in a night. And it did. Sparrow felt guilt that she had become so distant to her clan, most of all for her sister, who wasn't spared from her behavior, and she wanted to change for better once more.

But the pressure weighed her on her too much then. Her heart too weary and weak, she avoided the problem by leaving the territory for a few days. She thought that taking a break from them would help clear her mind, but the negatives in her mind only clumped and cluttered like weeds, and their roots ingrained deeply into her until they consumed her waking thoughts. Going out alone was a mistake. But she didn't turn back, and shame made her trudge along. Sparrow would return to Inferni, but not then. She'd let her thoughts fester first -- it only seemed fair, a form of self-punishment.

Time passed both slowly and quickly, and Sparrow hadn't bothered to pay attention to it. When the sky got dark, she would sleep, and when morning's first light shone, she would start walking again. Where to? Anywhere. The entire area was familiar to her, and she let her feet wander over worn paths and over areas less explored, but touched previously all the time. One time she scented another canine, but she consciously avoided them, more out of fear than just her not wanting to socialize. The world had become close and dangerous to her once again, and she found herself jumping at every sound and sprinting at the sudden sight of a lowly creature. She had certainly regressed.

It was the third day she had been out, and dusk was creeping in the sky. She was again alone that day with her thoughts, and she had assumed it would be another night of the same thing, and she was prepared to flop herself down at the next convenient spot to simply lay there awake for a couple of hours. But her ears twitched as she caught the sounds of something that wasn't naturally -- she soon recognized it as guitar strings. Perhaps she was lulled by the sound enough to approach closer to where it was coming from, and out of sight peered that the canine playing the guitar.

He was humming along softly with the music, and seemed at peace. Peace -- something that Sparrow hadn't felt for a while. The guitar sounded nice, and she found herself standing and listening for a minute or two. But then she felt sudden guilt about spying on the male, and ducked away a couple of paces away, thinking it best to leave. Or at least stay nearby and listen to him play. The thought of being discovered by him unsettled her, though, and she didn't want to possibly anger him. On impulse, she slowly made her way back to the peppered hybrid, consciously making her approach noticeable this time over the din of the guitar. At least she wouldn't spook him too bad. What worried her more was his reaction to her appearance.

Sparrow kept her head and ears down, submissive, as she made herself apparent. She willed herself to speak, but she stayed meekly quiet.

Sparrow

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Wisp
Luperci
you come beating
like moth's wings

POSTED: Sat Apr 19, 2014 1:43 pm

Micah knew how wide his mother would smile at his image. Beneath a tree bordering the sea and with a guitar in his hands the granite coyote resembled Razekiel far more now than ever, and somewhere muted in the back of his mind he resented every moment. He resented how he could neither bring himself to outgrow the ways of the earthchildren nor find the niche within himself to blend in and belong with them in Juniper Peace. They had gifted him equal parts uselessness with his pacifistic nature and a stiff core of black and white, visions of absolute right and wrong and a void in-between where Razekiel and all the migrants of Juniper Peace so wished to hover in ignorance. The man was a cross between normal and abnormal, between utility and burden, and despite his efforts only dug a hole deeper in attempts to climb from it.

Like his father and mother and sisters, music was an escape. Painting was an escape. It was a pasttime meant to distract and inspire, but in truth only wasted valuable time. The realization resurfaced again and again and was accordingly stifled each time and thrust to the depths of his mind, beneath his humming and beneath the chords sprouting from his fingertips. Movement caught the corner of his vision, troubles and thoughts dismissed, and he stared frozen in place at his visitor before it occurred to him she was there.

The final chord strummed hung in the air, abandoned and incomplete.

She did not speak. She was coyote, like he, and humble in presence. Micah heard none approach over chords and thoughts alike, and yet the woman neither greeted nor stated her purpose. He had been careful not to camp close to packlands, nor had a soul passed in days. Why had she come? Had he done wrong?

Fingers closed around the tremor starting in his palms. "I-I-I'm sorry," said the sheepish Lykoi, ears flattening, body unwilling to budge. "I-I didn't think I'd be b-bothering anyone out here."

