Skeletons in the Closet

Sylvie Ciel · 11-05-2010, 10:54 AM

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Table © Frost
Sorry it took so long, lovely!
WC: 486

The wind blew soft, but chilled, biting at the collie yearling's skin like thousands of needlepricks with each gust. Thickening, soft lilac fur did little to combat the chill of winter's grasp, and Sylvie found herself preferring her more compact canine form over her long, slender optime form these days. What had possessed the gypsy to be traversing about in that humanesque form today was unknown, and as she padded into a graveyard at the border of Dahlia de Mai, footpaws freezing in the frosted earth, she sincerely questioned her sanity. The overgrown border along Flanders Fields seemed to shrink away from the gypsy as she entered, carefully stepping over deadened roots and grabby thorns, gazing in awe at the once grand stone structures around her.

Some were natural stone, piled atop each other to take the form of tombstones, saints, and other human-influenced paraphenalia that truthfully, Sylvie knew little about. And so the real reason for her arrival at this place becomes clear- sheer curiosity. Human civilization had become one of her favorite things to discover these days- from a strange bangle she had hidden away in her frequented cave to the large carved stones around her now, Sylvie had become rather fascinated with the stuff. She paused before a large statue of the Virgin Mary, rising out of the ground as if watching over the dead and their graves. Vivid violet gems sparked with interest as one creamy paw reached up to brush away some of the offending growth upon her cracking form, once clear alabaster stone darkened with age and weather.

"Poor thing..." She said absently, not grasping the concept of the Virgin's presence or even her significance. To the caramel beauty, this massive statue was no more important than those around her, despite her commanding size. Religion, God, these things were foreign, and had they been known before, likely would have been discarded after all the things she had seen with those wizened eyes. Being thrown into the ocean with nothing but yourself and a plastic ball as a boat... it tended to do things to a religious belief. Sylvie sighed at the beautiful statue, before turning to survey the rest of the gravesite.

Though some tombstones had fallen, cracked with storm-weathered faces, washed clean of whatever might have once been written on them, they did not seem chaotic in their destruction. Rather, combined with the creeping plants and wild grasses, they added to the age of the place, the wizened beauty that Sylvie could relate to. Several larger statues (though none as big as the Virgin Mary) dotted the landscape, some missing parts or lying on the ground, fallen, like their tombstone relations. A somber, solemn place really, but brimming with a beauty, ethereal in vocation, that left the vagabond female speechless. Perhaps she would bring Alaine here one day... the pair could both relate pretty well to the unusual atmosphere...

Layla Nishant · 11-06-2010, 03:56 PM

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Poor poor Layla. WC: 1,016 {10 points}

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Layla carried herself along from her home and towards the graveyard where she and her mate had recently buried her first litter. It was the saddest day of her life. She was had never before felt so sad and depressed before in her entire life. She didn’t even feel this bad when her parents left her to fend for herself. That was a day she knew would come and she would have to o find her own home. She was fortunate enough to find Conor and Dahlia de Mai to call her new home, but now it was like her life had taken a huge turn for the worst. The mistress wondered what it was that she did to deserve such a fate. She was a good girl and had done nothing wrong, so there was no need for the world to punish her like this. The cool autumn breeze began to pick up as she continued to make her way from her home to the graveyard. The black and white she wolf was a mess. Her long elegent hair was now a tangled mess. Her once happy filled eyes were replaced with nothing but sadness and despair. Her bright happy face never showed a smile and her cheeks were wet, stained with the tears of her inner sorrow. Her lively mood has been completely killed off and she barely talked to anyone. She knew Saluce would miss her loving mood, but she couldn’t help it. Her ears hung low as she pressed on.

Finally Layla arrived to the place and ran her eyes around the place. There was a special place she buried her stillborns and marked it well. She wandered around until she found the place she was looking for. The flowers grew beautifully as they danced in the wind. The flowers were the only way to cheer up the depressed wolfess. Tears began to roll down her face as she scanned her eyes on the tombstones of her beloved children. The black and white she wolf took a seat in front of them and placed her hands over the graves. Her tears continued to flow as she ran her fingers over each grave. The sun beat down on her fur as she sat there, grieving over her loss. To some, it may seem pathetic because a wolf could always have another litter, but that was not the case with the mistress. This was her very first litter and her first children. The black and white she wolf took a minute to look around at the other graves in the graveyard. To think that pups would be sharing a place with the wolves of the past. Her tail curled around by her feet as she turned back to her own graves. She prayed at least that her pups were in a better place and not suffering even after their death. She closed her eyes and her mind flashed back to that fateful night, the night where her life came crashing down on top of her. She remembered wrapping her arms around her beloved mate and the tear flowing into his fur. There were the pups on the mattress, lifeless. There was nothing but a destroyed look in the female’s eyes. Her heart began to ache as she thought of the moment. She no longer wanted to be in this place; it brought her too much pain. She scanned her eyes around for some flowers and picked a few. She took them and held them in her hands, her eyes remained closed. ”God, whoever you are, please protect my children’s spirits. Keep them safe and guide them to a place where they will be happy no matter what happens to them. This is my request to my stillborn children. Let them know their mother still loves them and misses them very much.” With that, the she wolf began to place the flowers on each of her childrens’ graves. Her heart sank and she finally opened her eyes. They would not move from their graves and the wolfess collapsed in front of them. She was having one of her mental breakdowns and her body heat increased. Finally she rose to her feet and ran away from the graves, deeper into the heart of the graveyard.

