Re: [M] like a seventh sign, one double crossed

POSTED: Sat Jun 27, 2020 11:13 am

He thought to tell her that he had seen heaven, but knew she wouldn't believe him. No one would – he didn't really believe it either. That world had felt like the land of the dead. Even after they had come back, even after he continued to suffer and bleed, he felt as if a part of his spirit had been left behind.

It was a big world. Marlowe was getting older and lacked the capacity to contain all the things he had seen and done.

Letting go was the only solution. He could drop feelings and blame all too easily in the name of self-preservation.

Marlowe was smaller than Adina, who like her brother towered above most people. There was too much wolf in their mother, he secretly thought – Versace had been a holy woman, but she had been made from impurity. This seemed to be the way of all things God had a hand in, Marlowe secretly thought.

Like Lady Luck, there were two sides to everything.

“Y'can eat 'em. It's quick medicine too, if y'cut it open,” he explained. The way he led them diverted towards the south. The grasses here were still tall and in some places the heads of colorful wildflowers popped up. The breeze made everything move and come to life. Even with the thread of rain not far off, birdsong filled the air and a few rabbits, spooked by the arrival of the Luperci, fled in various directions.

“The stalk's the part that really matters. You can use the flowers if you make tea, but they ain't as good as the middle. Tastes real awful if it's too old,” he explained. “It's probably flowerin' now. Hits about this tall,” Marlowe indicated the height with his hand, then lifted it higher. “But it can get real fuckin' high. We're lookin' for purple flowers growin' like a cone.”
The whole question here is: am I a monster, or a victim myself?
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The Troupe
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Luperci Every man has a price to charge and a price to pay. Take peace from the earth and make men slay each other. The Cursed
plead the fifth
hell is other people
the devil made me look

POSTED: Wed Jul 08, 2020 4:05 pm

this post wouldn't end lmao forgive me

She didn’t wonder about the things he said; taking him at face value was easier, and the alternative felt like work. It was true though, that she would not have believed he’d seen heaven; though she didn’t necessarily believe he was evil, she didn’t believe he was entirely good.

That did not preclude him from seeing heaven above, but it required expiation, something she couldn’t imagine Marlowe contemplating. Like her, he blamed his circumstances on outside forces beyond his control.

Unlike her, he wasn’t landlocked into the past.

When she thought about the future, it was a hopeless sort of thing. She couldn’t imagine happiness, a pack, a family, or even children, though she had desired all of these things at one time or another. Confronted with the ongoing struggle of racism—such as Malik’s eagerness to blame Jethro despite having known him infinitely longer than Indis—Adina no longer felt as certain about the things she wanted.

It was easier to focus on simpler desires; to do good, to heal. Anything beyond that bordered on hopefulness, an emotion that was too burdensome to bear.

While she heeded him with half-an-ear, her head bobbing methodically as if he had her full attention, she listened for other things too. The sway of the grass, the way the stalks brushed against one another, it almost sounded like the ocean. In the way of the world, she supposed that wasn’t so unusual. There were patterns in the world around them the same way there were cycles in behavior.

“Which part do you cut?” She asked, flicking her gaze to him for a moment. It seemed an obvious question, but plants varied. Sometimes the leaves were good, or the petals, or the part in the center.

Sometimes other parts were poisonous; too often, life and death existed in the same specimen, just like Luperci themselves.

When he expanded upon the topic, she imagined a lupine, which she knew were poisonous. Reserving her judgement, however, the coyote woman examined the wildflowers around them. Many did not fit the description he’d offered; there was a riot of color here, and only a few of them were purple.

Examining a bulbous red plant with leaves that purpled near the edges, she frowned. It was low-lying, and she noted that raising her line of sight would help eliminate plants that didn’t fit his description.

“Do you see anything that looks right?” She asked eventually, frustrated. If she saw it, she could remember it.
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Sticks and Stones