Historias antiguas

P. Asura

POSTED: Thu Sep 06, 2018 5:16 pm

Sorry for terrible start, but here we are xD :: Words→ 000
Leto's fingers worked across the guitars strings just like the old man's mind whirled around in his head. He'd not left the house much, which would have been a reason for Sabina to berate Esqueleto if he hadn't just spend the last year travelling across the lands to find this new home of his. Yes, the old dog was cherishing what was now his, something he got to own, but he was also spending the days planning on how to fix the place up. Of sorts, the bungalow was a masterpiece. It was a generous size, including the overgrown gardens attached behind the property. It was far enough away from any packs or settlements that Leto didn't feel too close but it was also just near enough to a somewhat active town that the old man could venture and socialise should he choose to do so. But, not all things were perfect, in fact Leto preferred those that had imperfections. The house was a mess of ruined, rotted wood and aged dust. It would need a lot of work to become a home and not just a house. Sabina was learning well from Leto about how to pull up the old floorboards and do what repairs they could with the little to no resources they had, but even the inspiring young lady couldn't perform miracles.

As much as it felt sour to think about, the pair might need help in bringing the bungalow to life. The old man snuffed the tune flowing from his guitar, slapping his hand against the old strings as he sat with his magenta eyes staring unfocused. He'd picked a spot in the city, Amherst, debating whether to check out the bar Sabina told him about. It would mean being around others, which deterred Leto, but the thought of good alcohol had the old man salivating. He'd got this far, sitting on the best piece of stone he could find for his aching leg and trying to let the catharsis of playing his guitar sooth his thoughts and his ruined limb.

The afternoon sun was low but not gone, the old man still had time to decide whether to go and mingle or waddle his way back home. For now he shuffled a bit, trying to get more comfortable on the cold stone as he tuned his instrument. Leto's hand stilled over the strings for a moment as he decided on a tune, before beginning to play a piece he'd usually play for his master on lazy afternoons, a slow piece that liked to jump and skip on occasion like a skittish songbird. The old man's magenta eyes almost drooped closed as he drifted along with his music, but that didn't stop the world-wise dog from keeping himself aware of what was around him.
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POSTED: Tue Sep 11, 2018 11:41 pm

Optime | Amherst; late afternoon | NPCs: Pan and Muddy (+535)

Thanks for starting!

Things had been tense lately. Her family was set on leaving the world they knew for a distant memory of her father’s in a land only he knew of. It meant leaving Saul and Muddy in the hands of someone else…likely permanently unless they could somehow barter with an outbound ship to take the exotic meal-turned-pet and large horse with them. The answer had been more black and white in the young medic’s eyes, either they came with them, or the family didn’t leave. Needless to say, it had led to an argument between her uncle and she, and Asura had had to get away.

She’d ridden to Amherst, a place where she had once frequented during her days as a Sapien due to the popular bar that was located within the center of the town. Without a pack, the Creo had nobody to interact with besides her family, and the bar was the only thing that came to mind where she could drown herself in the sound of others, be in the proximity of Luperci other than her own blood kin. It had been later in the afternoon when she had arrived, perfect timing for the bar to pick up its usual patrons, Asura knew.

Muddy’s footsteps echoed out softly as they moved down the crumbling roadway. The cement and cobblestone had given way to Mother Nature with the absence of the humans to tend to them. Overhead, her young raven, Pan flew, zigging and zagging as he please and things caught his eye. The bird was one of her few friends that had remained when their pack had disbanded and its members had gone their separate ways.

They had been leisurely making their way towards the bar when a strange melody reached Asura’s ears. It was unlike anything she had heard before. It sounded like someone plucking a bow string, but in a way that it created music. Curious, the medic turned her horse to investigate the sound, and, above, Pan altered his course to follow her own. It didn’t’ take her long to find the source of the tune, and, upon seeing the individual, the young woman dismounted from her tall stallion.

It was a gentleman of an aged, ivory hue. He sat in the middle of a small square upon what may have once been a working fountain back when the humans still thrived in the town. In his arms was a strange…wooden thing. It reminded her of a bread paddle that Ember used to use in her café back on the island. This one though, it was bigger, and it had a hole that looked to be cut out of the middle of it, and strings that the old dog had been strumming rhythmically.

“I’ve never heard anything quite like that before,” she complimented loud enough that the male could hear her. She offered the stranger a friendly smile and walked towards him, leading Muddy by his reins while Pan came down to perch on a nearby stonework. “What…is that that you’re making that music from?” She asked curiously, pointing at the object in his hands.

Asura Creo

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POSTED: Thu Sep 13, 2018 8:22 am

No worries! :: Words→ 000
Other than the dance of his fingers against strings, Leto was motionless. He could be misplaced as a statue, like the ones that no doubt once belonged in a square like this one, something eternal and still. But in his mind, the old man wondered, letting the music filtering through his ear stubs keep him calm like it always did. The image of a warm afternoon sun, the rare quiet of Villa Uníon, the soft breathing of Leto's old master alive and well. On occasion, Leto felt a pang in his chest, like a force squeezing against his ribs and catching the old man's breath. He could only compare the feeling to that of a strange kind of sorrow, the kind Leto had only felt when his family disowned him and made him their slave, or the kind he felt watching others fall to a similar fate year after year. Or even the kind Leto felt when his master was dead, taken by old age and the inevitable pull of the end. Leto never would have thought finding the man who'd spent years treating him like dirt, using the love Leto had once tried to share with him against the ivory dog and making him suffer for his unrequited feelings, would feel so heart-rending. That suppressed feeling of love Leto had came back in a storm, the sorrow of knowing he'd never get a chance to change his master's heart, it was what drove Leto to finally escape the Villa.

Leto would never miss that place, for all the horrors within the mudbrick town, but he'd spent his whole life there. Nearly a decade of living, even if it was living in chains, created a feeling of longing on occasion for the old man. It was a bizarre emotion, that made Leto angry at himself for even considering missing that hell hole, but the old man couldn't stop himself from feeling.

The old man blinked, picking up the sound of clacking hooves on cobblestone, and the beat of wings as a dark feathered bird landed nearby. Magenta eyes acknowledged the crow before they turned to look towards the approaching beast of burden and it's rider, just as they spoke out to the old man. She was female, of silver fur and an age similar to that of Sabina's. Leto's old eyes watched her suspiciously, his brow folding down over his eyes whilst his lower eye lids drooped down slack from age. She complimented his music, which still played from his fingers as if they had a mind of their own, the old muscles so used to working against guitar strings that Leto hardly needed to pay them much focus.

"Guitarra."

The old man replied simply, his voice raspy from the day of silence.

"In this tongue, it is only 'Guitar', I think. You have not heard before?"

The idea of others not knowing about the music Leto had dedicated his life to, beyond service to Villa Uníon, astounded the old man at times. Though it was nice to know his craft was rare, it made Leto feel more special than just as an ugly-looking old dog.

"Guitar makes good music. Like feeling. If you feel happy, it is happy." Leto's fingers skipped over the strings in quicker, jollier chords to prove his point, before they slowed considerably to something much slower and lower toned, "If you feel sad, then music is sad."

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