Layla passed along the lines of graves and closed her eyes. The tears would not stop even though she was now far from her childrens’ place of enternal slumber. She crossed her arms and held them as she pressed on. She opened her eyes occasionally to look at the statues she passed by. They were all cracked, much like the mistress’ heart. She was so sick of feeling this way and wished there was a way she could turn time back. She would have tried to prevent this from ever happening. The shell of a wolf continued on and finally stopped. She caught the scent of a stranger here with her. She didn’t want anyone to see her in the state she was currently in. She tried desperately to wipe the tears from her eyes, but it was no use. She continued and kept her arms against her eyes as she looked for whoever else was in the graveyard. Finally she came across the dog and paused. She was so lovely and her lavender eyes helped to add to her look. She turned her back to the stranger and pretended not to even notice her. The black and white she wolf faced a random grave and let the tears flow out of her eyes. Her ears feel back down as did her tail. She heard the dog speak and acted like she didn’t even notice until she heard her. ”Is… is someone there…?” The she wolf turned her head from the grave and presented herself to the stranger. Her messed self could not be helped and it seemed at the moment that her soul was beyond help. Her bleeding heart continued to go as she waited for the loner to say something, perhaps something that may cheer the lonely wolfess up.

Sylvie Ciel · 11-09-2010, 11:06 AM

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Table © Frost
-noms on school-
WC: 408

Sylvie had heard the moon-spun female settle herself into position behind her, soft, floppy ears flicking in the direction of the other's footfalls. Nothing else followed those movements besides, perhaps, Layla's rising and falling breaths, coupled with quieted crying. The young french collie avoided saying anything to her, as if also ignoring the older canine in favor of something else. Alas, Sylvie had no reason to hide her face as Layla did, but she was worried. Worried that she had stumbled upon a grieving female's time to visit the grave of someone she cared for. To have done such a thing would terribly hurt the tender-hearted beauty. Such an intrusion was intolerable, after all. However, it seemed, she had to acknowledge her company once that cliche 'is someone there?' slipped from her creamy maw.

Sylvie turned part of the way, mostly facing the statue, but turning enough to see the tattoo'd female well. She was a lovely thing, midnight beneath moonlit markings, with eyes the shade of cerulean skies... her eyes brought back memories of a certain cobalt and slate boy Sylvie knew. Shaking her head a little to clear those thoughts, violet gems came upon the tattoo on Layla's face before she finally said something. "Ah, yes. Hello... sorry if I'm interrupting something... I came to admire the statues." Came her soft, lilting voice, that ever present french accent dancing over her words. It had faded over the years, that accent, but just as the scent of salt water clung fervently to her pelt from so many moons ago, it refused to fizzle out completely.

Searching for a conversation piece not involving the graveyard, as it appeared the dark valkyrie had already handled the grave she came to see, Sylvie's gaze fell once more upon the blue swirl on Layla's marble visage. She was highly intrigued by it's coloration and perfect shift between colors, after all... oh! "If you don't mind me asking... how did you get that marking around your eye?" She had never seen a tattoo close up, and curiousity was piqued at the idea of how it might have gotten there. What did tattooing entail, after all, besides a mass of dye and something capable of putting it onto one's fur? Sylvie had toyed with the idea of perhaps dying her coat another shade... but that would be, likely, too extreme. No one would recognize her...

Or at least, that was what she thought.

Layla Nishant · 11-28-2010, 04:16 AM

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Sorry for the wait! WC: 370 {3 points}

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Layla didn’t like being alone when she felt like this, but couldn’t help but for once want to be alone. She didn’t want anyone but her beloved mate to see her crying over the loss over their children. She covered her eyes with her arm and tried to wipe the tears away. She couldn’t get the sad image of her dead pups out of her head. She wanted so much to wish she could go back in time and try to prevent that moment from ever happening, but she knew it was impossible. The mistress shook her head and then turned her attention back to the grave she was standing over. She had no idea who it belonged to and was certain that she didn’t know who it was, but seeing as there was someone nearby, someone not from Dahlia de Mai, she didn’t want he or she to know that she was really mourning the loss of her pups.

Once the feeling had passed and she was ready to talk to the stranger, she moved out of the way and over towards her. She could see those violet eyes up close now and admired them seeing as they were not filled with tears or sadness. So she came to admire the statues? The mistress had to admit that the statues were nice, but not really worth coming to a cemetery before, much less one of another pack. Not wanting to give her intentions away, she shook her head gently and spoke lowly. ”No… you’re not interrupting anything…”

It seemed the stranger was keen on changing the subject. It seemed to fall to the eye tattoo that her mother gave her. The mistress moved her fingers along the design before closing her eyes, remembering her mother. ”My mother gave it to me when I was a bit younger… she had one just like it and I asked if she’d design one for me…” The black and white she wolf slowly opened her eyes, returning her sadden gaze to the loner. Upon waiting all this time, she didn’t even know who this was. The she wolf dropped her hands back to her sides and gave a soft sigh. ”What’s your name…?”

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