a magician and a heritic - 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 Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: a magician and a heritic (/showthread.php?tid=15043) Pages:
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- Ezekiel de le Poer - 03-03-2011 [html] Trepidation bleed from her crème hands to his own, a shade darker, a shade more like the dust and dirt he had been formed from. Ezekiel was a creature of nature, meant to live in the wilds he had roamed. The human name and human things he carried were tools, meaningless objects that he had made meaning out of. This was how he knew he was alive, and how he knew he was free. He was not bound to any singular thing without having made that choice (save the scars, though he supposed these bound him to Cwmfen). So he smiled sadly, able to feel her pain and her doubt but unsure how to face it. She blamed herself for his choices, a naïve thing that made him wonder just how deep down she had hid in her self-made cave when the monster took her. His poor sister, whom he loved, thought she was nothing but a blight on their house. If anything, the fault lay within her stars. He squeezed her hand and continued to smile, but his eyes had become like flint. “If you had died, I would never have left Tristan. I would have never come home again. You brought me back, Tali, and you’re the reason I’ll stay. Not for anything else.” #zeke-text {font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px 0px; background-image:url(); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; padding:0px 0px 0px 0px; } #zeke-text .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;} #zeke-text .divider {border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:5px auto; width:50%;} #zeke-text .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} #zeke-text p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} #zeke-text b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:arial; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 03-03-2011 [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 03-04-2011 [html] It was not within his character to think of things that could have passed. He was a being that focused singularly on the present and now, and his thoughts did not linger often on then and if. Ezekiel was aware of his past, and most certainly aware of his heredity and the ghosts that he was made up of, but he did not allow it to change his course. This single-minded stubbornness had gotten him through two years and back home, to the father who shared his name with an angel and the sister that had within her the power to be reborn. And he the prophet son, who brought no miracles but spoke in tongues yet. Still, she doubted. In her doubt grew and twisted like ivy. If she doubted Inferni, if she doubted their father, she would have no place here. Ezekiel knew his father would not turn away his daughter without just cause. A dull fear turned in his belly, but his face did not betray such a thing. So at her touch he forced his eyes to become bright again, pushed aside the shadow and the sickness he had carried long before he had been touched by a demon. It was with the face of a boy untouched by wickedness that he smiled at her. “The world isn’t right,” he offered her vaguely. After a pause, he tilted his head doggishly and winked at her. “Do you still want that food?” #zeke-text {font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px 0px; background-image:url(); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; padding:0px 0px 0px 0px; } #zeke-text .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;} #zeke-text .divider {border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:5px auto; width:50%;} #zeke-text .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} #zeke-text p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} #zeke-text b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:arial; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 03-05-2011 [html] 3+[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 03-05-2011 [html] Despite his sister’s sudden lack of hunger, Ezekiel rose and began to gather things for the fire. He did not truly understand the complex torrents of emotion that controlled her. Without such fears he was focused on functioning and nothing more. His mind was less focused on the internal and more on the external, as made sense to the golden-bronze coyote. Dried wood was hard to come by during the winter, but he had made a point to dry several pieces in his den every few days. With dried grass and flint he started a spark, coaxing a flame out as his sister spoke from where she lay on the dirt and stone floor outside of his den. As the fire grew to a more sizeable tent-like structure, he settled with a rather straight stick and produced his knife from his bag. Idly he began sharpening a point on one end, stripping the bark as he went. “Not really. The way I figure it, God has a plan for me. So as long as I keep living, things will work out.” A shrug, as if this would explain everything. Satisfied with his first stick, he moved to the deer hide and pulled a chunk of meat from it. This was skewered with the same efficiency as his arrows were used. Those same hands picked at the leather-wrapped bundles in his bag, tossing herbs onto the meat. He was especially pleased that he had traveled along the coast and picked up salt. This stick was balanced near the fire, though it would not be cooked fully through—simply charred on the outside so the flavor was present. #zeke-text {font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px 0px; background-image:url(); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; padding:0px 0px 0px 0px; } #zeke-text .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;} #zeke-text .divider {border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:5px auto; width:50%;} #zeke-text .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} #zeke-text p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} #zeke-text b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:arial; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 03-05-2011 [html] [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 03-09-2011 [html] The first time he had returned to Inferni, he had lived within the human mansion. After his sister had left those walls had become cold and unwelcoming, and the cave he had made his own was purely out of necessity. Facing west, he could watch the sun set and smell the sea. These were things that reminded him of his childhood. So they kept him content and sleeping soundly, smelling salty air and listening to waves crash. She didn’t seem to think that there was a plan. Had he been more devout, Ezekiel would have chastised her for this doubt. Yet her brother only smiled in that same boyish way, shrugging his broad shoulders dismissively. “I don’t think I could stop loving you,” he grinned. “So if you think you need to make your path, I’ll support that.” Of course, he did not realize she was destroying herself in doing so. If that was the case he would have sought to break her ultimately. #zeke-text {font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px 0px; background-image:url(); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; padding:0px 0px 0px 0px; } #zeke-text .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;} #zeke-text .divider {border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:5px auto; width:50%;} #zeke-text .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} #zeke-text p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} #zeke-text b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:arial; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 03-09-2011 [html] 3+[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 03-09-2011 [html] If she had known what their father knew, what he had told his son when he lay in agony for two months, she might have understood. God is cruel. That was simply the way he functioned. Why else would Ezekiel be attacked by a demon and his sister raped by one? Why else would their father try and protect them only to have free-will bring them back and into harm? Fate, destiny, whatever it was; these things were cruel. In order to grow they had to suffer. Her eyes went cloudy with tears but Ezekiel made no move to comfort her further. He had done so once, and further attention would only reinforce a habit. Yet he smiled and turned the meat, touching the crisped section of it with a single finger. Satisfied by this, the coyote looked back to his sister with bright eyes. “Hey, don’t worry too much about it. We’ll fatten you up and you can learn to be a better cook then me, okay? Here,” he said, grabbing the stick with the chunk of meat on it and passing it to her. “Hopefully it’s not too bad.” Another wink, boyish despite the scars on his face. #zeke-text {font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px 0px; background-image:url(); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; padding:0px 0px 0px 0px; } #zeke-text .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial; font-size:11px;} #zeke-text .divider {border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:5px auto; width:50%;} #zeke-text .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} #zeke-text p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} #zeke-text b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:arial; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 03-09-2011 [html] She's mostly gonna eat now. Gotta feed the awkward anorexic, ch'know? *waves the magic thread-end stick*[/html] |