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) |
- Gabriel de le Poer - 02-09-2011 [html] Gabriel saw the same worry form on Talitha’s face, but it was her brother that moved first. Thankful for this, the gruff Aquila smiled warmly. Even now he was trying to protect her, and she him (in her own way). Perhaps they would have survived that war if they had stayed. The thought was greeted with Haku’s grinning snarl and Andrezej’s mocking laughter and he knew it was not so. Safety did not exist while such men lived. Now that they were dead, now that these children were grown, there was time for peace. “Your brother,” Gabriel emphasized the word. “, had a habit of bringing home all sorts of lost children. None of them are here now,” he added, catching a shadow as it flickered over his son’s face. “, and hopefully he has time to pick up duties beyond finding more pups for other people to babysit.” .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 - 02-09-2011 [html]3+ [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-09-2011 [html]
Posting as both since I am being lazy. << [/html]
Generous. The word sounded odd. Ezekiel had been something of that sort. Siobhan was rescued by thievery, taken because she would have been broken and bruised if left in her mother’s care. He had done his best by her in many respects, but he could not teach her what she had needed to know. Her betrayal had left him bitter, but he no longer blamed the wolf for it. The fault lay with her and her alone. He smiled amiably enough, though he wondered if there had been fault in his decisions. It had been Gabriel, after all, that had allowed both girls to stay—and Zana was family, despite her odd nature and even odder size deformity. It wasn’t as if he had been bringing wolves home or anything like that. Dismissing the thoughts, he looked to his sister and then father. Gabriel shook his head, but he was smiling as he did so. “Your den is still empty, as far as I know. Why don’t you head there and settle in? I’ll come talk to you later. He’s all yours, Talitha.” With that the big male was off, moving at a gentle lope towards the borders once more. - Talitha de le Poer - 02-09-2011 [html] Hehe. It happens! Laziness is an acceptable thing in this case. Bit of a rambly first paragraph on my part. -.- Sorry 'bout that.[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-09-2011 [html]
The same wind that had brought him here rose again, tousling his bangs and running its fingers along his fur. It was not cold enough to pierce through his coat. Ezekiel watched his father leave silently. Gabriel was still the same strong, broad figure that the boy remembered from his time here. New scars littered his face, new signs of age in his darkening hide and not-quite there gray hairs, but there was still no sign that their immortal father might fall. He was glad for this. Someone needed to be the rock that they could rely on, and Gabriel was the closest thing to God that Ezekiel had right now. [/html]
His own faith had struggled under such strain, but he believed. He still believed because it was the only way to keep Talitha alive. The proof was before him, with those bright red eyes and that auburn hair. He smiled. “With all my things?” the coyote joked, indicating those on his person. “Though who knows what took up residence there since I’ve been gone…” he added more seriously, his face crinkling at the thought. - Talitha de le Poer - 02-09-2011 [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-12-2011 [html]
She could have teased him eternally and he would have smiled. The girl-turned-woman was a person that needed to relax, and Ezekiel saw that in weary shoulders and her too-telling eyes. It was his duty to her that allowed him to smile so fondly at the russet woman, even if she could do nothing for him. Her offer was one he nodded at, though he had no intention of doing such a thing. Ezekiel was still very much a simple creature. He disliked human structures and found their purpose long-gone. [/html]
Uncivilized, barbaric as her brother was, he still would find purpose and need to haunt after her and make his presence known. She would not so easily leave him again. “Tell you what,” he responded to her tug, long bangs falling to frame his face. “You come help me clean out whatever got into my cave and we can swap stories in there. Deal?” - Talitha de le Poer - 02-12-2011 [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-13-2011 [html] After two years, his life had become the sort of thing that contained all sorts of odds and ends. He had learned much, seen more, and grown up. Mostly grown up, at least. Ezekiel was still filled with unrest, but that came with youth. Her suggestion for him to rest was one he nodded to quickly. Though he was hardly out of shape, he had been traveling for a long time. Sleep would certainly be welcomed. “Oh, who knows,” he said, shrugging. The coyote began heading towards the northern face of the caves. He walked without any doubt in his step, his father’s acceptance silent but known. Ezekiel belonged here. He had been born in Inferni, and he had every right to be in the place. Heredity echoed through his bloodline. It was known to him the power of such things, for he was made up of ghosts. At least, Ezekiel had always