[m] there is a two-fold silence - 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: [m] there is a two-fold silence (/showthread.php?tid=18238) |
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- Caillen Winters - 06-05-2011 [html]
[html] table © sie :: the sunset execution. Again the lonely days deepened, stretching on to the horizon with an endlessness that pleaded for redemption. But no quarter was given to the mountain man - He who made himself the beast he dreaded, a creature formed of stone and snow and the cold blue eyes of a freshly shattered dawn. She had known, when she left him for the last time, that perhaps there was a weakening of resolve within her lover - He alone seemed unaware of how the time had changed him, how the echoing sound of his own voice had pierced the sanity always drawn near.
.al-txtsun-box {background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2011f ... raldic.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; width:190px; height:200px; float:right; margin:3px; } .al-txtsun {font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;} .al-txtsun .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify;} .al-txtsun .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .al-txtsun p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .al-txtsun b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-05-2011 [html] +5 Many men had spoken on the depths of hell; some spoke of fire, others ice. Dante described hell by its rings, each more terrible than the last. Ezekiel had read these stories but not learned the truth of hell until he had taken the crown from his father. Hell was repetition. Day in and day out he patrolled and scoured the borders endlessly. His sister had become a stranger since the death of the boy. Halo and Sage offered him no comfort. He was trapped by his father’s bond and unwilling to shame him further. Not when he recognized the fate that would befall the clan—his clan—should he fail. A stubbornness to prove those doubts and those whispering voices of mutiny fueled him further. Even now he hesitated to speak to his father about these matters, unwilling to show weakness to his sire. Talitha could not be shown the slightest fault or she would crumble and destroy him with her. His family would turn on him if he hesitated even once. As night fell, he dismissed the horse. Ezekiel was both capable and preferred to travel on foot at night. He had spent many a night alone in the darkness, and he welcomed it. The forest was savage and deep and it was predictable. In the wild there was no politics, no matters of heart and head. There was only tooth and claw. In his heart, Ezekiel would always be a savage—even though Cwmfen had tried to prevent this, the boy had succumbed to the nature of his soul. The call rose from nearby, and its voice startled the Aquila. Ezekiel’s ears rose to a great red crown atop a field of gold, his nostrils flared like a horses’ and sucked in the cold night air, but oh his eyes were made of no mortal thing. Fire, as beautiful and deadly as the dawn, filled those eagle eyes with a fury from the depths of the earth. A wolf, not only calling on his sister, but demanding her. Each step he took, well placed and silent, was a step away from reason. Fury blinded him to the truth even as he spotted the massive animal on his borders. The sunset fell at his back, hiding him in a veil of gold and deep shadows. The wind carried the behemoth’s scent towards the hot-blooded savage. He recognized it, but only partially—he recognized that this was the scent of the man with whom Talitha had fled to. A second and more terrible rage overcame him; his sister, his fanatical, hate-mongering sister, who preached so highly, had gone and run with a wolf. His face twisted, but no sound escaped him. Muscle memory drew the arrow, notched it. He pulled back with a stillness made possible only by training; had he been but weaker, he might have attacked the man head on. That cold, calculating part of his soldier’s mind warned him against such a thing. With no warning, with no honorable salute nor cry, the barbarian posing as a king let the red-shafted arrow fly. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Caillen Winters - 06-05-2011 [html] table © sie His call ebbed out into the silence, stretching away from his location like ripples on placid waters. But the depths of this land was unknown, and the shadows that lurked within it did so with a fury bound by barbarian intent, a hunger for the blood of the man who had lain with his kin and poisoned her treacherous mind with words of hypocrisy and love.
