you eat my kind for breakfast - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Joiners (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=22) +--- Thread: you eat my kind for breakfast (/showthread.php?tid=10214) |
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- Aurèle Aston - 03-27-2010 [html] Oh hay guys. I am rejoining as Aurèle, though her son Anatole is with her (and will be played as an NPC for the time being). Information is on the Wiki if you need it. :] The crow, with its white breast, stood out amongst the otherwise brown boughs he had perched on. Aurèle paused, green eyes narrowing, and sensed rather then saw her son stop behind her. He had never once gone out of step with her since they had begun moving. Anatole had not questioned why they were leaving what he considered his home, even though she sensed he was unhappy about it. Something had spoken to her though, a whispering intuition that told her to go. Of all the things she had followed, it was her instincts alone that had proven the most reliable. After crossing the mountains, she had followed the familiar scents south. It was her intention to find Tayui once more, knowing that the remaining members of her family (those closest, at least) would be in the area. Sure enough, she caught her sister’s scent and the remaining children in the area. Anatole came to her side then, sniffing at the ground. He looked to her, his eyes her own, and flicked one ear questioningly. A long time ago, she had taught him to speak without making a sound. It was the same way that she and the crow communicated; the bird had been silent since the day he had come to her side. “We’re going to stay here for a while,” she explained. “Your aunt and cousins live in the area, and it would do you well to be with family.” His dark face crinkled slightly, as if this idea offended him. The boy was headstrong, and he always had been—ever since his brother had vanished and he had learned the truth of the world. It took strength to survive, and strength that could only be found in the one. But even Aurèle, who had spent more then four years alone, understood the boy needed to learn the rules of society. If he did not, then her hope for immortality would end with him. She would not let that stand. .aurele-a01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .aurele-a01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .aurele-a01 {margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#efecdb; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... _table.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 10px 0px 200px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#3c2e1f; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Nayati Utina - 03-27-2010 [html]
- Aurèle Aston - 03-27-2010 [html] And they're both in lupus form, in case that wasn't clear. :] It was not long before the stirring of branches ahead caused two of the trio (the woman and crow) to focus their attention on the source. Anatole did not stir until the tall werewolf made his way into view, but the boy was more startled by the large puma at his side. Wide eyed, the charcoal brushed boy remained quiet and still. In contrast, his mother shifted her weight back and let her thickly furred chest become prominent, displaying that despite caring for two mouths she was well within her healthy weight—apparent by the arctic wolf’s build. Her eyes focused intently on the male’s face. “Ah, maybe you can,” she began, a smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards. “My sister and her children live here, if my nose isn’t fooling me. My name is Aurèle Aston, and this is my son, Anatole.” A glance was spared to the boy, who finally broke his gaze from the cougar and turned his attention onto the decorated male. Though such a thing was uncommon to the boy, he nodded politely. .aurele-a01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .aurele-a01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .aurele-a01 {margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#efecdb; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... _table.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 10px 0px 200px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#3c2e1f; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Nayati Utina - 03-27-2010 [html]
- Aurèle Aston - 03-28-2010 [html] After the loss of her second son, Aurèle had become remarkably protective of the first. She had taught him day in and day out about the dangers of larger predators. Now that he was seeing one up close, it was only reinforcing everything she had taught. He could see the power in the thin-furred predator, see exactly how large she was in comparison to the wolf, and now believed everything his mother had said. Luckily, they had never run into such a thing—they had only spoken of them, and been warned by that silent crow. The man, who introduced himself as Nayati, did know her sister’s name. The woman smiled broadly, but gave no further appearance of joy. Though Tayui was one purpose in her return, she was a much smaller part of the picture. Everything now was for Anatole, whether or not he understood. Aurèle knew what she was doing, and knew that immortality was within her grasp. Both eyes sharpened, and focused on her larger Optime companion. “I’d believe stay, if Dawali would have us again.” Without waiting for a response, the woman was on her feet and advanced, though she slowed as the distance closed between the pairs. Well, trio, considering that the crow had left the branch and taken wing, cutting up into the sky and turning once more into a shadow over the she-wolf. .aurele-a01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .aurele-a01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .aurele-a01 {margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#efecdb; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... _table.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 10px 0px 200px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#3c2e1f; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Nayati Utina - 03-28-2010 [html]
