Heal what has been hurt, change the fate's design

POSTED: Fri Aug 10, 2018 1:10 pm

Flower gleam and glow,
let your power shine
See the Light, it's blinding

The world turned on its never ending traversal of the universe and for one bright wolfess Spring had come again. Small, precious buds of yellows and reds and all vibrant hues slowly burst to life, turning her greenery surrounded cottage into an explosion of color and celebration. Years in the making that Lucia had lived here, she had taken the seed heads of wildflowers and scattered their dainty cargo about her abode and each springtime was rewarded with larger and more varied eruptions of color.

A long time ago she had lived as her mother had done and ran wild with her New Dawn brothers and sisters but now an older, changed Lucia resided alone in the tiny stonework home, a left-over from the times of humanity. It was only a single room, with a place to build fire and a small bed of furs in the corner. It was a carefully tended chaos, with cut flowers over spilling from many pots and pans and vases, filled with clear water. Ivy crawled up one side of the aged stonework, bursting with small white flowers.

A clear day blossomed with bright glory, and Lucia rose to meet its sunrise; sitting atop of her roof and watching with great anticipation as the gleaming ball peeked its yellowed cap above the eastern flanks of the Halcyon mountains. Properly greeting the new day she slid down the thatched roofing and her morning routine was well on its way. Maybe today Soris or one of the girls would come to see her. The ever present optimism had not been stamped out by the sufferings she had experienced, it had only served to increase her positive view of the world - convening that love was stronger that evil and would always prevail.

She even still held on to her hope that Sol would return from his trip one day, her charming prince returned to his princess.

From the trees all around her tiny home, hung little hollow baskets of woven grass each with a tiny hole. The cheeping and chirping of baby birds filled her spring-times. The twittering and lovely songs of their parents followed her mornings and afternoons.

She would swear that certain ones came back year after year, and treated them as such; giving them names and stories to go with their bright plumage. Regardless, the birds learned that this predator would not hunt them and occasionally hopped after her from branch to branch as she tended her tangled gardens, hoping for a tasty worm to be revealed.

In return for their company, Lucia shared her songs with them as her days wore on and on.

"A dream is a wish your soul makes, when you're fast asleep..." A gentle lulling tune to follow this softly sang serenade. Her uncle Vuk had surprised her times gone past with books filled with pictures of elegantly dressed figures, dashing princes and kings, and colorful backgrounds.

Her reading lessons with Veyra almost half forgotten, and the books themselves had been scrappy and missing some pages and very worn away, Lucia had studied them and repeated the songs that she did not know the tunes to and some of the words were missing - so she created her own, adding life where there was only decay. Those books had long since fallen to pieces but their songs were still remembered.

"In dreams you may lose your heart-pains... whatever you look for, you see...." Ashen bud fingers carefully caressed the petals of a newly opened tulip, and still her ethereal voice sang. To the flowers, to the trees, to the birds and other creatures of the forest that could hear her serene satin salutations.

Dated 1st April | [wc — --] template by hilli
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Luperci The sun never truly sets
SUNSHINE GIRL

POSTED: Sat Aug 11, 2018 12:12 am

Sapient was gray in his conceptualization.

The springtide of newborn buds, enveloped in infant petals colored Gaspesia, was lost on him. April brought with it a well of rising temperatures, the din of birdsong and the young hearts of lovers to life after winter's clenched fist released the raw and blooming world. Vines that had grown muted bore their thirsty roots into the topsoil, past the last grips of cold that chilled the shaded layers of earth and into the lifeblood that ruled the world. The season of rebirth was nigh, but not everyone gasped in awe of the beauty that sought to engulf this domain.

The softer sapphire that was left of his asymmetrical gaze scanned beneath the dappled canopy, his calculating mind in tune with the world, just as much as it seemed detached. Winter, though low in resources, had always come to be his finer months. With the feast that Sapient has summoned for the first time, in proactive caution to the chaos that was given the civil pack at the hands of cunning slavers, Shaamah had even grown ahead of his spring curve. Robust strength weaved in and out of view beneath the luxuriant plush that was his body's finest defense, second only to the nonpareil armor of the taut rope he'd built beneath it.

