03-23-2012, 06:18 PM
Caprica could hardly believe the soul-searching excursion her little trip to visit her Daddy in the Dreaming lands had become. The cold trees with their bare branches were no salve for her conscience or her regrets. Sometimes she wondered if she were born to waste every opportunity that came her way. Fated to experience a life only ever half-lived. She knew from experience this mood would soon lift, and she would pick herself back up: but it wasn't as if reality would rearrange itself before her eyes. Everything would stay the same, no matter how much she resolved to rise above it. It wasn't even as if she had enormous troubles - she was the only trouble, now, for every opportunity had been thrown her way for her to lift herself out of this soul-destroying rut.
She wore clothes a little more ragged than yesterday, although they'd been so to begin with - deliberately, artfully so. An uneven-hemmed skirt made from strips of black leather and velvet, hung together with metal buckles and chains which jingled faintly: a tool belt, and her purple shawl: a gothic and hand-made ensemble. The woman within felt as dark as her style, and her eyes were downcast. She had dropped her cloak out here while speaking with Cypress, and had forgotten to pick it up: now she returned to find the garment. Before long, she found a new trail leading the way ahead of her - the elegantly-shaped paws of what smelled like a woman of high regard in these parts, for her traces had reached Caprica before. They were even reminiscent of long-ago memories, which made her eyes widen, losing the despondency of the torn and twisted adult, and remembering the spirited and curious infant she had been upon her first visit to these lands. Caprica followed, forgetting her cloak once again, compelled to find the mysterious wanderer. A bird of prey in the trees ahead drew her attention: a rare looking creature, it stood sentinel over a dark figure, which soon showed itself to be that of a slim and gracefully built wolf with coat as dark as Caprica's own. Caprica announced herself formally, unsure of her identity but sensing her formidable stature. "Hello - beautiful day. You must be a leader here, your scent on the borders…uh, did dad - Ehno - tell you I'm here, or…?" She tailed off, hoping she wasn't getting her father in any kind of trouble.
She wore clothes a little more ragged than yesterday, although they'd been so to begin with - deliberately, artfully so. An uneven-hemmed skirt made from strips of black leather and velvet, hung together with metal buckles and chains which jingled faintly: a tool belt, and her purple shawl: a gothic and hand-made ensemble. The woman within felt as dark as her style, and her eyes were downcast. She had dropped her cloak out here while speaking with Cypress, and had forgotten to pick it up: now she returned to find the garment. Before long, she found a new trail leading the way ahead of her - the elegantly-shaped paws of what smelled like a woman of high regard in these parts, for her traces had reached Caprica before. They were even reminiscent of long-ago memories, which made her eyes widen, losing the despondency of the torn and twisted adult, and remembering the spirited and curious infant she had been upon her first visit to these lands. Caprica followed, forgetting her cloak once again, compelled to find the mysterious wanderer. A bird of prey in the trees ahead drew her attention: a rare looking creature, it stood sentinel over a dark figure, which soon showed itself to be that of a slim and gracefully built wolf with coat as dark as Caprica's own. Caprica announced herself formally, unsure of her identity but sensing her formidable stature. "Hello - beautiful day. You must be a leader here, your scent on the borders…uh, did dad - Ehno - tell you I'm here, or…?" She tailed off, hoping she wasn't getting her father in any kind of trouble.