weary traveler, calloused and sore

time and gravity followed you here

POSTED: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:56 pm

OOC: backdated to like. august something or other? ._.

=====

She had avoided him for the past two weeks, though she knew he was here. Vesper told her -- told her of him, told her of the small, skinny things accompanying him. It wasn't because of them -- or maybe it was. Myrika could not quite work out her feelings on that -- it was as if something was preventing her from feeling them. A numbing agent for the feelings. More pressing than them was the sheer oddity of being her father's Aquila. It had never felt strange with Kaena or any of the other relatives -- but this was her father.

Even that, Myri knew, was not the truth. There was that other thing. That had been fine as long as she didn't need to think about it. It had been okay for a long time now -- partially because of the children and their needs. There was no time to contemplate her parents' relationship when she had children of her own to care for and raise. Now, instead of just contemplating -- she'd maybe face that other thing.

It might well be her choice as to whether or not to breach the subject. The welling anxiety told her it was not, that he'd know -- no matter if it didn't make sense. The tawny coyote wandered toward the mansion, wondering -- she could smell him, but only faintly. There were two other scents that smelled vaguely akin to him, and the Aquila assumed these were her half-siblings. They did not register as strongly on her mind as her father -- it was almost as if they had failed to do so entirely.

She walked a little stiffly, her fingers twining in and out of each other as she did so. Myri did not look like an Aquila -- perhaps because she did not feel like one in this moment. The late afternoon brought a cool wind, brushing her hair past her shoulders and tangling it around her head. She yanked all of it around on one side of her head, ears pressed back in momentary irritation. The sparsely-forested edges of the forest were visible after a few more moments and cresting an impossibly long, low hill that ended abruptly in a brief swell.
Myrika Tears

User avatar
Sie
Luperci Chaos Star And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again.
the gunslinger's lament
Rota Vitae
the mask & the marrow

POSTED: Mon Sep 23, 2013 8:08 pm

15 August works. Let's say this takes place before Myri meets Gehenna. [384]

--

He had cataloged facts about the territories in his head. He knew where most structures were now, knew where most took up residence, knew a few decent areas for hunting in the nearby woods, knew exactly how many skulls lined these borders (more than were on the old beach by a fair margin, it seemed). In this sense, he had explored and gotten to know the territories, but he was a long way yet from feeling like he belonged. In part this was because he didn't want to (he wasn't like his brothers), but he already knew that it was fairly likely that he would die in the pack he'd been born in. Maybe he couldn't bring himself to call it home again yet, but he was done wandering. He knew that much.

He needed to see Myrika (and his grandchildren, and perhaps his mother, and where was Cassandra?), but he had let time pass and awkwardness grow, and then the guilt prevented him from seeking her out as much as anything else. His paranoia happily came up with theories as to why his firstborn hadn't come to him, and while he didn't truly believe that she didn't want to see him, neither did he shut away the ideas completely. It was certain that a thousand things had happened since he'd seen her last; what sort of divide did that create between them? He wanted to hear of everything she'd been through, but he didn't. And he didn't want to share his own stories with her.

The late summer breeze rustled the leaves above him. Kharma still wore his cloak, but he had not had fresh mint in many months already. It had been pointless and impossible to seek it when he had been traveling with Avaiki and Gehenna, and it seemed unnecessary anymore, even if he honestly enjoyed the smell. It didn't matter if he still pretended that he was not Lykoi; he was Infernian and that was enough. As he walked out from the thicket of trees and back towards the shoreline caves, he saw Myrika silhouetted against on the white, cloudy sky. Even with just one eye now, it was easy to tell. The dark coywolf paused and waited.

POSTED: Mon Sep 23, 2013 9:42 pm

--


See galleries for credit.

A shadow emerged from the forest -- and at first, Myrika thought it was just a part of the forest itself. Gray-brown like the surrounding trees, it did seem part of the earth. The movement was strange, though, and Myrika saw part of the gray-brown turn and flap with the wind -- as a cloak might. The wind was at her back, but she hardly needed scent to recognize him.

Part of her, that part that would never grow beyond tiny paws and newly-hearing ears, wanted to run to him in abandon, yelping and yipping her joy for all the coyotes and all the wolves outside their borders to hear. That desire was surprisingly swaying, to the point that she had taken a few half-running steps forward before slowing to a pace more befitting. It was as much else in her life -- containment in the name of appearance, more so now that she had experienced a certain loss of control.

He was waiting -- not moving. Maybe he didn't want her to come toward him after all; maybe he preferred the other children. Maybe he'd only come to see her a moment and he'd disappear as soon as she spoke to him. A hundred thoughts spun her head around, but she saw his face had changed, too. That was the thing to break her purposeful stride and turn the last several yards into a half stumble, half jog. She abandoned whatever stupid thing had been keeping her from running toward him with outstretched arms.

