If I could walk a thousand miles

Blackbird · 03-20-2011, 02:30 PM

◦Character Name: Blackbird
◦Character Birthdate (including year): March 2005
◦Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci
◦Species: Coyote/Mexican Wolf
◦Gender: Male
◦Currently played characters: None
◦How you found 'Souls: Surfing the web
Initial post:

OOC: This was kind of rushed so sorry for the shortness and crumminess of it.

Blackbird had been aimlessly wandering the woods of Nova Scotia all morning, pondering his next move. He had managed to make it to Souls, yet in light of recent events it seemed a hollow victory. Now he perched precariously on the outskirts of what could only be another packs territory, unsure of what his next move should be. If he entered, there was a chance he could finally find happiness, a blessing he had not had in a long time. Yet there was also that chance that he would only find disappointments and lies, as he had so often before. Wouldn’t it be better to leave, to find some other place to live in peace where nobody would find him.

Yet he knew almost before the thought had crossed his mind that this wasn’t about finding a place to live, this was about finding a place to die. There really was no other option, with his current condition, the one that he had secreted away from so many innocents, he wouldn’t last the year. Either way he would still have a lot of waiting t do before someone discovered him here, and so with delicate fingers he unstrapped his guitar and began to play. His fingers danced across the string, playing a song of hope and loneliness, and for some reason he found the weight of his years pressing down on him, making him suddenly look years older then he actually was.

Skye Collins · 03-20-2011, 04:16 PM

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welcome to cercatori d'arte! Big Grin

Skye had been feeling a bit strange lately, a bit off - like the world had shifted a tiny bit and she either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. She was walking through the cold atmosphere of Cercatori d'Arte, a white-creamy wolfess that had her hands in faded blue pockets of loose pants and her auburn-colored hair let down past her shoulders. She was on patrol, checking the borders; that was one of her duties as the beta, after all. But then that was when she heard the music.

Music was one of the things Cercatori d'Arte was based around; music and art and writing and all other things that let loose your imagination. Music was what brought Skye to Shawchert; without his flute-playing, she may never have struck up a conversation with him, and they may never have created Cercatori d'Arte together. But this music was different than Shaw's flute; it sounded like Pixie's guitar, the kind that Skye had wanted to play. The tune was sad and low, and Skye pushed through the trees and saw someone.

He was an older man, perhaps five or six years of age - much older than Skye was. He looked worried and troubled, but the noises the guitar made were somehow soothing to Skye. She approached him. "Hello," she said. "I'm Skye Collins, co-leader of Cercatori d'Arte, which you are on the borders of. May I help you?"

wc:

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Blackbird · 03-28-2011, 04:59 PM

OOC: Sorry for taking so long. I was extremely busy last week.

Blackbird had lost himself in the past again, his heart longing for what could have been and what should have been as it so often did these days. Thus it was truly surprising for him to hear a voice ring out in direct contrast to his eerily depressing tune. She was female, if her voice was any indication, and a member of the pack whose borders he now sat upon. For a moment more he sat silently, the only indication he had heard being the stillness of his fingers and the tense pose of his body. Then he turned in the direction of the female, or as close to her direction as he could guess, before replying in a heavily accented voice.

“Senorita, my name is Blackbird, and I have been travelling as a loner and sometimes with company long before you were born. I hail from a land far to the south where the sun always shines and the earth stretches out into eternity. In all of that time I have sought a place to call home, but it has never appeared and I do believe that ship has long sailed past. However, I currently had a brief brush with my mortality, and…now I only request a place to spend my last days on earth, as I believe I don’t have many left. I will work hard and do what is asked of me, but I must warn you that if I sense myself or any of my morals are in danger I must warn you that I have killed many times before and would not hesitate to do so again.”

With that single warning he clasped his hand around his machete, which lay hanging by its strap from his other shoulder. He did not believe that this pack would cause any trouble, but he had seen to many evil deeds, many of them by his own hands, to ever fully trust someone again. No, he would know soon enough what sort of pack this was, but until then he wasn’t going to take any chances.

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