Under Pressure

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 10-21-2010, 02:33 AM

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OOC: pixie please. +5

Mars had been simply riding around, mounted on his steed, leather jacket hugging his meekly furred self, the man still not having a full coat because of him keeping it short since he lived south in California for the good amount of time he did. His fur had still been used to that weather as well, so he was cold 50% of the time around here, which made him sit inside of his leather coat and pants all the more. Mars also had his black scarf wrapped loosely around his neck as he rode his mustang through the open fields to the south of CdM packlands. He didn't really know why he had been heading south, maybe just to keep his mind off of things, such as the fact that his father had abandoned him for a second time in his life. Mars was beginning to think that the Russo man did not want anything to do with Mars, and that was the reason he left, because Mars had been too clingy, too willing to call the man "father". It was all Mars' fault, even though the letter he had been given had explained that Mars was welcome to follow along to Russia, there was two problems with this. One: Mars was scared of water, and would never get in a boat willingly, and two: Mars did not speak a lick of Russian, and more than likely would know nothing about what to say or do when he got to Russia. He'd be as uneducated as a wolf who never heard of humans. This would make him feel more like an outcast, and horrible about himself. Plus, daddy wouldn't want to waste his time with teaching Mars to speak Russian. The man's quickness to get up and leave was proof of this. Least, in Mars' tainted view of himself, this was what that was all about.

Mars tried not to be down about his dad leaving him to fend for himself in the land of the Canadians, and within the hands of his sibling, Anatoliy. If Mars had to guess, he would also deny that this man liked him as well, because nobody liked Mars apparently. Not even Mars liked Mars. Bartholomew probably hated Mars too. It was just a big block of hate that he would place on his own shoulders to see how long he could go under pressure before the pressure was just too much for him to handle any more. When this happened, he would fall down, break, and maybe, just maybe he would finally just let himself vegetate instead of getting back up again and again. In his mind, he doubted that he would let himself completely fall apart, there was always a part of him that would finally tell him "Mars, it's time to wake up." and like a puppy listening to it's master, he'd pick himself up, and then fall back down again, but then get right back up. It was a never ending cycle with him and even though he was the cause of all of this, he wished that he wasn't. He wished that he was normal, like everyone else. Apparently, he wasn't even allowed to have this normalcy in his life. Just like how he wasn't allowed to have a father because he was too ugly, and too small, and too American.

Mars ended up slinging his ivory painted guitar from over his shoulders to in front of him, where his ivory hand picked the strings, while the ebon and chocolate fingers pressed down on the guitar to make the sounds become different with every stroke of the strings. He put together a small melody as he rode his horse through Shiloh Hills, not concerned whatsoever with where he was heading. It's not like he was needed in CdM anyways, I mean he was the lowest ranked adult at the moment, and if some other wolf wanted to come and pick on him, it wasn't like he'd be able to do anything about it, he'd been used to being picked on because he was lowest rank anyways. Sometimes he even wondered if he was suitable for a higher rank.. He probably wasn't ever supposed to be anything special. What if god didn't want him to be something special?

Pixie Frost · 10-22-2010, 09:39 PM

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300+

Pixie’s experiment with Magic had worked. The stallion had obediently stayed by in Crimson Dreams territory the whole time she had been gone in Ethereal Eclipse. He didn’t even seem to mind when she greeted him briefly after returning, then headed towards the mansion without him to get a good night’s sleep. Magic seemed to have gotten along with the goats just fine, which made Pixie chuckle, because she wasn’t particularly fond of goats herself. She had once made the unwise decision to try to hunt down one of them from a herd while she was still a loner, and had ended up with several bruises from five goats bashing her with their horns all at once. The fact that she had called them every curse she could think of at the top of her lungs during the incident hadn’t helped matters.

Right now she was traveling outside her new home again, this time riding Magic and heading to the hills in the east. The beautiful rolling hills, with green grass and the occasionally forest as far as the eye could see, were perfect for a quiet ride. The bright-eyed wolfess sped Magic up to a canter, expertly staying on without a saddle and guiding the chestnut horse without any reigns. Her dark cloak whipped in the breeze, the hood threatening to reveal her bright red mane. She considered slowing down, perhaps, or maybe even stopping to play some guitar. But the rush of the wind and the sound of Magic’s steady breathing, in harmony with his rhythmic gait, was music to Pixie’s ears, and she closed her eyes, letting her other senses take over as the notes of a guitar began accompanying the melody.

