nec spe, nec metu - 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: nec spe, nec metu (/showthread.php?tid=1951) |
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- Laruku Tears - 05-14-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;">
Arachnea's Revenge, AW.
It had already been a month and a half since the fire. The minor burns he'd sustained had peeled and healed over, and the smoke had cleared from his throat and lungs. The scents of the past had faded from his body, and there was nothing left of Clouded Tears anymore. In its place, he inhaled the smell of the Dampwoods when he breathed. In all the time he had spent on this other side of the mountain, he had yet to really venture far from where he had been carried. Laruku had circled and paced and prodded the quiet corners of that territory, and now, maybe he could say he knew it pretty damn well, but he hadn't tried all that hard to commit anything to memory and still felt restlessly detached from it. This wasn't home. He wasn't sure he wanted it to be, and as long as he didn't, it wouldn't be. Today, in the late afternoon, he found himself further west than he'd ever gone before. It had been an accident, really, but he supposed it didn't really matter how far he ended up wandering. Maybe this meant he had a higher chance of running into the packwolves that had gathered and established themselves already -- maybe this meant that he would run into someone else he had known, however briefly, on the other side of the mountain. It didn't matter. He had nothing to lose anymore and nothing could change more dramatically than it already had. What did he have to fear from finally striking out past the little stretch of woods he'd confined himself to? The tattered hybrid wandered slowly and aimlessly through the woods, looking at nothing in particular and going no where in particular. No hope, no fear. [/html] - Cercelee - 05-14-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 05-15-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;"> It was funny sometimes just how eeriely quiet things were there. There was nothing in the forest to interest him. No familiar scents. No familiar landmarks. No memories. No people. The birds and small animals rustling in the underbrush may as well have been silent because he didn't notice them. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Even the inside of his skull had been strangely silent as of late. There was no cackling laughter and no snide remarks from the snarky little monster that lived there. Just silence. And he had nothing to fill that silence with. He didn't think about anything. He didn't reminisce about what was gone, and he didn't think about the future beyond the next step he was taking, if even that. It was such an empty existence. He saw her. It took him a while to rummage through his tattered memories, but he managed to find her face and her name there. Family. One of so many distant relatives he'd met over the years. One of so many that had come and gone from the pack he used to lead. Cercelee,he acknowledged, stopping where he stood and blinking almost stupidly at her. It might have been surprising that he hadn't called her Ceres for surely now, the girl looked just like her grandmother had. It seemed to take an eternity for his mind to comprehend anything beyond her name and who she was. The scent of her newfound pack drifted slowly to him. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to talk or ask about? As an alpha, he might have had things he was obligated to ask and know about. What did he have now? What was he supposed to care about? He knew she was okay. He could see that. So what else was important? Her life? The details? He would only forget them as soon as she turned to leave, so what did that matter? He was useless here, knowing nothing because he remembered nothing. Because he allowed himself to remember nothing. Running a pack now, I see,he settled on finally, voice simple and soft. It wasn't really a question, but he didn't know what else to say. [/html] - Cercelee - 05-15-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 05-16-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;"> He was surprised to hear Colibri's name, but it didn't show. There was no twitch of the tail or of a tattered ear; he didn't even blink. Just another ghost from the past, just another someone who came and went because they didn't really need him in the end. All he'd been was a figurehead. It took him a while to remember that there had been a second Colibri, the child of a child -- another leaf off the tangled branches of their family tree. None of them stuck around long; it was a wonder that he recalled at all. Colibri had been my adoptive mother,the hybrid told the girl (or, he supposed that she was a woman now) for no real reason. He hadn't thought about her for a long time. Not really a coincidence,he continued, Your family's everywhere.His family too, maybe, but he'd never thought so. Laruku looked back at Cercelee and his expression changed at her latter words. A frown. A sad, little frown. I hope you don't remind anyone of me,he said quietly, because that was never a positive comparison. Anything he'd ever done, he'd done it wrong, and he hated the idea that anyone else would lead a life even remotely similar. It was why he could hardly stand to face his own misbegotten children. It was why it had always been so hard to pretend to take care of all of his cousins' children. Deep down, he had to wonder if somehow he had corrupted them all. Even now, maybe he was poisoning her by looking at her. Iskata is hard to get along with most of the time,he added, closing his eyes briefly, I guess that's just how she is. [/html] - Cercelee - 05-18-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 05-19-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;"> I guess that's true,he said of Cercelee's assertion. It was strange for him to hear her call Colibri his mother though, as he hadn't thought of her as such for several years now. All the same, he no longer tried to deny that she had a connection to him and had played some significant role as a parent in the few months after he'd been born. As his cousin's child continued to speak, Laruku found that he could understand why Iskata had drawn the comparison between the younger Sadira (whether she recognized that or not) and himself. Family had always been a controversial and emotional