Stiff, his almond eyes strayed to his satchel and the stallion idling nearby, the man suppressing a slow-rising panic. "If you'll just let me get my things, I'll—I'll get out of your way, I swear."


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Sat Apr 19, 2014 2:12 pm

(372)

Sparrow had expected some sort of annoyed response, or maybe some sort of chilly indifference. After all, she would have been disturbing his song that he must had been playing for a while now, and for a to come up and -- maybe she shouldn't have approached him at all. She should have thought it through, at least, but it was too late for that now as she stood before the other, and she felt her ears become hard pressed against her locks as the song was cut off where it should not have been. They way it fell into silence gripped at Sparrow's heart tightly, and she tensed to turn tail and flee.

The humming voice was now shaky as it spoke, and Sparrow snapped her bewildered, wide gaze up to the male to see him trembling just as much as his voice. Why was he apologizing? She should have been apologizing, not him. She was the one that had bothered him and interrupted his song. He seemed about as frozen in place as she was, and suddenly it was hard to tell who was the deer and who was the headlights.

She followed his gaze to his items when he glanced at them. A bag and a horse. Nothing unusual. She suddenly got the notion he was going to reach for a weapon, but before her imagination could run wild, he spoke about moving. N-no, she finally managed to stutter, and she became even more astonished as her mouth continued to move while her brain tried to keep up. You are -- you aren't doing anything wrong, I, I just heard you play and -- It seemed that Sparrow needed no invitation to spill everything. I, I'll go. Yet her feet were planted, stiff with guilt and embarrassed. I d-didn't mean to -- I'm sorry!

She stared at him for a moment before suddenly bending over at the waist, her mane squishing around her face at the swiftness of the action. Sparrow didn't know why she bowed -- maybe she saw it in passing before, and acted on that vague memory. She simply stared at the floor without quite seeing it, praying with vigor that nothing violent will come to pass because of her foolishness.

Sparrow

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Wisp
Luperci
you come beating
like moth's wings

POSTED: Sat Apr 19, 2014 3:15 pm

He had always thought himself not quite unique, but borderline freakish: The children of Cercatori d'Arte possessed backbones of iron in comparison to his own. Timidity and a soft voice, increasingly rare in their feral world, provided him no advantages in life nor many likeminded companions. But this woman—she squirmed and stammered and fidgeted as he had always done, and he had never before known the discomfort of accessory apologies in his ears. Was that what he sounded like?

As the Lykoi rose stiffly to his feet the woman denied him leave, shattering into a frantic mess by little prompt and mirroring countless situations where he had done the very same. But when she bowed Micah tensed, waving his hands in a panic: "No, no, please, don't do that, I, I, I just—"

Then, just as he trained himself to do, the Lykoi chewed down on his tongue to halt himself, sucked in air and released it at length. "Everything's fine," he said, unclear whether to himself or to the petite stranger. He hated to see her so broken as result of his own tattered reins and untethered panic, but he hated to see her go when, for once, he might have met someone as far gone as himself.

"Please, umm, please don't apologize. Can we just—can we just start over?" The man read her a moment, pinched his brows in sympathy, and thrust out one dark, quivering hand. "I'm, um, I'm Micah. Please don't go. I-I mean, unless you really have to."


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Sun Apr 20, 2014 12:53 pm

(392)

Sparrow was a sensitive, aware being. She had always been that way, ever since she started living with Marcel; reading the mood and the individual was a useful skill when your life could potentially depend on it. And at this moment, all she sensed was distress from the peppered male before her. In return, it upsetted her that she had caused him grief, and it was a vicious cycle of them becoming so increasingly panicked that perhaps a onlooker would find hilarious to watch. However, the woman was acting as if her world was collapsing on her.

As soon as he said not to do what she had just done, she stiffen herself back up straight, uncomfortably straight. But at least she was not near prostrating any longer. Her gaze flitted across the ground, trying to steel herself to look at the stranger, but she wasn’t able to, and she quietly cursed herself in her head as she heard the other coyote breathed audibly. He stated, though unsure, that everything was fine, and in some desperate attempt to scavenged the situation, she clung to those words. Yes, everything was fine — this was a misunderstanding, and she needed to calm down, for the both of them; he seemed just as disturbed by her hysterics. Just, breath. She inhaled sharply, and breathed out shank.

