I'm not about to give thanks or apologize. - 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: I'm not about to give thanks or apologize. (/showthread.php?tid=14843) |
- Ezekiel de le Poer - 01-28-2011 [html]
A cold wind rose at his back and tousled his long bangs. Ezekiel breathed out a cloud of steam as he walked, pale feet following that invisible trail that he knew by heart. It had been two years since he had left, but his memory was made up of maps and survival instincts that knew the way home. He walked on two legs now, as he had for most of this journey. His hands had been needed—the coyote hunted best with the bow on his back, and it had served him well. Despite the journey, his weight had only dropped slightly. Winter fur hid this fact. He had grown into his body, tall and broad-shouldered despite his coyote blood. [/html]
He did not bear new scars. Those across his left eye were enough for him to learn to be wise. The demon crow-wolf had taught the boy an important lesson. While there had been many fights none had left scars. A now-dead woman had taught him to heal, and Ezekiel remembered her lessons well. Her brother had told the boy (who was now a man) the news when they had last crossed paths. Months had passed since then. A war had come and gone in that time. Age showed itself in his eyes if not in his body, for they had hardened some. He was not yet corrupted, as he had made a promise to the woad-painted warrior years ago. For all that had happened, he had not succumbed to darkness. His world was not rose-tinted anymore, and he had seen horrors, but he had kept his faith and kept his word. That was all he was capable of doing when such monstrosities had threatened to destroy him. He did not need to wear his scars to feel them. Silent, he approached from the west. A wolf skull, bleached by sun and time, greeted him. The prince found the barbaric practice held meaning now, and understood why his father did such things. He had seen its power in the desert. He had seen a great deal of terrible things in the desert. A shadow crossed over him and he looked to the sky, a gray-white thing that spoke of snow, and smiled as the raven descended. Marlowe had once been a great confidant, and as he landed on Ezekiel’s shoulder they spoke in low-speech and waited together. - Talitha de le Poer - 01-28-2011 [html]3+ [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 01-28-2011 [html]
The bird told Ezekiel many things. In his own language, Marlowe spoke eloquently. He told the prince of the wars that had come and gone, of his father’s enemy and defeat, of family that he did not know. It was reassuring to hear that things had not changed that much at all. Ezekiel felt like he was in many ways a stranger now, but he had been like that for a long time. Most of his life had been spent on the road, traveling as his grandfather’s father once had along abandoned highways. His feet had taken on a dull, no-color sort of color that came from asphalt and sand. Even the tips of his hair had been bleached white by an unforgiving sun. [/html]
A figure moved in the corner of his vision and Ezekiel turned to it. He inhaled sharply. There, after two years of vain searching, was his prize. She was not the girl he remembered. There was a woman there with his sister’s eyes, with a darker pelt then the sister he remembered, but she smelled like Talitha and those eyes were unmistakable. Marlowe sensed the tension in the boy’s shoulder and squeezed him gently, as if reminding him to breathe. Ezekiel’s own golden eyes focused on her face. They were like parts pulled from family they did not entirely know. She had russet hues like their mother, dark points like their father, while he stole what light had come from Gabriel’s father and made it pure once more. He had stolen his father’s eyes as well, though they were not half so harsh. A broad smile broke across his face, for he felt nothing but elation at seeing his sister once more. Without waiting for an invitation, he crossed (sending Marlowe aloft) and embraced her, taking care not to crush her prize. He was too burdened for much else, with the bow and quiver strung across his chest and the military-style bag’s strap crossing these things. “So are you. I guess I wasn’t as far off from finding you as I thought.” Humor, no sign of anything but that joy. How much had he really lost looking for her? He showed no sign of such a thing. - Talitha de le Poer - 01-28-2011 [html]3+ Bleck. Bad post. ;~; [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 01-29-2011 [html]
He was still a golden boy, still smiling and still laughing at the world as if it was not such a wicked place. The scars on his face had half-healed, leaving only two deep indications that he had ever known pain. One would not suspect there had ever been suffering in his life outside of this. One would never suspect the terrible things he had seen and suffered. Ezekiel was in this way perhaps more dangerous than his father. [/html]
She felt thin, but the scent of Inferni was not fully laden in her pelt yet. He imagined something sharp and sweet but did not identify it for the short time he lingered that close to her. Instead he shifted his weight back and pulled at the string of the bow across his chest—the other two were not uncomfortable, having been worn for years now. Ezekiel continued to smile, though he had release the girl close to tears and knew they would come if he so allowed them to. “No sense in apologizing for things we can’t control,” he offered in that now deeper voice, though it still floated much higher than their gruff father. Yet as Talitha made no move to summon Gabriel, the blonde’s eyes hardened for only a moment. Had something happened between them? It was gone as suddenly as it had come, and Ezekiel let out a coyote-like call. After a long pause, a wolfish one answered. The young man chuckled. “Sounds like he’s too far to run all the way up here. Do you want me to wait for you before I go find him?” - Talitha de le Poer - 01-29-2011 [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 01-31-2011 [html]
