[/html]Late afternoon, 28th August. Myrika's room.
Each time she woke, for the briefest moment, she let herself believe that she was home. They had draped a fine collection of pelts on the sofa in the cottage den, warm by the fireplace. Their horses had been kept in a small barn nearby, and in the winter the air would always smell of burning wood and dried hay and snow and fresh mint. She and her sister would lay together reading while their father prepare meals in the kitchen, cutting meat into small enough bites that they could chew on their own. Afterwards they would all sit together by the fire, warming their toes, telling each other stories, real and imagined, until sleep came.
Here there was a fire, and outside there were horses. In a few more months, there would be snow, and in the hills further inland, she knew there was mint. She sat on a bed of furs that smelled like her sister, but this could never be home.
But why? Cassandra leaned against the wall, one knee propped up so she could lay her wounded arm over it. Having finally washed properly in the nearby lake, her fur was once again colorless and clean, and the silvery hair that fell around her face was no longer matted with dirt and blood. She thought the scent of death lingered still, but sometimes she thought this for weeks. (Perhaps it was only the scent of hatred, carried with her always.) Her shoulder did not seem to be infected, and as a flesh wound, she expected it would not bother her much by the time the leaves began changing color. Her ankle would be better by then as well.
And then what?
The albino woman drew her other knee up and for a moment tried to lean forward, prop both arms on her knees, and lay her head across them. But her shoulder protested with a sharp, stabbing jolt of pain that ran down the length of her arm. Wincing, Cassandra aborted her plan and leaned back again, laying both legs flat now and letting her arms dangle beside her. She sighed.
but everything still happens anyway
|
08-24-2012, 07:46 AM
[html]
08-27-2012, 08:44 AM
[html]
Grouchyves!! +396 Her patterns of thinking had changed since the nights of the falling stars—or, more likely, even before all that. Normally her first thought upon crossing the borders was that of rest, dragging her body to the long cavern she inhabited and flopping down on the stuffed hide to sleep, and screw anyone who came to bother the Centurion if no one was dying. She had traveled to the southernmost part of the peninsula and back again, and damned if she was going to exert herself more the moment she was in familiar territory. Presently, however, the one-eared coyote even stopped and took the time to shift into an upright form before loping past the archery stands and the moor toward the northern part of Inferni. She was home, and she wanted one canine in particular to know. Vesper threw a suspicious look to the horses hanging out in the corral, but she didn’t know them well enough to tell if one was missing or not. That would change as she changed, but for now, she took long strides toward the entrance of the old schoolhouse. Her hand hesitated before rapping on the big door, and instead she fumbled with the handle before it was open. It would be better if she could surprise Myrika with her return, if only because she craved to see the delight on her face and know that everything was at it was when she’d left. Scent more than familiarity told her where the Aquila’s room was located, only one sharp turn after entering the building. It was strange for her to be under a roof, but this place was far sturdier than the decrepit mansion, and she spared little attention to detail. She inhaled deeply then opened the door, a roguish smile on her face softened at the edges, a greeting on her tongue. Almost instantaneously she closed off her expression, her ear falling back into her messily cropped mane. There was a strange coyote in the bed of furs, sickly pale enough to remind her of the spy she’d driven from the borders. It was a woman, pale skin riddled with scars old and new, and she smelled strongly of Myrika. Any manners or inclination to stop and think the scenario through were abandoned, and Vesper instead sneered well enough to rival any Lykoi. “Who the hell are you?” [/html]
08-27-2012, 04:28 PM
[html]
[/html]
08-28-2012, 08:59 AM
[html]
short post before class go! 8D Coldness came easily to Vesper; she had been a creature of ice and stone before coming to the fire clan. She knew how to wipe her face clean of expression, to bring down the temperature in her eyes to freeze whoever she looked at. She knew, most importantly of all, how to suppress any emotions that might want to shake her into vulnerability. It was this and her desperate trust in the Aquila that led her to stare at the albino like a snake had found its way into the room—rather than a woman who had found her way in her woman’s bed. Red eyes narrowed back at her, and as the two stared their mutual displeasure, the intruder scowled and threw her words back at her. This drew a snort from Vesper, who crossed her scarred arms over her pale, steel-dappled chest as she considered. She would not deign to answer the second question; she had a right to be here that this bone-pale stranger did not. “I’m Vesper,” the tawny hybrid responded after a beat, lips pulling taut, “Myrika’s—” And the hesitation came, a pause that might have lasted an instant, a pause that felt like a far more drastic stumble. “Second in command,” she finished with authority, but the mangled remnants of her left ear twitched discomfort. .ves-cntblrpr p {padding:5px 0px; text-indent:25px; margin:0px;} .ves-cntblrpr b {color:#83d2ff; text-shadow:#000 0px 1px 2px;} .ves-cntblrpr-text {margin:0px 15px 15px 140px;} .ves-cntblrpr {width:500px; margin:0 auto; background-color:#19252b; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/9G4EX.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; font-family:trebuchet ms; font-size:12px; color:#92a1a8; line-height:13px; text-align:justify; border:#000 2px solid;} </style> [/html]
08-28-2012, 09:05 PM
[html]
[/html]
09-03-2012, 10:49 PM
[html]
Table change because I'm a fancy young whippersnapper. And uhh, this is weirdpost. There had never been a reason for her to hide her relationship with the Aquila—merely because it had been a thing of fleeting glances and soft smiles and quiet support. Since the night in the meadow it had grown beyond that, whatever that meant, and Vesper was beginning to rethink how flippantly she’d treated other coyotes’ view of it. She stood by her words that she would bite whoever looked at them cross-eyed, but she hesitated under the unnatural red stare of this stranger, wounded and narrow and probably judging her in the span of moments Ves had been silent.