Wait…a guitar? Her own instrument was strapped to her back, not in her hands. She opened her eyes and slowed her steed to a walk. The blue-gray woman caught sight of the source of the music: a white guitar, held by a wolf who, interestingly enough, was also on a horse. Pixie approached slowly, taking in the stranger’s appearance.

The wolf appeared to be male and, Pixie guessed by his looks, not a full-blooded wolf like herself. His fur was mostly black and white, with the top of his head and several other spots on his body a rich chocolate color. Even when they were both on horses of different sizes, Pixie could tell he was taller than her by more than a foot and a half. As she got closer, she could spot several scars and tattoos that weren’t hidden by his jacket and scarf.

“Hey there,” she greeted him, halting Magic a few yards away from the stranger and his mount. “That’s one hell of a guitar. You from around here?”

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 10-28-2010, 12:48 AM

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OOC: +3

The musician had let his fingers run across his guitar, his voice started to hum along the same tune of the one he had been playing on the guitar. The white painted acoustic had been one nice piece of guitar, Mars making sure to take the best care he could for the instrument, mainly because if he didn't have the guitar, then he was either not him, or he was missing the sole thing that had kept his sanity. Pfft. Like sanity was even present in this being. The shaded eyes of the man had been looking down at the guitar as he plucked it, making sure to find the right chords that he would want. His music was beautiful but sad. Very sad. The melody was slow, the notes deep as he plucked each chord on the wooden white guitar of his. The steed under him had started to walk a little bit, stopping to nibble on some of the plenty green grasses on this side of the fields. Mars took in a deep breath as the breeze blew by. It was slightly on the nippy side, which had made a silent shiver roll up the spine of the American.

A voice would interrupt his song, a frown stuck on the lips of the quiet man, the wolf-dog man not wanting to even deal with company. He wasn't in the mood, and he was feeling more withdrawn from the world since he had recently been abandoned yet again by his father. He plucked the strings and ignored the sound of the mounted woman. Vox would lift his head and snort as he looked at the wolven and her steed. The woman would continue to speak, even though Mars showed no obvious interest in speaking to the woman. He plucked the guitar a few more times, still not saying a damn thing. He didn't want to answer her question, but when it was obvious that she was not going anywhere, then he would finally look up from his guitar through his shades. Icy eyes were on the woman. Not Really. the man would speak, thinking about where he was from. He was not from Nova scotia. He was not from Russia. He was not from Cour Des Miracles. He was from California. Home was where your heart was. His heart drifted back to Los Angeles, California...Least, that's what he thought. He also was not willing to leave here just yet. He wanted to know what was so special that was here. He just had a feeling that something might be here for him still. Besides his dad, since his dad was not here any more. I'm from California, United States of America, the humans called it... the man lamely spoke, his voice low, calm, overall quiet.

Who are you? he carefully asked, as if the question was not supposed to be asked.

Pixie Frost · 10-30-2010, 12:01 AM

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300+

She stared closely at the quiet wolf mix, noticing that he didn’t seem like he was in the mood for talking when he answered her with a not really that sounded almost lazy to her. What an asshole, was her first impression, staring back at his cold blue eyes with her own sharp violet ones. Still, she understood him a little bit; she herself liked to be alone sometimes, play her guitar, and just be at peace with the world. This wolf-dog didn’t have much of a peaceful vibe to him, though.

“Not really, eh?” she echoed, a smile playing across her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you just passing through?” He and his horse had the smell of canine scent markers on him, so they must have at least trespassed into some pack’s territory. “Hmmm…” She had heard the name California before. “That’s to the west, right? I was born in America, too, but I’ve been on the east coast my whole life, myself. I used to live in a place called Penny Slavia or whatever the humans called it. And then I left my old pack and traveled up here.”