subject and even now, though he acknowledged the fact that Iskata was his cousin and that all of his cousin's children were related to him, the hybrid did not consider himself really a member of that family. He was not a Sadira. He belonged on the other side of the tree with his dead mother and her brother. And he was alone there. The coyotewolf could have contested the girl's claim that he was not the worse of all the others she had known, but he could see how and why she'd come to that conclusion based on what she knew and he wasn't ready to explain the details of exactly why he would have to disagree with her. No one really knew all the details. Maybe not even those that had been directly involved (did he know that Phasma was dead already?). Maybe no one ever would. Laruku found himself giving Cercelee the same small, weak half-smile that he'd given his cousin. She does care too much. Always has. Maybe it's not such a bad thing.It gives her a reason to be alive, doesn't it? Maybe we should care.But it was just so goddamn hard to anymore. He had cared before. He had cared a lot too. He had cared so much that it had almost killed him three, four, five times over. And now, he was just too sore and too tired to anymore. Caring was hard. Living was hard. He didn't know how he still did it. [/html] - Cercelee - 05-20-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 06-14-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;">
*fails at life*
Try as he may, nowadays, the hybrid spent a lot of his time thinking or dreaming, or half-lost in memories that may or may not have been real. Sometimes, he wondered how things might have been different if he had not so adamantly removed himself from the rest of the family tree. Maybe he would have been happier thinking that he actually belonged somewhere, especially considering the abandonment issues he had carried for so long. And maybe if he had been happier in general, other things could have been different. Maybe he could have forgiven more easily, and maybe things would have worked out in the end. They were a thousand maybes strung together with a thousand other ways things could have gone wrong, but while he didn't actually believe in any of the alternatives, he seemed to still fantasize about them now and again. It's good you have other things to care about,he mused quietly, As long as there's always something.The hybrid sat down and considered the second question, Sharing the same flaws can certainly be the basis for something. Misery loves company, after all, so why not consider those similar to yourself.Besides, if family really cared so damn much about them, there was always the guilt that came with not caring back. He still had that guilt, even though it was pointless to deny that he did indeed actually care more than he usually showed. Iskata tried so hard, but he always turned away. It left him hollow inside sometimes, but he had grown to accept that too. Daituki Nasphrite,Laruku answered without thinking to remember the name. It was among those memories that he didn't pursue much anymore, all those little details of Clouded Tears' past that had burned up in the little history book he'd written. All those things Siondaite had told him once upon a time, and Ceres as well. Daituki Nasphrite was his uncle, his mother's brother, and though he'd been told they had never been close, no one had ever said why. It was through that one flimsy relationship then, that his connection to the Sadiras rested. He died saving your father,he added, once more speaking without searching for the corresponding knowledge or memories. He couldn't remember who had told him that, if anyone. Maybe he was just spouting nonsense now. [/html] - Cercelee - 06-16-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 06-16-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;"> Laruku did not mind being a history book, especially now that the real one he'd written was gone. The family was scattered, dead, forgotten, lost. Regardless of whether or not he considered it to be a merit, he knew he had been the only member that had stayed within the foggy borders for the last two and a half years, and thus, he knew he was the only one still alive and in the area that knew a lot of the details and secrets of the past. He didn't think about them much, but they would always be there. It was perhaps the only thing the hybrid would consider himself good for now, and now that the topic had been brought up again, he wondered if he should venture to try and write it all down again before he really did finally die. Clouded Tears was gone, but though he still carried a fierce loyalty and love for his birthplace, he wondered if it the world really needed to know about what had once been there. And vaguely, he wondered if the curse was gone. Not really,he said of Daituki, He was already gone by the time I'd returned to Clouded Tears as a yearling.The coyotewolf knew he had spoken to Cercelee about their family before, but those sad conversations did not surface readily in his now hole-ridden memory. They were still there, as most things were, but hard to reach, seemingly irrelevant. It didn't matter. The facts themselves that made up the conversation were there, and he would not mind repeating them. He was my mother's -- my real mother's -- brother. They apparently didn't get along, but no one's ever told me why.It was probably a good thing though, that Laruku didn't know why. There was probably no one left alive who knew the truth, and thus, Daituki Nasphrite would be remembered as a vague, but kind ghost. Despite all the things he'd done, he would be remembered by a few people as a good person. If Laruku knew, he might have wondered how he would be remembered in the end. [/html] - Cercelee - 06-16-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 06-16-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;"> He simply nodded, half-agreeing, half still thinking that it was kind of nice that people could be remembered as better than they probably were. It was more than many people probably deserved, but it was one of those small, pleasant things about the world that made him wonder sometimes. Dreams and illusions could be real if only they were perceived to be so, and thus, truths about dead figures could be anything at all, and as long as there was someone to believe in them, they could be true. Though it was on par with what he had been thinking himself, Cercelee's