The albino she-yote shifted, and the Centurion watched her with the laidback vigilance of someone very used to looking for signs of trouble. She grunted in acknowledgment as the woman gained a name, but her indifference was shattered when a more precious name lingered in the open air. Pale blue eyes widened a fraction, and her fingers jumped to her throat to fidget with her rosary; it was not a gesture of any significance but something to do. At the same time, she noticed something around the other’s neck, barely visible for her snowy hair, and wondered.
“What, you don’t believe Myrika?” Vesper chastised, and flashed her teeth in a smug grin, deciding that arrogance was safest just as the other fell back on anger. It was short-lived, though, and she shook her head. “I’ve never thought I was that great,” she blatantly lied, “but I’ve never been one to argue with our scholar.” She returned the critical stare, but she had something to search for now, evidence to collect. “I’d assume she had to compare me to something to name me great, so I’ll take that.” .ves-cntblrpr p {padding:5px 0px; text-indent:25px; margin:0px;} .ves-cntblrpr b {color:#83d2ff; text-shadow:#000 0px 1px 2px;} .ves-cntblrpr-text {margin:0px 15px 15px 140px;} .ves-cntblrpr {width:500px; margin:0 auto; background-color:#19252b; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/9G4EX.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; font-family:trebuchet ms; font-size:12px; color:#92a1a8; line-height:13px; text-align:justify; border:#A4DCFF 1px solid; outline:#000 1px solid;} </style> [/html]
09-06-2012, 05:23 AM
[html]
[/html]
09-06-2012, 09:33 AM
[html]
i happy to play a bitchyves 8D +370 Vesper frowned in faint agreement at the albino’s view on Myrika, but it was short-lived agreement. Myrika was indeed, perhaps, naïve—but she’d shown how quickly she could grow when she took on the burden of leadership and fought through the war with the wolves. Both of the leaders had changed, softening or toughening up, and the personalities that clashed in theory warped to complement each other in a way that strengthened them both. “Something can be said for that,” the scarred coyote said after a moment. “You go through life cynical and suspicious, and maybe you don’t get hurt as easily, but it usually means you’re already hurt.” Her fingers continued to toy with the rosary, lingering on the first Lord’s Prayer, but she was ignorant to its meaning. It was a large bead, held between her finger-pads as she dwelled on the statement that had more to do with her own life than anything else. Cassandra brought up a comparison, and Ves’ ear snapped back at mention of “a fool girl.” Neither of them had discussed much of their history, including past lovers, and so this was the first time hearing anything like this. An icy flame was born and died in her eyes, and she drew her lips back as Cassandra continued. “I’m modest,” Vesper answered snidely, and released the rosary, letting her hand drop back to her side and ball into a pathetic fist. “Do you know what the great thing is?” she asked, her voice brightening with all the acidic sarcasm in the world. “I don’t have to know, and I don’t have to tell you—especially you.” She relaxed her fists, but the rest of her wiry body was tense. She strode closer to the bed of furs, leaning down to eye level and baring her teeth. It was an empty threat; she didn’t want to get close enough to instigate a fight, and there was little pride in beating a wounded enemy. Her heart beat an erratic pace in her chest, but she kept her perplexing fear and anger and every other emotion hidden, letting her face become a mere mask riddled with scars. “I’ll ask you again. Who the fuck are you?” .ves-cntblrpr p {padding:5px 0px; text-indent:25px; margin:0px;} .ves-cntblrpr b {color:#83d2ff; text-shadow:#000 0px 1px 2px;} .ves-cntblrpr-text {margin:0px 15px 15px 140px;} .ves-cntblrpr {width:500px; margin:0 auto; background-color:#19252b; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/9G4EX.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; font-family:trebuchet ms; font-size:12px; color:#92a1a8; line-height:13px; text-align:justify; border:#A4DCFF 1px solid; outline:#000 1px solid;} </style> [/html]
09-06-2012, 10:18 AM
[html]
[/html]
09-07-2012, 02:22 PM
[html]