Her smile became more visible as his calm, cool persona faltered slightly when he asked Who are you? in a sort of hesitant manner. “Who am I? I’m Pixie Frost, member of the pack known as Crimson Dreams. And this is Magic,” she added, patting her stallion’s shoulder. Noticing his wary focus on the other horse, she gripped tightly onto his mane to show that she was in control. “And what do they call you?” she asked him in return, wondering what kind of a strange name this strange wolf could have. Of course, she had never considered her own name particularly normal, especially since she had added the last part herself.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 10-30-2010, 01:17 AM

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http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... guitar.png);">

OOC: laaaaa +3
I'm just a stranger in a strange land
Running out of time..

The woman would tell him that she was also born in America, but on the east coast. Penny Slavia? Mars had never heard of such a state, so he was slightly confused, but he also decided to not care and instead, he ended up looking back down at his guitar and strumming the strings between his mismatched fingers that were tinted ivory, ebon, and chocolate. He started to hum along with the music he was making, his white guitar beautiful in the sun. Mars had let out a small sigh as he boredly sat there on his steed. California is on the west. And I'm resident to the pack Cour Des Miracles...for now, atleast...until they kick me out for being worthless... his voice had been soft, and words were small, the self-esteem in the man was low, as was his rank, and his mood because of the circumstances. His father left him just like he did before Mars was even born, leaving nothing put a letter to Mars, and even though the note was written for him, and it told him that he was not trying to leave and that he was sorry for doing so, Mars was still offended that his father would simply leave just like that without a problem at all. Mars was a fragile being, and the reason he did not normally let people into his circle was because of reasons like this. They would leave him for dead sooner or later because they wanted nothing to do with him. I left California to find my father... he spoke softly as his eyes did not dare to move back over the woman, instead they had looked at the white guitar once again. He definitely didn't feel like talking about Rurik, simply because every time he thought about the man, the more he did not like his father anymore.

The woman would then go ahead and tell him her name and then ask him what he had been called. What had he been called? Bartholomew, Mars, Asswipe, Cali, Faggot, Freak. He'd been called a few things by his mother and his half-siblings on his mother's side. Mars Russo, or Cali. the man had spoken to the woman quietly as he had still continued to strum the strings on his guitar, going into the bridge of the song he had been working on. Where is Crimson Dreams? another random question. Mars knew nothing of the other packs that had resided in the area except for the pack by the name of Dahlia De Mai since he had met a wolven by the name of Larkspur that lived there. That was the only other pack he knew of though, so this Crimson Dreams was a new name, and a new idea of how many packs were actually here in Nova Scotia.

Mars Speaks Bartholomew Speaks
.

Pixie Frost · 10-30-2010, 09:43 PM

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OOC HERE!

He didn’t answer her right away, which she would have viewed as rude if he hadn’t been playing his guitar. She had never met anyone other than herself that could play guitar, though she knew there must be other wolves out there who could. No matter how cold-hearted this man was, he certainly knew how to play the beautiful instrument, and he seemed quite skilled. It made Pixie a little jealousy, frankly.

“I have never heard of Cour Des Miracles,” said the blue-gray wolfess. “Where is that?” Hopefully not everyone in this wolf-dog’s pack was like him; he seemed so depressed. She ignored his statement about being worthless, not knowing his pack’s views on riding or music and how that determined how useful you were to the pack. If all he did was play guitar all day, Pixie wouldn’t be surprised if they did consider him worthless.

“Your father?” she echoed. “Does he live around here?” Even if he did, Pixie knew she probably didn’t know him, but she wanted to know who he was all the same. “Mars Russo. Sounds cool,” she mused. At Mars’s question on where Crimson Dreams was located, she pointed back at the direction she had come from. “It’s to the west. We’re the pack that lives around Rabbit Lake.” It felt strange and nice to say we’re and not I’m. Pixie hadn’t been in a pack for a while, and she was actually happy to not be a loner anymore.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 11-08-2010, 04:38 PM

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http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x242 ... arstab.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">OOC: Figured that this table is a little bit more appropriate. sorry for the wait. +5

She had explained that she had never heard of the pack of CdM, which was of no surprise to him really, for he had never heard of her own pack, Crimson Dreams. What was that anyways? Crimson dreams sounded like a pack of murderers, which did strike Mars as somewhat intimidating. As he realized this, his ears would pull back, and his lip would twitch lightly. Eyes from behind his sunglasses would be narrowed lightly as he had tilted his head towards the woman lightly. He suppressed a growl, that if voiced would have been long and loud. The woman did ask where it was at, and Mars tilted his head to the north-east and he had stopped playing his guitar to point in that direction. He also had stopped the music at a time where the strings would sound good if interrupted at this moment in time. A few miles back that way. the man had quickly spoken to the woman, his words quiet as it had always been. His ears would rise again and his eyes would fall back on the gray tinted woman.