Cilium threads shielded his sight from the sun aloft as the untamed coiffure of his mane reached with bountiful arms over his shoulders; trailed down the divot of his spine, concealing its trenches in dense hackles. The modicum of his personality that existed was further omitted in the lacking presence of company, the stoic surveyor wrought with piloerection at every tremble of verdant thickets. It was his presupposition that any length of the wilds slithered with rouges and ramblers alike, bent on larceny or guerrilla engagement. A loathsome account of yore incited his silent, yet vigilant, process of abated footsteps. The craving to stretch the broad columns that toted him was nowhere near satiated, not yet quote able to dissipate the vexation of his insolent, unfledged progeny.

Billowing, ink-dyed fabric sprawled from knee to knee, binding in the soft of his joints and reaching rolled tendrils against the motions of a wide step over the infested, rotten corpse of a felled tree. A bevy of termite swarmers bombarded at his passing, the spray of of humming wings fluttering in a pollen hazed sparkle. It was a whimsical atmosphere, but its unadulterated and enchanting vagary still hadn't snuck into the subconscious of the solitary warrior. His temporary liberation from the throng of asinine Sapiens came at the expense of his exposure to obscure elements, but in the roots of his heart he longed for the hot-blooded blitz of battle in even the most placatory of moments.

What was left of bare branches rattled their booming fingers as a tepid breath swirled across the abundant vista. Shaamah aimed the pastel of his nares into the corporeal caress of the breeze that demanded his attention, the slumberous peaks hovering above the horizon that began to veil between the tender burgeoning leaves of hale sprigs that peaked the filling awning amidst him. He knew that to the right was Salsola's lands, Sapient's jejune commerce route bonding the territories together tentatively. Aft of the Brobdingnagian mortal, the bestirred cattle of Amherst's locals, to which he had ardently circumvented in an considerable inclination for solace.

What might be to his dismay, or in contrast his curiosity, what lie forth would rob him of his ultimate aspiration.

Birdsong shifted from the din of incessant grackles and songbirds that forewarned their fellow avian of his proximity into something less. The breeze reached down anew from the mountainside and touched his face with a gentler caress. On its whispered breath, a tune sailed in a voice as soft as feathered down. The notes stirred his ears tall, the pallid ocelli agaze tolerantly behind him as he concentrated on this unusual event, his steps drawn into the murmur of this descant above the wind intuitively.

His nape shivered with a threat as the building of shingle and stone peeked innocently through the wildflowers which littered the Lilliputian clearing that swathed it with much more verve than what Shaamah had anteriorly trekked. His great weight spread the digits of his warily treading paws while sneaking fingertips lingered above the leather wrapped casting of his Tekko for as long as the unavowed singer remained undisclosed. A discreet strafe to circle the maze of greenery finally brought the cold, hard beryl of am azure eye on her figure.

She sang her next breath dauntless, no apprehension in her pitch or sway in her key as a semaphore to the warrior that his attendance had been discovered long before he had provided it. A deluge of pallid tresses mantled her shoulders, rising into her crown with an alder wood hue. Beneath the cast shadow of the sparse chestnut tree, the heavy fragrance of the achene looming just over each floral waft of this settler's cabin, the soldier remained. Pressing his feet down into the detritus to the terra firma, he bade back the steps his soul sought to take for him at the heavenly lilt of her song.


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POSTED: Sat Aug 11, 2018 3:03 pm

Flower gleam and glow,
let your power shine
See the Light, it's blinding

If loneliness ever filtered its way into the gentle Amarok's heart then she quenched its fiery burn with the soft kisses of petals and the drifting lullaby of ever moving songbirds. The other scents scattered about the lands around her small cabin were long stale with age, two daughters and a son that only occasionally visited the once-princess; alongside a catering uncle, the same who had brought her the songbooks.

"Have hope in your dreams, then someday..." The lady paused in her soft steps, dun fingers grasping at a pale white blossom that wilted atop its stem. Soothing touches were rained down upon the failing flora, a dark, stark nose pressed against it's aromatic center,"..your rainbow will come sparkling through."

Was it fantasy that as Lucia moved away, the small white flower stood just a fraction taller, its head tilted at a slight proud angle.

