Every story has two sides
#1
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Word Count: 348
:oo Key's secret side... he likes to make things. Btw, if you want to have him make something out of thread and beads, just ask. Or you can grab something from his already made pile. Hrmm, this is based in his room so far? He has a curtain door... so feel free to barge in and catch the softy culprit 'thread' handed >Big Grin


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Steady hands moved slowly, with precise and practised movements. His craft was something he spoke to others about very rarely; to him it was something personal and more of a hobby than anything else. Working to a specification or to match another’s taste was annoying and not worth any form of payment.


With a gentle tug, he finished the last stitch of the bracelet; it was black, red and brown; woven into a repetitive diagonal pattern, the colours alternating with each row of stitches. The finished result was perfect; all the stitches were roughly the same, none had slipped and it held a fair amount of strength in it, so it would not wear down easily.


Creating small trinkets were a way for him to distract himself and to keep his hands busy, but when he saw the finished result he always felt warm inside; that despite his many faults he was capable of creating beautiful, small things that could bring happiness to others.


Grasping each end he gave the bracelet an experimental tug to make sure it was definitely secure, before he tossed it into the crate across the room. It wasn’t the first time he’d created something to simply throw it away, but who did he have to give such things to? In all honestly, at times he felt ashamed of his craft. He liked others to see him as the strong, questionably reliable and often sarcastic Dasa… that he was. But the simple side to him that found pleasure in creating small things… he didn’t want others to know.


It seemed like a weakness; as if by knowing of his craft someone could use it against him. Ridiculous as it sounded, such thoughts had lead him to keep his less violent abilities hidden.


Leaning back, he stretched out his arms and took a look around his room; it reflected how he saw himself. Simple and practical, with a sick sense of humour to boot. His attention drew back to his desk, his eyes falling upon his many materials as he debated what to create next.


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#2
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Hurg. Short. Sorry. ;~;

Surveying the new world had become a habit to the golden female, amazed at the sheer size of her home. Hours were spent wandering the corridors, looking into the empty rooms and wondering where to best put her skills to use. She had never excelled in anything apart from physical force, unlike young Citlali, who could weave his trinkets with the best of them. It would take some thought to find a niche for herself within the clan.

Taking a leisurely walk through the hall that lead to individual rooms, the Eternian could not help but think about her siblings. It had been the longest time since she had laid eyes on the willowy Xochime, but Miqui and Imacai had been a more recent foundation. They had been with her in Barbados, and she had worried for them when they had disappeared from her. It was no secret that she was the monster out of the trio, capable of winning any playful battle set out between siblings, and it was simply in her nature to assume the worst. Imacai had left first, to scout, but they had heard nothing from him since. Miqui had been lost to her in the snow.

She shook her head, fiery eyes glancing at the openings along the outside wall of the corridor. Movement behind a curtain stopped her in her tracks, curiosity overtaking courtesy as she moved toward the entrance. Silently, she pushed the fabric door from her line of sight, peering into the single-canine cave. Sitting there, working on some project or another, was a dark male clearly of wolf origin. One blink, two blinks, and the coyote cleared her throat. No words were spoken, but she hoped to learn just what he was up to.



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#3
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Word Count: 501
^^


Smooth, almost like silk he thought, his fingers carefully running over the length of golden thread. The thin strands were intertwining well, fraying a little on each end. It was common that thread of gold, silver and glitter would fray easily over time, but the ball of soft gold he had come across seemed of a decent quality. Reaching out without looking, he grasped the ball of black yarn that was sat upon his small work space. Holding the end of each, he twisted the two colours around each other; the two strong colours complementing each other in a unique way.


His tongue gently rolled in his mouth, lightly brushing against his teeth; such was a habit of his, one he did when he was concentrating on his work. So consumed with patterns, plans and ideas he was oblivious to his own surroundings; a form of weakness, for he was a warrior. He should be constantly alert, constantly ready for battle. Yet, the peace he found when doing his craft.. he would never give it up.