.al-txtsun-box {background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2011f ... raldic.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; width:190px; height:200px; float:right; margin:3px; } .al-txtsun {font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;} .al-txtsun .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify;} .al-txtsun .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .al-txtsun p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .al-txtsun b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-05-2011 [html]
The sunset flared at his back like a dying star, and Ezekiel watched as his arrow fell short. His eyes narrowed. Some pagan luck saved the brute from what had been a well-aimed shot. His knuckles tightened to bone-white under fine fur and the savage spat a curse to whatever deity had saved the brute. Time turned against him. A bear in the guise of a wolf-dog came rushing into the forest from the mountains. The earth moved under Ezekiel’s feet and his body listened as his ears could not. Now a wounded but infuriated typhoon rushed upon him. Almost instantly the disconnect of the soldier occurred; Ezekiel’s eyes hollowed despite the rage still burning within them. His body fell into a fighter’s stance, dropping his weight as to best meet this charge. He flung the bow and quiver aside, knowing they would serve him no more. There was enough time for him to read the approaching mass before he rushed forward to meet it. In a singular motion he swept low, extending raptor’s talons and slashing out at the behemoth’s side. This fight could not be won by strength alone. Wear him down, the voice that was and was not his own ordered. Burn his heart. Finally, Ezekiel snarled—it was a feral thing, one that did not suit their more evolved kin. For Ezekiel was, at heart, a savage. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Caillen Winters - 06-06-2011 [html] table © sie All he knew was pain and anger - It was as if Caillen's crystal world had been thrown into the pits of hell. Everything was flames, and burning, and there could be no redemption this time. The years of his life - Years of mistreatment, lies and heartache - burned as bright as any anger could, for this was the last time he would be challenged.
.al-txtsun-box {background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2011f ... raldic.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; width:190px; height:200px; float:right; margin:3px; } .al-txtsun {font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;} .al-txtsun .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify;} .al-txtsun .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .al-txtsun p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .al-txtsun b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html]
Until he had fought the demon crow-wolf, Ezekiel had not been like this. It was as if some of the taint from that shadow creature had found its way into his soul, through the eye he had scarred. Aggression became a permanent fixture of the de le Poer. He fought strangers, clansmen, anyone—he desired that true communication, desired the sensation of body against body, desired to say what words could not—and he fought simply because he felt like it. In many ways, this was no different. He was fighting because he had provoked the fight. They might have talked. Maybe he would have made peace with the brute who came for his sister, as he had made peace with Haven. Somehow, though, he doubted this. Peace could not be made with the enemy. Talitha would have expected no less, not when she had stood on her pedestal and waved a dead boy in his face. Wolves were the enemy. Wolves had no place in their world. This stranger had no place in their world, no place in his sister’s world. Only Ezekiel could exist there. He drew blood and spun in time to catch the clawed paw across his bicep. It was a grazing wound, but with the size of his opponent’s hand, those claws cut deep. The coyote snarled once more, saw red, and threw a fist into the burly wolf-dog’s face. As he recoiled, his other hand shot out, claws extended. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Caillen Winters - 06-06-2011 [html] table © sie For all his immense size and fury, Caillen had little skill in the fight. He relied purely on instincts honed deeply into his boiling blood, the feral traits of his sinner-father and his whore-mother. The wolf-blood in him demanded freedom, and it pulsed freely to each fresh wound, ran deeply through all iron veins.
.al-txtsun-box {background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2011f ... raldic.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; width:190px; height:200px; float:right; margin:3px; } .al-txtsun {font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;} .al-txtsun .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify;} .al-txtsun .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .al-txtsun p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .al-txtsun b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html]
That dying star collapsed into the sea as it would one day do millions of light-years away, and with its bloody light they were washed in crimson and scarlet and deeper shades of blue and violet. Even their eyes took on these tones; both capturing the sunlight and burning red as if they were truly hellions and not beasts of the earth. Yet this was no apocalyptic battle—this was only a brother fighting his sister’s lover because he could not strike her. He did not stop to think what other lives he would ruin; he did not think much at all. His eagle’s talons found purchase in the soft flesh around the eye, as he had learned from experience, and Ezekiel bared his teeth in a snarl-smile. This was short lived. A fist made of stone collided with Ezekiel’s muzzle, sending shooting pain up from his nose and all the way through his skull. He smelt blood, but it was not enough to concern him. Snorting blood from his wounded nose, the coyote weaved and came in again, feigning the first blow and going for the other eye with a hand curled into a hook. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Caillen Winters - 06-06-2011 [html] table © sie :: powerplay approved by Mel A satisfying ache shot through his knuckles as they made contact with a snarling muzzle. There was no sharp crack to signify that anything had been broken, but Caillen's immense size lent him great strength, and such an attack had surely not been wasted.
