Our Father who art in Heaven

Dove

POSTED: Thu Dec 22, 2016 12:14 pm

-- Oreo is in lupus. Set in the Chapel.

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Like many of his relations, his dad, his mom- more of an aunt to him now- Oriole found solace in his faith. He padded through the Mansion in the early morning still drowsy. His head drooped though his ears were alert as he walked the halls down past the dining room and into the chapel. And there, for the moment he was alone.

He walked straight up the dusty carpet and halted before the altar. As he sat he looked to his left and right as his ears shifted back. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head. He recited the Lord's Prayer in a reverent murmur before tacking on his own cares.

Dear Lord,
Take care of Dad. He's hurt and I don't know when he'll get better. Papa acts like he's going to be okay, but I can tell he's worried. I'm worried too.
Oriole's otherwise vigilant ears fell as he committed himself to prayer and laid his worries at the feet of God.

I want to be strong for Maggie and Ren, but it's hard. Dad isn't even Centurion anymore, Meemaw's looking after the Clan all by herself. I need to help Papa take care of Dad, but I want to help Meemaw, too. What should I do? He lifted his head momentarily to glance searchingly at the cross. When he bowed his head and closed his eyes again his ear picked up movement and he looked behind him. He was still alone as far as he could tell and figured it was just someone rummaging through the kitchen, or maybe Maddox was in there cooking. The thought made his mouth water, but he decided against going to check it out.

Oh, and if we could keep Maggie out of trouble, that'd help. A lot.

Oriole de l'Or

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Stormie
Luperci

POSTED: Thu Dec 22, 2016 5:58 pm

Staying in a mansion wasn't going to happen.

Little did Dove or River Lark know, but their natural inclination against making a home out of a room with walls was a staple of their particular bloodline; both their father and their grandfather had rejected the popular D'Neville Mansion for the roominess and freedom of the Inferni outdoors. The siblings had never spent more than a night or two at best indoors during the nomadic travels of Juniper Peace, and on the odd occasion they did, it was worth it. A castle had been their stop, once. On another occasion, a multi-floored hotel the elements had not yet leveled. Dove enjoyed those sojourns, but she'd felt out of her element. Disconnected from the earth. Severed from what it meant to be truly alive.

Being truly alive, in her current case, meant freezing in the woods a stone's throw from Folly Lake and the Great Village. She was used to it. She felt safe, able to escape into any direction in an emergency without walls to impede her. But she was curious, too, how a clan that struck her as considerably feral had taken up a mansion as its primary shelter. River Lark hadn't been so sure about wandering around the territory so soon after becoming a part of it, but Dove dismissed him as still reeling from the attack outside the borders and, though nervous, she set out on her own eager to take in every element of what had made this place so special to her father—now that she felt safe enough to do so.

The Reverie crept through the mansion as if she wasn't allowed to be there, and in her mind she wasn't. It wasn't her home, and to anyone but her brother and Vesper, she was a stranger. Someone who could be mistaken for trespassing. Dove kept her head low and her steps light, two-legged as she walked the halls, trying no knobs whose doors were closed.

She hadn't expected a chapel and stood in it for some time, mesmerized. Were there holy folk here? Spooked by a sound of someone coming, Dove ducked fast into what appeared to be a kitchen and pressed herself up against the wall, heart pounding, eyes clenched shut and ears swiveling.

She listened to a prayer, a boy's voice, and felt guilty for being there. How sincere he sounded, how devout. In a way she envied him; Junipers preached of Mother Earth and Father Sea and other terms to embody their respect for nature. Some seemed to worship. Dove did not.

When she peeked, she saw the speaker was a child, likely on the brink of shifting. She heard his concerns and thought of her own at that age, just six months ago, when her parents were near and her siblings were united and her sister was still alive, and Dove found herself choking back a welling desperation in her chest, and she paced some of the feeling away.

When the boy stopped talking, Dove thought maybe he had left. Wiping at her eyes and her nose she stepped from the kitchen, saw him, felt her cheeks heat beneath her fur. She darted towards the door, trying to look normal, to look balanced, to look as if nothing at all was amiss.

"Sorry," was all she could say. Anything more and her voice might break and give it all away.

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Lin
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POSTED: Tue Dec 27, 2016 4:03 pm

--

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His prayer ended on that humorous, more so honest note and he opened his eyes. His mouth was still drawn into a small grin that faded now as the seconds slipped by and he heard the frantic shuffling of feet. His ears shifted and he turned around just in time for her apology.

