Fin del camino

P. Beanie

POSTED: Tue Jun 26, 2018 3:09 pm

Spanish is in '<>' brackets, image of home: here :: Words→ 000


Clouds covered the sky, selfishly blocking what could have been a relatively sunny day. It was nothing close to the heat Leto was used to back home, but his short coat and creaking bones weren't complaining. The clouds were light and fluffy, they didn't show any intention of dropping a shower today, something else his aching joints couldn't complain about. The old man almost found himself smiling at the simplicity of things, the peaceful weather and the rhythmic clicking of wooden cart wheels on gravel and stone. His pleasant attitude was reflected in the flicks and taps of his bony fingers against his guitar, playing an quick and upbeat song accompanied with the old man's humming. Occasionally Leto's magenta eyes would look to Sabina, trying to lightly pressure her into singing along, or otherwise make sure the young girl wasn't becoming too bored with their travelling. They'd been walking for so long now that Leto was beginning to forget when they'd even started this journey, or when it was supposed to end. Well, Sabina had been doing most of the walking, as had Cabra and Cabri. The old dog was confined to the back of their small cart, sitting still like luggage, making sure to not aggregate his bad leg. He hadn't been able to handle a whole day's worth of walking ever since he had his right leg practically torn in two, and he was too sick of being in pain to argue his capability anymore.

Leto wasn't a optimistic man, but he could feel like the green canopy trees around him and the smell of life around him smelt of home. Or perhaps the herbs Sabina was giving him to keep his pain levels down was making the old man more 'jolly' than usual. He wondered if his young companion thought the same. This place felt comforting, Leto had felt that way ever since arriving in the general area, being told of particular towns and places of trade that might take the pair's fancy. Honestly, Leto was looking for a place to rest, and he didn't mean something temporary. If the old man's body could speak for him, it would be screaming at him to stop. And for once, Esqueleto was willing to listen. He wanted to stop, he felt far enough from the Hell of his past to finally give into the reality of his age. <"What do you think of this place, niña?"> Leto asked through a sigh. Gazing at the varying sights of trees one side and green fields on the other. <"I have this feeling of joy here, although that might be the herbs you gave me.">

Chuckling with his hoarse voice, Leto swallowed and continued talking over the quieter notes of his guitar. <"But seriously, this could be where we stop. A place to finally settle down, if you want to."> Leto's eyes seemed to lull for a moment, his head tipping and swaying with the movements of the cart. A particular bump in the road jostled the old dog into focus, just in time for him to gawk slightly at a sight not far away. <"Oi, Beanie, look over there!"> Leto called, carefully pulling his guitar across his back and stumbling out the back of the cart. The old man limped quickly towards his goal, chortling a little in joy as he waited for Sabina to join him.

A single house sat in the middle of a small clearing, snuggled between two sections of evergreen forest. Some of the walls seemed to be melting with age, paint dying and walls crumbled in places and windows missing or collapsed, but other than that it looked in no worse condition than the homes back in Leto's old home. <"Perfecto."> Leto muttered, aged and tired eyes looking over the abandoned household with a sense of longing.

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Jazzy
Luperci

POSTED: Fri Jul 13, 2018 4:08 pm

The cart's wheels rolled with a squeak. The occasional bump in the trodden dirt path caused it to judder and rock; stones were almost instinctively kicked out of the way by the two goats who held the reigns and pulled the old man through the woodland. They occasionally bleated at each other, the conversation lost on the young female as she kept watch over her small, mismatched family. Leto's eyes were dilated; the high seemed to be helping with the pain, and Sabina couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of jealousy at the potential euphoria the old man could be experiencing at that moment. With the rays of cloud-dulled sunshine peeking through the green canopy above them and the soft tweeting of native birds greeting them upon their arrival to the new land, Sabina took a moment to inhale all the scents around her. Many souls had travelled these roads; their scents lingered like ghosts on a highway. There was also the scent of something else, something mysterious, and as Sabina's nostrils twitched eagerly to decipher the source, Leto's voice pulled her out of her concentration.

She smiled gently as she turned to look at the seated male. Clicking her tongue against her teeth, the cart slowed to a stop. It always amazed her how smart the goats had gotten. They had practically raised them from birth; a gift from a stranger along the way. They were well trained, though mischievous at times. Sabina didn't mind. She enjoyed teaching them new tricks.

"It is nice here," Sabina acknowledged in English, hoping to inspire the old man to practice more. If they were to relocate permenantly, Sabina knew he could not get by on Spanish alone. She would help him, certainly, but she wouldn't be around all of the time. They would need food, and she would need to hunt; a fact which brought specks of joy into her gaze. Sabina was an excellent spearfisher, and she loved nothing more than the thrill of the hunt. The only downside, however, was the occasional mishaps. Sabina hated getting wet - whether rain or river - and if she missed her mark, more often than not, a tumble would follow, and Leto's bellowing laugh would not be far behind.

