An Old Man's Quest: Part 2

Marcus Biscay · 08-12-2010, 05:56 PM

[html]

Hey there! This thread pre-dated to July 30th, yeah? That's what goes with my story arc. It can be set near Tallermein's Cottage, or walking through the countryside. At the cottage would be preferred. The only thing that can't be done is a trip to Haven Manor. Someone can either arrive, or already have been there. Whichever suits you better. :-)

In the books that Marcus had read, the morning always seemed to come too soon. Today, he thought, the morning had come too late. He had gone to sleep anxious for sunrise, and anxious for his postponed adventure. Still, he woke up in the morning, and followed his usual routine. He rose from his bunk, wound his fob watch, and stumbled to the galley. Today, his left ankle was acting up. He glared at it with disappointed scorn. The afternoon before, prior to arriving at his ship, Marcus had picked some berries he found in the countryside. He threw them together with some eggs he had taken from a small nest in the trees, and cooked them on his fire stove. As he ate, he glanced at his cane, which was leaning against the starboard wall. He could still recall the time he began using that cane. It was the summer of '05. He was on assignment from the Congregatio, in Sarajevo. As he arrived in the city, a large pack of men on horseba--. Marcus had finished his breakfast. It was time to set out. He would have to recall his ventures in Sarajevo some other time. He grabbed his cane and satchel, thrust himself outside, and set out once again seeking Haven Manor, and Savina Marino.

Not wanting to make another trip though the military camp he had crossed though the day before, Marcus followed the Mersey River northwest. He enjoyed the trickle of water in his ears as he walked. They reminded him of his time in Rome, along the Tiber. He would sit for days, just listening. Of course, as soon as his mark appeared, he would need to strike, but for the time, he would sit in bliss, just listening to the gentle waters against the docks. He could hear a great many things, sitting on the wooden bulkheads of the harbour. Captains quarrelling, their crews drinking and laughing gaily. Citizens chatting with each other, discussing the latest news. Birds gawking at nothing, and screeching at even less. Occasionally, even a few revolutionists, trying to re-establish 'The Ancient's Legacy'. Marcus would always laugh at these students, as they walked by, plotting assassinations, and drawing up 'battle plans'. If they had done their research properly, they would have seen that 'The Ancients' were nothing more than humans, and their 'Legacy' was nothing more than the empty shell they left behind when they---. Marcus came to the draw of the Mersey. 'Lake Rossignol', he thought. The Manor must be located on the other side of the water. He reached down to his waist, and took his spyglass out from it's case. Looking through it, he could make out the figure of a large, brick building. He smiled, content with his findings, and reached for his right fob watch. He opened it, shook it swiftly back and forth, and frowned. Putting it away, he took the other watch from his left pocket, and opened it. He smiled, put it away, and began walking once more.

After a short time, Marcus looked to his left, and saw the windmill he had rested at the day before. He remembered his conversation with Ehno, and how wonderful it was to have met another who was well travelled. It made him happy to know that he wasn't alone in experience. Marcus continued to walk until he came to a sight which caught him off guard. Before him stood a goat. This wasn't an unusual sight to Marcus. Nor was it expected. He had seen goats rampant in the territories around Berlin. Though domestication teams were doing their best, the fact of the matter were that there were just too many to rally. Marcus was called in to subdue the problem. His mission was to destroy the breeding grounds that the goats had established. It made Marcus chuckle that the Congregatio was taking such official action against goats. They even went as far as to call it a 'secret operation'. When he arrived, Marcus' jaw fell limp at the overwhelming amount of fauna before him. It was apparent that he would need to---. Marcus remembered his mission. He checked his left fob watch. It was already half past eleven. He would need to move quickly if he wanted his visit to last. He spun around, and started to walk again. He looked about as he walked, and his eyes caught on to a figure. He smiled slightly, and planted his feet, cane in between for support. He then waited. Whatever happened next would be up to the figure that stood before him.

800+

Ghita Marino · 08-17-2010, 02:09 PM

[html]

^-^ Here I am! Sorry the post is a little rambly at the beginning... xD
Wc: 636

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

It wasn't an unusual sight to see the Lieutenant prowling the lands at this - or any - hour of the day. Not only did her ranks of Lieutenant and Courser dictate long days of activity, but it was the wanderlust that stirred in her veins today that spurred her towards Tailerman's Cottage, crossing the countryside with more difficulty than usual. Ever since the barn had collapsed on her slender leg, she'd walked with a cane supporting her right side, the heavy wooden stick frequently used to prod at disobedient pups, if not it's proper use.

All the same, the day was wondrous; Enough to pull the Italian fae out of her foul mood. Bright turquoise optics scanned the area around her, while the wind whistled through her timber-hued pelt and caused slender emerald blades to nip at her ankles. The slender fae turned her cranium towards the periwinkle heavens, breathing in the day for a moment, and letting the wild air out in an exhilarating gust. The wild had become nothing but more precious to Ghita, since her time on bed rest for her knee. Sure, she couldn't run across the lands as she had before, and her hunting had taken a slight turn for the worse, but she was still agile and able, and recovery was slow but sure.

The Italian fae let her chestnut hair be teased by the winds for a moment, closing her optics to enjoy the moment. Her ocean-blue sarong whipped around her figure, slapping against her walking stick as the weather rejuvenated her once more. The air had always been, and always would be dead inside Haven Manor, as much as she loved her home with Jazper, Aro and Sophia. She had been brought up in the Italian outdoors, had wandered with Nomads outdoors, and crossed the sea to Canada to remain outdoors - it was in her blood, her very soul to be content in the wild, more so than inside. And on a glorious day like today, it was no exception.

But with the wind came an unfamiliar scent to Ghita, and instantly her mood flipped from one of relaxed bliss to suspicion. The scent was a male canine's, that much was sure, and he seemed to be not too far off. The mother's first thoughts were towards the safety of Crimson Dreams' young; Her own sister, Savina, had young puppies now, and so did Anu, Savina's second in command. And of course, one couldn't forget her own children. Even if they were old enough to take care of themselves, it didn't mean that Ghita didn't want to shelter them at every turn.

Walking towards the scent now, her gait short and awkward with the newness of the walking stick, it didn't take very long for her to make out the distinct figure of another Optime Luperci in the distance. He seemed to notice her as well, and calmly waited for her arrival. Well, that suited the fae just fine; She didn't mind the extra walking. Her gait brought her towards the new companion rather quickly, and one of the first things she noticed about him was the odd clothing he wore. The fae herself had only seen a limited selection of clothing, and Marcus' vest was not among the selection she knew well, and neither was the eyepiece.

The cane, however, she knew all too well. The signs of age were all too prevalent on what she now knew was a Border Collie, even if the dress was strange to her. Creasing her face in what would be recognized world-over as a smile, she exposed her pearly teeth in a grin, friendly enough while still maintaining a slight air of authority. "Good morning. What brings you around these parts? I don't think I've seen you before."

Marcus Biscay · 08-17-2010, 04:49 PM

[html]

Ahaha no problem! You must be a walking talking thesaurus! Great vocabulary! :-D

Female. This was the first of many words to come to Marcus' head in his brief deduction. Cane, weaker right side. No sign of scarring. Bone shattered, perhaps. Crushed. Yes. Recovering, about two months along. Injury therefore sustained in early June, late May. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Ear pierced. Slim build. Stunning resemblance to Ehno Marcus blinked. Savina... No. Cane. Injury. Alphess would need to impose upon the whole of the pack. Impossible for a leader to show a sign of weakness... She doesn't look weak to me. The old man looked the female before him up and down, and drew more and more conclusions. Clothing. Well, partial clothing. Well, sarong. Pretty colour. Marcus had not seen a sarong in quite some time. His mother used to wear them around the house. She would wear a bright red one, with beads and heavy detail which she had added herself. All of Marcus' clothing was made by her. Including the vest he was wearing this day. The tell tale beads and detail were present. The beads closed the pockets, and the entire backing on the vest had a tremendous amount of detail. Thinking about his mother often made Marcus fall into a fit of depression, and so, all thought on that subject ceased and desisted.