- Aurèle Aston - 03-30-2010 [html] 300+. And pfft, it's fine. :] The man explained that he, like the man who led here, was not a simple outsider. Even though she had no real understanding of the tribe, Aurèle believed that such information was not given just for small talk. It meant something important—at least, it meant he had more of a right to live here. Given her abandonment, it was no surprise that Aurèle felt some doubt in returning to AniWaya. None of this showed on her face or in her body language. Of all the things that she was there was no doubt that Aurèle was a remarkable liar. At the glance, and the question, Aurèle’s ears swiveled to a sharp point atop her pale head. “To be honest, Nayati,” his name rolled from her mouth as if it was unfamiliar, the nearly French accent (for she had never left the Quebecois behind) still thick. “A feeling,” she answered. “Faque, I don’t really know.” Even though she had considered it, there had never been an admittance from the woman about the spiritual power of the silent crow following her. Especially given that no crow before or since had ever been as quiet as that beast. Behind her, Anatole began to lag behind. He was curious about the peculiar smells that were unfamiliar, ones his mother identified with large beasts that several tribe members road. “Anatole,” she called over her shoulder. “Je veux que vous écoutiez et observiez. Rappelez-vous ce que je t'ai enseigné.” “Oui mère,” the boy responded. His voice was still fair with youth, soft spoken as if he had never really needed to use his voice before. By all accounts, he had not. The most conversation that Anatole had was either with his mother or the occasional stranger that passed them. Aurèle would not allow any to stay long. .aurele-a01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .aurele-anatole{color:#a18b4f; font-weight:bold;} .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .aurele-a01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .aurele-a01 {margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#efecdb; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... _table.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 10px 0px 200px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#3c2e1f; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Nayati Utina - 03-30-2010 [html]
- Dawali Amara - 03-31-2010 [html]
- Aurèle Aston - 04-06-2010 [html] 300+ She was glad, in this moment, that there was an understanding to the fickle nature of feelings. Aurèle obeyed nothing more strongly then she did her instincts; they had kept her alive this long. By all accounts, she should have turned and gone in another direction rather then return. It was her desire to become immortal which had driven her this far south again, and it was her desire for her son to meet his family that pushed her further. While Aurèle was not one top open up, she did love her family (in a peculiar way) and found them necessary in her son’s—and by extension, her own—life. At the man’s voice, the pale woman turned her head, ears rising to a peak atop her head. For one brief moment, her eyes narrowed and darkened, but it was gone as suddenly as it had come. “It is, yes,” she answered. “The land isn’t much different then it is here, but it is much colder and snows more often during the winter.” Intentionally, she avoided speaking of her family and home pack. She no longer considered this a part of herself. It was not long after this that a red wolf appeared down the path ahead of them. She recognized him by the feathers around his head, and a friendly wag of her tail was given as a return greeting. “Thank you, Dawali,” she returned his greeting. “I’d wish to stay here, if you would have us again. You remember Anatole, though he is much changed since you saw him last,she smiled, and turned to look at the boy. He did not advance, but remained by her side, green eyes studying the man before him. It was apparent that Anatole was a creature without understanding for pack hierarchy, given he stared the older wolf in the face brashly. There was nothing said, as he was well aware it was his place to listen and not to speak. .aurele-a01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .aurele-a01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .aurele-a01 {margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#efecdb; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... _table.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 10px 0px 200px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#3c2e1f; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Dawali Amara - 04-06-2010 [html]
- Dawali Amara - 04-06-2010
- Nayati Utina - 04-07-2010 [html]
- Aurèle Aston - 04-07-2010 [html] 300+. :> The boy did not much resemble a newborn anymore—nor did he resemble anyone outside of his mother. She had been very careful about that. The other boy, who had been lost so young, had resembled his father. Even though she had never known the man, and even though she had never learned of his name or his wickedness, she had sensed it. Aurèle had known the moment he had thrust himself into her that she was being touched by evil. It did not matter. He was a tool, and she had used him just as he had used her. Both had a desire to remain immortal. Through their sons, they could be. That was if the other had survived. He had faded from her thoughts as the months had gone by, and Anatole had stopped asking about him. They had survived, and that was all that mattered. If anything was to be said of the Aston woman, it was that she managed this better then any other. After all that had happened to her, it was amazing she had made it out of that fire. That she hadn’t lost her mind as a child. She might have, the way her green eyes burned with that peculiar fire, but her smile was reassuring (whether or not it was true). “I suppose so,” she granted, sensing the presence of the crow above her. “As am I, Dawali. I’m sure we’ll settle in quickly.” Once addressed, Anatole straightened his posture, and while his face crinkled momentarily at the thought of being addressed as a child, it did not linger long. “Mhm,” he grunted. Without turning her head, Aurèle spoke sharply. “Anatole, il est a manitou, soyez poli.” Frowning slightly, the boy spoke again. “Thank you.” Satisfied with his response, the pale woman spoke to Dawali once more. “I’m certain you’re busy, we can find our way from here. “ .aurele-a01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .aurele-anatole{color:#a18b4f; font-weight:bold;} .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .aurele-a01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .aurele-a01 {margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#efecdb; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... _table.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 10px 0px 200px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#3c2e1f; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] |