question surprised him. Strangely enough though, the answer was not immediately obvious to him, though perhaps it should have been. Not thinking about him had become habitual. It was easy to conclude that even now, it was Nirupama Tsunami that knew him best. Certainly the grey wolf knew all of his numerous faults and knew of all of his numerous sins. Perhaps he could even provide accounts of the few good things Laruku had done in his life, but the most important thing to the hybrid was that Tsunami knew all about all the terrible things he'd done. He would never be remembered as a saint. There was also Ahren to consider though, as he found it unlikely that anyone would be asking Tsunami about him, wherever he was. Ahren also knew a great number of his faults and probably understood Ryoujoku better than the grey wolf. Still, similar as they were and as close as they'd become, Laruku still saw that dividing line between the two males. It wasn't something he liked to think about much either though. I suppose so,he replied finally, quietly. Most of the people that knew me are either gone or dead already though.Tsunami was gone. Phasma was dead. Ahren was just as half-crazy as he was. And everyone else that knew his name remained mostly ignorant; they were the ones that were most insistent on adorning him with adjectives that he did not deserve. Iskata thought too well of him, whether it was his past or present self. The former Clouded Tears members... well, none of them had ever really known him at all. And neither had Cercelee. The Laruku that most still knew was just a locked drawer of secrets that he hoped they would never know. The hybrid did not want to be remembered at all in the end. What about you? [/html] - Cercelee - 06-17-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 06-17-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;"> Yes,he answered, undoubtedly surprising the other, but most of all, surprising himself. Perhaps it was true after all then, that even now, all these years later, the idea of lies still did not sit well with him. Oh, he had lied, had become a liar, had put on masks and masquerades. He had thrown up a thousand walls that had to be torn down, but put up a thousand more after that. He had lied to what few friends he had had; he had lied to the family that still considered him family. And most of all, he had lied to and continued to lie to himself. And yet, he knew he had been happiest (those fleetingly brief moments of happiness) when he had been the most exposed, when he had been the most vulnerable and the most honest. He knew that the lies had been the start of the downhill spiral, that everything before that had been bearable at least. He knew where it had all gone wrong, but he also knew that it was far too late now to ever go back. He had become entrenched in the lies that he and others had spun, and even now, he was hiding from the world. It had not been a question of love, but it was easy for Laruku to think of it as such as he had only ever been able to open himself up to people he cared deeply for. Red eyes, though still strained and tired, looked directly forward at Cercelee -- it was the most eye contact he had given anyone in a long time it seemed. Yes, I do think it's important,he repeated more softly. If you wear too many masks, you lose yourself in the end.As he had lost himself, he supposed. And after losing yourself, you lost everything else too. Maybe the idea was that if someone else knew you, all of you, they would know how to piece you back together, would know how you could return to what you were supposed to be. Laruku didn't know how to give that advice to the girl though because he knew that if he were in her place, he would not take them very seriously. But more and more, he could see why Iskata had compared her to himself, and more and more, a heavy feeling grew in his chest. He hoped Cercelee grew out of her apathy. He hoped she did not walk any further down that path of similarities. He hoped that when she did find someone to know her, that she would not make any of his mistakes. He hoped to heaven that she never had to go through anything he had had to go through. He hoped she never turned out like him. He hating hoping. [/html] - Cercelee - 06-17-2008 [html]
- Laruku Tears - 06-17-2008 [html] http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk42 ... bottom.jpg) no-repeat bottom center; color: #B2AD83; border: 2px solid #C0C0C0; outline: 2px solid #191007; padding-bottom: 70px;">
S'all good. Thanks for finishing this with me even though I was lame and skipped out for a month. x_x
The past, as always, seemed doomed to repeat itself through different generations, through different people, the same mistakes manifested themselves over and over again. Logic, reason, and universal fears came together in a chaotic mess of relationships, good and bad. People hid from themselves, from each other, and hurt alone, together. It didn't matter how many times they were warned. Even if they could see into the future and somehow saw visions of their future, potentially miserable selves, it seemed unlikely that anyone would change the choices they made. Would the Laruku of three years ago have done anything different if the Laruku of today had warned him? Certainly not. So of course, he could only expect the reply, or lack thereof, that Cercelee provided. And he did care about his family and former packmates, more than he would ever care to admit to anyone, including himself. He cared that Cercelee might end up making the same foolish decisions he had, and he cared that his sons and daughter might grow up monsters like their half-siblings, like their parents. He cared that every child that had ever come under his care had run away in the end, and he cared that he had probably failed the parents, all of his cousins, that had entrusted them to him. Laruku had spent his entire life hurting and watching others hurt from his mistakes. He cared, even if most days, it was easier to pretend he had accepted everything and moved on. The guilt still weighed heavily on him when no one was looking. Yeah,he agreed simply, and watched the femme go. Maybe, in the end, it wasn't really his business at all what she did with her life, and he really shouldn't feel responsible for her beliefs and her thoughts. Still, it was difficult to shrug away the feeling that anything bad that happened eventually was entirely preventable. [/html] |