Marcus regarded the woman in front of him as she spoke. Another Italian, he thought. Glorious! A smile was becoming familiar to his face at this point. There were so many wonderful things in these lands. How could he resist? Everything around him was pulsating with nuance and adventure, something which he longed for, even as a child. At the age of 6 months, Marcus had uncovered a locksmithing kit from a shop in Kensington. He quickly picked up basic lock-picking after disassembling a few lock mechanisms, and so, decided to try out his skill on a larger target. Namely, the Tower of London. This new world, the people, the places, the air, even the grass, gave him the same rush as the prison antechambers inside the great fortress of the White Tower. " Good morning. No, I can't imagine you would have seen me here before. I'm new, said Marcus with a sort of odd pride. "La mia nave ha portato a me a queste terre. Vengo da Europa anche." The Musketeer smiled, and gave his counterpart a wonderful glance. My name is Marcus Thadeus Biscay. No, you won't have to say that every time. I'm old, I save time by sticking to 'Marcus'. Come ti chiami, signora?" It did Marcus good to brush up on his languages. And surprising people with foreign words was always a good time.

500+

Ghita Marino · 08-17-2010, 05:31 PM

[html]

Aw, thank you! Not really - just on some of the older words. I apparently have a very old-fashioned way of speaking, but I can usually wean it off in writing. ;3 And this post would've been done faster, but your girlfriend was distracting me. XD
Wc: 685

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

There were those awkward few moments that spanned between the two canines where they were too far away to talk, but too close not to take stock of each other. It was almost as if they were sizing each other up, analyzing - which was exactly what they were doing. A prickle of self-awareness, and a tiny bit of shame pricked at the back of Ghita's neck, nestling in an all-too-familiar place. Ghita held herself in somewhat of a high regard, formerly priding herself on her prowess as a huntress and a mother. But now, ever since the injury, her leg had taken a turn for the worse, making that, and not her worth as a member of Crimson Dreams, be the first thing strangers took stock of when meeting her.

And that simple knowledge made her edgy, the fae wanting nothing better than to throw away the cane and walk with the grace she had lost. Ghita was well-aware of the male's wandering eye level as she walked towards him, just a little uncomfortable with the judging. But she was doing the same thing as she drew nearer as well, although not making many good deductions, contrasting with her companion.

His black trousers he wore showed a decent amount of wear and tear, although that didn't necessarily signify a well-worn traveller. The male was old, after all, and those pair of pants could be the one he wore throughout his life. Ghita after all only had the one sarong to wear. But she had the sense that this canine was worldly - in his clothing and posture, at least. Ghita had never thought of using the cane as a symbol of power, as Marcus' stance indicated. Perhaps she could learn a thing or two from him? The glasses he wore on his bi-coloured eyes were also an indication of status. She knew what they were for, from her travels across Italy and Canada, but had never seen them in practice. It almost automatically gave off an air of importance, not quite demanding, but requesting respect.

As she spoke, a smile broke out across Marcus' face, although Ghita wasn't entirely sure why. Sure, her tone had an Italian lilt to it, almost a sigh of a faraway song that spoke of her Italian origins. Self-consciously, she shifted her posture, leaning more on her cane than her legs now, giving off a slight air of suspicion and defensiveness. The fiery Marino was known, at least among her siblings, as being slightly mistrusting at first, but as soon as some hint of familiarity was offered, she would relax a little more.

"New? To the pack you mean, or just to the area?" Ghita could occasionally have trouble keeping up with all of the new members of Crimson Dreams, and wouldn't be surprised if this canine was in fact a new member of her pack. Then again, why else would he be wandering on her territory, if he wasn't looking for a fight?
He sure didn't look like a member of Inferni.

As soon as Marcus slipped into Italian, it was as if someone had flipped a switch, transforming the fae. An unexpected, joyous smile spread across her face, and she straightened up, ears standing up to soak in all of the sounds of her homeland. "Sei? Il tuo italiano è abbastanza buono. Di dove sei?" It wasn't quite as good as the natural tones she and her siblings took on while speaking their native tongue, but surprisingly good nonetheless. She hadn't met many other wolves in the surrounding packs who could speak her old language, and the change refreshed her.

Slipping back into English for the sake of the conversation, Ghita couldn't be quite sure what Marcus' first language was, but English seemed to be the more familiar of their common grounds. Besides, there was always the chance of losing things in between translation, and the result could be particularly disastrous if it was an important piece of information. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Marcus. I'm Ghita Marino, Savina and Ehno's younger sister. Welcome to Crimson Dreams."

Marcus Biscay · 08-17-2010, 07:21 PM

[html]

As the brown haired woman walked toward Marcus, he noticed subtle things about her. Her hips moved with the sort of wide stride that accompanies childbirth. She was a mother. Also, the stick which she walked with had a rustic quality about it. It reminded Marcus of an old friend of his: Jacques Baroné, The Hammer.* He would always hulk about carrying a large staff that he had ripped from a great oak. It was old, worn, and absolutely devastating when used properly. The woman before Marcus seemed to be powerful enough to be imposing with a cane, but too lacking in experience to do any proper damage. Still, he would not want to test her. "New? To the pack you mean, or just to the area?" said the woman. Marcus had only the confirmation of two of the pack's many members, and so he did not count himself as being a part of such yet. "To the area," he said, "I've only just arrived on these shores in the past few days." Marcus approved of such questions. He would not expect anybody to know who he was around here. His legends were strung in lands far far away.

When the blue-eyed female in front of him slipped her utterances into Italian, Marcus once more felt right at home. As with Ehno, it had warmed his heart to find such a familiar tone in such a far off place. He smiled a deep, warm smile, and said, "Thank you. I picked up a lot during my stays in Rome and Venice. I myself, however, hail from London. I tend to figure that my accent would give it away, but I'm so world weary at this point that I suppose my tone has become one of many dialects. It was true. Marcus had become so peregrinated that his London accent had been lost, and a new, 'Pseudo-Euro' dialect had consumed his speech. It would be near impossible for anybody to pinpoint his exact origin from his voice alone.

Marcus' eyes widened in glee, and his mouth opened to sound out a celebratory noise. "Ha! I could have bet my life on that! You look so much like your brother, I could have sworn you were the same person," the old man laughed. "A pleasure to meet you, Ghita Marino. And thank you. But I suppose this is hardly the appropriate instance for 'welcome'. I arrived two days ago, and met with Anu. Yesterday, I met your brother. I suppose it is fitting that now, I meet you, and then tomorrow, your sister." Marcus laughed, but then drew himself back inward. He had come to seek out Savina, not her sister... But what was another day? Perhaps it would be best to gain favour with the pack members before meeting their leader. It wasn't like he had a deadline to meet. Savina could wait. Ghita was worth a chat.

*In 1997, a group of French revolutionaries took it upon themselves to create L'Orage de Approche; The Oncoming Storm. It was a radical group designed to locate and destroy any and all pieces of human architecture, technology, and culture. In 2002, a large Orage platoon led by Raelle Couchon ransacked Versaille, and began to rip it apart. The Congregatio took notice, and sent in their best associates to deal with the threat. Marcus Birch, The Musketeer; Amalia Corusa, The Historian; and Stanislaus Javoltz, Der Spion, were all present. During the initial struggle, Amalia and Marcus were captured while supplying a distraction for Stan. He would proceed to run to the nearest settlement, and rally up a small militia. The militia, led by Stan and the town's Alpha Male, Jacques Baroné, would rush the palace, and succeed in saving most of the valuables inside. In the final confrontation between Raelle Couchon and Jacques, the latter would show his exceptional strength of mind and body, leading to his eventual induction into the Congregatio.

wc = 735

Ghita Marino · 08-18-2010, 10:50 AM

[html]

Sorry it's not a particularly good post... muse doesn't tend to favor me early in the morning. : P
Wc: 863

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

It was true - the lilt to Marcus' tone hinted at something not-quite Canadian, but Ghita was unable to place it's origin beyond that. There had been too many wolves who had lived in Canada most of their lives, but also held on some of their native tongue, letting the accent slip in between syllables now and again, making for a pleasing collage of many indeterminate dialects, all with a few common denominators. To hear someone who hadn't fallen into the same patterns as the rest of the Crimson Dreamers had, save a few exceptions, was both pleasant and refreshing to hear. It reminded Ghita all too much of herself when she had first arrived, barely speaking English at all and struggling to understand her pack.

Nodding at his response, his arrival was just another puzzle piece to add to the pile, mirroring her journey here as well. She'd suspected he wasn't from around these parts, at least recently, but only now had been proven correct. Wondering absent-mindedly about his conditions while crossing the sea, she held her tongue politely, letting the conversation drift there when it would. Her crossing of the seas hadn't been overly terrible, but she'd heard some war stories about her namesake, the sea, and was curious to know how he had fared.