"The herbs probably have made you delirante," she admitted, a mild look of amusement on her face. "But then again," she continued as her smile widened to a cheeky grin, "...siempre has Estado un poco loco...". Sabina winked at the old man, walking up closer to him as he pulled himself off the cart and directed their gaze to a weathered, forgotten house. It needed some work, a lot of work in fact, but it had potential. It seemed to be in a quiet area. They hadn't seen another soul in days, but Sabina still felt the need to keep her wits about her. Ever since her stupidity had cost Leto the function of his leg, Sabina had never let herself get in those circumstances again. She protected him fiercely, the father she'd never had and the friend she'd always needed, and though she had no doubt he could probably do quite well on his own, she would miss him if he wasn't around. The idea of losing him scared her something horrid.

She swallowed her thoughts away with a large gulp of saliva. "It'll need work," Sabina hinted gently. She stood beside the old man and gently nudged him with her shoulder. "Up for the challenge then, anciano? ... Just no painting it azul, eh?" She nodded her head toward the pots of paint on the cart. Leto always had a fetish for paints and pretty colours, and as long as they didn't blast her in the face every morning on the walls and doors of her home, Sabina wouldn't object. Though, deep down, the woman knew even if he did paint it blue, she wouldn't really cause a fuss. She just liked to wind him up. They were an unusual pair, for sure, but Sabina wouldn't have wished it any other way.
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Laura
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POSTED: Sun Jul 15, 2018 1:59 pm

OOC :: Words→ 000
Often times under the low Mexican sun, sitting on his master's porch and playing into his guitar, Leto would dream of something like a home. Not one where he was chained, starved and beaten for being ugly. One where he could still sit in the sun and play, but with the warmth of freedom in his heart to keep a smile on his face and a tune in his guitar. Somewhere that the old dog could feel like he owned, and not the other way around. It was the dream of an old man, and one he thought his paranoid mind would never allow him to have. Not long ago, the idea of settling down or stopping felt foolish, the more distance Leto put between himself and his old country the better. But now, Leto needed to stop, not just for himself and his aching bones, but for Sabina. The girl had known nothing but travel her whole life. And whilst it and its many hardships had helped her grow into the young woman she was now, a daughter Leto was proud of, she deserved to know what having a home was like. It explained the old dog's sudden burst of energy as he rolled out of the cart and hobbled towards the nearby decrepit house, that and the herbs Sabina was feeding him were blocking any screaming his legs might be trying to send the man. The fact that Sabina was not immediately rejecting the image of this being their possible home had Leto's skinny tail moving like a whip, and he chortled at her response.

"¿Azul? No, lo pintaré de rosa!"

He replied, pushing Sabina lightly before limping forwards, leaving his walking stick behind in the cart in his excitement. The old man was aware of his daughter's attempts to force him to speak some different tongue. But the aged dog was adamant about sticking to what he knew. Stubbornness kept his voice the same, though it didn't mean Leto didn't understand the English words spoken to him just fine.

"¡Especialmente en tu habitación! Un montón de rosas, azules y amarillos, creo."

Leto called back, putting a stop to his elation for just a moment to observe the small front porch for signs of collapsing. Magenta eyes scanned the old, rotten wood, before Leto forced his bad leg up onto the first step. With a very graceful hop, Leto's good leg joined the other on the first step, accompanied by a squeak of aged wood protesting from the weight. But it held firm.

"Tenga cuidado con estos pasos, Beanie. No estoy seguro de que te lleven tu pesada espalda."

A small smirk on his lips, Leto hopped up the other two steps to the front door, and gingerly pushed at it with a bony hand. To his relief, it didn't immediately drop dead off it's hinges, but then again the old man wasn't that strong in his push. With an angry creak of rusted hinges, the door opened to let a wave of decades old dust come rushing over Leto's stained fur. He coughed a little before continuing inside, his feet hitting the wooden ground with a rhythmic thump and skip. Inside, beyond the dark, damp and dust, the household looked barely touched. Well, there were obvious signs of scavengers, from the pieces of destroy furniture turned into unnatural positions and the sheer bareness of the place. But other than that, it all seemed in good condition. Compared to other ruins anyway. Moving his thin body from room to room, checking the floorboards for damage and any bobbles perhaps left unseen by others passing through, Leto began thinking of what work would need to be done. Leto had a bit of experience in almost every job, and building was no exception. The only issue was the additional eight years on Leto's life since he'd last helped construct a home, and the wound on his side and the weakness of his limps. Carrying wood around like he used to would be impossible at his ancient age, but Leto supposed this house could be a project for Sabina as much as it was for him, and would give the old man a chance to pass some more of his skills onto his adopted daughter.
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Sticks and Stones