each feather it fell from skin

POSTED: Thu Jul 17, 2014 9:51 am

AW for one. He's painting a rougher version of this on a smaller scale. As always, Storm Lily is invisible and inaudible.

In the Great Village some days back Micah had scavanged a basket: A simple, falling-apart sort of thing plentiful with rodent bites. If he carried it just right, the basket did not completely fall apart in his arms, though with the added weight of his turquoise sweatshirt and two tiny fledglings, the basket certainly wanted nothing more than to give up and collapse in its entirety.

Their feathers had started—started and grown nearly in full in only a few days' time, from what the Lykoi could determine. They would be flying soon, a few days perhaps, as much as Micah hated to think about it. Under his care the birds had been for over a week, and he had become quite attached. Scrounging out insects to feed them at a near-constant rate was something he would not miss, however.

They did not much like staying in the basket, but Micah carried them on his person as such if only to supervise them and allow for no creeping predators back in the Moors. The two tiny birds bobbed about in the vicinity behind a Great Village building, waggling their wings and attempting to fly with little success.

Micah monitored them but with diverted focus, black spray paint in his hand and stained on his fingers as if eclipsing the night sky patterning. On the wall, the start of a raven—so many inhabited Inferni that he could not resist. Micah hummed to himself a nervous, humble tune, his body stiff, his motions withdrawn.

Spraypainting was typically liberating for him, an expression to free up his anxieties. Stiffness did no good, and only during his art did it ever fade. This time was different.

Out among the Infernians, out estranged from his hiding place in the Riperian Moors, Micah was not liberated as he should have been. He felt only exposed.

"That looks fucking awful," said Storm Lily. He did not question when she arrived, for the ghost never truly left. Instead he nonchalantly reset his ponytail into a messier, tighter bun. "You do plan on eating those birds, don't you? They're trying to fly away. You'll need more meat on your bones if you are ever going to amount to anything, you know."

"Leave me alone," replied Micah beneath his breath. The ghost laughed, and she laughed only in his head. Kerchief pulled up over his snout, he painted on.


User avatar
Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Thu Jul 17, 2014 10:41 pm

000 words → Singe is like the polar opposite of active :c its about time i dropped him... INTO SOME THREADS HAH

The sharp scent of a healthy, smoldering fire permeated the air surrounding Singe as he made his way through the ruined paths of the Great Village. In addition to the smoky fumes that seemed to cling permanently to his fiery hide, the tall, wiry coyote held a lit torch securely in one hand, his second firestick hanging from its sling holster on his belt, unused for the time being. His other arm was hooked around a long, heavy-looking branch - something he'd picked up during his walk. It was a nice branch. Somewhat thick, but not too awkward to carry. Half his wandering thoughts were bout how good it would look while it burned, the flames its brittle bark would fuel.

He'd been around Inferni for a while now, long enough to be reasonably familiar with its sprawling territory. It was marshier than he'd anticipated, but so what if the land wasn't a firestarter's utopia? He'd found a family - one he still had troubles communicating with, but a family all the same. Still, he found it difficult to put names with faces, besides Myrika and Lorelei, the Infernians that had first greeted him the night he constructed his signal bonfire. All that time spent teaching himself how to utilize fire had left little time for practice in the social arts, and despite his efforts, he still felt distanced from most of the pack. He'd need to get a hang of this 'community' thing if he was going to get anywhere.

It was while Singe was pondering ways to strengthen his lacking social abilities when a stray scent caused him to stop. It was a strange smell - not one he recognized right away. It carried some of the pleasantly pungent qualities of the smoke he so often created - a quick scan of his surroundings reassured him that he hadn't accidentally ignited anything, so he tugged his navy-blue mask down far enough to uncover his nose, letting it lead him towards the source of the peculiar scent.

A brisk walk spurred by childish curiosity would lead him to one of the ruined town's more intact walls, where another, darker-furred Infernian stood, using an odd sort of device to make dark markings on the face of the flat structure. This confused the feral-minded Singe for a few moments - that is, until he paid closer attention to what the markings started to resemble. His entire spindly body perked visibly as the realization clicked in his head. It was a bird! The pyro's cloth mask concealed a slack-jawed smile as his wild orange eyes watched his packmate work, clutching his branch closer to his body as he witnessed the picture taking shape.


User avatar
hobocop

POSTED: Mon Jul 21, 2014 1:00 pm

The ghost did not depart, but silenced and giggled following his dismissal. How tame he was, poor Micah, her dear brother. How tame and unassuming he was. How was a spindly, witless man like he supposed to avenge her?

"Behind you," said Storm Lily after a time, and though Micah thought it teasing, he glanced. The auburn eyes and auburn fur of an assumed clanmate were impossible to miss and, startled by his quiet appearance and wild expression, the Lykoi faltered. The tin can slipped from his fingers and clashed with some noise against the dirt and gravel.

"Huh-huh-hello," said Micah, trying to smile and failing. "Is this—is this your house? I, I could have sworn it was empty, I-I-I didn't mean to offend, umm, I mean, if I have—"


User avatar
Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Mon Jul 21, 2014 3:46 pm

000 words →OOC

It was Singe's presence that brought the dark-pelted Infernian's painting to an abrupt end, something that mildly upset the fiery coyote as he diverted his attention from his packmate's work to his clearly terrified face. The painter had begun to stutter and babble as though he was a pup that had just been caught stealing, causing the taller, lankier male to tilt his head in confusion.

