[m] Like anger, like smoke from an unseen fire

'We will go home, across the mountains'

POSTED: Fri Aug 03, 2018 5:15 pm

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Johnathan Winthrop

August 9th

In the end, none of their plans mattered a damn thing. She abandoned them in the dead of night and his brother that he had spent months trying to find, left him without a goodbye. After her speech about the flame going out he felt the sparks still burning in his chest.

Maybe something truly did harden within him then, when the golden eyed cyclops told him Andrew had gone to chase after his wife. Andy made his choice and it wasn't Johnathan and his children, it was the Lykoi woman. The words turned to buzzing noise and filled with impotent distress, John had simply let gravity claim him, sitting down heavily on his ass and staring into the distance.

When he rose again, it was in anger and frustration at the whole fucking pointless bullshit of it. A knife clenched in his tight fist. With falsely sweet words dripping from his tongue, he tempted closer one of the horses and with terrible slashes of the knife, he spilled its blood. The frightened beast screamed, such a terrible awful sound in his ears and yet not a twitch upon his face beyond the angry snarl that winkled his muzzle as it died a terrible death. They would not starve to death for now at least.

Days wicked on by and still nothing, no sign. He tracked Andrew's dying scent as far as he could and it trailed off, obliterated by the weather and by circumstance. He returned to their ragged group that remained and more of their number fled each day. There was only so long one could stay loyal in the face of such things.

The hot sun parched him and yet at least it dried up the puddles the mosquitoes had been spawning in.

It snapped, in the early morning of the ninth day of Andy and Vicira's disappearances. Johnathan suddenly stood, and his voice boomed,

"Alright. This is enough. All of you, if you're coming, get your shit together. I'm going over the mountains, I ain't fuckin waiting around to die. They're gone, it's time to think of ourselves." He pointed a finger, at Merari, at Boone, Noel and Nazario, at the others. Inside he shivered, but walking away from his home was a thing he had done before just like the ones before him. If he had to lead them away then so be it, this was the most sober he'd been in years.

A raven's cry made him look up and Goblin came wheeling down from the sky to land on his shoulder. She'd leave embers in her wake, well he'd fucking fan it back into a fire.

"As soon as I'm ready, we're leaving. Anything you want to bring, get it, now." He turned and the raven took flight again, John called to the sky, a coyote's yapping cry, drawing to them anyone else who wished to walk for survival.

Inferni still burned.

What despicable lies you hide
Johnathan Winthrop
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Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Mon Aug 06, 2018 2:57 am

Magpie had survived war, and lost the things she held dear to her. In the quiet hours now, fire raged through the dark thief, as she thought about what was gone. Happy days of puppyhood seemed a very long time ago, when she was busy playing with her brother and sister. Salsola had taken away her home, and sullied the memories of it; in the sober, scorched remains of the D'Neville Manor, her youth had died.

Meemaw had let Vicira take them over the mountains, where they didn't belong, and oh, the coydog had gone with them because it was all she knew. Over The Mountains wasn't where she wanted to be – but she was nothing if not patriotic. How did the story end? Vicira left. The one who dared to let them lose so much had turned tail and run when things worsened, and it knotted up Magpie's stomach until the sourness twisted her face into a scowl.

Magpie Trouillefou was a survivor, and she needed no one to help her survive.

Still, when the anger of Redtooth's brother disrupted her pacing (as she was prone to doing these days), she slunk in the direction of the outrage. It was soothing, to know someone else was angry. Her green eye blinked before her orange one did, and she listened to the older coyote give a passionate speech, fueled by fire, trying to rally the troops to him. He wanted to go back over the mountains – where they had come from. Her tail fwipped behind her, half in satisfaction and half in agitation.

She had come all this way, following the decisions of someone who couldn't take the pressure when life started to crumble, only to go back over the mountains. The damned mountains; she was starting to hate them, specifically, as if they had a reason to be hated. Her dark arms folded over the white patch that discolored her chest, and she watched to see who else would go before she moved. Narcissus was a black streak, following Goblin, careless if he left Magpie behind. Ungrateful bird.