As fingers moved, the seashell bracelets clacked together quietly, covering up the scars of an almost act most foul. Sometimes Lucia would sit and stare down at them, she had never found her Harlequin, had never seen him again.

"No matter how your heart is bleeding, if you keep on believing.. the dream that you wish will come trueee" Her song ended on a lilting tender warble and she turned with eyes closed, brushing long hair back from her face.

A sudden heavy snap of a branch destroyed the peaceful atmosphere in seconds and Lucia turned, long hair splashing out behind her with the motions of her body. A gasp of inhaled breath and the princess brought up delicate fingers to splay across her pounding heart.

A beast stalked her from the shadows, danube eyes stretched wide, darting about for escape.

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Luperci The sun never truly sets
SUNSHINE GIRL

POSTED: Sun Aug 12, 2018 6:28 am

Perchance, it was, that she did not know.

Slate, he stood, against the frame of verdant flora that encompassed him and as if to retain his covert attendance further a solitary bleached plume crept before the warmth of the sun and favored the savage with an obscurity that found his dreary halo in as much darkness as the awning above might promise. Against the miscellany of splayed shrubs, ligneous trees and seeding weeds, of fearful wildflowers that cowered beneath his step, a silhouette with a forbidding countenance found himself nonplus. N'er to advance, to dare her melody to cease, or to fallback, to find the ringing of his old wounds to steal the notes from their pleasant cure, he became statuesque. The breeze move beside him, the breath of wind around and above, but only a shiver from the tips of his coat or the roll of the sails of his clothing, whispered to the world that his heart did still beat within him. A secret on the caress of serene zephyrs that his heart did beat, now differently.

Without a gardener's gaze, a warrior knew not a dying flower or if it's petals clung helplessly to their stem in a final plight to taste the sun. Yet, as this psalm crossed the expanse from the lifted feather of her breath and carried on butterfly wings to the bloom in which she inhaled politely, there seemed a undulation in the carriage of that flower's face. Life. Verve. Vigor. A simple plant brought to gaze tat the sun, again? It was sorcery, no doubt, at the presence of her company, a threat. And yet. Sweet notes lifted into him, great lungs stolen of their breath, and vanilla fangs idle beneath black lips. Piloerection wavered, as did a tiny bud on a thin vine, and for any and all of his life, the lift had been taken from his coat. Irritation attenuated and what was this elevation in his chest? Illness. Confusion.

Contentment?

In these unclaimed lands, with thieves and liars at every instance shrouded and biding their blades attack when the moment was right, the soldier closed his eyes. Dreams were perception and his soul was searching. A bereaved spirit, left obliterated in that the endurance of pain created strength, slipped into his conscious thought for the first time since his abandonment. Of his mother and father. The disappearance of his first mate, and of his daughter. When he abandoned his home. His allies. His enemies and his war. Racing thoughts carried through him, like lightning in a torrential downpour as thunderheads threatened the flooding earth. What it was, what it could be. Could he take it all back? What was his dream?

Thoughts roiled through the crown of the fled king, but the leather that bound the Tekko to his waste wouldn't have such a change in their wielder. Heavy steel bracers fell like a ripe apple from his hip into a soft bed of sound-swallowing leaves, and the shifting weight on his body forced the chilling blue of an eye caught in history. He startled at the movement. The beast leapt up, his pelt at full erection and his jaws released the fangs that had been sung to sleep but a moment before. He rose. He landed. A crack of a branch, cast away at the red star's fall, rotten and left to time, shattered the silence as his weight nearly turned it to dust.

A palate that dined on the trepidation of young warriors, whose lives were short be they buried or trained for a finer grave, didn't call for compassion, conversation, or mercy. Such a threat aimed unto the earth followed a hunter's gaze to fine fingers that braced a rapid heart and eyes of sky that darted like a doe at every whisper. His presence, no longer veiled, was his own risk. Tekko slept cheekily against the dry flakes of leaves long-dead but fueled movement, even if to arm himself, might mean the difference between discovery or the notion that a longer silence might mean her trepidation was in vain. The forests had always made their whispers, cries and shouts. Still, the shadow stood. Let her be the judge of it, should she spy his outline beneath the intensity of the sun. What would the worth of one more note sung be?
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Sticks and Stones