"Singe owns only what he wears and what he holds, shy one," he asserted, as though in direct response to Micah's panicked question. He advanced casually towards the artist and his piece, getting a closer look at the dark markings and the round thing that created them. "He is only curious as to why you mark the stone with... Er..." Stepping closer still to the mural, he scanned over the black streaks with his nose. They weren't ashes - they were wetter, still somehow clinging to the rough vertical surface, like sticky, colored water. Moreover, they lacked the scent of scorched wood, instead emanating a new sort of smell that made him want to cough.

Singe's puerile curiosity next pointed him to the thing Micah had dropped, which the smoky canine crouched down next to, dropping his branch to examine it with an open hand. He'd seen things like it, scattered uselessly along the barren paths of villages long forgotten, but could never guess they held the ability to produce such interesting images.

"What is this thing that creates pictures of birds?" inquires the clueless Singe. Fire and all things fire-related, he knew like the burns dotting his body, but this was something he hadn't seen before - there was a genuine sort of wonder about it, a mystery totally foreign to him.


User avatar
hobocop

POSTED: Wed Jul 23, 2014 9:22 am

"Oh, umm," replied Micah, "I, uhh, I like your bandana then—that you, uhh, own."

The Lykoi visibly winced, mouthed a curse, and looked at his toes. A moment's time spent scrounging back together his courage and ignoring the jesting laughs of his sister, Micah returned almond eyes to the Infernian of blazing hues and attempted a humble, albeit nervous, smile.

This fellow had implied no threats, after all, and despite his funny mannerisms of speech, acted only curious and intrigued. Though he as a stuttering buffoon should not judge one for their tendencies in speech, Micah was reminded of the madman that scarred his arms and stole his teeth and tore up the hindquarters of Bark. The granite coyote would allow his fellow a chance, but his guard would not falter.

"Paint. Umm, spraypaint." The can between his fingers again, it turned idly in place as he glanced and thought how to explain its function. "Uhh, it... It just sprays paint. I mean—damnit, obviously it does that—if I push on the nozzle thing here, the color comes out."

Paint expelled into the air as example, and with some hesitance the coyote took a few steps from his mural to offer the stranger the can for use on blank wall. "You can try it if you want."


User avatar
Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

POSTED: Wed Jul 30, 2014 12:09 pm

000 words →meant for this to go up a lot earlier, but hnnngh stuff happened

Singe mostly ignored the compliment on the cloth obscuring his face - not with intent of rudeness, of course, but more because he was so intrigued by his cursory study of the fuzzy-line-making thing to reciprocate. He did look back up towards the dark-furred male as he stepped closer to take the can from Singe's wiry paws, the pyro standing to listen with rapt intent as Micah attempted to describe its function. At first, the taller coyote just responded with a gentle tilt of the head, but a quick spritz of the pressurized black specks into the open air elicited a flinching jump from his body, and a yelp from his concealed maw. He'd never seen anything like it! The smoky canine's tail wagged fervently as the pieces fell together in his charred mind.

Then, just to expand on the exciting new experience, the spraypaint was offered for him to use! After looking it over for another few moments, he tossed his branch to the side, tentatively seizing the canister with his newly-freed hand. He turned it this way and that a few more times as he wandered towards the far side of the wall, unmarked by Micah's painting. He was given the power to create pictures just as Micah had been doing earlier - but what would he create, exactly? He glanced swiftly at the lit torch still occupying his other hand. Of course!

Burning orange eyes on the featureless structure before him, he let the flames manifest themselves within his mind. With quick, wavering movements, he began creating wild, pointed curves, thicker at the bottom and breaking off into wispy its as they reached towards the sky. His first strokes were pale and incomprehensible, but steadily gained definition as he got used to the new tool. Before long, it was plainly clear that he'd begun painting what could roughly be described as a picture of a wildfire - minus the trees. He couldn't figure those out. The image of fire came to him with incredible ease, though its violent, constantly-moving nature made it difficult at times to recreate on the static surface of the wall.


User avatar
hobocop

POSTED: Mon Aug 04, 2014 10:20 am

I've read your hiatus stuff -- if you'd like to close this early, feel free.

Purposefully placing distance between he and the particular orange male when the spraypaint served as distraction, Micah folded hands politely before him and watched with nervous, albeit eager almond eyes as the Infernian took to his makeshift canvas.

A glance was cast by Singe to his torch, then struck with all-too-familiar inspiration and set quickly to work, practiced within a few awkward strokes. Micah determined the art to resemble fire, if only in wiggling strokes; the bright coyote certainly liked the blazing patterning, but he was a part of Inferni, after all. Singe was considerably looser in movement than Valerie had been her first time in attempt; the knight had been trained in swordplay and warfare, talents seemingly far from those valuable in painting. Micah, however, found resemblances: The broad swing one might use with a sword resembled some of his more gallant of paint strokes on the wall. Micah had noticed the forceful tightening of his focus while training with Kali and attributed it to why details in his art suddenly stood out a thousand times more obvious than before.

After a moment's hesitation, Micah ducked quietly into his satchel for a can of red paint, nearly empty. Nervous as he was around the stranger, he would not be a Juniper if he did not extend every opportunity available for one to discover the release that was art.

"Here," said Micah, smiling, red spraypaint offered to neighbor the black. "Try this, too. Umm, just try to keep it away from the torch, please."


User avatar
Lin
Luperci
passion, hope
& resistance

Dead Topics