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all that glitters

POSTED: Mon Aug 06, 2018 4:56 pm

my heart was flawed, i knew my weakness

Nazario haunted the mouth of the caverns frequently, listless for days on end, it seemed, until they all bled together. He ventured out, once, twice, but this was his current post that he did not abandon, and remained intensely stalwart to hover around. It was just a few days. It was just supposed to be a few days.

Redtooth should've been back by now, he thought, and he drummed fingers on his biceps while he waited, and slept, and waited; he tended to what Vicira left behind. Riselka was lost, unsteady and unsure with the upheaval, but he crooned to her in heavy-hot afternoons and drew on her with ash to keep the bugs at bay. Malchior wasn't used to the stillness in the caverns, now that the coughing had settled, and followed after the del Bosque like a colorful shadow, and Nazario thought to keep the bird distracted to keep him from overpreening - his belly had a few gray, withered patches from it.

Had he found her, after all? How far had they gotten, had they decided to stay, start anew?

Nazario hardly found it fair.

The taste of horse twisted his guts, and he hated it, turned what weren't claimed loose into the fields with luck painted onto their hides, whispered sweet sentiments to the livestock which remained - Johnathan had taken to culling what they needed, and they couldn't be picky about food. Not now.

He was alone at the mouth of the cave again, save for the glittering blue bird that pulled at little salt-streaks at his shoulderblades, only for Rio to reach back and shoo the peacock back a few steps. Johnathan's voice boomed, and filled the cavern, smoke and cinders and fire - he was done with the waiting. Done with wasting time, wasting energy, and the gold-eyed cyclops watched him uncertainly, before he went to simply shoulder his pack that he had left there since that first day.

"If anyone wants a horse, come with me, we'll tack up."

This was for the best.

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won't stay down

POSTED: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:57 pm

Do not cry out or hit the alarm
You know we're friends till we die

It was time. Those who remained were a ragtag few. His parents abandoned him; his clansmen deserted, leaving only a dull ember. A half-flame. It was a bitter thing to look upon his kingdom, his birthright, empty and squalid. This was the culmination of his mother's lead. A wreck. A dung heap of an inheritance.

Boone held an anger in his heart unlike any other. He shared this sentiment with many, but his hatred was selfish. He ached not for his kin or clansmen, but for himself and the bitter harvest he reaped.

They could not stay in the deadlands. Of that, Boone was sure, but his reluctance to leave the claim he once desired lingered. He cast aside his sentiment and answered his uncles call to arms with veiled enthusiasm. "Aye," spoke Boone. He kept close to his siblings and smoked a joint, nodding along in agreement with his impassioned uncle.

He breathed out smoke and dropped his joint to reluctantly follow his adopted brother to claim his own mount. He had never ridden before, though, now was as good a time as any. All he had was time.

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Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:34 pm

smoke the night away

Ichabod waited.

Why, or for what, he didn’t know; he had no brother, no parents, no partner, no lover.

And yet he paced, wearing the soles of his feet tender and raw. Tapped tempoless rhythms into the cold heart of the caves. Filled his palms with ash and soothed his skin with soot. Smoked. Hid. Slept.

He was tracing the blunt end of a stick against the earth when John erupted, etching jagged swirls of what he could remember of the clan’s territory into the parched soil. Rough strokes for the rivers. Crude plots where the Homestead had stood. Harsh, scrawling marks for the mountains.

The mountains.

Fiery eyes encapsulated the cracked lines in the earth, now, studying the misshapen structures. It was back to this, then. They’d staked their hopes on the other side of the mountain once before and it led them to nothing but rot; what difference would it make now?

Maybe God intended for their exodus to last forever.

Still he stood when Nazario roused them, lips pursed but mercifully silent. “G’ on, now,” he murmured to half-youths as he passed, slinging his own satchel onto his shoulder.

The twist on his lips were strained, even for him.

ooc stuff here | [wc — 200+] template by hilli

POSTED: Wed Aug 15, 2018 9:23 pm

Her parents never came back.