.al-txtsun-box {background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2011f ... raldic.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; width:190px; height:200px; float:right; margin:3px; } .al-txtsun {font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;} .al-txtsun .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify;} .al-txtsun .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .al-txtsun p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .al-txtsun b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html]
Ezekiel was not an untrained warrior. He was capable of handling himself against most foes, but even he could recognize the fault in challenging a man as large as the wolf-dog. His speed failed him in the face of the infuriated man and cost him dearly. Another blow struck his face and struck hard, striking him under the jaw and forcing his teeth to clamp down like a vice. They pierced his tongue and filled his mouth with blood. Sharp pain sobered his fury, but it was too late. The behemoth was upon him. Spitting blood, the Aquila felt hands grip his throat. His mouth opened wide, blood pouring out as he choked and swallowed the coppery life-force. Both hands clawed wildly at the hybrid’s massive arms, but it was useless. Panic sunk in. His eyes rolled in his head, searching for something, anything. Then, suddenly, he saw his chance. His right hand grasped the hilt of the antler-bone weapon, and with a wrench, freed it. Ezekiel forced his hands to cover his chest, pointing the sharp end of the weapon upwards. Then, trusting God and trusting his own instincts, Ezekiel hit the ground hard. Even as he choked and swallowed his own blood he smiled-snarled, teeth bared and crimson, eyes burning in the darkness. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Caillen Winters - 06-06-2011 [html] table © sie His hand were tight, constricting, and the man's pulse fluttered against rough palms like gentle butterfly wings.
.al-txtsun-box {background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2011f ... raldic.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; width:190px; height:200px; float:right; margin:3px; } .al-txtsun {font-family:'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;} .al-txtsun .ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:justify;} .al-txtsun .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .al-txtsun p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:0px 5px;} .al-txtsun b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;} </style> [/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html] Grieving Talitha to the rescue, albeit in a poor post. Color the dark siren surprised to hear the demanding call of her vagabond wolfdog; it'd only been days since their last encounter, and she had been so sure that Inferni would ward away the advances of the blue-furred Winters man she'd captured the heart of. Her features twisted into those of irritation, paint staining her hands as she continued her work upon the half-broken skull in her lap; he would simply have to wait. If it was truly important, she knew the man would be there when she finished her work. With the limited sunlight left, every moment was imperative to the creation. As she worked, foreboding tugged at the back of her mind, and it wasn't long before she gave up on completion of the item in order to make her way toward the borders. Caillen deserved his audience with the Princess, and she did not want him caught by sentries of the clan. Long strides carried her quickly across greening earth, the distinctive sashay of the abrasive Optio making it clear who was answering the call. It was the scent of something frightfully familiar that made her pause; rusted metallic hit her nose, faint on the breeze, and her apathy transformed into a facade of worry. The pace was increased, from languid walk to fervent jog, all in the hopes that her suspicions were wrong. The scene she entered was confusing at first. Crimson eyes surveyed the ground, falling both upon the handsome wolfdog and the golden brother-King who kept her close to the kingdom, and she found no words to voice the question that was pounding in her brain. What had happened? She approached cautiously; men, in their feverish frenzies, were something to be feared and oh, how she feared the savages that warriors became. The damage was clear enough — Caillen had suffered the worst of whatever battle had occurred between them, but Ezekiel also wore bloodied fur. It was her mad, mad Romeo who was to be worried over first. "Caillen." A single word spoken into the air as the princess crumbled, allowing her body to sink into the ground as one delicate hand sought the paw of her lover. Something entirely unfamiliar dragged down the de le Poer's heart into the pit of her stomach. What had Ezekiel done? It took longer to notice the antler-knife that protruded unpleasantly from the plush fur of his chest; that was focused on first by the woman as she worked to remove it with some attempt at care. The blood that flowered forth did not ease the fragile emotions of the Aquila's sister — unwilling to show the weakness of grieving to the golden man, Talitha brought her lover's hand to rest upon one cream-furred cheek. .talithaangel b {font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; } .talithaangel .