As her bi-coloured companion felt right at home with the language, so did Ghita - for differing reasons, perhaps. To the Italian fae, this was the language that she'd shunned to come to Canada with her siblings. She'd turned her back, as all of her siblings had, on the overly-traditional lifestyle they'd grown up with, turned their back on their father, had started anew in Canada, in English. But Ghita could find herself longing for the countryside now and again, longing for the familiarity of Italy. But she didn't long for the people she'd left behind. Along with her father, she'd abandoned her former mate, Carlo, who'd taken on another fae shortly after her miscarriage. And her former pack hadn't been quite so receptive on her recent return there, either. No, it was definitely the stimulation of the senses she'd missed, along with the comforting feel the language held, especially when her own mother sang it to her in everyday speech.

Pondering over these cities briefly, Ghita had never been terrible with navigation, but knew that these were places she had never, and likely would never visit. Marcus spoke of the larger colonies, less traditional from what she knew, and easily worlds away from her small traditional pack. Although, that wasn't to say that she hadn't heard of these cities - they simply weren't her cup to tea, to reference Marcus' newly-discovered English routes. "London England, you say?" She commented, perhaps a little stupidly, but the fae figured it was much better to confirm rather than assume. (To assume makes an ass out of you and me, after all.) Smiling at his next comment, she nodded, almost trying to imagine what that would feel like. "I'm sure you certainly have a volume of stories to tell."

Admittedly, she was shocked at her companion's over-zealous response to her heritage, but laughed along with him once she discovered the source. It was a rich, velvety laugh, taken straight from the bubbling nature of the stream. "Yes, we've gotten that a lot. It's Savina who's the oddball in terms of colouring." Her sister wore a stunning midnight pelt on her back, showing almost no resemblance to the more earthy-toned of her siblings, who both wore chestnut hair as well as similar pelts. But their eye colour was each their own; Savina held emeralds in her gaze, Ghita turquoises, and Ehno the bane of amber itself.

Just two days ago? The abruptness of his arrival was startling, even for the fast-paced Marino fae. She'd figured the male had been here at least a few more days than that, possibly even a week! It took a while to adjust to a new land, if you weren't used to traveling, as Marcus obviously was. But the fae usually preferred to get her bearings in the new land; Mark the hunting grounds, her territory, know who's toes she'd be trodding on soon enough... her companion seemed the fellow to launch right into a new land, which she frankly had to admire, especially at his age.

"So you've met Anu and Ehno, and onto Savina tomorrow, eh? My advice would be not to try and make it through all of the Marinos - I have two children myself, and eleven nieces and nephews!" It was light-hearted joking at it's best, but she spoke some truth - the Marino family was expanding rapidly, and she was proud to say that all of her family was in good health.

"Is there any particular reason you're seeking my sister?" Savina was the leader of their pack, but if Marcus was seeking out her blessing, it was a blessing he didn't need; He had already met Anu, the second of two pack members who could accept new members into their pack. But if he was set on her sable sister, Ghita would quite happily point the way for him.

Marcus Biscay · 08-18-2010, 07:33 PM

[html]

That's ok, I don't expect mine to be that cunning and brilliant either... I've been having bad headaches lately.

"England, yes." Marcus had forgotten where he was. People no longer knew of such places. It was by chance that even a native to Italy knew of England. Transportation back in Europe tended to be very limited, and therefore, so was communication. Ships, horses, and wagons were the extent of European transport. The great metal machines described by the archives as 'Airplanes' were obsolete. Cars, trucks, and vans also could not be used. Even fuel powered ships were turned into scrap. Not only could such mediums of transport not be powered, but the knowledge required to pilot such machines was lost long ago. The whole of European society had, in essence, reverted to the 19th century. Technology such as phones and computers were also obsolete, along with any other device requiring electricity. Long ago, the power plants of the humans were shut down. Many organizations (including the Congregatio), had attempted to get them running once again, but such a task was daunting, even for brilliant minds. Thinking on such topics as electricity brought sadness to Marcus. He had lost a great friend to such devices. But he would not dwell on such things. He had a conversation to uphold.

Eleven nieces and nephews... Marcus had thought about the extent of the Marino family the day before, but that was before he had met Ghita. The Marino clan was truly massive. Not as massive as it could be, or as large as his hypothesis had projected, but still, massive. He would not dare attempt to meet them all. Such a task would eventually fulfill itself. In the future, he would eventually meet everyone, but for now, Savina would suffice.

Ghita deserved to know why Marcus was seeking her sister. Truthfully, anybody who asked deserved to know. It wasn't a devastating secret. "I wish to make my presence known," started Marcus. "I could not possibly feel at home here without first meeting the woman in charge." Realizing a skip in formality, Marcus corrected himself. "I've taken residence here, you see. Thanks to that lovely woman, Anu, giving me permission to stay... But that still puts my concern into the light. I must discuss my permanent stay with Savina. She deserves to know what she's letting into her lands." The old man reached back to his satchel, and pulled out a small package. "Also, I have a gift." He glanced at Ghita, and deposited the package into his bag once more. "Sadly, for her eyes only. I apologize." Marcus wasn't sure how the rest of the pack would react to his gift. He didn't even know how Savina would react. Hopefully, she would understand his plea. Otherwise, The Musketeer may be sailing to new lands once again.

500+

Ghita Marino · 08-19-2010, 10:17 PM

[html]

Aw, that's no good! DX Try some advil and lots of liquid? I can't say I'm a stranger to bad headaches, though..
Wc: 727

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

Feeling slightly sheepish at having to ask which country in particular, Ghita tried to hide this shame by shuffling her weight around, fiddling with her walking stick as she went. She could just tell, the way that you knew a herd of caribou hadn't seen you yet, that Marcus had seen history unfold in front of him, and his tales would span generations. She felt small and childish in front of him, a way she hadn't felt in years, ever since she had left the pack after his miscarriage. But it wasn't a resentful manner at all - she was almost thirsting to hear all he had to say - he had an intriguing air about him, and she could hang on to every word.

It had taken her a few moments to count every one of her nieces and nephews, and she was fervently hoping she hadn't missed one of Ehno's children in the count. Since the pups didn't live in Crimson Dreams, she rarely saw them - only at the occasional family reunion, and those were few and far between. Ever since the drama between Naniko, Savina, and Ehno had played out, the ivory mother was quite reluctant to let her children into Crimson Dreams to see their Marino bloodline - but it was undeniable - they were Ehno's children, Marinos, as well.

But she was confident that these stories were trivial, almost juvenile compared to the canine that stood before him. At this point in time, an outside might think that Ghita felt intimidated by the stranger, but that couldn't quite be the case here. It was true, she was slightly intimidated, but it had been a while since she had seen a grandfatherly figure to her at all - the oldest wolf she knew in Crimson Dreams was Anu, and the males she knew were young. The only actual paternal figure who was worth listening to was Lorenzo, and that was lifetimes ago when he tried to teach the puppy Ghita English. With Marcus' appearance on the land, it was almost as if Nature herself was stepping in to balance Ghita's life, and give her a soul that she could look to in this way.

Nodding at what Marcus finally revealed, her turquoise eyes sparkled with the depths of discovery. "So you wish to join Crimson Dreams, then?" She stated, more than asked. The fae wouldn't lie and say she was disappointed about the fact - she liked the old dog already. He was full of protocol and respect that perhaps the Canadian wolves had forgotten, away from the European influence for so long. Ghita let out a smile at hearing Anu's name, now, knowing that the kindly lady would certainly take to Marcus quickly, and allow him to stay. She was a figure Ghita looked up to immensely, and the Italian lady expected no less of her.

The only cloud that passed over their meeting was the package he now produced out of his satchel. The femme hadn't known much about the circumstances of Cambria's experience with the drugs, but she knew that inquisitive puppies could get their noses caught where they didn't belong. "No offense taken - I understand." It was at times like these where an uneasy feeling should've settled into Ghita's gut, at being passed over for her sister - but the pride from Ghita's youth had been subdued with experience, especially now that she was on better terms with the sable fae, and she knew her rank was more important to the pack.

"I'm sure she'll love the gift, Marcus. It was very kind for you to bring it!" Already her mind was whirling with the tempting tendrils of prospect; could it be an ancient artifact from the faraway London, England? Or perhaps her very own Italy! It was a secret her bi-coloured companion held dear, and being a wolfess of privacy herself, she respected that. But of course, that wouldn't stop her mind from entertaining the possibilities! Ghita was certain Savina would show her the treasure later on, but for now it wasn't her fortune to discover it's contents. Although she wouldn't pretend not to be fascinated by it! "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about - Savina is a kind Alphess, and she'll be more than happy to have you, if I know her at all."