There was no fear in the albino—at least, none that she’d permit to show—and Vesper thought back to when she’d been recuperating in the guesthouse near the mansion. She’d been afraid, then, with Helotes pressing into her space, her injured body helplessly curled in a tight ball. She reasoned that she wasn’t as scary as the dark brute could be, though, and she knew deep down she didn’t want to scare or hurt Cassandra until she was given a reason. She did want to gauge the other’s strength, though, and let her know that she was serious, a member of the clan to be respected even if the loner didn’t believe in hierarchy. Her response made sense, and the pale tawny coyote might have agreed with it, but she no longer wanted to talk bullshit and philosophy. There was a stiffness to her wiry body as the other leaned forward, her claws sliding from their sheaths to tip her white fingers, but then the other bared her teeth with a sharp proclamation that had the Centurion drawing back slightly. The grin Vesper shot the albino woman was sharp-fanged, not quite friendly but not quite as unkind. “Good,” she yapped back, and straightened. “I’ll hold you to that, and I’ll do the same to you if you hurt her.” It was clear she didn’t have much faith in sisters. She continued to grin a ’yotish grin, tilting her head slightly as she regarded Cassandra in a different light. “I don’t think we’re that different, you and I,” she remarked lazily, blue eyes flickering over the other’s narrow features. That was probably why they already got along so well. [/html]
09-12-2012, 04:18 AM
[html]
[/html]
09-23-2012, 07:49 PM
[html]
Sorry for late, crap reply. x_x; It was the albino’s turn to sneer, although Vesper only flattened her ear and let her grin shrivel and wrinkle down into a scowl. Throwing the comparison out there had been something like a truce, but it looked like they weren’t done questioning each other, even though Vesper’s had mostly been answered—namely what the hell the stranger was doing here, in Inferni and in Myrika’s bed. “Since the war,” the coywolf answered to the first question, although that wasn’t quite right. She and Myri had kissed and admitted there was more than a friendship between them at about that time, but they had more defined their relationship only recently. “And I’ve been a subleader since the beginning of the year,” she added. Then, her tone smooth with some difficulty, she asked: “Why haven’t you come here sooner?” She hadn’t really known that Myrika had a sibling—or at least one important in her life and worth mentioning—but it was strange to think that Cassandra hadn’t come to Inferni in all that time. Even her own sibling had found her way to the coyote clan, and neither of them were Lykois. [/html]
10-02-2012, 08:24 PM
[html]
[/html]
10-04-2012, 11:18 AM
[html]
We can end here if you like, up to you. <3 The tone of the other’s voice shifted, and Vesper narrowed her eyes with puzzlement as the albino woman stated that neither of the sisters should have come here. She couldn’t understand that, mostly because she’d regarded Inferni as a haven in her time of need, and a rough place that could be redeemed through the actions of its members and leaders. Maybe it seemed dangerous, but she thought that Cassandra, at least, could take care of herself—and Myrika had many clan mates to protect her even as she fought to get stronger herself.
The Centurion frowned in silence until Cassandra admitted that Myri would stay, at which point she nodded and tried to keep the worry from her features. She doubted that the Aquila would leave, anyway, especially after the way that Ezekiel had just dumped the leadership into her lap. She refused to think any more about it, not wanting to see herself betray her other comrades, her family and friends, when she likely followed Myrika out of the clan; and really not wanting to consider that there would be an alternative, not now.
Cassandra stated her intentions after she healed, but curiously Vesper didn’t feel any relief or crude agreement with that plan. She only stared at the other scarred coyote and said, “It would make Myrika happy if you stayed.” She glanced down at herself, at the old knife scars rumpling her tawny pelt. “I came to Inferni wounded and intending to stay only until I healed. Maybe you’ll change your mind, but maybe not. But I’m sure your sister would always make you welcome, Cassandra.”
With that she turned, intending to leave the room and leave her lover’s sister to her silent recovery. [/html]
10-13-2012, 04:40 AM
[html]
[/html] |