He carried the tools and trappings of men. This was what had kept him alive the first time he had been alone, after he had left Tristan, after he had found Siobhan. It was not as if he was incapable of surviving without them, but hunting from a distance saved valuable energy. Ezekiel had been an angry boy, filled with hurt after his first terrible betrayal. So he had found comfort in battle, found that he felt truly alive when he rushed into a warzone. There had only been one for him, but he still felt that desire within him and still knew he had always been destined to be a soldier. [/html]
Yet he looked almost unscathed by such things, and he did not speak of them openly. He looked normal, as far as that word could stretch, and looked as if he might have dodged a bullet with the darkness that followed his family. Perhaps he had. After all, he had been raised by warriors outside of his father’s command—by Tristan, whom he considered his uncle, who had fought with his teeth and the bow; by Cwmfen, whom had brought him knowledge of the warrior’s way and cast upon him his first true defeat through her father—and did not know Inferni’s shadows and darkness the way his sister did. The blonde looked puzzled by her comment and smiled impishly. “We’re getting old,” he pointed out, noting the now visible curves of her hips and breasts. Her hips, especially, spoke of age. If he had been a student of Fatin’s longer, he might have recognized the signs of passing motherhood. “Take care of that,” the coyote nodded to the skull in her hand. “I’ll wait.” - Talitha de le Poer - 02-01-2011 [html]3+ [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-02-2011 [html]
She spoke of children and the coyote smiled ruefully, but said nothing. There was no place in Ezekiel’s path for children or a woman. His purpose had been singular, approached with the same headstrong drive that he had carried since birth. Had he stopped to indulge, he would have lost his course. Some things, though, were unavoidable—the war was unavoidable—but he had welcomed that and loved it in a way that he would never love a woman. Too many unsaid things passed between warriors, things that could not be understood by those who did not speak the tongue. [/html]
Ezekiel watched her move, knowing he was studying her as he might any other stranger. Talitha’s walk was not the one he recalled. Trepidation lingered in her steps, as if she might stumble and fall into some unseen abyss. The boy did not need to guess why such unspoken fears haunted his sister. For the briefest moment, while her back was turned, his eyes turned remarkably terrible like their father’s. Hatred still lingered within the boy, though deep in the same recesses where it remained hidden and unseen to the world. She rose and he was all smiles, all sunshine and summer days, and she took his hand as a child might. The blonde grasped her own firmly, unwilling to let her spirits fall. “I’m glad you’re back too,” he replied, walking with ease in familiar land, silent despite the things he wore—each were strapped down carefully so that he barely made any noise. “What’s happened since I was gone?” - Talitha de le Poer - 02-02-2011 [html]3+ [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-03-2011 [html]
The twins (for they were, in truth) were like the sun and the moon. Two parts of the true Aquarius, extrovert and introvert, but they were as similar to one another as siblings could be. Despite their different appearances, one had only see the way they behaved around one another to know that they fit together with grace and ease. Apart they had become like the sun and the moon, forever chasing each other across the sky, and now together they would become something new. [/html]
Ezekiel’s smile shrunk only slightly as she spoke of her terrors, but he squeezed her palm once to reassure her of his own presence. No one would be capable of hurting his dear sister with him here. Gabriel might have recognized the political agenda of a war, but Ezekiel valued his sister far more—he would have dragged her out of that dark place before their now-dead uncle had struck. If only, if only… It was her next words that made his smile fade, eyes turning somber as he realized the loss. She had gone on and grown up before he had come back, and it had cost her. The coyote looked ahead, unwilling to show her the shade of his eyes. “There will be water if God wills it,” he murmured, quoting phrases that stuck in his memory. Ezekiel believed in higher things, and lower, and he knew that everything happened for a reason. If she lost her children, there was most certainly a reason. “If you want them, I’m sure you’ll have them someday.” - Talitha de le Poer - 02-03-2011 [html]3+ [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-04-2011 [html]
A boy’s first love is his mother. Ezekiel did not subscribe to this fact. His mother had left him, and the woman he knew as his godmother had duties beyond his world. So his love had all been given to the first woman in his life, his twin, his sister, and he had loved her as much as he could any living thing. The blonde boy smiled at her laugh, for it reassured him she would not be taken from him by another man yet. Dimly he thought of Siobhan, but he dismissed the anger. The one who mattered was here, before him. [/html]