Marcus Biscay · 08-20-2010, 10:16 PM

[html]

Uh oh, the leg has been brought up xD

Kind was not the word Marcus would have used to describe his gift to Savina. Words could not describe the emotion behind the small lump of faded white parchment inside the old man's satchel. He imagined it's mystery. He imagined the wondrous things which he himself would picture inside. Rings, rubies, gold, heirlooms-- all fantastic. All wrong. "Yes, I suppose," chuckled Marcus. "I do hope it is well received." The old man's head began to veer off to the right, lost in distress. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about - Savina is a kind Alphess, and she'll be more than happy to have you, if I know her at all," said Ghita. These words lifted Marcus' heart from the slump it had begun to fall into. After all, who would know Savina better than her own sister? Perhaps her brother..? Marcus had never bothered to ask Ehno about the gift. But no matter. That was in the past.

"Your sister continues to present herself as a wonderful person. She should consider that a compliment, seeing as I have yet to make her acquaintance," said Marcus. "I suppose her appreciation will have to be had unconsciously." A spark of light hit the green of Marcus' left eye. He began to laugh. An old arm reached towards his left waistcoat pocket. As the tip of his index finger reached the dark burgundy bead that held closed the pocket, the entire arm froze, and retreated. The opposite hand patted the pocket, and a content chuckle sounded from within a worn old throat. Marcus did not need to know the time. He looked up at Ghita, and then down to her leg. A small wheel in the back of his mind began turning once more, and the fires of the old man's memory came blazing to life. "Your leg. It must have been overwhelming," started Marcus, as he drew his eyes up to meet with Ghita's. The pain, I mean." The grizzled seriousness of Marcus' face was only matched by the vividness of his sincerity. He threw his cane up, and caught it mid-air, grasping the midsection. "There's more to my using this cane than old age. He regarded his cane almost curiously, and then turned a straight face onto Ghita. A slight smile cracked the corner of his mouth. "Would you like to hear a story?"

300+

Ghita Marino · 08-21-2010, 03:08 PM

[html]

Oh noes! D:! But story time makes it better. XD
Wc: 774

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

Her mind was like a puppy's now, the possibilities chasing each other around her mind fueled by the curiosity and a world of possibilities. She wasn't about to give voice to her guesses, of course, but that didn't stop the fae from speculating. Ghita had always been a naturally a curious child, and that had never changed even with age. However, her maturity had, and so had her reactions to curious events. While she formerly hadn't thought about manners or politeness, the older, more mature Ghita could easily hold her tongue and prevent certain faux-pas she'd committed in the past.

"I'm sure it will be." A light smile across her face, the Italian huntress noticed as Marcus' thoughts seemed to take a darker turn, but didn't want to pry into darker secrets. So she took it upon herself to fiddle with her cane, the thick wood a good way to relieve the stress on her ebony claws. Luckily, it only took a few seconds for Marcus to perk up, and only a few scratches on her cane for the awkward feeling to slip away from them. The fae didn't know why Marcus' mood had taken a dip, but she also knew it was his emotions to remedy on his own.

At that remark, Ghita smiled, the pride for her sister evident on her face. "She's made quite an impact on all of the pack members. I don't think one of us has any problem with her." Except for Naniko... This time, it was Ghita's turn to take a somber mood check - the ivory fae had once been a member of Crimson Dreams - that much she remembered from when Cambria and her siblings were born - but an incident that occurred just before Ghita's second arrival constituted the D'Angelo's rapid retreat from the pack. And of course, that was explainable - what had happened to Cambria was unacceptable for anyone.

Nonetheless, she laughed along with him, the sound infectious to her comparatively young ears. Besides - if Marcus could pull himself out of his somber mood, so could she - there were more pressing things to attend to than the past. Her turquoise optics darted towards where the hand journeyed, and again her curiosity was pricked. This man seemed to be full of little mysteries and odd trinkets that would stay locked away as a secret. The question, this time, was intentionally obvious on her face, as her eyebrows furrowed and her head tilted slightly to the right. But still, she said nothing, allowing Marcus to keep his secrets if he desired.

Ghita had been playing on the precipice for a few moments, the memory of Cambria's puppyhood accident plaguing her mind and nipping at her guilt for not being there. Although at the last moment, it was brought back by both her curiosity and Marcus' light mood, and after a while it seemed like Ghita's mood would be alright, and the meeting would still go off without a hitch, until her leg was brought up.

Her face instantly darkening, Ghita's white-tipped hand placed the cane in front of the bad leg, hiding it's disability from the male and scowling down at the wooden stick, as if it was it's fault for her accident. After a moment or two, her eyes flickered up to his, defiant fire beginning to spark behind them, until they were quenched with understanding. In Marcus' gaze, the fae could see something else there, the weight of not just sympathy, but empathy playing there.

"It's fine." She said curtly, her hurt and anger more visible than she would've liked. Her current emotions could only be matched by her hatred of being vulnerable, hatred of having such an obvious weakness to the outside world, one that she was often called out on. It seemed to be a talking point if the conversation fizzled, leaving the frazzled Ghita's nerves to fray on their own. Her grip was tightening on her cane, now, the unease plain to see. Even if the male shared the cane and it's injury, it didn't mean that it made Ghita's own injury any better, or did anything to heal her injured pride.

A sudden movement caught the corner of her eye, and her head flicked up, instincts flaring. It looked almost like he was readying for an attack, and in response her lips curled up ever so slightly, just before his next words settled in. Forcing her heart to stop beating furiously, she nodded, letting out a heavy sigh almost as if she could force out her pain through her lungs. "If you wish to tell one."

Marcus Biscay · 08-21-2010, 09:29 PM

[html]

Sorry it's so long xD You don't have to read it all if you don't want to. The end is the important part ;-)

Marcus' eyes widened, and his lungs filled with a gloriously generous amount of air. Oh, how he wished to tell a story. It gave him joy, in it's rawest form. For a man who's life had been so long, and so turbulent, the retelling of events made him realize just how lucky he was to have found refuge. It brought happiness to an old man's heart to be able to dazzle people with the ventures of The Musketeer.

Marcus gestured for his new friend to sit down on a mound, and slid his cane back down to the palm of his hand. "I always wish to tell a story, Ghita, said Marcus, as he looked to the sky. His bi-coloured eyes squinted as they hit the sun's heavy rays. He turned the whole of his body towards Ghita, and planted his cane by his foot. He leaned on the old stick, and used it as a balance to sit on a large stone. Once the old man was down, the cane was placed by the side of the stone, and his eyes met the curled ball that his hands had become. "Back where I come from-- and I suppose where you come from as well-- there was an ancient society. Ever since the Rising, the society was flourishing. They were The Specialis Lupus Congregatio. Nobody really knew who they were, what they did, or why they did it, but what was known for sure is that they were the most powerful organization ever to cross the face of Europe. They were kings, and they were paupers. They were generals, and they were slaves. To those within the organization, it was simply 'The Congregatio'. To those without, it was nothing. A speck in the light. A shadow from the corner of their eye." Marcus' tone darkened slightly. "And what can a shadow do? Nothing. So you ignore it. You let it slip away from your mind. But then it's dark, and the shadow can consume you. This was The Congregatio. Wonderful, and treacherous." His tone settled once more. "Among the society's renowned alumni were the very best in every field imaginable. Spies, historians, brutes, linguists, scientists, chemists, navigators, strategists, and of course, swordsmen. Among the best of all, arguably the best of all, was The Musketeer; the master of swordsmanship, and jack of all other trades. He was so named for his mastery of the sword and gun, and his righteousness towards others. Throughout the whole of his career, he amassed such a large reputation that in the end, he had to be retired, due to the large pantheon of enemies he had won himself. This, is a story of him."

"You yourself are from Italy, and so I assume you are familiar with the Adriatic Sea. Well, on the other side of that immense body of water is a large city known as Sarajevo. It is a city of impossibly ancient buildings, and amazingly scarce order. Even the wonders of Rome could not compete with it's age. It is there that our story is set." Marcus leaned back, and rested his hand on the grass, supporting his weight. " It was near the end of The Musketeer's career. He had just finished his last assignment in Berlin, turning up only one lead on the man he was chasing. The one lead led him to Sarajevo. As he arrived in the city, he was greeted by a large pack of men on horseback. They looked mostly harmless, save for one; apparently, the leader. He was armed to the teeth with weapons, customized to fit his hands, and upgraded to cause maximum destruction. He also bore the seal of the family Harsevekt. The seal which The Musketeer was chasing. The sealed leader spoke up, and said, 'What is your business in Sarajevo?' The Musketeer's ears peaked. He knew that tone. This man would not think twice about shooting him clear in the head. He tried to reason, saying 'I am here, only to find a friend of mine. Let me pass, and none of you will be harmed' The men laughed at The Musketeer's threat. The leader drew his sword, and laughed even louder: 'You are one man! We are legion! YOU will leave now, or else YOU will be "harmed"' The Musketeer sighed. He did not want to see bloodshed. 'This is your last warning, Harsevekt. Let me to your brother, or I will take no pleasure in killing you.' The Harsevekt leader's eyes widened. His grip on his sword grew tighter and tighter, and he reared his horse in anger. He let out a foul scream. The Musketeer was not welcome here. But alas, wherever his mission led him, he had to go, and so, he quickly drew a pistol from his belt, and fired a single shot towards the leader. The Harsevekt thugs started scattering, and began to attempt attacks. The Musketeer's single bullet spun through the air, and finally met with it's target. The Harsevekt leader flew off of his horse, and tumbled to the ground. A path had been cleared, and The Musketeer began to dash to City Hall."

