the lyrics don't matter - 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: the lyrics don't matter (/showthread.php?tid=18901) |
- Arkham Lykoi - 07-02-2011 [html] [/html] - Kaena Lykoi - 07-02-2011 [html] Word Count :: 793 akpdlffkwfkawopfopwfpowif2f23. first
There was no need for the old woman to walk the borders any longer. She had been usurped by the vitality of youth for months now, and yet the monochromatic coyote could not keep from looping the borders, her leisurely pace clearest evidence that she had been removed from duty. There was no requirement for the Causarius to make her perimeter sweeps; she might have spent the rest of her days lounging on the D'Neville porch, and no one would have so much as lifted a brow at her. Perhaps if Gabriel still led them, he might have told his mother to stand down. The borders were no place for an old woman, and the scarred hybrid should have known that best of all. Gabriel was no longer their Aquila, however -- it was his son, her grandson, who now governed the coyotes. He had more pressing issues than how an old woman occupied her time.
Kaena found herself less and less desirous of social contact. There were those in Inferni she did not even recognize these days, virtual strangers occupying the land between the skulls. As little as the sable-backed coyote knew and trusted them, there was no fear within her. Death was coming, eventually, and she could stop him no more than anyone else. Whether he came in the form of an attacking wolf or a sleepy shut-down, it mattered little. Either way, Kaena could not stand in his way and cling to life any longer than anyone else. It was less boldness, as it had been in Kaena's youth, than it was simple tiredness. She was not tired of life yet, of course, but she had, at least, recognized the futility in evading death.
Fearful of the end or not, the grizzled female displayed clear outward signs of her true age. She would be thirteen this year, and gray had just begun to overtake the russet splashed across her muzzle. Her colors were lighter, fading -- her skin seemed looser, her bones sharper. Her pace was slow, free of any pressing need to be anywhere. Her remaining golden-yellow eye, however, had not lost any fire or shadow. It still shone with all the life left in the old woman, the decade of life she had taken in glinting fiercely there.
She had come to terms with her age, her loss of strength, her loss of rank and power -- or, at least as well as she would. There was still bitterness clinging to the back of her throat, burning for all that she had lost and all that had been taken, but it was no longer quite so overpowering as when it had been when she had first stepped down. The lie had become the scarred woman's reality, of course -- she was not able to swallow that Gabriel had come to her and asked her to vacate the Centurion rank. In her own mind, she had come to him, and her perception of reality would not be challenged. He had given her that, at least.
The call was not one she recognized. The one-eyed coyote was not pressed forward by any sense of duty. She might have continued her walk, her hollow and false impersonation of duty, and passed on by without so much as a pause. It was the tone of the call that drew the steely woman toward the sound. It was uncertain, a question possessing none of the demand she had come to expect from the brash youth so often seeking refuge within Inferni's borders. She lifted pale gray paws toward the source of the sound, the scent of the stranger pulled away from her by the breeze. Nevertheless, as she drew nearer, she could smell something strange -- withered, perhaps even beginning to rot, but still sharp and strangely fresh. Beneath it, another scent -- obscured by the plant, the sable-tinged woman did not recognize it.
Even faced with the man, the hybrid woman did not recognize him instantaneously. Cloth draped over him and obscured his face, the face of a stranger. As recognition dawned, even Kaena could not stifle a gasp, soft as it was. Words evaporated from her mind as quickly as they appeared, and the old woman could only fold her ears half-mast, yellowed eye staring with a mixture of disbelief and uncertainty, as if she was not absolutely certain it was him. There was no mistaking her own flesh and blood, though, and the silver-tinged woman was faced with an overwhelming rush of guilt and sadness. She had walked away from him, and as contented as she had become in her age, it was a decision she did not think she would have to face again. #simple-text { font-family:georgia; serif; font-size:12px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 07-02-2011 [html] [/html] - Kaena Lykoi - 07-02-2011 [html] Word Count :: 569 wefwajefiwjefwef sorry still >_>
Failure had tempered whatever arrogance the silver-tinged woman had once displayed -- failure in more ways than the sable-shaded woman could hope to count. She had failed Inferni three times as a leader, and she had failed as a mother more times than she had succeeded. She was little more than flesh donor to him -- it had been Gabriel and the rest of Inferni to raise him, if indeed raise him they had. She had heard precious little of him in her time here. The grizzled woman might have asked Gabriel, she might have pressed after even Hybrid, who had been here so long he might have known something, but in the former case, she did not dare, and in the latter, she did not think she would find anything comforting. The Hydra, outranking her by leaps and bounds now, had never been the type to offer any warmth. Maybe, in truth, she had not wanted to know -- she preferred ignorance, the presumption that wherever her lost children were, they were happy and had experienced happiness in their childhood, despite her absence. The old hybrid had even entertained the fantasy that they were better off without her -- she had raised and cultivated the madness in Samael, after all.
