table © Alaine
ooc: Okies lovely. :3
WC: 700+
A creak, a groan, a door opening and then pausing as if suspended in time, deteriorating wooden facade its best show for the living. Slender, beautiful, a caramel and ivory statue planted into the hardened wooden floors, claws clicking lightly in betrayal of their owner. Sylvie had been only a few doors down from Alaine's quarter, investigating the emptied haunts of the old hotel-living canines, the lilac princess' hope for locating something useful high. Alas, she was unable to complete her simple quest, her easy search for methods of reviving Alaine's mental state unto it's most functional. The scent of him drifted into the torn old windows, assailing the cracks in the frame with a vigor unusual for the soft-spoken dreamer. His light, airy scent was mingling with musk, decorated with hints of iron blood and pained flesh.
The nightmare had engulfed her once cobalt knight, enveloping him in shades of black and blue, bruises newly formed upon tendered flesh and soft soul. With each new herald to the arrival of the now massive wolfdog, Sylvie found herself wishing him away in favor of simple solace. Wishing the exuding anger she felt to be spirited off to a place calm and collected, light and relaxed, until the demonic nightmare within those blue skies was lost once more to an innocent dream.
The gate protested harsh treatment, the Hotel's creaking floors cried out in a chorus of angelic pain, the stairs she had once so enjoyed playing on bent to the weight above them. Sylvie had put down her occupation, a toy from their childhood, warn and unused for so long, and now stood at the threshold behind the tall, handsome colliebeast, violet orbs trained on the markings dashed across powerful back, the agitation made obvious by ever twitching tail and clenching fists. Sylvie heard Alaine's words, beginning with the start of the moonspun young lady's name, and ending with surprise and relief, slipping into a tongue she knew not. A will to touch the boy perhaps overtook the elder collie woman, to ensure he was real. Caillen responded in kind, snarling out his angry reprieve.
Sylvie stood stunned at the scene before her, rooted to the rotting wood and stone building while he, he dared to confront his mother with all the anger he could muster, talking about knowing everything. Sylvie's bright, fiery eyes narrowed. This could not be true, or he wouldn't be here tearing into his mother, but consoling her, attempting to soothe the pains the lilac colliedog had so painstakingly worked to dull over the past few days. He was a pained child, temper grasping the sanity of his mind and twisting it into a dark tantrum, a yearning for explanation not ready to be given. His was a hurt body, sickened with rage unfounded. Sylvie did her best to intervene... calmly.
"Caillen." Came a stern, simple hook, lilting tone dashed with that familiar french accent grasping at the attention of the angry brute. "For what reason do you have to make such a racket? Betrayal, you called it? Your mother has done nothing of the sort." Sylvie sympathized with Alaine. As it were, the raging bull that was Caillen was spouting about Alaine having found someone she cared for, at least enough to enjoy his company on a chilled eve. He was tearing his mother down for something that no creature could live suitably without- love. Companionship. That wondrous thing that kept bringing the gypsy child back from her traveling bands, back from the warm summer eves alone, watching the fireflies dance to a song she dreamed she once knew. "If you are on a witch hunt for a betrayer, start with me."
Gliding into the doorway came Sylvie, slender form dappled with natural curves, lilac fur a mottled chocolate fit to entice any man without difficulty. But oh, did her words ring true. She was the original betrayer, the satanic incarnate that so continuously tore their little family apart. Her worry about falling for her adopted brother, her fear at being left behind herself had propelled her forward into the world, and left him behind instead. Wanderlust had taken her in it's stead, but now, finally, the itch in her paws had completed stopped, and she was ready to confront the massive slateblue merle. Ready to take whatever he could throw at her, and do the job he had failed to do himself both innocently and without any regard.
Protect her mother.
Speak think walk
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