"Around every corner of every block The Musketeer cleared, a new group of thugs appeared to challenge him. He would lash out his gun, blaze two or three off of their horses, and clash swords with the rest. He worked for what seemed like a lifetime to get to the town square, and eventually made it into City Hall. An eerie silence fell on the main room of the hall. The Musketeer grew uneasy. This was a trap. The man he was seeking, Klaus Harsevekt, was a renegade spy from The Congregatio. He was one of the best, and more than a match for the skills of The Musketeer. Caution was key. An easy foot was The Musketeer's most friendly ally as he snuck through the empty hallways. Eventually, he made his way to the Governor's office, where Klaus was sure to be. He stepped inside, and heard the voice of an old friend. 'Mr. Birch!' This was The Musketeer's name. 'Mr Birch! how lovely it is to see you again!' His tone was evil in nature. Mr. Birch threw his head about the room, searching for his old ally. He spoke: 'If only I could say the same, Mr. Harsevekt.' Suddenly, Klaus burst from a cabinet, sword brandished, and threw himself toward The Musketeer, who drew his sword just as suddenly, and clashed blades with the spy. Having lost the element of surprise, Klaus ran out of the room, and jumped out of a window. He landed in a bail of hay, and exploded upwards, and outwards toward his horse."

"The Musketeer saw his target's planned direction, and ran out to the front door. He drew his pistol once more, and stepped out into the sun to meet his enemy. Klaus, predicting The Musketeer's actions, led his horse around the corner of the City Hall, and charged towards The Musketeer. Now, The Musketeer was fast, but not fast enough. The horse trampled over top of him, and crushed his ankles beneath it's tremendous weight. The Musketeer howled in pain, and laid broken on the ground. But he would not be beaten." Marcus rolled off of the stone he was on, and mimed the next part of his story. "He grabbed his pistol from in front of him, used his arm as a balance rod, and aimed at his fleeing enemy. He waited for the correct moment, and when the moment presented itself, he took his shot." The old man stood, and mimed the bullet's path with his hands. "The shot connected perfectly, piercing both Klaus' leg, and the horse's torso. The horse bucked wildly, flinging the wounded spy wickedly into the air, and into a stone wall. If the impact had not destroyed him, the Congregatio would soon be around to collect his body. Not soon enough for The Musketeer, however. He crawled across the city, quickly ridding the streets of any leftover thugs who thought they could take advantage of a crippled man. He arrived at the harbour, and put himself on-board an old fishing boat. He grabbed an oar, sat himself up, and rowed back into neutral lands, to the North." The excitement on Marcus' face soon turned to diluted sadness. "When he arrived at the Congregatio outpost, he was celebrated, and honoured. Imagine... To be celebrated for killing a friend. He was given two months leave after that. Recovery time. Time to be spent with his family. He enjoyed that time..." Marcus trailed off. That time that he spoke of was the last period in which he spent more than a few days with his family. But he would not let his past catch up to him. Not yet. He pulled out his watch. It was almost three o' clock. A friendly glance was sent to Ghita. "The moral is, you're only as weak as you believe you are. The Musketeer was no-one special. Just a regular man, from a regular pack, in a regular city. His wounds have healed, and nowadays, he's no less dangerous." Marcus winked at Ghita, and gave her a playful grin. Perhaps she knew what it meant, and perhaps not. Truthfully, it didn't matter. The old man's point had come across. That is all he could have hoped for.

1,500+

Ghita Marino · 08-23-2010, 01:28 PM

[html]

Don't worry - I love story time too. XD
Wc: 872

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

Instantaneously, she could see the change that came over Marcus with the simple hint of a story. Fighting back a grin that was stirring at the right corner of her mouth, she held her tongue, waiting until another cue had been given. Frankly, she was hoping that she wouldn't have to stand for the entire thing - for a wolf as old as Marcus, there was no telling how long this story could be - but she'd be damned if she yielded at the end of the chase! She wouldn't submit her pride and sit down, displaying her weakness, unless invited to.

Of course, pride won in the end, and Ghita could sit down, gratefully, upon the mound he indicated with moderate fuss. There was the matter of having to limp over there, balance herself and her cane, before delicately dropping her body down, and arranging her leg in a way that it could remain in one position for a comfortable amount of time. When she was fully arranged and ready, she found Marcus already facing her, his two-toned eyes already glittering with the light a story could bring.

Listening to him weave the story was a wondrous thing - he didn't take any knowledge for granted, and this proved to be useful, as Ghita had never heard of the Specialis Lupus Congregatio. Her companion gave the impression that only outsiders knew the details of this secret society, and that would be the first piece of the puzzle Ghita would glean, to be able to piece together Marcus' identity. True enough, the Congregatio hadn't even existed to the fae - she had never heard her parents mention it, or companions, and she had lived in ignorance, unafraid of any shadows that could be lurking underfoot. It was with frightening accuracy that he described the situation of the time, and Ghita found herself shivering as the male's tone grew darker.

She let him lead her through the world through his eyes - his secret society, his entire universe. She could see the crowns of the Kings, the rags of the paupers, and the experts in every field staring at her from behind shadowy covers of secrecy. But one figure stepped from behind this cover, and stood before her, holding a sword in hand, leaning gently on it's tip, nodding once at her. The Musketeer was a tall man, she imagined, nimble and agile - and wearing a crown none could see - the one that granted the title of Righteous.

In essence, he was the hero of all of the stories she and Jazper had told Sophia and Aro, finally coming to life.

Ghita blinked once, and suddenly saw the sea she knew well swirling around her. Nodding to Marcus, she indicated her familiarity, too busy watching the Musketeer stepping into the scene, looking as natural as could be. Taking her by the hand, they flew over the rippling water, reaching the bustling city of Sarajevo in moments. Through two-toned eyes, she saw the males on horseback, a feat she had only seen a few times before here, but seemed so natural in the setting. As well, the weapons that the Musketeer and his companions used were foreign to her - she had seen a sword once or twice in her life, but never a pistol, and her eyes grew understandably wide as she heard the pistol ring out, killing the male.

The closest thing she could think of to a pistol was a bow and arrow, and so that was what the pistol became - a short, one-handed bow and arrow, and the bullet was a shorter arrow that could travel faster, with poison on the end to become lethal. Ghita hid behind the dangerous city's walls, watching as the Musketeer dealt with the thugs quickly and efficiently, making a mental note of the details he easily brought. Could he be...? No - there must be another witness nearby. Maybe an apprentice of some kind?

The fae couldn't help the wince that came with the horses' hooves, nearly feeling the crunch as they ran over the ankles of her new companion. Her shoulders had hunched with the feeling of sympathy rampant in her veins, but was just as relieved as he seemed to be to hear the traitor - Klaus - had been taken down. And she couldn't help but feel the same grief he felt, ears drooping a little at the tips. To kill a friend was awful. To have to kill a friend, even worse. But to be celebrated because you did that? She could only imagine the guilt that would consume him for that.

"That's quite something, Marcus. It sounds like you've had quite the past." Sharing the playful glance with him, she nodded, letting the guilt eat away at her heart for the moment. She was nowhere as regal as the Musketeer, and her injuries were far less grave - so why was she sitting and hating herself for it? Grimacing, she looked away from the Muskateer - she had now decided it was him, and stared down at her knee, who seemed a little less ruined and hopeless after that. "Perhaps you would like to hear my story?"

Marcus Biscay · 08-23-2010, 03:36 PM

[html]

Good! I kinda can't help myself when it comes to telling tales :-P By the way, sorry it's so short... I don't really have much to say xD

Ghita did not say so, nor did she need to, but she understood. Marcus could see in her eyes that she had pieced his story together. It was his goal, not to gloat about his tremendous accomplishments, but to teach a life lesson. If he had told her flat out that he had accomplished all that was in his story, the impact of emotion would never be anywhere near what it was. In Marcus' eyes, she had nothing to be ashamed of, limping about. She had survived whatever it was that crushed her leg. That would be enough for Marcus to respect her immensely. As she spoke, the old adventurer turned his head to the side, and sported a facetious laugh. "You have have no idea, my dear," he said, strafing his eyes about to meet Ghita's.