Merari had known, from the moment she saw Nazario sitting abandoned in the mouth of the cavern, that Vicira probably would not return. She'd felt it. But she thought that they could still be some semblance of a family together, that Redtooth's loyalties would be to the children who needed him rather than the mate that abandoned him. They still had some numbers, enough to defend a tiny territory, to feed and nurse each other back to health. Everything would be okay.

But Redtooth didn't come back, and so it wasn't.

Rather than dwell on negative feelings, Merari did what she always did: push those emotions deep down and go with the flow. She half-heartedly wandered out from the territory to see if she might see Redtooth coming home, but mostly she remained with the others, nibbling horse meat to make it last, scavenging for things alongside her pet pig, sitting with her grandmother.

When her uncle's voice rang out, she was lounging in the grass with an old chicken bone sticking out of her mouth, the marrow long since sucked dry. She sat upright, brushing dry grass from her hair and laying her hand on Murphy's head. Her light blue eyes sought John and the others, and after a moment, she stood up and stretched. They'd go together; this was what they had planned when Boone tried to rally them, right?

She watched her brothers walk away to retrieve horses, then stared down at her young pig. His intelligent, dark eyes gazed back up at her, and he snorted -- then swung his head challengingly as another coyote passed too close by to them. Laurel didn't pay them mind, instead walking up to John and speaking to him in his low, molasses voice, his hands on his hips and a lean in his stance.

Meanwhile, the ravens circled -- and were joined with another pair, one with a clouded eye that chased and snapped at the tailfeathers of a young ugly bird chasing after Goblin. Their croaks drew Merari's ears up, and just as smoothly she turned her head to see her grandmother standing in the entrance to the dens.

"You leavin'?" she called out to Johnathan. Her tone sounded indifferent and dry despite what she had been through.

Given an answer, or reading one in the activity around the field, Vesper glanced over at Merari and jerked her head. Obediently, the girl approached her. They began to talk -- Rari's answers short and quiet, Ves' words burdened with emotion she would not plainly state.

At the end of their conversation, a black bird landed on Merari's arm, and coyote and raven sized each other up thoughtfully.

POSTED: Thu Aug 16, 2018 2:17 pm

Johnathan Winthrop

August 9th

Apathy was replaced by a sense of purpose and John stood, looking almost as a leader might, whilst the ragged band were finally shoved to attention. The coyotes began to rouse themselves and he watched them all as belongings were slowly gathered. Nazario and Boone wandered off to grab horses and Johnathan wondered if they should kill one more before leaving before discarding the idea. It would be too much to carry.

He spoke to Laurel, the logistics of moving a group this size did not compare to the exodus of the entire clan after the war with Salsola but neither was it a small undertaking. The old woman's voice cut through their discussion and John stepped forwards a pace,

"Aye, we are. You're more'n welcome to come with us." He had developed a fondness for the aging female and her wicked sense of sarcasm. He did not believe she would join their group though, and he turned away from them all to stalk where a grey dog woman was standing. His attempts at convincing her were in vain, he admired her tenacity in the face of such overwhelming odds.

Feeling unsettled and burdened by words left unspoken he returned to grab his mule and loaded onto Obstinado's back everything he thought the mule could carry, including belongings of his brother and... that god damned jacket.

If the coyote's had kept time in such a manner, only just past an hour had flown by. Goblin swooped down to land on the mule's back and croaked a few broken words, mostly expletives. John had to laugh at the wily thing.

Possessions were gathered, goodbyes said and provisions passed out. His eyes fell onto each who had opted to remain behind and in his asshole heart he wished them the luck of their gods. He remembered the Sapient woman and her loneliness at having been left behind and hoped for all their sakes they either choose in future to join the group or left for better pastures elsewhere.

"Lets go!" His voice rose above those conversing, and then he was leading his mule and walking away. They could follow him, or not, but he sure as hell was not remaining in this hellhole any longer.

Goblin took to the skies again, now that the mule was moving and cawed loudly from high above.

What despicable lies you hide
Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
Del Cenere Gang
Las Brasas
User avatar
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

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