believed such a thing. How could he not, with his grandfather’s pelt and his father’s eyes? With Lykoi, Massacre, and de le Poer pumping through his blood? They reached an unobtrusive cave-front. It was small, but the young man slipped into the mouth easily. He took a moment to adjust to the semi-dark. “Well, no birds,” he called out. “Just needs cleaned out, the bedding in here got all musty.” .ezekiel-x01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ezekiel-x01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .ezekiel-x01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .ezekiel-x01 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://i1047.photobucket.com/albums/b47 ... ekiel1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 20px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 02-13-2011 [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-15-2011 [html] The cave reminded him of the ones he had spent time in during his journeys. While he was not opposed to sleeping under an open sky (he did often when in Tristan’s company) he preferred to be under something. Caves felt safe, but trees worked in a pinch. He had never grown fond of human buildings, finding their structures unstable and unfamiliar. They were odd shapes and made of materials he did not always understand. Crude, organic things felt more natural to him. This was appropriate. He had been raised in savage country by those who did not live with modern ways. It smelled mostly of old plants, the dry-dust that came with disuse. He had left in a hurry, taking only the bow and quiver. That alone had traveled with him, though the bag had been found along the way. In it he carried odds and ends; healing plants wrapped in leather, a small but remarkably sharp knife, lesser important things like books. No maps, nothing to write with. He knew how to read, how to speak with animals, but not how to write or anything grandiose. Despite his charm, there was much that Ezekiel just hadn’t put time into. “You should smell badger,” he offered lightly, shrugging off his bag and weapon. He treated both carefully, though the care was subtle. Much rougher came the task at hand, grabbing armfuls of the old stuff and snorting as dust hit his nose. “I could always visit you, little sister,” he teased her lightly, for they had been born only moments apart. “Still living in that old house?” .ezekiel-x01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ezekiel-x01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .ezekiel-x01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .ezekiel-x01 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://i1047.photobucket.com/albums/b47 ... ekiel1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 20px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 02-15-2011 [html] 3+[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-16-2011 [html] The bronze coyote moved with practiced ease. He was familiar with the tasks of cleaning bedding. In the clan he had lived with, such things were duties given to the young warriors—he was not old enough for them to consider him an adult until the first time they had seen him fight. Ezekiel was young, but he had been trained well. He fought with the skills of three warriors, not simply one, and it showed. For now. He wondered if she thought about leaving again, and felt a deep wound inside of him ache. Yet she spoke of company, and he considered this promising. It reminded him too of their differences. She needed people. He did not. Ezekiel had learned to find comfort in solitude, and often sought it. Even the animals who spoke low-speech, ravens and badgers and the like, they did not find the need for company often. When they spoke with the scarred coyote it was not for long, and usually only to determine his purpose in their land. He had always been polite, as he was taught, and the animals often aided him in their own ways. Her comments were said with jest, but he caught an undertone and his eyes narrowed slightly. Was she hiding something there? His mask continued to smile despite not reaching his eyes, and he grinned wolfishly at her. “Well, I take after dad. And you look like you could stand to gain some weight,” he added, eyeing her thin frame. “I’ll have to catch you something to thank you for the help.” It was not an offer, but more of a demand. He passed her and tossed the dry grass into the snowy wind and watch it get swept up and away by the cold breeze. .ezekiel-x01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ezekiel-x01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .ezekiel-x01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .ezekiel-x01 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://i1047.photobucket.com/albums/b47 ... ekiel1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 20px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 02-16-2011 [html] 3+[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-16-2011 [html] He did not realize she was without skills, for he had seen that she was capable of many things in their youth. Survival had become instinctive to him, second-nature. Lessons had been taught and taken in stride. Unlike his pretty sister, Ezekiel showed this on his face. Twin scars cut across his left eye, reminding him constantly