Telling his story had made Marcus curious about Ghita's leg, and how exactly it was damaged. He could tell by looking at it that it had been crushed by something of immense weight and size, but what could be so large? A quick glance down towards his left ankle gave Marcus a quick shot of pain; a remembrance of his visit to Sarajevo. In his old age, the damage was coming back to haunt him. But his pain was quickly forgotten as Ghita offered her story. A wish had been granted! It was always Marcus' way to remain silent about curiosity until the answer presented itself, and so this suited him fine. "If you wish to tell it," joked Marcus, throwing his hand to the air in jest. He attempted to lighten the mood further, in hopes that Ghita's story would be a little more fortune filled than his own.

300+

Ghita Marino · 08-25-2010, 10:19 AM

[html]

No problem! Ghita'll make up for that
Wc: 537

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

The fae was certain that she had no idea about Marcus' many adventures, but at least she had something better than nothing - an idea, a name, an identity. And if Marcus, the Musketeer, could continue on his marvelous adventures, if the one he had shared was any indication of his past, then why couldn't Ghita the Huntress carry on hers? The two were worlds apart, the fae's world more simplistic and easier, less complicated than the Congregatio seemed, but the basis was the same. Both canines needed to overcome their own physical challenges to carry on.

And what better way to relieve the past's hold on you than sharing the battle scars? Laughing a little at Marcus' reference, it was almost the same chuckle that damp wood would give to a fire; maybe a few sparks, perhaps it would catch briefly in a particularly dry spot, but it soon sputtered out, her darker past wetting the wood until she shared her burden for a moment. "It mostly involves people you don't know - but will soon meet, no doubt. All members of this very pack, taking place not too long ago at all." As she spoke, the ivory-tipped hand lay on top of the damaged knee, a constant reminder of the price she'd paid for Cambria's life.

"We used to have a barn here, a few months back, but it was rebuilt into Tallermein's Cottage. Before that, it was called Old Red, because of it's age and colour, obviously." The fae obviously wasn't as good of a storyteller as Marcus was, but still she tried, starting from the obvious beginning. "Two of the younger packmates, Cambria, my niece - Savina's daughter, and Mati, Anu's daughter, went exploring there one day. All was fine, just until Old Red sang it's Swan Song, and began to collapse on the pair."

In her own mind, she was reliving the terror of that day, seeing Mati's pelt fly as she ran out of the barn, searching for help in the form of any wolf available. And Ghita had been one of those wolves, charging in as fast as they could. "Ehno, you've met him, and I heard Mati, who'd gotten out alright, call for help - but Cambria was still stuck inside. Kansas, Cambria's father and Savina's mate, also heard, along with Anu and Jazper, my mate. But I arrived first, Ehno just behind me. It would've been dangerous for us all to go in, so Ehno and I went inside to save our niece."

"But I never made it that far. The last thing I remember was Cambria's response, and hearing her cry out, and then a large crash around me." Her face darkened, almost as if the timber had fallen on top of her once more. "I was told later that Jazper dug me out - part of the barn had collapsed on me. Ehno rescued Cambria, though, and everyone else was unharmed." As her story reached it's dismal conclusion, ebony claws began to dig into her walking stick, etching designs into it absentmindedly. "I've been using the cane ever since to move around. A healer from another pack, AniWaya, figures the bone was shattered and the knee bent back."

Marcus Biscay · 08-25-2010, 09:47 PM

[html]

Ahaha of course she will! ... Has!:-P I have to get my mind back into this thread xD I've been updating the wiki, so my mind is... shall we say... elsewhere?

Marcus listened to Ghita's story with eagerness. He knew absolutely nothing of the lands he walked, and so, was delighted to hear even the most abysmal stories of it's past. And this was indeed a story from a darker time in the past of Crimson Dreams. Marcus' head swum with the images Ghita described. His overactive imagination created an entire scene and setting for Ghita's story. The old trees marking the flanks... A few rolling hills, green with Summer freshness... And Old Red, a tall, red barn. In Marcus' mind, a wonderfully aged white trim was added to the edges of the barn. The imaginary smell of hay and manure filled his nostrils, and a fantastically cool breeze swept back his hair. The scene had now been set, and Marcus was free to soak up more details from the story. First came names. Cambria, Savina's daughter... For a brief moment, a shiver ran down the old man's spine.

I can't breath. Why can't I breath? It hurts to look... Daddy... Daddy, save me...

Marcus' mind shifted back into reality. Mati, Anu's daughter. For some reason, Marcus found it hard to picture the offspring of Anu, and so instead, he pictured Anu, a few years younger. He pictured the children playing together. It brought him joy to see children play once more, even if they were only figments of the mind. He pictured them in his perfect scene. A blissful day had been had in Marcus' mind. But then, the sun clouded over, and the breeze turned to a spiteful wind. The decrepit foundation of Old Red cracked under it's own weight, and a terrible sound rang out in Marcus' imaginary ears. But now, what could this be? A team of imaginary wolves, coming to save the day, arrived in the scene, which was quickly becoming more and more frightful. Kansas was pictured as a tall, strong man with light brown fur, and Jazper was pictured as the only other Jasper Marcus knew: Jasper Camala. The Jasper Marcus knew was mid-sized, well built, and completely white. The only thing Ghita's Jazper remained without was the pink eyes, separating Camala as an albino.

As the story progressed, Marcus grew more and more enthralled in suspense. He knew very well what was going to happen. He had deduced it several minutes before. He simply wanted the reassurance of Ghita's word. And then he had it. His scalp drew back swiftly, and his expression remained still. The only part of him moving was his left ankle, pulsating with empathy. The epilogue of Ghita's story continued, leaving Marcus questioning this new information about 'Aniwaya', but he decided to leave that for another day.

The look on Ghita's face told Marcus a new story which he was unaccustomed to hearing. In Europe, when somebody was wounded, they were taken to a practitioner, and given treatment. After that, they would be given an alloted time to recover. During that period, they would be given a tremendous amount of respect for their pain. In Marcus' eyes, a female, who's leg had been crushed-- by a barn, at that --should be given an immense amount of respect for her suffering. To have lived through such a thing is a feat which should never go overlooked. The old man heard the end of the story, and eyed the afflicted leg with marked grief. "Yes, I imagine so. I'm surprised you didn't get worse. You're a very lucky woman," said Marcus. "As for that cane... I suspect you'll not be seeing the end of it's use for quite some time." His arm lifted slightly, bearing the cane, and pointing it to the horizon. He looked it over, and placed the midsection into his other hand. "I've been using this ever since my injury. I expect it's use to stop with my heart. But..." The old man stood up, and walked slowly, five paces. A smile crossed his face. "I've learned to manage. Quite well in fact. People never seem to expect the crippled old man to be able to topple them with a single blow." As he uttered the last syllable of his sentence, he tapped a nearby tree with his cane. His entire body remained perfectly still, save his eyes, which turned to meet Ghita's. "You're only as weak as you believe."

500+

Ghita Marino · 08-27-2010, 12:01 PM

[html]

XD No problem at all!
Sorry, this post is mostly me rambleramblerambling. ><
Wc: 773

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

The venture back into her accident had put a damper on Ghita's good mood, which was regrettable, considering the company she was in. She could imagine that even as she told the story, the ending was obvious, the words stamped onto her knee for all to read, if they could. Marcus had guessed her injury, and had been able to guess based on experience, being 'literate' in this area, if you will. But it mattered little, really - most of Crimson Dreams, if not all, had heard about Old Red's collapse and her injuries. Even the Aniwayans would know, perhaps, simply because of their healer and his role in Ghita's survival.

Her secret had flown from simple word of mouth. Looking back towards Marcus, she nodded solemnly, before beginning to speak again. "We're all lucky - we could've easily lost Cambria, Mati, and whoever went in to rescue them, whether it was my own brother, Kansas, Jazper, Anu... It could've been much worse." Shifting the focus of the canine's words away from her, it didn't make what Ghita said any less true. It was dangerous for anyone and everyone to enter the barn during it's collapse, but it didn't stop the braver and more headstrong of Crimson Dreams. Perhaps if they were a few seconds slower, or the wind a bit stronger, Ghita wouldn't be here to tell the story, along with some of her packmates.