Sparrow almost uttered a “sorry” at her being sorry, but she managed to bite her tongue before it could slip out. She nodded as he spoke about starting over, showing she fancied the idea but she worried that her voice would squeak if she spoke. She looked up a little when she saw that he had stuck out his hand at her, and she was momentarily confused before she quickly remembered it was a form of greeting. She carefully reached out her own tan hand and gripped his lightly. She slightly winced at his tremors.

Sparrow, she introduced herself, not really intending to be short. A-and, no, I don’t have anywhere to be. I’m just, out. She didn’t want to say what for — she wasn’t going to allow herself to be that open. At this distance, she was able to smell Micah, and curiously she wondered if he was a d’Artisan, but found it wasn’t her place to ask, not yet, at least.

Sparrow

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Wisp
Luperci
you come beating
like moth's wings

POSTED: Sun Apr 20, 2014 4:08 pm

She hesitated every motion, from standing up straight to the berserk glance and noncommittal grip on his outstretched hand. Though indeed she mirrored him in mannerisms, a divide—albeit small—was present, and the Lykoi did not know how to feel about it. Though he had not progressed leaps and bounds from the plaguing cowardice of his youth Micah was not the helpless knave he had been even a few short years ago. The man was tactless, bad with a weapon and worse in a crowd, but some time ago he started the measures needed to turn his life around. Only upon meeting one lagging behind even he in confidence did the d'Artisan realize progression in himself had been made.

But she managed to take his hand, and in that proximity the man caught whiff of Inferni, the scent still fresh in his mind and unmistakable in its eerie similarity of the Vesper he had met some weeks past. Confidence daunted, his ears flipped long enough for him to scold himself: The clan's leader claimed Inferni different in ways from its former glory even despite the more recent trouble Micah suffered with various members. Squaring his shoulders and committing to Vesper's word, the man swore to give the stray clan member a chance, but so too did he swear great caution no less.

Sparrow, she said. Fitting, for she quivered like the little bird. Her namesake boasted for the skies, while his own tethered to granite and soil. Odd. "Trouble at home?" he said, attempting a smile. Hardly a hazardous guess, all things considered. "Me too."

But was that a rude assumption to make? Scrambling for subjects to make her more comfortable, he grabbed suddenly at the guitar strung across his back and presented it to her. "Do you, uhh, do you play?"


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Mon Apr 21, 2014 10:39 am

(401)

They were both anxious creatures, but Sparrow could tell there was a slight difference between them. Micah was forward moving — he was the one who took control of the panic before it could get too far, he started the introductions, even if shaky and awkward, where otherwise she herself wasn’t able to do. She was stuck and static, if not recessing still. It was clear to see who was more ahead than the other if one looked close enough, and she felt a small part of her fall; she had been recently better than what she was once, and the quick and perhaps rash comparison she made between them realized that she was placed lower than even he. Not that it was a bad position, it just reminded her how things have changed.

She noticed his ears moving and she briefly worried that she may have done something else wrong, but she nipped the anxiety at the bud. She didn’t need to get herself worked up again. But she found that her fingers began to pick absentmindedly at her cloak. At least she wasn’t tense enough to be completely frozen in place, and though she still kept her straight posture, it wasn’t as strained as before.

The woman blinked at him as his assumption, and hurriedly looked away as he mentioned that he was in a similar situation as her, showing that his guess was spot on. Was she really that readable? Not that she made a conscious effort to hide it, Sparrow just wished that she wasn’t as easy to figure out. But, tentatively, she was curious about Micah now — what troubles was he facing? But before she could build the courage to ask, the male swung the guitar around.

She shook her head as she looked at the instrument. I don’t, sorry, she said, now looking a bit sheepish, I knew some who knew how to play, but I never learned. Her interest was piqued once, as it was with a variety of other human things, but she never wanted to bother anyone to teach her, since it seemed like a studious process, even if they played with ease. Besides, I’d probably break the strings if I played. The joking notion made her smile a bit, laughing at her own self. But you played nicely. That’s why I came, I heard you, she said, repeating a bit from before.