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:12px; text-align:right;} .talithaangel p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .talithaangel {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... iangel.png); background-position:top left; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 120px 0px 20px 40px; font-family: times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:13px; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html] +3 Even as his own vision dimmed, Ezekiel felt mad triumph. The antler-knife sunk pommel deep into the chest of the wolf-dog, sunk into his heart and diminished the pagan fire that had kept him alive in those mountains. He felt blood drip into his face, over his scarred eye, and he swallowed it along with his own. With one forcible grunt the Aquila shoved the corpse as it fell and pushed himself to his feet. Though he swayed, choking and spitting blood, he was steady enough to stiffen at the noisy approach from the west. His head turned to find his sister somehow at the side of the dead man. She spoke his name. She barely looked at her brother. Fury boiled in his blood, righteous and unrighteous alike, and he no longer attempted to hide the outright hatred that he felt. “Don’t you ever fucking speak to me about outsiders again,” he hissed, voice low and thick. He coughed heavily, his own blood still filling his mouth. Ezekiel spat onto the earth. “I put up with your shit and let you run your fucking mouth the way you do and for what? For you to go fuck,” the word fell like a physical blow, harsh and uncaring. “, this piece of trash? You’re worse than the lot of these sorry fucks, you know that? They’re stupid and they’re worthless but they at least know where their loyalties lay!” A harsh bark. His throat was raw, raspy. It hurt to raise his voice, so he kept it low. “You’re so goddamned high and mighty, and this is what you do? You fucking stab me in the back. I shouldn’t have to put up with this shit, Talitha, not from you, not from anyone. I’m your leader. I’m your fucking brother, for God’s sake!” A staggering step was taken away from her but it only succeded in bringing him to his knees. Ezekiel hit the ground with his palms and spat saliva and blood onto ground still thirsty for more. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html] The lament for the man she clung to was short-lived as his chest halted all movement and the words of her brother reached her ears. They swiveled to listen, the meaning not truly sinking in for the briefest moment; for all her wit and verbal sting, the de le Poer woman was at a loss. The Aquila's tongue was harsh, speaking of her faults as if he saw her in the same light that the abhorred Lykoi cousin or misogynist uncle did. Ezekiel, her prized tie to the world around her, had descended into disgust at her actions. Had she truly thought he would have simply accepted the fling she'd kept a secret for so many turns of the moon? No, she'd known what to expect. That had been the reason for her secrecy. And even as she began the altered lifestyle to prepare for the chance of motherhood, she found herself unable to resist catering to the golden King who so harmed her delicate feelings. She twisted on the ground and rose to her feet once more, prepared to face him with all of her useless self-confidence as he spat upon the ground. "Please don't strain yourself; I don't want to lose you." Something wavered in her tone, unable to hide what was slowly bubbling over. He simply didn't realize what he said to her, he was angry; she was certain that he couldn't truly feel as he seemed to. As if afraid of what he would do, she kept her distance. Never before had she so feared her brother's wrath. One deep breath was inhaled before she gathered up trace remnants of courage. "I'm a grown woman, Ezekiel, I'll sleep with who I please; maybe if you weren't off cavorting with that whore woman, I wouldn't have to find my social comforts in Caillen Winters. You condemn me for him, but I never, never let him come into these lands. Not like you and father, with her. I knew when she came here, I'm not stupid! I'm your sister, Ezekiel! I'm supposed to be important! I'm supposed to matter to you, but you keep pushing me away for them!" The yelping sob that emanated from her jaws signaled another turn, this time to place her back to the male. She crouched above the ground, fingers rummaging about the dead dog's neck in search for the clasp to the pendant she knew he wore there; the handsome silver stag's head couldn't be tossed away with his body. Her hands began to shake, though whether in anger or sadness she wasn't certain. "I want you to stay away from her. And her children. I don't want you to have anything to do with her; stay away and I'll never leave Inferni, I'll stay here and you can watch me and I won't have anything to do with the people outside again." Her fingers fumbled with the pendant, but it came loose and she palmed it easily, gazing at the lifeless face of the wolfdog before her. Slowly, she closed his eyes. "If you don't, I'll tell her that you killed her son; how do you think she'll feel about that, brother?" She spoke softly, her siren voice openly extorting a desired response from the handsome King of Inferni. .talithaangel b {font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; } .talithaangel .