alcestruistic - 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: alcestruistic (/showthread.php?tid=25693) |
- Caspa Al-Fateh - 02-29-2012 [html] From the outside, it seemed to Caspa that all the lives of others moved at a different pace to hers. Although surely time could not alter depending on who experienced it, the changes, the shifts and events that occurred for them seemed to have such lasting effects. Canines grew up from puppies to outstrip their former guardians in size, friends drifted apart or found new love for one another, and even enemies and criminals could take part in the mystical cycles of life. But for Caspa, very little altered. The white lady felt almost like a statue, sometimes, perched in her lofty hotel room, where she only had to close her eyes to feel the hum of life all around her but not within, for within was only stillness.[/html] - Grace Galaxy - 03-06-2012 [html]<style type="text/css">#grace-02 { width: 450px; background: #25151f url(http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s41 ... lebg02.png) bottom center no-repeat; margin: 0px auto; border: 3px solid #fff; outline: 1px solid #000; font: 11px verdana, sans-serif; color: #6c6874; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; } #grace-02 #inner { background: transparent url(http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s41 ... tbg02b.png) top center repeat; margin: 10px 10px 500px 10px; border: 1px solid #000; } #grace-02 #inner p { margin: 10px; text-indent: 0px; } #grace-02 #inner p.ooc, #grace-02 #inner .speak, #grace-02 #inner a { font: 13px courier new, monospace; color: #7fa198; } #grace-02 #inner .taj { font: 13px courier new, monospace; color: #857fa1; } #grace-02 #inner .wotd { color: #748d86; border-bottom: 1px dotted; } #grace-02 #inner .flashback { font-style: italic; } #grace-02 #inner .flashback .speak { font-style: italic; }</style> Word Count: 891. Sorry this took so long. I wanted to actually read it and respond properly. "From near to far, from here to there; funny things are everywhere." If Grace Galaxy might have been born earlier - and additionally, born human - one might have called her a humanitarian. However, there wasn't a word for a philanthropic luperci, so far as she knew. Even if there had been, she wasn't likely to concern herself with it. She did not derive her regard for herself by boasting about her virtuous deeds. Acknowledgement was appreciated, but it not the overall intent of her actions. Rather, she was compelled to invest benevolence and kindness into the world. There was no pleasant experience that could come from behaving, as her mother might have called it, wickedly. She was not a wicked girl, nor was she a saint, although she had been a saviour on a few occasions. Her conscience demanded right living, as did her spiritual inclinations. Her home, wherever it was, was a sanctuary for those wounded or lost. On most occasions, they left after a time, with gratitude and amity. On all occasions, but for one. On the forest floor, somewhere in New Hampshire, a wounded, young crow lay, crying out irresolutely. His fate seemed irrevocable. His wing was broken in at least two places. Lacerations littered his body, and blood exuded onto charcoal plumage. He was too weak to make much of a ruckus as a sand-hued canine with baubles about her leaned down to pick him up gingerly. He appeared to accept his destiny as her lunch, but to his phlegmatic astonishment, such a fate did not befall him. The wolf, bepedal and wearing clothing, pulled a leather pouch from the saddle bag carried by her equine. Sitting down, corvid cradled delicately in the crook of one arm, she opened the pouch and searched for something. The bird shivered, opening his beak to let out a pitiful attempt at sound. Something bitter was squeezed into his throat, and he swallowed languidly. Soon, he lay in her arms, limp as a rag-doll. He was fast asleep, and his pain was gone. Grace glanced up once at the sable form on her head. "Taj, where are we going?" she inquired, for a third time. The twice before that, she had gotten only an urgent caw in reply. While the corvid could speak her language brokenly, she could not speak nor understand his yet. She had not been able to observe it quite as keenly as he had been privy to, of course, but the effect was really the same. She knew that his message was urgent, but she wasn't even sure where she was meant to go. Finally, he managed one word: "Water!" Grace stared at him, her face impassive. "You are... very thirsty?" she asked skeptically. Taj cawed insistently, impatience in his voice. "Taj, I don't understand! Show me!" she protested. He took flight, and she ran to follow him, wondering what could be so important. He had never done wrong by her before, and she didn't expect today would differ from that pattern. By the time the corvid came to, his wing was splinted and bandaged, and his wounds had been cleaned. He tried to caw a protest, his wings fluttering piecemeal. His movements were shaky. The chestnut mare serving as his guardian nickered softly, catching the attention of her mistress. Again, the beige form shadowed him, and a soft voice reassured him. "Now, now! you'll hurt yourself, good sir. Please do settle down. Your wing is broken. You cannot fly." The crow could not understand her words, but her meaning was clear. A predator could not possibly put on such a show, and even if it could, this one was not. Perhaps he was already dead? He looked at her, perturbed, and cawed his displeasure. In return, she chuckled and offered her hand. "Can you hop up? Let me have a look." He understood the request and, after a momentary hesitation, climbed onto her hand. She lifted him until they were eye-to-eye, and looked him over. "You're healing well. You slept for a few days now. I wasn't sure you'd make it." He fluttered a bit, then hopped from her hand to her nose. Up her muzzle he went, until he was between her ears. Here, he settled and cawed again, this time sounding victorious. They arrived at the river without event. Taj led her down along the bank. She could soon smell blood; an injured creature. She lauded her intuition, grateful that she could trust her friend's judgement. However, when they arrived, she stopped short. A ghostly canine was reaching into