The one-eyed hybrid found she could not keep her gaze from him, the half-hidden face of an adult stranger lurking there. She was reflected in it, pieces of herself cobbled together with the ghost of Laruku, too, but it was the face a stranger to her nonetheless. His voice surprised her, as if she had still expected the puppyish one she so faintly remembered. Disappointment, though not quite so deep as unexpected disappointment, crested over her, and she found her ears stuck in their half-mast position even as he spoke again. She kept his gaze for as long as she could bear it, and then turned it away, focusing instead on the ground at his feet. All presumption of rank taken from her, there was nothing left for the old woman's last resort, her last claim to greatness or whatever it was that she had professed to do with her life in the first place. The only thing left was the scarred and beaten failure of a mother here, now stripped of all office.
Her jaw worked a few times before she made any noise, as beginning to speak and considering better words each time. When she did speak, it was with her own resigned quietness. She held no power over him, least of all, and she could no more force a heartfelt reunion than she could disguise the scars across her face. “No,” she responded at last, her gaze furtive and avoiding his, but still glancing to him for reaction. “Not for many months.” she corrected. It had not been long after her own return when she had seen Rachias last, and that had been the final time. She was not among those he sought -- Kaena did not need to look at him to know this, let alone ask him. “It was the summer before last Rachias was here.” She was gone now, though, as much a ghost as Arkham was supposed to have been, as much as he seemed now. She very nearly expected him to fade at any moment, but his scent and sound were real as anything the woman had known before. #simple-text { font-family:georgia; serif; font-size:12px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 07-03-2011 [html] [/html] - Kaena Lykoi - 07-03-2011 [html] Word Count :: 341 and I didn't even use the word "exterminated" DERP HERP
With so many children and so much progeny, one might have expected more ambivalence from the scarred woman regarding the individuals. The group was her legacy, her strength -- she had populated this world with the Lykois, after all. She was supposed to have been the last of them, somehow escaping the rotten tangle that had been her own childhood alive. Instead, many now carried her surname, and many more her blood -- more than she knew, really. Still, the individual did not pale in any sense in comparison to the group -- each was still her own, and each was precious to her. Her children and her children's children -- each was directly descended from her and each was precious for that.
She had not known their names. Rachias had spoken of them -- mentioned them, really -- and the silver-shaded woman had learned of many more grandchildren since. The names were served with a dose of added guilt, more she had failed, more that would not know the warmth of family. They were adults, too, and more estranged to her than their father was now. She would not know them by sight or scent, but the grizzled woman tried to picture them all the same, the fast-fading image of Rachias conjured and darkened, the other pictured as an even paler, fainter version of Laruku. She shook her head slowly, and with no small hint of sadness.
“I do not know either of them,” she confessed. She did not know the man standing before her, even. “I'm sorry,” she said, stupidly -- it was not through any fault of hers the ghosts he sought were not here. Perhaps, though, she did not apologize for this. Lame apologies would do nothing to assuage her guilt nor would it make the empty years go away, though, and she felt as lame as she sounded, lamer than Gabriel with his now-useless limb. She might not have a physical handicap of such detriment, true enough, but she was stunted and ruined in places all the same. #simple-text { font-family:georgia; serif; font-size:12px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 07-03-2011 [html] [/html] - Kaena Lykoi - 07-03-2011 [html] Word Count :: 365
The silvery woman did not need to inquire as to whether he would stay. It was written into him as clearly as if he had boldly proclaimed it on her first sight of him. He was as much a ghost as those he sought, and though she (and others, too) would have welcomed him, it would not happen. She was not so young that she would allow foolish hopes to obscure reality. He spoke again, and the words very nearly surprised her. They were an acknowledgement, or so she saw it -- the first nod toward his homeland and his blood. Hopeless as she was, the old coyote could not help but latch onto such a thing, yellow-golden eye lifting to his with curiosity and silly, silly hoping both written into her twisted scars, hard to read as they might have been. He did not know her as well as Gabe; maybe he could not see through the mask of old tissue and twisted flesh. Even so, he was her son yet, and perhaps he could cut right through that mask she was hidden behind.