Oriole's head cocked briefly at her peculiar behavior, but he wasn't embarrassed. The whole Clan would have heard of his Dad's accident by now. They would know that he was no longer Centurion. Disregarding that Oriole took no offense to a listening ear. His prayers were nothing to be ashamed of. Though it occurred to him that she might have had her own words for God and had been startled by his presence.

He took a few slow steps towards her and observed her with his yellow-orange eyes. Did you come to pray, too? He asked and despite what he wanted people to believe, his was still the voice of a boy's.

Closer now, he began to realize that hers was a face he did not know. He sniffed to confirm: she did not smell of Inferni. There was little suspicion on his face, however. He had faith in his Meemaw, and everyone knew that Inferni's borders were heavily patrolled and the ravens were always watching.

I'm Oriole.

Oriole de l'Or

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Stormie
Luperci

POSTED: Sun Jan 01, 2017 12:16 pm

She'd hoped to bolt fast enough to duck out of a scolding or an awkward conversation, but the praying Infernian seemed to take no offense to her presence and accidental eavesdropping. Instead, he asked if she came to pray, a question she was not at all prepared for. Thrown off guard Dove froze and stared at him, and her demeanor—initially shocked and embarrassed—shifted visibly to something offended and defensive and afraid as she absorbed a now closer look at his face and features.

He was clearly heavily dog in breeding, but unlike Helena and her long nose, he seemed of smaller breeds. Dove thought of her adoptive sister—her brooding, insane, wicked adoptive sister—and grimaced, but it was not until he introduced himself with the fellow name of a fledgling that a chill ran up Dove's spine.

"No. I didn't come to pray." She sounded curt, but Dove didn't apologize for it. She took a few side steps towards the door but trained her eyes on her fellow Infernian. "And I didn't ask for your name. Okay? I'm going now. Don't follow me."

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Lin
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POSTED: Tue Jan 03, 2017 1:49 pm

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The shift in her demeanor felt very sudden and he wondered at it deeply. His brows creased and head cocked. Are you okay? He asked sincerely. He started to take a tentative step towards her but soon thought better of it and stopped, his paw hanging in the air.

She was very peculiar, he thought, agreeing with his first impression. Something was clearly off, but he couldn't even guess what it was. He didn't know her. And she didn't seem keen on letting him either.

She was very decided on his leaving her alone, which both concerned him, and oddly, bothered him. He flicked an ear. Well, we're Clan, aren't we? I mean, we should know each other's names. In case, in case...I mean. Oriole frowned, Well, just in case. He looked away for a second, looking back when he caught movement. Hey! He barked and chased after her.

Come back!

Oriole de l'Or

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Stormie
Luperci

POSTED: Thu Jan 05, 2017 12:37 pm

The answer to his question was an obvious and resounding no, but by then Dove had steeled herself and locked away the vulnerability flooding from her chest not a few moments before. He stepped towards her, and perhaps it was the piercing look she gave him—she hoped it was the piercing look she gave him—that brought Oriole to hesitate and step back. Dove didn't answer him, for her stare said it all. She no longer carried herself wounded, not like she had slipped and done originally, but now stood with squared shoulders and raised, hostile eyes.

Oriole began to murmur something about clanmates and names and something else equally irrelevant to her in that very moment, and Dove had started away briskly, more selfishly concerned with her own problems than with ettiquette and good form in shared company. But the orange eyesore called and chased after her, at her heels when she touched at the chapel's doorframe, stopped, and spun.

"Go away, please, please, please go away," said the Reverie, pleading and demanding all at once. "My name's Dove if you want to tattle on me, I don't care. I don't pray, I don't have anything like that, and you're a dog, so I just really need you to leave me alone."

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Lin
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POSTED: Sun Jan 08, 2017 3:43 pm

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Abruptly, everything about her changed so very abruptly. He tried to hold her stare but her eyes burned, he had to look away and stopped in his tracks. And then she turned away, fleeing. Equal parts intrigued, concerned, and somehow personally, deeply disconcerted Oriole followed her.

She didn't run far and quickly spun around to face him. Her tone was both desperate and sharp a combination which surprised and confused him. He studied her face. He studied hard. It didn't pay off. He still didn't understand why.

I'm not a tattle-tale, he said sounding affronted. His chest even puffed up the slightest bit. Of course, he had told on his sister Maggie a few times before—okay probably more than a few times— but only because he was concerned for her safety. This was different.