the water, lifting it out in cupped palms to give to the injured moose. Grace approached tentatively, Taj landing on her head. With her corvid crown settled, she sized up the bulky elk's injuries. She wrung her hands; her first aid kit was at home. Seemingly sensing this, Taj leaned over so that they were at eye level. Remembering his presence, she asked, "Taj, would you go home and get my first aid bag? You should be able to get in through a window." She usually left one cracked, so that he could come and go as he pleased. Then, she turned her attention to the femme who was hydrating the bull. The injuries were grave. "What happened? Do you know what did this?" - Caspa Al-Fateh - 03-15-2012 She had not been expecting interruption and Caspa's hackles prickled quite out-of-character: usually so restrained in her emotions, she didn't much look forward to explaining what she was doing helping a prey creature, nor to the circumstance that was bound to follow on being found by some hungry canine: either attempting to protect the bull, or standing aside to watch him die. The latter was far more likely: all things died and Caspa knew this without sentimentality. She herself could not wield that final blow lightly, but others were not so controlled in their movements, and that brought balance. Nothing was good or bad to Caspa: everything a shade of evenly tinted grey, and her actions dictated by an emotionless code, in order to prevent her having to navigate through this impassive world blindly and guide her to her eventual destination. Or so she hoped. The woman who came near now though did not seem like the usual breed of random marauder Caspa expected. She wore elegant adornments, and a crow perched on her brow: her aura tasted of AniWaya, but she was unfamiliar in appearance - Caspa had seen a number of that pack's members during the war, and supposed this woman might be a newcomer. Perhaps she was even the new leader, the fabled member of the Great Tribe who she had been assured was much more peaceful than the last one. The woman spoke to her bird, which flew away, then turned to Caspa with a demanding tone. Caspa had remained crouched to her task without paying too much outward heed to the fawn-coated wolf, although she was intent upon her sound and scent and sight: curious to know what the reaction would be. It seemed the sight of the pained moose affected her deeply, which was astonishing to the half-dog Courtier. She had not met anybody with such a sensibility before. But the woman could not be personally linked to this moose, for Caspa had followed him from such a distance. "I found him like this," she answered before observing "You speak as though you have great interest in his welfare." - Grace Galaxy - 03-30-2012 [html] <style type="text/css">#grace-03 {width: 380px; margin: auto; padding: 450px 10px 10px; background: #978e9b url(http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s41 ... lebg04.png) top center no-repeat; border: 1px solid #e1d8ca; outline: 1px solid #505050; font: 8pt helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 10pt; color: #f7c2b7; text-align: justify;} #grace-03 p { margin: 10px auto 0px; text-indent: 0px; } #grace-03 .line01, #grace-03 .line02, #grace-03 .speak {font-family: times new roman, serif; margin: 0px;} #grace-03 .line01 {font-size: 15pt; line-height: 15pt; color: #86b7a0; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #505050;} #grace-03 .line02 {font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12pt; color: #acbf90; text-transform: lowercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 3px #505050;} #grace-03 .ooc {margin-bottom: 15px;} #grace-03 .speak {font-size: 10pt; color: #f0d8c9;} #grace-03 .taj {font-style: italic;} #grace-03 a.tooltip {vertical-align: super; color: #f0d8c9;}</style> I was alone, I took a ride I didn't know what I would find there WC: 756. Sorry for the long delay. Another road where maybe I Could find another kind of mind there It occurred to Grace only dimly that her actions might be thought queer by this female; after all, she herself was helping the moose, so what reasons could she bear for not understanding why another might do the same. She smiled sadly and nodded her head, her movements slow, so as to not startle to poor bull. "I try to alleviate pain and suffering when I find it," she replied quietly, examining the injuries more closely. The wound could be cleaned and rubbed with salve, although she doubted if he would allow her to bandage it. The hindleg would have to be splinted, and it would be best to get a cart and bring him back to the stable, where his healing could be closely supervised. She wondered vaguely if Ulilohi would get on her case for this. Ah, well. If she did, well, then would be a better time to worry about it than now would be. He needed care, and she could provide it. By the time Taj arrived with her first aid bag, she felt that she had established herself with the elk well enough to touch him. She was gentle, touching first unwounded parts of him, gaining his trust. He protested only briefly, his voice a deep baritone, before relenting. It seemed that he was too tired and pained to put up much fuss. She dipped a clean cloth in the water and used it to gently clean his wound, murmuring softly, reassuringly. The salve she rubbed into the wound was mild, containing crushed herbal remedies, to dull the pain. As she expected, a bandage was not to be accepted, but the thick ointment would hold on its own, she thought, particularly given the location of the wound, far from where he could tamper with it. She addressed his swollen hindleg now, careful not to startle him into kicking. She made disapproving, matronly sounds, half in jest. "Mmm, tsk tsk. Looks to be sprained, methinks... what on earth were you doing, good sir?" She knew that he wouldn't understand her, but her voice was calm and soothing, and he didn't seem to mind. She splinted it, careful not to wrap the bandage too loosely nor too tightly, and tied the bandage off. Then she stood, frowning. "I'd like to see if he'd come back with me to AniWaya, so that I could look after him. I could sedate him to get him there, if need be, but I'll need to get a cart... would you stay here with him, while I fetch one, and help me get him onto the back?" |