of his worst failure. Corvus would have killed him. The boy had no doubt of that. It had taught him to be wary, to know when to accept defeat and flee. If he had, he might not have been laid up for two months with broken ribs. A simple gesture told him she was conscious of her weight, ashamed of it, but he did not regret bringing it up. If anything, he was glad. She needed to put on more weight. Being skinny and sickly would only make the already harsh world a far more dangerous place. It wasn’t as if she was living alone anymore, she was with a pack that could provide for her. As her heat reached his back, he leaned his head back and felt it connect with her face. She didn’t hunt. Odd. How had she survived, he wondered. “Sure. I won’t be going after anything big, and you can help me flush out some rabbits.” The stupid things would run right into his arrows. They often did. .ezekiel-x01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ezekiel-x01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .ezekiel-x01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .ezekiel-x01 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://i1047.photobucket.com/albums/b47 ... ekiel1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 20px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 02-16-2011 [html] 5+[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-16-2011 [html] There had been a time when solitude had been his only companion. He had traveled many miles hiding from wolf packs, worried that they would see him as an enemy. Tristan, despite the fact he was nearly pure wolf, had told him about being attacked by strangers. Wolves often despised the other predators that they shared dominion with. Though he rarely saw anger in his larger, red-furred companion, Tristan had spoken of wolves with hatred in his voice. So he had walked alone for many weeks until the coy-dog had found him. She had pretty eyes and a nice voice, and had convinced him that her people were friendly. So for a long time, he had been with others. Long enough to sorely miss his own family and leave them behind. With his sister here, though, he had company. He had his family again. Gabriel was his father, but he had never been very involved in his upbringing. Fatin and Tristan had filled those roles. But his twin was his other half, the deep red moon to his gold-bronze sun. At her question he smiled fondly, pulling her body closer to his for the moment. It was a familiar thing, one that might almost seem romantic if they did not know the pair were related. “When I first left here, I got lost in some deep woods. I was tired and looking for a place to sleep, and wound up face to face with a badger. He was not happy about having a big dumb coyote stick his nose in his home, and let me know that pretty quickly. Luckily I know how to talk low-speech; I didn’t know as well then, so the badger thought it was pretty funny. He told me I talked like a baby.” .ezekiel-x01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ezekiel-x01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .ezekiel-x01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .ezekiel-x01 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://i1047.photobucket.com/albums/b47 ... ekiel1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 20px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 02-17-2011 [html] 3+[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 02-20-2011 [html] Oddly, he did not notice her change in speech. He would have if he had been focusing more on the words and not the tone, but he was a creature who had become used to a difference sort of communication. In signs and gestures he saw volumes, in muscles he saw poetry, and in battle there was a great debate that raged. Ezekiel knew so many in this way, and he was thankful for it. Everything outside of battle, even his sister, felt strange and foreign to him. His pale eyes darkened a little, thinking. “No, he doesn’t really speak it. I picked some of it up from Marlowe, and once I left I learned more on the way. Some of the people I stayed with spoke it, so I learned from them.” She pulled away and offered an explanation. Ezekiel subconsciously stiffened. Of all the places to go, knowing she had been under his nose and he had left was infuriating. He had lost her trail along the way and been separated from his family for years. Yet the anger was not obvious, and it was not at her—it was at circumstance and fate. The coyote identified those things he could not control with the path laid out before him. God had a plan. If he believed nothing else, he had to believe that. Turning back into the den, he went to the bow and arrows. Red feathers gleamed against the stone walls. “Catching dinner sound like enough of an adventure?” He asked as he pulled the quiver’s strap across his chest. .ezekiel-x01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .ezekiel-x01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .ezekiel-x01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .ezekiel-x01 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://i1047.photobucket.com/albums/b47 ... ekiel1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 20px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 02-22-2011 [html] [/html] |