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:12px; text-align:right;} .talithaangel p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .talithaangel {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... iangel.png); background-position:top left; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 120px 0px 20px 40px; font-family: times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:13px; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html] +3 His heart thudded in his chest from exertion, pumping hot blue-blood through the Barbarian-King’s veins. This battle had cost him; his arm stung from where a deep slash had punctured flesh, and his face throbbed from taking several blows there. He was lucky the swelling had not begun yet; he had time yet to soak in cold water and prevent such a thing. One hand pushed him back onto his feet despite his sister’s odd words, and he ran his tongue along his teeth. It had not been severed, but punctured by his own razor sharp teeth. His hand lowered and ripped the red-tipped arrow from the thigh of the great behemoth. Winters. His heart skipped a beat. Ezekiel’s eyes widened in the darkness, pupils swallowing the night until all that remained of color was a faint ring of gold. He did not turn to look at his sister, nor the body of the man who she called her lover, who shared blood with his mentor. The Aquila stared into the darkness in silence. Then as she struck, like the snake she was, he began to laugh. It was a harsh, raw sound; more akin to a raven’s cry than any other beast. He turned to face her then, eyes glowing in the starlight. “I see why father saw fit to make you our voice. You’re a heartless bitch.” Humor lingered in his tone, but his face was mad fury. She was playing with fire. “I’ll leave at dawn. You get that body off my land and clean his scent off you. There are plenty of other worthless men you can fuck here, aren’t there dear sister?” Another blow, intended to shame her. He knew of her past. He knew she would run to them now that the wolf-dog was gone. Brushing the arrow-head off on his own fur, Ezekiel walk-staggered towards where he had dropped his own items. He would have enough time to clean himself and sleep before leaving. For now all he could do was step away from the truth of the matter, and behave in the mechanical way he had learned to live for so long. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html] Meh, crap post. She wiped the blood from her hands onto the fur of the dead man's body — it didn't seem out of place, for the corpse was stained the rich crimson shade. Her ears were kept alert to the sounds of her brother, for the worry that rose in her chest was sharp and pulsing; the love felt for the Winters man was shadowed by her love for her sibling. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His words struck her harder than any physical blow. He'd never spoken to her in such a way. Her fingers released the silver pendant and she stood, turning on a wide foot to face him; crimson eyes gazed at the staggering man, filled with hurt and sorrow. She could leave the corpse for later, it was he who needed her attention, that was clear now. Despite knowing this, she didn't approach. Her feet remained rooted to the ground. "You don't mean that, Ezekiel." Though it was a statement, the end twisted with an upward inflection, and the tone was soft and fragile. She hoped he'd agree, agree that he didn't really mean the hurtful words he'd said. True, she herself had been cruel — why couldn't he be? But something in the mind of the de le Poer princess wouldn't allow her brother to be so angry. Finding her courage, she moved to close the gap between them as he gathered his things. "I didn't love him, I don't...need any of them, I won't be with any of them if you'll just take it back. Please." And her voice descending into the words of a beggar, silently praying to the God she thought led her life. She could feel the warmth draining from her body as she waited for his words, hoping he didn't truly think her heartless. "Please love me again." The whisper was spoken without thought. Did she really believe he had stopped loving her, the way she felt Gabriel had? Yes, it was easy to turn the withered mind of the woman to such pessimism; after all, it had only taken her father's lust to ruin his daughter's beliefs of him, and here Ezekiel was seeing the truth of his sister's depravity. A trembling hand reached towards him, hoping to offer some comfort to the infuriated Aquila while all the same hoping not to feel a blow from him. .talithaangel b {font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; } .talithaangel .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:12px; text-align:right;} .talithaangel p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .talithaangel {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... iangel.png); background-position:top left; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 120px 0px 20px 40px; font-family: times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:13px; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html]