He was about to offer her—Dove now— his help in the case that she wanted to pray but just didn't know how. Instead, the words died on his tongue as she spat his breeding at him as if it were a particularly venomous curse. This moreso than the rest took him aback.

I'm coyote, too. He said in a small voice lowering his head and ears before glancing up at her. His resolve seemed to strengthen then as his body became suddenly rigid and his gaze intense. Besides, what's wrong with being a dog? He'd become suspicious now, maybe even a little wary.

Oriole de l'Or

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Stormie
Luperci

POSTED: Tue Jan 10, 2017 10:06 am

What's wrong with being a dog?

Dove opened her mouth as if ready to snap at him, but stopped short. Everything, she wanted to say. Dogs were conniving, betraying, irrational lunatics. Dogs were murderers. Dogs could be all these things and more, she wanted to say, even when a loving and patient man had raised them.

But she heard these things in her head and knew she was wrong. Withdrawing, she thought of countless dog-bred faces among the Junipers whom she had loved and whom had had a part in the shaping of her character throughout her earliest months. Dove realized herself sounding as biased and hateful towards dogs as Micah had once warned Inferni felt towards wolves. Not only did she know her father would be disappointed in her, but she was ashamed of herself too.

In a whirlwind of typical youth her grief had turned to panic, panic had turned to defensiveness, and defensiveness had turned finally into a cold, still state in which she allowed nothing more of herself to peek through. Nothing more of that flawed, consciously irrational self would let itself be known. She returned the lid to her carefully contained emotions, for Dove insisted Inferni would know nothing of them.

Oriole looked upon her with wariness, and she met his eyes with a frigid resolve following a moment to collect herself. She wanted to tell him he was right, that nothing was wrong with dogs. That she was still reeling after a terrible accident due to one exceptional individual who happened to be a dog.

But instead Dove said, "A stupid little dog killed my sister," she said, holding his gaze, "and I won't take solace in a god who let it happen."

She followed with finality given a beat for the weight to lift, "Now, will you leave me alone?"

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Lin
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POSTED: Fri Jan 13, 2017 6:51 pm

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There was a long pause, much longer than he expected. Dove had been forthright up until now and the fact that she took so long to answer was odd. Her insult (though he didn't consider it truly insulting) had been an outburst. She was obviously stressed and he expected more. Instead her eyes cooled and met his own. The puppy tried to keep his gaze just as steady. He didn't let the look go, his new resolve was steely.

It wasn't his problem if she didn't like dogs. That was her failing. His Papa was a dog, his Aunt Clover was, and his sister Maggie was just as much a dog as he was and he loved them all, dearly.

His ears lowered at her answer, it wasn't one he'd been prepared to receive. He frowned, a frown which deepened once the sentence finished. I'm really sorry about your sister. He said sincerely and even went as far as to touch her leg gently with a muddy brown paw. Beyond this, he didn't argue. She was hurting and he could only imagine what it would be like if he lost Maggie, or Ren. But he also knew he wouldn't blame it on breeding, or more importantly - God.

Just don't blame it on God, okay? His convictions were stronger than he sounded. He dropped their shared gaze, head low and mumbled, okay. Maybe what she needed most was space.

I'm not that dog, okay? He said to her back. Not my Papa, or my sister, or my Aunt Clover, either

I'm sorry about your sister. He said again, turning his own back and sulking away.

Oriole de l'Or

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Stormie
Luperci

POSTED: Tue Jan 17, 2017 10:04 am

Cold and stoic as she mainted herself to be, Dove was far from as unyielding as she projected. Given her lineage, a sensitivity was to be expected—but unlike her father, whose sensitivies were always visible, the anxieties and reservations of one-year-old Dove were unbelievably present, but locked behind layers of protection in form of indifference or hostility.

She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, but she did. She hadn't meant to sound biased against his blood, but she had. She'd known what she was saying, but she hadn't stopped herself from saying it.

And she felt terrible.

Dove looked at the floors first, the walls second, the door third. Oriole, fourth. She apologized with her eyes, if only for a glimpse—a pinch of the brows, a squint of the eyes, a parting of the lips—before she caught herself, and the walls visibly and suddenly rose up once more. She shook herself, breathed deep, and nodded curt to him. And then she turned, and she was gone.

She said little to River Lark that night. Dove couldn't bear the weight of his disappointment.

all the colors mix together to gray
Cour des Miracles
DEAD
User avatar
Lin
Luperci Chaos Star
smoke and mirrors
BAPTISM BY FIRE

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