For one instance he thought of the journey he had made and considered telling her everything. Yet the scars over his eye ached, causing him to wink at her and smile as if nothing was wrong. One could not deny that the boy was a great pretender. “Oh, a few,” he admitted, brushing his hair away from his face with one hand. “I spent some time a little further north, way west of here. Picked up a little bit of their language. Spent some time with Uncle Tristan. Nothing all that exciting.” He would not burden her with the thought of war. That would be too much for her. - Talitha de le Poer - 02-04-2011 [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-05-2011 [html]
She confused the directions, which made the boy smile fondly. There was nothing in the east for anyone—Ezekiel remembered the nightmare memory of being carried through fire and smoke, crying and coughing as the sooty stuff assaulted his senses. Inferni was lucky. Without Gabriel’s knowledge of the pass (and his knowledge of the fire) they would have most certainly been stranded as the wolves were, trying to cross a mountain that they had no business climbing. “There’s a few mountains that way,” he explained, if only to humor her. [/html]
“Good. If you keep your butt here then I won’t need to go roam the wilds to find you.” A jest, but one that spoke a great deal about what he had done for her. Talitha and Talitha alone would command such devotion—it was not as warm, not as open as her’s for him, but he had chased her ghost across the Canadian wilderness. “Besides, as fun as it is, I’m horrible at speaking their language.” Ezekiel in truth had not gone half so far as their father once journeyed; he had spent the past two years in and around Quebec; though given the size of the place, this was not hard to do. This also explained his slight accent, as he had picked it up there. - Talitha de le Poer - 02-05-2011 3+ [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-08-2011 [html]
His amber eyes followed her face, that strange unspoken shift playing across her face as she spoke. She still was too open, too readable. Anyone could destroy her if they sought, with teeth and claws and words to break her spirit back down. He worried for her because he considered her weak—and not in the brutish, chauvinistic idea of the word. Weak because she was far too open, far too soft to survive out in the world. She needed to be protected, she needed to be kept safe, and he knew that. [/html]
If there was a second layer to her words, Ezekiel did not hear them. He laughed again, one calloused hand rising to rub against his chin. “Oh, not with these scars. You should have seen them before they healed up.” Five to four, as they had healed, and finally down to two. He was lucky he had not gone blind. “Speaking of the old man…” he said lightly, winking at her. - Gabriel de le Poer - 02-08-2011 [html] Talitha’s return had been a welcome surprise, and to hear Ezekiel’s voice on the wind was another surprise. Still, he had associated his son’s return with his daughter’s presence. Things always cycled, it seemed. The raven had flown overhead and called out in his broken voice, but left before the children arrived. They came across the crest of the western hills, red and gold against the white and dark brown-black of the winter that coated the landscape. Ezekiel was taller than his sister. Gabriel was not surprised by this. He loped towards them evenly, and greeted his son with a wagging tail. Ezekiel knelt and embraced his father briefly before rising, and Gabriel sat to study the pair. They had both certainly changed from the children he had carried across the mountain so many years ago. “I guess you’re the one that’s bringing home strays now, hm Talitha?” A pointed look was cast to his son, who thankfully was without any company in tow. .gabe-fireiron .ooc {font-style:italic; } .gabe-fireiron p {padding:0px 20px 5px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;} .gabe-fireiron b {color:#9b590d; letter-spacing:-.2px;} .gabe-fireiron {background-color:#FFFFFF; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... ndiron.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:160px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #000000; font-family: tahoma, serif; font-size:11px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:400px; text-align:justify; } .gabe-fireiron .separator{width:300px; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:0 auto 5px auto;} </style> - Talitha de le Poer - 02-08-2011 [html] 3+ Way to go with the misunderstanding, Talitha![/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-09-2011 [html]
The man that had come at him was a demon, seeking his earthly daughter through the boy she trained. Ezekiel hated him for that. It was the path of a coward, and went against everything he had been taught. Darkness had tried, while he laid in agony, to slip within him but the boy had fought and won. Cwmfen had made him promise her to still from her path, and he had. But there had been others. Many others had come after. He had been angry, hurt, and he had used those things to fight for him. Now he fought without such emotions—he fought simply because he loved to fight. [/html]
Muscles hardened by combat rippled under his fur as he rose, readjusting the weight of armaments that no longer felt different from his own fur. Gabriel’s little joke met Ezekiel with a chuckle, but his sister found reason to fear for him. Seeing her distress, he moved closer and gripped her hand again. “I’m sure I look like a rogue by now,” he offered, tilting his head so his bangs tumbled into his face. “Your father is right, his daughter could do much better.” A grin, toothy and almost challenging—though Ezekiel would never usurp his father in public, he felt he had earned the right to do so privately. |