Myrika Tears

User avatar
Sie
Luperci Chaos Star And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again.
the gunslinger's lament
Rota Vitae
the mask & the marrow

POSTED: Tue Sep 24, 2013 6:24 am

[396]

--

Kharma would be lying if he tried to convince anyone that he did not want to belong. He had never wanted to leave his family, his pack, or the place he grew up. He would have stayed in Inferni forever if things had been different, if they hadn't betrayed him first. Maybe he should have expected it though. The signs had been there that said nothing had ever been right, but they had been hard for him to see as a parentless child. Gabriel had done his best, maybe, but Gabriel had part of what had never been right, too. There were a lot of 'what ifs' and 'could have beens' to consider. But Kharma had no room for regret. The thing about make believe scenarios was that there was never an answer. He could have done everything differently and things could still be the same.

His children had always been his saving grace. Everything else he'd ever done might have been wrong, but he would never regret becoming a father. The daughters Rachias bore him before abandoning him had kept him going a long time, and kept him going still.

There was a tightness in his chest as Myrika approached. Her hair was wilder, or it was the wind, but she looked a lot less like her mother now. She was older. Of course she was. She was wiser, perhaps more grounded than Rachias had ever been. She was reliable and responsible. Kharma knew without a doubt that she was the best leader Inferni had seen in a long, long time, and it had not ruined her yet. She was healthy and whole, with a mate and children. She was happy, wasn't she? They had not taken that from her. He held fast to this belief as he moved from his rest and met his tawny daughter, catching her immediately in a tight hug.

"Myrika," he said quietly, half-burying his nose into her hair. She smelled of horses and pine and salt. She smelled of Inferni, of a mingle of hybrids and coyotes, of warmth and smokey fires. He was grateful. The one-eyed coywolf did not believe gods or higher powers; he had never prayed before in his life, and he had no one to be thankful to, but the relief was overwhelming all the same. "I've missed you."

POSTED: Tue Sep 24, 2013 9:48 pm

--


See galleries for credit.

Myrika hadn't realized it until just then, on seeing her father amongst the trees and on the grass she called home, but she had lived more of her life without him now. She was sure he had been with her, coloring her every thought and decision, guiding her while gone -- but she hadn't really understood the poor substitute that fantasy was until his arms were around her.

She may have given in and yelped, but it was a soft little thing, sure not to carry to any other lurking ears even if they were close. She threw her arms around a ribcage thinner than she remembered, tucking her face against his chest as she squeezed. Myri felt the familiar sensation of cloth against her arms as she did so, and she could at first only nod vigorously in response. She was too afraid the speech would devolve into barking and whining and more yelping.

Daddy, she said. As she feared, the word was a little more drawn out than it should have been, but it was not a full-blown whine. I'm so glad you're here, I'm sorry, I should have come and see you, I didn't, I just, she stammered, finding the words dead on her tongue. Whatever stupid reason had kept her away?

Myrika Tears

User avatar
Sie
Luperci Chaos Star And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again.
the gunslinger's lament
Rota Vitae
the mask & the marrow

POSTED: Wed Sep 25, 2013 7:37 am

[357]

He was still a time traveler, it seemed, and maybe it would always be so when he stood in Inferni. The territories were not the same and there was nothing concretely nostalgic about it, but it reminded him of childhood all the same. His mother was there, somewhere, though he had not seen her and did not particularly want to. All the same, the knowledge that she was there, that she lived yet, made him feel like he had walked again into the past where he was a puppy again. There were rocks on the beach and salt in the air and skulls on the borders. These things were the same. But six years had passed. He was old, in context. That Kaena was immortal did not make him any less old. Lifetimes ago, his father had died younger than him. The daughter in his arms was already older than Laruku had been.

And yet, she was still a child, his child, and would always be. Kharma squeezed back, then pulled back to lick her face. "I should have come too," he said simply. "To see you and your mate and children. I'm sorry."

There were things in the past he wished he could hold on to forever. Even things that he had thought he'd left behind long ago on the old beach. Innocence, family, earnestness. Some things he would never get back; that was acceptable. That was life. Other things though, maybe he could have it back if he stopped...something. His family was here now. Not Lykoi. Myrika was here, and his grandchildren. Cassandra was here, somewhere, close enough. And Avaiki and Gehenna were here now too, and maybe someday Avernus and Neraka would come as well. His children were the only family he recognized, but that was enough.

Family was home. So this was home. With his daughter. "I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I'm sorry the burden of leading as fallen to you..." He looked at her with his one red eye and smiled, perhaps sadly. "But I know you've made this place better already."

POSTED: Sat Oct 12, 2013 1:37 am

--


See galleries for credit.

That reason was lost somewhere and it no longer mattered. Myrika had never imagined her father would come to Inferni, that he would stay in Inferni. She had known as much when they parted, before she came here. It had been truth as definite and real as the ground beneath her feet. The tawny-hued coyote had lived long enough to realize that others changed, that she herself changed, too -- but somehow, she hadn't realized that a parent could change, too.