“Gabriel is an old man now. He'll come to terms with it, in his own time,” she ventured, figuring she needn't ask for her assessment not to be repeated. “His son Ezekiel leads now.” For her own part, the woman hesitated. What could she say? The defining moments in her life over the past two years had been returning, which he could see for himself; leading again, which she had no desire to mention, as it would inevitably lead to talk of her downfall; Haku, who was buried and dead for good reason; and Samael, who she dared not speak of. “I've seen better days. Worse, too,” she finally said, settling on this noncommittal answer. A faint and half-hearted smile, its corners pulled only just slightly upwards, twitched on her face momentarily, and disappeared just as quickly. “And you?” she asked. There were ten million questions she might have asked him, wanted to ask him -- but she did not dare. He owed her nothing, least of all answers. She had never provided any for him. #simple-text { font-family:georgia; serif; font-size:12px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 07-03-2011 [html] [/html] - Kaena Lykoi - 07-04-2011 [html] Word Count :: 553 I'm sorry I am a liar. ;___; <3 She should have known better than to leave then. Kaena had been ancient at the time, and the journey had nearly killed her twice over -- by all rights, she should have been a pile of bones in some distant forest. Old as she was, the woman who departed Inferni had been a desperate thing, all former glory fading with physical strength and ability. Still driven by vengeance, the silver-hued hybrid had tried to pin her departure on those reasons and many others, and had successfully done so before. Such reasons were less than flimsy in the face of what she had left behind. There was little on his face, and yet it spoke of all the time and distance stretched between them and the pitiably brief time they had actually known one another. He was difficult to look at, but even as he burned whatever shreds of hope left in her, she did force herself to look now. Her heart was the very same leathery toughness as her face, and it would withstand this wound now. Despite those scars, the hurt was plain to see there in her face as he took care to separate himself from the entity that was her family. She had done it herself, after all, and she could not blame him. The silvery coyote's expression seemed to grow wearier at his words, and now the smile was lingering, tinged with sadness. As adult as he seemed, there were things to be learned yet, and the hybrid woman now ducked her head in sad apology. “I am an old woman and they are adults. If Thornloe is your home and theirs, they'll come back to it eventually,” she added, her tone apologetic. Rachias had been here when her children were young -- and, in a way, Kaena herself was responsible for Rachias' abandonment of her own children. It was plain to see they had someone who cared for them, though. “I would tell them you asked them to come home, but I could no more make them go than I could make you stay.” The stranger before her very well pull some hidden weapon and slice her to pieces for this honesty -- such actions were well within her blood's capabilities, as they'd proven before. Arkham had been careful to separate himself from her brood, though, and she did not see anger in him, though she might have expected it. “Would you rest here?” she asked, ever careful to differentiate between a permanent stay and a simple pause. “A while, a night -- we don't have to stay in Inferni,” she ventured. There were places they could go, and she would hunt for him, however feeble an attempt at reparation for all the means she had failed to provide before. Even so, he did not appear to be in need of being fed -- she did still quietly marvel at the adult he had become, a lovely sort of coyote, displaying only the faintest hints of wolf, but so unlike the coyote children she had produced with Astaroth. She remembered Rachias having that same quality of her, and lamented that she had never seen Andrezej as an adult. No -- Andre had never lived to be an adult. She had failed these three and their half-sister, too. #simple-text { font-family:georgia; serif; font-size:12px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 07-04-2011 [html] [/html] - Kaena Lykoi - 07-04-2011 [html] Word Count :: 399 sleep? no, post4kiri! sorry if scatterbrained i'mz tiiiyad
“If there is anything else I could do,” she offered, not knowing what she could give. He had asked her only one thing, and she could not grant it. As much as she knew it was outside of her power to return anyone to him, she did regret her inability to do this one thing for him. She was just a useless old woman after all. It was a wonder Inferni tolerated her at all -- had she not populated it with her kin, would it have? The question was brushed from her mind as he spoke again, the name she had not heard since first returning. Kaena very nearly did wince at the sound of it, but her composure remained, perhaps if only due to experience in keeping it in place.
They had never told her where Andre was. She had told Gabriel she would have done as he had to protect Talitha, but she was never sure of that, now less so than ever. Andre was her son -- she was obligated to kill for him, just as Gabriel was obligated to do so for Talitha. It would not have been so easy a decision for the grizzled woman, who was ever glad she hadn't been the one to make it. She had never asked how Laruku died, either -- but she had never asked on either subject, and she only nodded mutely. He would pay his respects in solitude, and she would not force her company.
“It isn't. Kerberos, your oldest brother, older than Gabriel -- he attacked me when we saw each other again, after I walked away from him. I deserve no less from you, I think,” the scarred woman said. “Should have learned the first time,” she said, the bitterness evident in her voice. Children needed their mothers -- Itachi was evidence of that, and Makhesthai, too. She had tried to provide for both and had fallen short on both accounts.
“You have somewhere else to belong? That's all that matters,” she asked. It did not matter if he was happy in Inferni, so long as he had found it somewhere. She wished so much for his affirmative, but more than that, she wished for his honesty. If he was not, he would not allow her to help, no, but she would bear it all the same, as it was no less than she deserved. #simple-text { font-family:georgia; serif; font-size:12px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:16px; } #simple-text p { text-indent:50px; } #simple-text b { letter-spacing:.5px; } #simple-text hr { width:85%; margin: 10px auto; } </style> [/html] - Arkham Lykoi - 07-04-2011 [html] [/html] |