She would then bring up his father. Worst thing to bring up at the moment, and it made the man visibly cringe at the question. He also swallowed hard as he let his fingers wander back over the white guitar and he looked back down at it, deciding if he really wanted to answer her question or just ignore it. Did it even matter if she knew? Was he going to get anywhere by telling her that, because he was a worthless bastard of a son, his father decided to leave him a simple note and then he would peace out on whatever boat he had and ride back on that back to Russia. Apparently, Anatoliy either didn't want too go, or he was not invited to go on the same boat as Rurik, much like Mars was not invited. Least, Mars didn't remember being invited on the same boat. Mars didn't even remember his father's knocks to try and wake the "slumbering" Mars to invite the tri-colored man to Russia with his father. This was because of Bartholomew and his non-involvement in the family affairs of the Russo clan. The strings on his guitar turned into a depressed theme, slow, barely a beat slow enough to beat along with it. No....He went to Russia. the man let the words fall from his lips, voice no more than a whisper.

Pixie would tell him that his name sounded cool, in which he didn't comment back on, because his name was just his name, that and not very many would compliment him on his name. His mother told him that he was named after the planet because he was the curse that would cause a war, and so why not call him the God of War? It also meant that he was a male as well since his name's second meaning was simply "male". She would also explain where Crimson dreams was at. Why is it called Crimson Dreams? the curiosity of the man had caused him to speak again to the woman, but he did not look up at her, no, for he had still been playing his guitar. Do you harbor murderers? the man asked, bluntly, calmly, and quietly.

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Pixie Frost · 11-13-2010, 08:07 PM

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Got myself a new table too.

Mars seemed intimidated when she mentioned Crimson Dreams. Why was that so? Was his pack not on good terms with her pack? But he pointed out where Cour des Miracles was. Maybe he just didn’t like another member of Pixie’s pack. And then he cringed again. Perhaps his father wasn’t the best thing to bring up. It definitely brought down Mars’s cool persona, and Pixie couldn’t help but smile at that. She didn’t like it when someone she was talking to put their walls up, especially since she almost never hid her personality behind a mask.

“Russia? Where’s that?” she wondered out loud. Maybe it was near where Savina and her family came from. What was it called…Italy? The musical wolf wondered if she would ever be able to go to these foreign lands. In any case, Pixie liked the new song that Mars was playing; it was slow but had a nice ring to it.

“I don’t really know why it’s called that,” she murmured, not wanting to talk to loudly above the guitar. His next question surprised her, but she answered him just as bluntly, sarcasm dripping her voice. “Yep, the pups make up one third of the pack and the rest of us are lusting for blood.” Maybe that was why he seemed so tense when she first mentioned the pack’s name.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 11-28-2010, 07:00 PM

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OOC: short, sorry T.T wc: 402

The woman would ask where Russia was. Mars thought about it for a moment. He did have a map, but it was not on hand with him, since he hadn't needed it in some time now (why he hadn't needed it was because it was a world map and it wasn't too big or detailed. Mars tried to recall where exactly Russia was across the ocean, and it would take him a minute to receive the information from his brain and then try to explain where exactly this would be at. It's across the ocean. In Asia, and by Europe, I believe.. the man calmly and cooly spoke to the woman, showing no fear of the reason why he did not go with his father. (Mars was deathly afraid of the ocean, and would not be able to consciously handle being on a boat for a month to get to Russia.)

The woman would mumble some words about not knowing why they called the pack such a name, and then she would continue to answer his second question with some well-deserved sarcasm. She had spoken about the pack being mostly pups and then the adults being the blood lusters. Mars would believe it if he was Kiev. There's packs out there like that you know... the male spoke to the woman quietly as he sat there on his steed, still playing the guitar. Vox would let out a nicker and would adjust his stance before bending his neck back down to the ground to munch on the grasses that grew there. As the stallion had shifted, Mars had to make sure that he did not lose his balance, nor mess up on the strumming of the guitar, which had almost happened, but he saved himself at the last moment by resting at the right moment before continuing to play the slow tune.

