While you sleep

POSTED: Sun Mar 05, 2017 4:36 pm

Sorry for the delay -- also, I am not entirely sure where Silas is kept and if he's allowed to walk about freely yet or what not, so I'm keeping it veeery vague for you to decide how and where she finds him. Also, midday!

The world was filled with terrible things, but she was relearning the art of keeping an optimistic mindset.

There’d been much heat in the air within the thistle kingdom – the songbird could almost taste it, though she couldn’t say she shared it. She spent her time faithfully with her mate and wondered what his life would be without his sword hand. It was a tragedy in all its glory, but she wasn’t as upset for him as perhaps she ought to be.

He was alive, and this fact was important above all. Rafael still had one hand left, and he was strong, clever and brave. He remained valuable and would forever be the keeper of her loving heart. Many tears had been shed when he had been out and she had feared he’d die in battle, but those days had come to an end now, and she would prove to him that she could be the perfect mate.

But curiosity was a strange thing.

Friends had been lost, and she wanted to see the killer’s face. She’d said nothing to her husband as he was mending in the clinic, and she’d come alone. The songbird thought of the faces of those who was no longer here. She had cried plenty of tears for Arte especially – she’d been a dear friend, but her eyes were dry as she walked towards the area where the new slave was kept.

User avatar
Luperci Ancella Mate to Rafael <br />A silhouette to serenade the soul Chaos Star

POSTED: Sun Apr 02, 2017 6:31 pm

00+ I'm not sure if he'd be allowed to wander far from the slave quarters on his own, so setting this there. :>

See galleries for credit.

His days thus far had been full of monotony and pain, broken up only by the menial tasks demanded of him. It was enough to drive a lesser man to madness -- but Silas was focused on a singular goal, and his hatred and his memories of the life (or lives) stolen from him kept him sane.

He sat outside the ramshackle cabin where the slaves lived, drawing shapes in the dirt with a long stick. He etched something like the shape of a sword, and then smeared this aside, and drew a face: a rudimentary drawing, made up only of simple lines and shapes, but his expression slackened into something like grief and he wondered distantly how his nieces fared in Zion.

Silas became aware shortly after this thought crossed his mind that he was not alone -- not that he was ever truly alone. Salsola was a kingdom of many spies, and if nothing else one of the other trells lingered nearby to make sure he did not act out. But the footsteps that approached were, if not tentative, at least softer than the dutiful trudge of most haughty Salsolans. His ear flicked back and his head turned shortly after, his nostrils flaring at scents almost familiar.

A slender waif stood before him, freckled and blue-eyed. She smelled of the hound who'd struck down Zacchaeus, and she smelled too of the Crone whose visitations left Silas void of memory and with only the sour taste of bile in his mouth.

Something made the slave speak, despite being "conditioned" not to open his mouth unless addressed. But the woman was not an intimidating figure, and his voice was hoarse.

What do you want from me?

POSTED: Mon Apr 03, 2017 11:28 am

Works for me! :)

It was not the first time the gentle dove gazed upon a monster and found that he looked like another ordinary man. Dark clouds clung to his features and reminded her of autumn rains, with the hues of true spring glinting in canine eyes.

He just sat there, like some purposeless thing. Knowing her kingdom, she assumed he’d been knocked off his high horse when his nose had been pierced. Was this what defeat looked like? The gilded nymphet could not tell.

He didn’t bow nor kneel, and he broke the silence in a most unholy way. Perhaps resisting the invisible bonds of his sad circumstances. Violeta did not mind, for she wasn’t made of sharp edges and the metallic taste of the whip. She was the mere curiosity of Salsola, here to look upon another.

And that she did. She looked upon this man and she did not understand.

”I’ve come to look at a monster,” she spoke, sincerely sharing her consciousness with him. No smile threatened to lift the edges of her pretty lips as it so often did. Sunshine locks flowed across her shoulder as she tilted her head with mild curiosity, looking him over.

"Strange. You don’t look like one to me.” The world was full of terrible men, their black deeds dancing just beneath the surface where blue-eyed children could not see. Yet, the rough tune of his voice was so different from the smooth poison she’d expect from someone like him. He was coarse and worn. But what more?

User avatar
Luperci Ancella Mate to Rafael <br />A silhouette to serenade the soul Chaos Star

POSTED: Tue Apr 11, 2017 12:33 pm


See galleries for credit.

Silas pricked his dark ears at her curious remark, and laughed.

He was not a man given to laughing or smiling, but nonetheless the grin that graced his haggard features was not a kind one. It was sardonic and cold, and strained at the edges with the sort of exhaustion that had settled deep into his bones.

Why should I look like a monster? the soldier asked. Do you really think I am one? Is your worldview such that you can't comprehend the thought of making enemies whose causes -- or at least actions -- are perhaps justified?

His smile faded while he spoke, and his voice fell into its familiar tones: even and calm, smooth, deep. A hint of a western drawl inflected his words, but this alone marked his voice as that of a Boreas wolf. He made himself relax, easing shoulders back and massaging a sore forearm as his eyes fell.

I am a father who tried to protect his son and failed.

POSTED: Tue Apr 11, 2017 4:41 pm

His laughter was wrong in every sense; stripped of joy and golden light and instead turned inside out like some grey, dead thing on the floor of some cage.

Dark and large ears half flattened with the sound, and with the fade of a smile that was no smile at all. All her life, she'd expected terrible things ought to look terrible. How beautiful his eyes would have been if they hadn't been so terrible and cold.

"I wouldn't know," she kindly shrugged, pale fingers rubbing together as her hands interlinked beneath sweetly curved breasts. If she was to be sincere, the slave wasn't wrong. But for now, indeed, a monster he was.

She remained quiet, peering at the long gone smile, deep and even tones brushing roughly against cool audits like currents of gravel. Kind Lapis Lazuli peered upon his sad form.

If a spouse was lost, one became a widower. If a child lost its parent it became an orphan. What was the word to describe a parent who had lost his child? Perhaps it was too awful even to have a name.

"I'm sorry for your loss," it wasn't a lie. Death was always a tragedy, and she couldn't imagine the agony his heart must burn with. "Did he die in battle?" This wasn't the direction she'd wanted, but she merely moved with the river, doing her damndest to step with care. Knowing herself and her bright blue view of things, she knew she'd likely fail.

User avatar
Luperci Ancella Mate to Rafael <br />A silhouette to serenade the soul Chaos Star

POSTED: Wed Apr 26, 2017 2:54 pm


See galleries for credit.

The straw-colored -- or perhaps gilded, as she was a creature that even for her vermin features was too pretty to be compared to something so plain as straw -- woman shrugged, and Silas flashed another mirthless smile at this. But you don't even think to question it, he pointed out, and thought about his own doubts, his own lapses in faith. Perhaps all of this was punishment for that, and perhaps he shouldn't have doubted at all -- but Silas was always thinking, always questioning orders except for the one that mattered most to him, his sisters' wish.

Keep them safe.

He grit his teeth and rubbed his arm again. He did. The motion became repetitive, not so much soothing his tense muscles as distracting him from thoughts that clouded those forest-green eyes. He wanted to be a soldier like his mother -- my sister. I took the kids in as my own when she fell to coyotes. They are not mine, but they are blood, and they are all that I had of her.

Dead Topics