He knelt to gather his things, wincing as pain shot up through his arm. It was still raw and wet with blood. One hand grasped the bow and quiver, welcoming the familiar weight. The wolverine pelt reminded him why he needed to steel himself against the torrential emotions that sought to drown him. Weakness would give room for further wounds, and his body and heart were breaking all at once. Amber eyes closed as his sister’s familiar voice came after him. Another mask. Another one of her acts that he had begun to recognize. Perhaps she didn’t realize it, or perhaps she was far cleverer than he imagined. Both eyes trailed back to her approach, and subconsciously, his body stiffened. It was a natural reaction, one he could not fight if he tried. Not while he still bled on the earth below his feet. One hand reached out, wrapping his bloody fingers with her own. Silently he told her that he would always love her, of their forever-bond, but all too quickly he drew away from her again. “You’re never going to listen to me,” he said lowly, the malice fading but still present. “Do whatever you want, Talitha.” Ezekiel turned from her then and began walking westward, slinging the weapon back onto his wounded body. .zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;} .zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] - Talitha de le Poer - 06-06-2011 [html]
The touch of his hand helped to heal a small part of his sister's worries, though it all remained plastered to the face she had so long tried to make passive. She knew her weakness in the emotions that easily took over her ice-queen heart. Others couldn't see her own ignorance to the masks she presented, and that had now affected not only what miniscule relationship she might have had with her hateful uncle, but now it had helped to bring ruin to the ties she kept with her brother. But it was the touch of his hand that righted some of that wrong. She clung to it in desperation, until it was once again pulled from her tremor-filled fingers. Again, she waited. She waited for the harsh words that didn't come, replaced instead with the vaguely malicious claim that she wouldn't listen to him, that he gave her his permission to do as she pleased. Perhaps it wasn't true permission, for she could hear the anger in him, but it was permission. Black-rimmed ears lowered to hide amongst the auburn curls that fell upon her shoulders. He left her, the lost princess with the open-book eyes who so desperately needed him there in that moment; though she wanted to, she didn't follow. Her attention was returned to the corpse of what had once been her handsome lover, turned to nothing by the strong fury of her King. He wanted the corpse taken away, and she didn't want to disappoint him again. Gathering the cast away pendant, she fastened the silver strings about her neck and leaned forward to grasp the shoulders of the behemoth in her fairy hands. It was a funny sight, to see the nocturnal Goddess try and move the hulking mass. No matter how hard she pulled and dragged and pushed, he didn't move; she simply wasn't strong enough for the task, and Ezekiel had not stayed to help her. The stress overcame the woman's petite form and she fell to the dirtied grass again — her face found its place in the plush fur of the dead man. She couldn't do it, once again she had failed in a task given to her, and it overcame the Optio with the worst feeling of disgust in herself. Tearless sobs escaped the princess, fingers clutching the chest of her once-love as all her pent up pain flooded out into the air. She was left with no one. Again, her mind twisted to faith; why would God have allowed yet more horror to befall the woman who had suffered already? What had she done now to deserve such divine punishment? Of course, there came no answer as the shadows descended on the lost Juliet who tried to reason the loss of both her Romeo and her ever watchful Tybalt. .talithaangel b {font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; } .talithaangel .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:12px; text-align:right;} .talithaangel p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .talithaangel {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... iangel.png); background-position:top left; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 120px 0px 20px 40px; font-family: times new roman, sans-serif; font-size:13px; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style>[/html] |