Unable to help it, her ears twitched, and even dipped a little at his next words, barely recovering itself to make a full circle of her cranium. Dawali had never actually given her a set time to expect her healing to end, and now she guessed that this was the reason why. Her ribs that had cracked had long since healed nicely, but her knee still gave pain as frequently as she breathed, and searing pain took over when she tried to support her weight. In her heart, she knew that this was a very real possibility, but had held off truly believing it until now. To her, Marcus seemed infinitely wise, and if he were to offer this tidbit of insight, then perhaps he was right.

With the next words Marcus said, a small, saddened smile painted her ebony lips, almost as if a veil had fallen between them, not a fault of the canine's at all. However, when he mentioned defending himself, she indulged a small laugh, letting the tension dissipate between her shoulder blades, and her mind opened to the possibility of embracing her cane.

The only problem was, she believed she was weak. For a long time, she had been prideful of her physical prowess as a huntress, and that was unlikely to change. Even on three legs alone, she was a fast runner, and could knock an elk down with a well-placed bite to the throat. However, she lost some speed, lost some strength, as could be expected with such a grave injury. Maybe she wasn't a brilliant, shining star huntress any more, but perhaps she could still be golden?

Suddenly, an idea struck her, one that held the tentative giddiness of a faraway prospect that just barely held the spark of possibility. "You know how to wield your cane as a staff, then?" She asked, thinking back on her conversations with Jazper. While she hunted, he could fight, and defend Crimson Dreams' borders effectively, but he expressed some concern at her inability to fight. Like any wolf, if she was caught in a Lupus-to-Lupus or Secui-to-Secui battle, she could hold her own easily.

It was Optime that gave her worry. The truth was, she could shift into any form easily, but if her opponent, a hostile stranger, travelled quickly to the bipedal form, she was, essentially, done for. Hunting with Nayati had opened her eyes to the prospect - him using a bow and arrow in their hunt. And now that Marcus mentioned wolves with guns and swords commonplace, she had to wonder how much the times had changed. "Perhaps... you could teach me too?" Ghita was a mother now, and a valued member of not only her pack, but her family. If she fell in a battle, her children would be without a mother, and the fae could simply not leave her children in such despair. It was one thing to recklessly run under a collapsing barn, knowing one could die and going forward anyways in the name of love. It was another thing entirely to be ignorant, and to choose to not learn how to defend one's self in hopes that she would never come to blows with another wolf.

Marcus Biscay · 08-27-2010, 06:54 PM

[html]

Bahh, I like reading reactions in EXTREME DETAIL xD Speaking of extreme detail... This post is lacking :-\ I found myself oddly unmotivated... BUT then I watched a bit of Zorro, and that pulled me through! :-)

Marcus did not, by any means, endorse murder. He had always wished that those around him would do as he said, and not as he did. If posed with an enemy, he would be much more inclined to knock them out with a blow to the head than to stab them through the chest. Yet his life, as complicated as it was, could never allow him to do such a thing. There was always the one man who would get back up, and add a scar to the old man's collection. He simply couldn't risk it.

At Ghita's question, Marcus stayed remarkably still. He thought about his cane, and the many ways it could be manipulated. He thought about the sword on his ship, and how similar the two weapons could be. For what was his cane, other than a walking aid? It was a long, hard object which could easily knock someone onto the ground within seconds. "I know how to wield this cane as many things. One of which is a fighting tool, yes." he replied, slowly regarding it's copper grip. Then, he mimed the many uses of his apparatus. "It can also be an arm, a lever, a prod--" his attempts to avoid violent uses soon ran out. He returned his glance to the grip, and held it up. "A club," he said, somewhat sarcastically. The sarcasm was however, uncalled for. That copper pistol grip, fastened to the end of Marcus' cane could easily break an arm, leg, or rib, given the appropriate amount of power, accuracy, and leverage.

Marcus continued to scan his cane. Originally, it was a gift from Alisa, his mate. She knew he would need it eventually, and also knew that he would want a few upgrades added. She visited the local carpenter, and then made a trip to London to visit a blacksmith. Sparing no expense, she bought long, bendy cane, made from the finest wood, and had the carpenter hollow out a cavern inside. In London, she purchased the finest steel, and the most beautiful copper, to have a pistol gripped sword made, matching the exact specifications of the hollowed out cane. She then had the two fitted, and put a latch onto the neck, preventing any accidents. Over the next few months, Alisa would make several attempts to inform her mate of her little 'upgrade', but always found some distraction to keep her from telling him. To this day, Marcus has never found out. He remains completely daft to the true lethality of his walking stick.

The old man ran his fingers along the curvatures of his cane. At Ghita's next inquiry, his hand stopped, and was brought to his side. He looked up to her, and sent a straight look into the back of her head. "Yes. Yes I could teach you. Speaking generally, I could teach everyone in this pack. The trouble is, one can never know how a skill will eventually be put to use," said Marcus. "If I were to teach you how to use your injury to your advantage, I would be turning that stick into something much more---" His tone grew strong, and serious, "Helpful, than a cane used for walking," and then settled back to normality. "I understand you, Ghita. I know why you're asking this of me, and that is why I will agree. But understand that you will have to be patient. This will take time, and this will take dedication. This may even take a certain degree of pain. But I can promise you, once you are ready, you will praise the day Old Red came down." A pain shot through the back of the old man's head, and then receded. He felt badly for bringing up Ghita's past once again, but the feeling was soon lifted. He knew what it was to be made stronger by a travesty. He knew it all too well. It was painful, and morbid, and it was outrageously hard, but most of all, and best of all, it was triumph in it's purest form.

750+

Ghita Marino · 08-29-2010, 01:18 PM

[html]

XD Zorro seems perfect! But heh... I guess I got a little bit carried away.. ^^;
Wc: 1060

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

Not only because he had alluded to as much, but Ghita could that the Musketeer had been through a lot. Recognizing these traits in someone else could, at times, make it much easier for the fae herself to notice the little things she did, which hinted at her own past. Old Red could be seen as the least of her worries, if her leg wasn't so permanently damaged. She didn't hint to Marcus, and never intended to, about her father's neglect. She didn't say anything about her former mate's betrayal, or her first miscarriage. Just because she had a healthy litter now didn't mean she wasn't scarred in the past.

And she didn't say anything about her descent into drugs, however temporary, or however desperate she had become to deal with her loss. She had been left alone in her country, among strange nomads who she'd later claim as brethren - after the loss of her mother, mate, litter, and her siblings. Savina and Ehno hadn't been dead to her, but they had both crossed the ocean sooner than Ghita herself had. In essence, she had to recreate her life in a land all too familiar to her - vastly different from the life she had regained in Canada.

When she had joined her siblings in Crimson Dreams the first time, and then the second time, she did have to make new friends in this strange pack, but she wasn't alone. Ghita had her siblings, their children and support, like she'd never had in Italy. It was a rebirth of sorts, like a phoenix rising out of Italian ashes and into Canadian skies. But with everything considered, she had killed, yes, but only prey - never another wolf like herself. She hadn't attacked her father like Savina had, but she had known what it was to hate. And sometimes, hate was all you needed.

Almost immediately, she regretted her question, her request to Marcus, fearing she had said something wrong. Biting her lip, which still bore the piercings of her nomadic family, she paused, waiting with baited breath and regret shown in her folded ears. Her companion wasn't moving, surely transported back to another time and place completely. She knew the feeling, and didn't want to interrupt whatever important process he was going through. Patience was a virtue that came with her experience, her age. She wasn't the bearer of the youth her nieces, nephews, and children had - and to some extent, she couldn't begin to grasp their wisdom. Looking up at the canine who could run laps around her with age, she blinked steadily, letting her ears regain their posture with the flickering of hope, hope that the day and their conversation wasn't lost.

She knew the uses of canes as he rattled them off. The one Ghita had been using had been used as plenty of those, especially in her restrictive healing process. And perhaps she could use it as a club if need be, in defense of her children and her own self. But she was unskilled, rough around the edges. She wouldn't be able to do much damage, and that's how she saw herself. Ghita could almost imagine that Marcus was studying an extension of himself, which was what canes could sometimes become when people were forced to use them for a long time. They had that in common with each other, although Ghita was on a different end of the spectrum when it came to accepting that.

The Italian lupine wasn't surprised to hear Marcus' plain display of his skills. If half of the tale that Marcus spoke of was true, then she could easily imagine that he would be a good addition to Crimson Dreams' ranks. At this point, it was looking like Marcus could give Jazper, her mate and current Sensei - a run for his money, although Ghita didn't think Marcus would want to, even if he could.

