Lost and Found.

[Sylvie Ciel]

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table © Alaine
ooc: Backdated to November 21st. :3

She had been wandering for hours now. A sense of austere despair hung loosely over the land, a spectrally guarded glade of tall pines and soft ferns, rustling and whispering to each other in the low light of the day. The forest was beautiful, and the slender female shea was lost among the dapples of light, the patterned shafts of sun arcing through vine-filled balcony of leaves overhead. Around her neck rustled a long, faded scarf, its dying patterns growing older with each step she took through the ancient shadows of Ethereal Eclipse.

In truth, Sylvie had intended on getting lost- one of the best methods of locating something lost was to gecome lost yourself, she had heard. Alaine and Caillen were her lost things, baubles of flesh and bone taken not by the monster under the bed, but by themselves. And so here she was, amethyst gems locked onto the shades of the haunted trees surrounding her, ever vigilantly watching for a puckish sort of creature to appear and goad her into circles of speech and step, each alike the other, until tears would sting behind orchid eyes and a frustrated pain beat beneath her ribs. An accumulation of so many things, it would be; the dam that held back an evermore strenuous flow of emotion crumbling at the edges, a potent mixture of stress and utter exhaustion eroding her very mental foundation... For now, this was far from Sylvie's thought process.

The golden sun above was waning, even in its muted light beneath the evergreen canopy, and here the lost yearling kept her wits about her. Like her history foretold, the one to panic would be the first to die- and Sylvie was not going to be that person. Various scents drifted across chocolate hued nose as the slender damsel took a good, long look around her, finally coming to the conclusion that her lost things were not here...

At least, not now.

The sounds of a babbling brook shattered her thoughts, and immediately, the young colliewoman froze. The wolven word appeared, for a moment, to echo out in eery greeting, ethereal speech drifting from the lapping waters of the landmark. Floppy dog's ears perked, and rubbing her temple a moment, the foreigner trekked carefully forward towards the source of the sound, her amethyst eyes animated and wary. This was only one of the many streams she had passed during her trek through the densely vegetated realm, and with the already meager light fading slowly out of use, the lilac and white beauty decided it would be best to find her way out.

Ivory paws carried slender form up the side of the laughing stream while earthy mind tuned out all possible speech not of this plane, instead concentrating on how far ahead she could see along the water's silt-covered bed. The best set of directions she had at the moment, as all running water soon led to the sea, and thus, the seaside terra she once vowed to never leave, Sylvie put all her faith into the life-giving liquid, praying for a moment to a god she did not believe in. Safe passage as far from the other packs as possible would be the most preferable, after all... and who better to make sure that happened than god himself?

Speak think walk

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[Lucia Marino]

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Thank you for starting! <3 wc:573

It had been but a month, and already Lucia was finding herself straying away from her new home. The formation of Cercatori d'Arte had happened so quickly, it was like a brief, flashing spark in her memory. When she took the time to scrutinize just how she'd become involved with the gleeful band of artists, it almost just seemed like a foolish flight of fancy. She happens upon a gentle giant who gives her a guitar and tells her of the pack he's planning on forming. Before the sandy-hued girl knew it, she had packed up and left Phoenix Valley without a word in order to join him in his endeavor.



It had seemed like such a flawless idea at first, but the Marino girl would be lying if she claimed that wisps of regret did not slink through her thoughts every so often. What had kept the yearling in the Valley pack for so long was the misspent hope that her siblings would one day show up again. She could no longer hold onto that hope while living in the pack of artists. But the girl was content in her new home, and no longer would she have to live with the shadow of her increasingly absent family hovering over her. She had finally allowed herself to move on.



Yet the petite Marino had a particular mission for her wanderings, and it was more heavily influenced by her desire to let go of the past, rather than a need to escape the confines of her new home. She drifted easily through the trees, skirting around the foliage and letting her feet take her where they would. Her airy purple dress swished against her legs with each step. In her hands she clutched a small wooden trinket, one that had once adorned one of the shelves in her childhood home. It was carved from light material to the shape of a bird, its form made only more delicate with time.



Something had possessed her to take it along with her when she left to find Shawchert and his merry new pack. It was supposed to serve as a reminder of home, and it was doing it's job exceedingly well--too well for the Marino girl's tastes. Each time emerald orbs chanced upon its form sitting on the windowsill of her new home, a torrent of lonely and angry feelings were stirred up within her. She had left for Cercatori d'Arte to forget those feelings. If she truly wished for a new start, she would have to get rid of it.



Lucia finally came upon a serene little brook, precisely what she had been looking for. She crouched down next to the babbling waters and held the small trinket out in one hand. She hesitated, staring at the little bird as if it should simply fly away of its own accord. But no, she would have to teach it to swim. The girl dropped it then in one swift and fleeting movement. The light wooden carving was easily carried away by the current. She watched it as it was pulled farther away, unable to look away. Yet when the sound of footsteps carried over from upstream, her gaze tore easily away to investigate. Someone was approaching, following alongside the damp banks of the brook. Lucia watched the approaching figure for only a moment before remembering the trinket. She turned suddenly, gem-like gaze searching the waters. It was gone.

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