He pulled back and she felt the warmth of his tongue on her cheek. Her turquoise eyes fell on his scars again. One hand reached to brush over the highest point over his brow. It was a momentary and almost absent gesture, as if she needed assurance that such a stark physical change had occurred. Her gaze refocused on his and she shook her head, firmly, to deny his apology's necessity. Her hand dropped to his and squeezed tightly. The feeling of absolute safety and comfort, one she had been well-accustomed to as a child, was enough to set her to whimpering happily.

It's okay, all of it, she said. It's good here. I'm so glad you're here, she said, surprised the words formed and left her mouth without major malfunction or the slightest hint of a whine. I'm a good leader, and whatever made you leave, it won't happen. I won't let it, she said, not knowing what had happened or why. She clutched at the hand with both of hers, as if afraid he'd disappear into thin air now that she'd made contact and shared real words with him.

Myrika Tears

User avatar
Sie
Luperci Chaos Star And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again.
the gunslinger's lament
Rota Vitae
the mask & the marrow

POSTED: Thu Oct 17, 2013 10:45 pm

(336)

When he had been young, he had never imagined that he would leave. He had never wanted to. And he had never wanted anyone else to leave, either. When he did leave, when he decided he would stay gone, he had not imagined that he would ever return, and he had not wanted anyone else to, either. Perhaps it had been selfishness wrapped up in the notion of protection. The betrayals dealt by his brothers, by his blood, and by Inferni, could have happened elsewhere. There was no proof that any of it was truly tied to the clan. But it was so easy to believe. Staying away as a solution was easy to accept. The small bit of true happiness he'd had in his life had followed his abandonment of his birth pack. But it hadn't lasted.

His smile stayed. "I believe you," he told his daughter. That she was a good leader, that she believed it was good there, that she would never let fire consume them, willingly. Would that be enough? It would have to be. It was the best anyone could do. (But fire always came, in the end, didn't it?) Myrika's hand brushing over his scar was a ghost touch. Something he couldn't see and could barely feel. The sensations felt distant, and he only half-believed in them. Maybe he'd never had that eye. Maybe everything he'd ever seen from it had been pretend. It was often enough now that Kharma wondered if the mad knew they were mad.

"Is your sister here, too?" he asked, somewhat tentatively. "I thought I caught her scent in the area, but...it's been a long time since I've seen her." It was hard sometimes to affirm that she had been real. Things that only existed in his memories became questionable after a while. Had they been dreams after all? If no one else could remember, or see, or hear them, what were they really?

POSTED: Sun Oct 20, 2013 12:48 am

314


See galleries for credit.

Myrika had always wished she could entice her sister to stay. It was the best way to keep her safe -- but safety could too easily turn to a cage. The tawny-hued coyote would not have it that way. Myrika shook her head in response, and gave a small smile. No, she isn't, she said. She visits sometimes, you can see her then. The thought of them all together again was enough to make her red-tinged muzzle split into a smile. Maybe her sister would finally stay, too -- maybe they could be together for longer than just a visit. She did not voice that hope, though.

She's so pretty, you'll see, the tawny hybrid said. She wished everyone from Thornloe could see, but they were all dead -- or moved on. Myrika thought the former more likely, and so it was probably poor of her to wish they could come back just to see what Cassie had grown into. She could have spoken of the night she found her sister bloodied and hurt, the weeks afterward -- but she didn't. Myri did not think it was her place -- maybe because some smaller part of her was still wary of her father's discipline. She did not want to be the catalyst for her sister being dragged home by the earlobe -- yet, they were adults now, too, and that wasn't a very real fear.

And you can meet my puppies, she added, abruptly cutting her own thoughts short. The tawny-hued woman did not want to dwell on sadness when there was a perfectly happy reunion unfolding. Someday, she would stand and face one of them as a two-legged adult, as her father did now. The sensation filled her with a sense of oddness, but it was not terrible. On the contrary, it was weird and cheerful all at once.

Myrika Tears

User avatar
Sie
Luperci Chaos Star And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again.
the gunslinger's lament
Rota Vitae
the mask & the marrow

POSTED: Mon Nov 18, 2013 7:24 am

omg this is awful. time to put this thread out of its misery?

Of course he wondered whether Cassandra refrained from joining her sister because of the promise she'd made. They had been easy words from long ago, but he had not forgotten them. He had been relieved to hear them then, though he doubted that he ever really believed. And yet his children had grown up kind and earnest, and they had remembered too, and maybe then, he had hoped and dared to have believe. All the same, he would never see his daughters' curiosity has a broken promise or a betrayal, and he had had faith (he had to) that they'd be okay, even if they came here. Myrika had come. Myrika had stayed. She had her reasons. What were Cassandra's?

Kharma nodded and did not stop smiling, though perhaps some sadness and weariness came to tinge it. He didn't know. He felt too many things and there was only one face to express them through and he could only feel about half of it. He laughed, too, low and quiet, like a man who'd forgotten how, and who thought that the noise might spook a child. "I'm old now, aren't I? To have grandchildren. I wish I could have been here sooner." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "But I'm here now, and...I intend to stay, so..." So what? He laughed again, stupidly, awkwardly. "I'm...I'm glad you're all right. I'm glad you're doing well. I'm glad you're here too."

Dead Topics