Mars would pin his pale blue eyes on the woman all of a sudden as he got situated again on his horse and he had continued to play. Where are you riding to today, Pixie? Mars let the curiosity embrace him, even if he didn't want it to. He surely did not like the curiosity, it kept things in places for longer amounts of time, and therefore, more of his time awake would be wasted away doing nothing..Even though that's what he would be doing either way. The selfish bastard.

Pixie Frost · 12-04-2010, 11:11 PM

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300+

Pixie’s ears perked up, and her eyes widened in curiosity. She had been to the ocean—at least, this side of it—and she knew how big it was. It stretched beyond the horizon, perhaps beyond the edge of the earth. It was hard to imagine anything beyond it, let alone somewhere where other wolves would live. But she knew her leader, Savina, and her family were from somewhere far away, though exactly where she had not yet figured out. Maybe she was from Russia, or somewhere else in Asia or Europe, those other two places Mars mentioned. “Have you been to Russia?” she asked. Maybe that’s why he acted so strangely; maybe Russian wolves were like him.

She snorted at his words. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Think of it this way: if we were a pack of murderers, your pack would be dead, seeing as you’re so close to us.” Just because she felt like it, the blue-furred musician began playing along with Mars. She played a somber melody that was not the same as his, but fit well with it, at least in her opinion. “But you’re not dead. So we aren’t really murderers, are we? But who knows? I haven’t met everyone in my pack. There could be a dangerous serial killer in our midst.” There probably wasn’t, of course. And if there was…well, thank god she had made that deal with Skye to join her pack if anything got screwy in Crimson Dreams.

His next question surprised her. Up until this point, he hadn’t seen particularly interested in her; in fact, he seemed pretty bored with her. But she answered him anyway. “Here, there, anywhere…I wanted to explore these hills a little more. I figured I could meet some new people…the last time I went exploring, I met a pack leader.” As she said this, she eyed Mars once more. He was a bit of an ass, but he was also handsome, and his mysteriousness had (she hated to admit it) an attractive edge to it.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 12-14-2010, 05:42 PM

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wc: 356

The woman had asked him if he had been to Russia before. Mars shook his head silently, and he looked down at his guitar. He continued to play his guitar while the woman went on and on and on about how they weren't murderers, and she too had picked up her own guitar and started to play along with him. The chords that she was playing had made Mars' mismatched ears twitch at first, and then they were set towards his own guitar, trying to listen to his own melody and not letting her interfere with what he was doing. She had made her point about her pack anyways, and Mars did not push the subject further, finding it stupid to try and argue his point more. Mars continued to play this song, it seeming to change pace since she had started playing, simply because she had started to play. He didn't mean to switch, to escalate in his volume, or to quicken the song up, but it had just happened by itself.

After a few more chords, she had continued to speak, telling him what he wanted to know. She was just wandering it seemed, much like himself, though he had slightly more purpose, for he had been looking for something, something that he would know what it was when he found it. Wandering, this would not be. This would be searching without knowing what you're looking for. Least, this is what Mars would argue until the edge of the earth. What pack leader did you meet? Mars asked, never looking up from his guitar as he had done so. It also never hurt to know of packs, Mars needed the knowledge of this Nova Scotia he had stumbled upon, and learning of Crimson Dreams (and it actually being a neighbor of CdM) had been great. Now he would know of the Court, Crimson Dreams, and Dahlia De Mai. Three packs so far. It was a good start. He knew that Nova Scotia was way too big for only three packs to be around, so eventually he'd be able to figure out the other ones.

Pixie Frost · 12-17-2010, 11:32 PM

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300+

She decided not to press the question further when she saw Mars shook his head. Lordy, he’s a quiet one, isn’t he? Never had she met anyone who could talk so little, save for Magic, who she knew talked in his own way. But this wolf dog was almost impossible to decipher; she wasn’t especially curious about what he was thinking, and she didn’t expect him to reveal everything about himself, but that fact that he revealed nothing was almost frustrating.