Ghita understood his hesitancy - she truly did. As happy as her life in Crimson Dreams was, that didn't mean that there wasn't a darker and more troublesome life beyond their blue-and-white bubble. Dahlia de Mai and Inferni had just come out of a war, sprung from actions less than honorable. About to speak up as to why she felt she needed to learn, she bit her tongue, holding it until Marcus had finished. Although she thoroughly disagreed with the idea that her injury could ever become something more than a hinderance, the lupine let her friend finish speaking, knowing his ideas, by now, were certainly worth listening to.

So apparently he knew why. Not about to say anything more until he ran his course, Ghita felt a stirring of something beneath her skin. The fae wasn't sure whether or not Marcus had children, or even a mate, but surely he would understand her need to protect her children, and herself for the sake of her children. But of course, that brought up a whole other slew of questions she wasn't about to voice. For a canine as popular and skilled as the Musketeer was, why that didn't extend to romance seemed a little too far-fetched for Ghita to expect.

But then, where was she - or he - if Marcus had made the journey all the way to Canada alone? Perhaps there was a skeleton in the closet to attest for this absence. But nevertheless, it was a question to ask once the pair became better acquainted - just because they had shared battle scars so early on didn't necessarily mean that it was either of their styles, of within their comfort zones.

She knew it would take patience, and pain. She had enough of that to spare twice over, or so she felt. Once Ghita's determined personality sparked behind her ocean-like eyes, there wasn't much that could easily stop her. However, Marcus' comment shook her spine, creating a shiver to run down the bony projection. "I assure you, I will never praise the day that Old Red collapsed. Not for a self-serving pitying reason, but for the sole reason that it endangered Cambi. We've been through enough without that." As she spoke these words, her tone grew slightly bitter, but it was her eyes that sparkled with the angry determination that would bring her through the training. "But I'm ready to learn."

Marcus Biscay · 08-30-2010, 12:48 PM

[html]

Bah, that's fine. I enjoy long posts :-P Sadly, I can't seem to write them myself xD I'm starting to wrap this up. If you want, Ghita could walk back to the ship and see Marcus off there. Or it could end around here.

Ghita was not ready for what Marcus had to teach her. She would need to heal a while longer before she could be strong enough to shoulder the exertion. The best thing for her, Marcus thought, was to spend time with her kin, and strengthen her mind. She obviously needed some time to get over the trauma that Old Red had caused.

Marcus felt as if Ghita's reasons for loathing Old Red were somewhat misplaced. Yes, this Cambi was endangered, but surely she too had grown stronger from the experience. Surely, she would now know not to place herself in such a situation again, and surely she now realized the extents to which her family would go to save her. Perhaps Marcus would bring this point up during Ghita's training. That seemed an appropriate time for such a thing. Marcus had been staring at his foot as Ghita had been talking. Occasionally he would render a glance in her direction, but for the most part, his foot was the primary topic of his attention. This was by no means a rude gesture-- he still listened carefully to each of her words. But his foot just seemed to be abnormal. A strand of hair out of place, perhaps. As Ghita finished, Marcus' podiatric fixation came to a close, and he regarded her once more. His voice was now that of a professor, and he was teaching. "I agree. You are ready to learn. Mentally. However I fear that you may need to rest for a while longer. You said it happened a few months back? Well, judging by your injury's current vanity, my guess is only one or two months back. Now, I'm no physician, but I've spent a lot of time in hospitals, and a lot more time with field medics. And with that experience, I can tell you..." It pained Marcus to have to say this. He knew it would discourage her, but it was true, and had to be said. "You're going to need to recover for just a little while longer." Marcus quickly led the briefing away from despair, and on to Ghita's preparation. "Now before you say anything, don't." A smile crossed his face. He loved saying that. "Just because you won't be bolstering your skill doesn't mean I don't want you strengthening your will. I want you to recover for another month. During that time, read." Marcus worried... Could she read at all? "Read books in English, Italian, anything. Do whatever you can to decrease your reaction time. Your best friend will be your reflexes." Marcus paused. He smiled once more. "And Ghita... Don't tell anybody about these lessons. Your second best friend is surprise." The old man took out his left watch, and checked the time. Five 'o clock. Time to return home. He was slightly disappointed that he had not made it to Haven Manor that day, but equally pleased to have met Ghita. He closed the watch, and placed it back in his pocket. He then placed his cane in between his legs, and transferred his weight.

500+

Ghita Marino · 08-31-2010, 08:36 AM

[html]

Sure, I'll reply one last time. Thanks for the thread! I enjoyed it. ^^
Wc: 927

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

In Ghita's heart, there was one thing that the two wolves who shared canes would never truly agree on. And that was their attitudes towards Old Red. Perhaps if Marcus knew about Cambria's already troubled past, he would start to share her attitude, but that wasn't about to happen. What had happened to Cambria was one of Crimson Dreams' closely guarded secrets. And besides - it wasn't even her story to tell. The aunt knew her niece wouldn't want that experience to be shared freely, and so she held her tongue.

But for the child who had already been through so much, it seemed almost harsh for Old Red to collapse on her and Mati when the pair were just having a fun day of it. And, there were some nightmares attached to the collapse, although she had never shared this information with anyone. Old Red of course starred in this sadistic cinema, with Cambria just out of reach, grabbing with scared, frightened hands for her aunt, blaming her, demanding why Ghita wasn't there to help her. And the old building? It was collapsing on her slowly, beam by beam, forcing the fae down and down again, until she was buried.

Someone skilled in dream analysis would likely draw something from this, similar to her life's story of being beaten down over and over again with miscarriages, loss, and injury. But the timber aunt wasn't consciously aware of this. According to her, she was settled with her past, and it couldn't hurt her any more. What had passed in Ghita's life was just that - her past. Even by it's definition, it was over and should be unable to hinder her.

Still watching Marcus from where the slender fae sat, she snapped out of her memories to listen to the wolf who would soon become her mentor. And so far, she held a slight suspicion for what he was saying, which turned out to be right. The anger didn't show itself in an obvious way, just with a tightened grip around her cane. In reality, her blood was boiling, the hatred for her condition and for the statement that sprang because of it. The fae knew that her body wasn't ready, or didn't seem to be. But she also knew that she could, and would push herself, not so much out of eagerness to train, but the need to show the ones close to her that she was fine, and could physically be ready for whatever came her way.

At this point, she could only nod, the bitterness plain on her face, despite how much she was attacking her bottom lip to hide this. Her turquoise eyes had narrowed, although it was no fault of Marcus'. He just told the truth, which wasn't anywhere near what the strong-willed fae wanted to hear. Her soon-to-be-teacher was right to assume that her mind would be full of unspoken words, some more harsh than the next, to voice, but he was wrong to assume that she'd act on it. The bitter taste of disappointment was fresh on her tongue, paralyzing it, the fae unable to say anything more. However, she wasn't quite about to join Marcus in smiling, although the more rational part of her told herself to.

But a month seemed like quite a long time to stay stagnant again. Unable to help it, an indignant scoff broke through her lips, beginning to show her true colours. If the Musketeer was this willing to take her on as a pupil, he'd have to understand that her very nature restricted her actions, sometimes. No... Ghita knew very well that a month would be good for her body, but terror for her soul. Two weeks, maybe, and that would still involve her responsibilities to hunt and defend her pack, as well as raise her pack's young.

Read? Perhaps Marcus didn't have a firm enough grip on their culture if he expected her to be able to read. It was the exception, not the rule, that wolves like her knew how to read, and especially with her background, that'd be harder. An Italian immigrant, essentially, she was having enough trouble with speaking English, let alone reading it. And her birth pack was strictly traditional, never wanting to promote anything, including reading, that their ancient forbears wouldn't have. No, Ghita couldn't read anything besides her own name, but she could paint, something Mati taught her. "I'll find something." She murmured, already knowing her reflexes were quite good from hunting. That was her gift, and reflexes came in at the end of the hunt, when hooves, teeth, and claws were flying in the heat of the moment.

Rising to her paws now, Ghita looked to Marcus and smiled, although not all of her happiness was there. "Thank you, Marcus, it's been a pleasure." Watching her new companion leave, the fae briefly wondered if he had a place to sleep. He must, if he was quickly shuffling away from here with a clear definition in mind. And besides, the Manor was the opposite direction. But what he had said last pricked a stirring of excitement in her. What a surprise she could give to her mate if she could suddenly hold her own in a fight? She intended to hold that small secret dear for as long as she could. Surveying the disappearing figure until he slipped out of sight, the fae turned on her heel, preparing for the long limp back to the Manor, when suddenly.. it didn't seem quite as long after all.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?