Sparrow

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Wisp
Luperci
you come beating
like moth's wings

POSTED: Mon Apr 21, 2014 4:26 pm

She did not voice it if he had been too bold with his guess, but her averting eyes and fidgeting hands admitted the truth without dialogue. Micah had thought he would open some dialogue by drawing that common point between them, but Sparrow did not comment on it. In truth he neither blamed nor wanted to encourage her to talk. Unlike with Sophia, somehow Micah did not think himself fit to bear this petite woman's problems. In truth, he was not certain he could handle her complications atop his own.

So the Lykoi let it slide. He was not the pestering type, and on topic of guitar Sparrow had managed more words than at all previous. And just like Micah would have done in similar position she excused her refusal to play on fault of her general clumsiness, her personal inability to succeed. How terribly familiar it sounded. It was no wonder Esmeralda hated him and fellow coyotes were willing to tear off his skin. If he was similar to this, Micah was a greater shame to them than he perceived.

"I think these strings would break you before you broke them," he said, chuckling, then halted at once completely sobered. "I-I mean, because you have really small fingers— n-nevermind. That was stupid."

He took a breath and continued. "You can stay a while if you want, umm, if it will make you feel better. I'm not the greatest at the guitar but I'll keep playing if you'd like." Almond eyes straying up from the instrument. How else could he put her in better moods—and ensure he did not incite the coyote clan's rage upon himself a third time? "Do you sing? I could try to play along."

Ears flattened and the man humbled. "Either way, you're... You're welcome to stick around if you want. It's just me and Bark out here." He motioned to the horse, who blew loudly from his nostrils. "There's a perfect view of the sunrise in the morning."

The Inferni scent on her nagged at his mind, but he resisted the temptation to ask just yet for fear of scaring her away.


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Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Thu Apr 24, 2014 1:14 pm

sorry for the slight wait! got slightly busy but it shouldn't happen again ^^ and omggg these cuties ;__; <3(510)

When Micah stated that the strings were more likely to break her than for her to break them, she softly laughed her agreement. Sparrow didn't see herself as the hardiest of creatures, and maybe even those thin strings were enough to hurt her. She certainly wouldn't be surprised if it was the case, but she knew she wasn't paper thin and that the male was only making a joke about her -- which she didn't mind, though perhaps she should have cared a little more than she did. His own chuckling came to an abrupt stop and Sparrow's stopped her's as well, and she blinked at his stuttering as he quickly amended what he said. N-no, it wasn't stupid, she said, glancing down at her hands. She never noticed before, but her fingers were small. At least compared to others. It was funny.

She looked back up at him as he continued speaking, mentioning that she could stay, if it would make her feel better. Would it? Automatically she wanted to respond with a "no, I'm fine" that really meant "I don't want to bother you", but she held her tongue. This was the first canine -- first anything, for that matter -- she had spoke to since she left for her little break, and despite the panic the first few minutes their encounter had, it felt relieving to not be alone anymore. She knew she wasn't made for a loner life or loner tendencies; she was too dependent for that, even when she had been more confident months before. And even if she said no, she knew she'd be in the nearby area anyway. She didn't like walking at night, and dusk was darkening to become just that.

The woman mulled it over, but her thoughts were interrupted when Micah asked if she could sing and she looked at him with wide eyes. Sing? she repeated, a little surprised. I, uh, I guess I can... I don't know any songs, though. She could hum some tunes that she had heard before, but not actual lyrics that weren't kid ones she had read when she was learning to read. Your playing is good on its own, though. You don't need my singing, she added, giving a little smile to hopefully encourage him, but she even felt how sheepish it was on her face and she could only imagine how silly she must have looked.

Taking up anything to move away from the subject, she focused back on the matter at hand -- whether or not she would stay a while with him -- and she glanced at Bark as he was introduced, and she realized that she hadn't even noticed the horse beforehand, or at least never thought to give him attention. She thought it over for another second or two in silence, for good measure, and she said meekly, I wouldn't mind seeing the sunrise, I guess. She was quiet for a beat, and added, afraid that she was being too vague, I mean, I, ah, would like to stay. That's what I meant.

Sparrow

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Wisp
Luperci
you come beating
like moth's wings

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