Continuing to play along with his song, even when the tempo sped up, Pixie’s ears perked up at his question. “Skye Collins,” she replied, reciting the name of her friend with ease. “She’s the second-in-command of a pack forming north of here. I can’t quite recall the name at the moment, but it had something to do with art.” It seemed to be the same language that Silvano, Savina, and the other Crimson Dreams members related to them spoke. But she couldn’t be sure—she knew no foreign languages, other than a fraction of low speech from being around Magic. All the rest sounded the same to her. Maybe the name of Skye’s pack was Russian. “Is the name Mars from Russia?” she blurted out. “Or Russo? They both don’t sound like any name I’ve ever heard.” There was only one other person she had known that had a name starting with an “M”: her elder brother Melbourne, who had been literate and had taught her how to spell a few words before he left the family pack to form one of his own. Like Mars, he had been a quiet wolf who spoke only when necessary, preferring to write his words rather than say them out loud. She couldn’t blame him for leaving; human skills like writing, horseback riding, and playing guitar were frowned upon by their family.

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 12-29-2010, 12:27 PM

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ooc: sorry that mars is being a lame-o. would you like to end this soon?wc:365

bic:
He had listened when the woman had told him the name of an Alpha that she had met. He'd never heard of the wolven that this woman was talking about, this Skye Collins, second in command of some art pack. Mars shook his head. Never heard of 'em. he quickly commented as he let his steel eyes look at the woman who was in front of himself and his own steed. He shrugged his shoulders. He was curious as to know what pack she was talking about, but since she had forgotten the name of the pack, then he could only assume that she did not know too much more about the pack. Then again, assuming did make an ass out of you and me, so if Mars particularly cared about being known as an ass or not, then he might of asked her about further details, if there was any. Mars let his fingers die down on the song yet again because of the weird question that the woman asked him next. She had asked where his name was from, or specifically if it was from Russia. Mars looked at the woman still. Russo is from Russia. Mars is Roman. the man spoke to the woman, quickly, calmly, and bluntly. He knew not of why his mother had named him a Roman name if they were American, but who the fuck knew what went through Lyndi's head when she had a wolf child instead of her favorited husky children. They didn't have weird names like Mars did. They actually had pretty normal names if he had to comment on some of them.

Mars had completely stopped playing his guitar by now, and was finding this conversation to be quite boring to his mind. He huffed lightly and looked down at the back of Vox's head. He took a few hairs from the stallion's mane and started to twirl it boredly in his fingers. The wolfdog pretty much ran out of things to say. He sat there in silence, and he let his eyes move back on the gray wolfess once again. He still didn't know what to say to the woman.

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Pixie Frost · 01-01-2011, 11:32 PM

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I don’t mind. Do whatcha gotta to remain in character. And yeah, we could end this now. Word Count: 311

“Well, it’s a pretty new pack,” Pixie explained. “I only found out about it recently. It wasn’t even fully formed when I talked to Skye. But if they did manage to come together, they’re living in that foresty area north of here. They’ve got a couple of musicians, apparently—I heard the leader plays the flute. No clue what it is, but it sounds cool.” She made a mental note to find out what a flute was the next time she visited Skye for the reading/guitar lessons.

“Ah, that makes sense,” she said, nodding. “Russo sounds like Russia.” She didn’t know what Roman was—some other place across the ocean, most likely. “I don’t know where Pixie or Frost came from, but I’m just glad that my parents didn’t pick a stupid name for me. I pitied some of my siblings, with the names they got.” What would you expect, from two wolves named Theodore and Wildflower? Melbourne was a cool name, though; it was apparently from yet another foreign place called Australia.

She kept playing her guitar for a moment after Mars stopped. When she lifted her hands off of the instrument, she noticed that Mars seemed especially bored. Pixie remained in awkward silence before coughing and saying, “Um, I guess I better head back to Crimson Dreams. I want to do some more exploring, and I want to get back there before night falls.” Tugging on Magic’s mane, she got the stallion’s attention and nodded towards Mars. “Maybe I’ll stop by Cour des Miracles some time soon and see you again.” With that, she directed her horse back in the direction of Crimson Dreams. Magic didn’t need any urging from his rider to begin walking towards home. As he walked, Pixie glanced back and watched Mars out of the corner of her eye as she slowly disappeared from view.

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