10-06-2012, 07:13 PM
OOC: Written to Last Samurai - A Way of Life
Einarr released his breath, allowing the anger to depart with it. The thrum of the sea and the feel of the spray became his world. Muscles moved, limbs glided and each form flowed like river water over its bed. He was at peace, there was no thoughts of past or future, just the feel of the wood and the pleasant ache of well worked muscle.
”I don’t know you.”
So focused was the grizzled optime that he thought the voice was merely a memory escaping, but seeing the form from the corner of his eye, he spun and came to rest facing the intruder, the staff held defensively between the two of them. Seamlessly adjusting his stance, he assessed the stranger, and the calm shell around him shattered….
The snow fell heavily, more heavily than he could ever remember, or perhaps he was just more aware of it today. The air was so cold it made him sneeze, which jarred with the image of a rugged warrior. What fighter kept sneezing? He heard her laugh then and he turned to face the wolf that would dare mock him.
”With such a ferocious killer in our ranks how can we lose?”
He smiled, his grin broad and genuine, his eyes lighting up, even now, at times like these, Everly could make him smile.
”Mum told me to give you this…to help with the sneezing. If you keep it up you’ll give us all away.”
Everly held a cloak, it smelt like family, spices and home. He took the proffered garment, and as he placed it over his shoulders, he saw the bow she wore, and the reality of their situation came crashing down on him again. He bent and picked up the spear from where he had dropped it. The weapon looked awkward in the mottled grey figure’s grasp, and he looked uncomfortable holding it. He took a step towards his sister, the movement was graceful, the cloak snapping in the wind.
”Since it’s going to be a hectic day, I’m going to be sentimental, and I’m allowed to be over dramatic, storyteller remember?”
He stepped forward again and hugged her, drinking in her scent, feeling the warmth of his littermate.
”I love you, a little trite but true, and whatever happens today, if…well if anything happens I just wanted you to know that. The thought of you, mum or dad getting hurt, scares me more than anything else.”
There was a brief pause before his sister replied.
”"Easy on the soppiness, tough guy.”
She didn’t pull away from the embrace.
”But I love you too.”
He nodded silently before continuing, apology in his eyes.
”I’m really sorry.”
Without another word he smacked her across the side of the head with the spear shaft, her body went limp, but he did not allow her to fall. He lifted her into his arms and walked to a tree. Leaning the unconscious form of his sister against the trunk, he cut her bowstring and squeezed her hand, then standing he unfastened the cloak and placed it over her.
”We know we’ve lost, you’re, and I’m going to take care of you the only way I that’s left to me.”
With that he turned and walked into the snow.
Einarr lowered the staff and leaned upon it, only half feigning the need for its support. His breathing was fast and shallow and his grip tightened around the wood, no punch had ever floored him so completely. Questions and exclamations sprang into his mind, all of them to insistent and becoming jumbled in his throat. His heart felt as though it would explode, joy, relief and a terrible shame gripped him all at once. Before him stood the one wolf he thought to never see again, he burned to reach out and touch her, to see if she was truly real, but years of training alone, stopped him. His scent was mostly masked by spray, and his body was a great deal different from the last time they had spoken, indeed so was his spirit and mind. If she recognised him would she be ashamed? She had lost her brother and standing before her was a shell, a wolf who had committed uncounted atrocities. The silence had lasted too long, he made his decision. Doing his best to hold back his heaving chest and maintain the even speech, he allowed his appearance of utter reliance on the staff not to waver, he must have looked so wretched, an old wolf who clung desperately to vitality with physical practise his body could barely cope with, or at least that’s the image he tried to project.
”I…am sorry….You startled me…I am Einarr….”
He lowered his head, so that she could not gaze into his eyes, and as he spoke the next words his throat almost closed.
”Who are you?”
His voice was deep, the words carefully chosen, but the tone was flat, with no accent or hint at his thoughts or feelings, it had never been so hard to maintain as now.
Einarr released his breath, allowing the anger to depart with it. The thrum of the sea and the feel of the spray became his world. Muscles moved, limbs glided and each form flowed like river water over its bed. He was at peace, there was no thoughts of past or future, just the feel of the wood and the pleasant ache of well worked muscle.
”I don’t know you.”
So focused was the grizzled optime that he thought the voice was merely a memory escaping, but seeing the form from the corner of his eye, he spun and came to rest facing the intruder, the staff held defensively between the two of them. Seamlessly adjusting his stance, he assessed the stranger, and the calm shell around him shattered….
The snow fell heavily, more heavily than he could ever remember, or perhaps he was just more aware of it today. The air was so cold it made him sneeze, which jarred with the image of a rugged warrior. What fighter kept sneezing? He heard her laugh then and he turned to face the wolf that would dare mock him.
”With such a ferocious killer in our ranks how can we lose?”
He smiled, his grin broad and genuine, his eyes lighting up, even now, at times like these, Everly could make him smile.
”Mum told me to give you this…to help with the sneezing. If you keep it up you’ll give us all away.”
Everly held a cloak, it smelt like family, spices and home. He took the proffered garment, and as he placed it over his shoulders, he saw the bow she wore, and the reality of their situation came crashing down on him again. He bent and picked up the spear from where he had dropped it. The weapon looked awkward in the mottled grey figure’s grasp, and he looked uncomfortable holding it. He took a step towards his sister, the movement was graceful, the cloak snapping in the wind.
”Since it’s going to be a hectic day, I’m going to be sentimental, and I’m allowed to be over dramatic, storyteller remember?”
He stepped forward again and hugged her, drinking in her scent, feeling the warmth of his littermate.
”I love you, a little trite but true, and whatever happens today, if…well if anything happens I just wanted you to know that. The thought of you, mum or dad getting hurt, scares me more than anything else.”
There was a brief pause before his sister replied.
”"Easy on the soppiness, tough guy.”
She didn’t pull away from the embrace.
”But I love you too.”
He nodded silently before continuing, apology in his eyes.
”I’m really sorry.”
Without another word he smacked her across the side of the head with the spear shaft, her body went limp, but he did not allow her to fall. He lifted her into his arms and walked to a tree. Leaning the unconscious form of his sister against the trunk, he cut her bowstring and squeezed her hand, then standing he unfastened the cloak and placed it over her.
”We know we’ve lost, you’re, and I’m going to take care of you the only way I that’s left to me.”
With that he turned and walked into the snow.
Einarr lowered the staff and leaned upon it, only half feigning the need for its support. His breathing was fast and shallow and his grip tightened around the wood, no punch had ever floored him so completely. Questions and exclamations sprang into his mind, all of them to insistent and becoming jumbled in his throat. His heart felt as though it would explode, joy, relief and a terrible shame gripped him all at once. Before him stood the one wolf he thought to never see again, he burned to reach out and touch her, to see if she was truly real, but years of training alone, stopped him. His scent was mostly masked by spray, and his body was a great deal different from the last time they had spoken, indeed so was his spirit and mind. If she recognised him would she be ashamed? She had lost her brother and standing before her was a shell, a wolf who had committed uncounted atrocities. The silence had lasted too long, he made his decision. Doing his best to hold back his heaving chest and maintain the even speech, he allowed his appearance of utter reliance on the staff not to waver, he must have looked so wretched, an old wolf who clung desperately to vitality with physical practise his body could barely cope with, or at least that’s the image he tried to project.
”I…am sorry….You startled me…I am Einarr….”
He lowered his head, so that she could not gaze into his eyes, and as he spoke the next words his throat almost closed.
”Who are you?”
His voice was deep, the words carefully chosen, but the tone was flat, with no accent or hint at his thoughts or feelings, it had never been so hard to maintain as now.