Scattered across the rocky desk were beads of different shapes, sizes and colours. Again and again, he’d pick one up, bring it to the strings then place it down. None of the ones he had on him seemed to work with the two strong colours he had chosen. I need to get some new materials…


A light frown formed, showing his frustration upon his face. It was very rare that he hit such a wall when it came to his craft. Leaning back slightly, careful not to fall from his stool, he stretched out his arms above his head; the muscles stretching out until he head one of his joints click; the sound brought a lazy, satisfied grin to his lips and he lowered down his arms.


It was then he noticed the glimmer of gold out of the corner of his eye. Under different circumstances, he may have attacked, gone to kill first and ask later; but here he was unarmed and he doubted a threat would get so deep into the pack home, which indicated that the female in his doorway posed no immediate threat.


With a smooth movement, he turned his body around on the stool to face her slightly, his dark head titling to the side; long strands of dark hair fell shifted, falling here and there. Blue eyes peered out at her, taking in every detail, assessing her, calculating, taking everything into consideration as quickly as he could.


For all he knew, the female could have been stood there for hours; so consumed in his work that he hadn’t even noticed her presence. He wanted to growl at her, tell he she should have knocked or made her presence known, but for all he knew she may have and he’d simply not heard. The swaying of his tail, that hung free from the stool slowed, his muscles tensing slightly. In a silent question, he raised an eyebrow at her.


“Yes?”



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#4
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It didn't take too long before she was noticed by the dark male, and while her curious red eyes wandered over different materials for crafts, he twisted on his seat to look at her. It drew her attention. Flame irises caught eyes the strangest shade of azure she'd ever taken the time to notice. One eyebrow raised upward on his face. The vaguest smile crossed golden lips; she wasn't the sort to simply toss cheerful expression at those around her, regardless of kinship.

"Aye was ehxploring; deed aye interrupt?" she inquired, accent rolling thick over unfamiliar English words. She harbored no regret in trespassing; perhaps she should have. It was only a small transgression. Family would understand, though strangers might not. Still, it hadn't stopped her. And he didn't seem too awfully bothered; only a slight tense to his muscles went noticed by the Mexican female.

Graceful steps carried her a bit further into the room, eyes seeking and finding different items strewn about the space. "Maye son crafts. You do ahs well?" Another question. She wasn't seeking personal information, not yet. Only information about his place in the world. She herself had none. She excelled in no skill. She was aligned to nothing. She was strong, but she would not be a warrior. She was intelligent, but she would not teach. Perhaps her curiosity would help her in the end, where nothing else could.



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#5
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Out of Character

Coding by Sie.

(WC: 364)
Abit sucky, my apologies >.<


In Character


“Don’t think we’ve met. New to Anathema?” he questioned her, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. He waved a hand vaguely, indicating that she was welcome to come in further. One of the downsides of being in a pack was having to be kind to its members. Some of the pack he had encountered were bearable, others he would happily watch burn, but pack is pack, and so he would attempt to be nice… For if he wasn’t, he feared his actions would come back to bite him in the butt, and he rather liked living in Anathema and so in such situations, he tried his best at being polite.


Plus, he knew that all members of Anathema were family and so he respected that the best he could. Azure eyes scanned the room in one quick sweep; aside from his craft stuff, an assortment of small blades and bags of poisons laying to the side of his bed, there was little to nothing in the room and he was sat upon the only chair, so the female would have to stand or sit on the bed, for he may act pleasant towards her, but he wasn’t giving up the stool.


As the female spoke again, he noted her accent; it was unique and heavy, muffling her words slightly here and there, but he understood her well enough. Her comment regarding his crafts disturbed him more than it should have; it wasn’t exactly a secret that he made small trinkets, he just hadn’t told anyone… He didn’t know how to share his craft with another, what to say about it, what it was and what it meant to him and so he simply nodded, “It’s a side hobby, something I do to occupy my free time” he shrugged, as if it meant anything.


Really, he knew he should have stopped it a long time ago. But he was sentimental; Jay had taught him the craft and he couldn’t give it up. Even if, at the back of his mind, he knew he should be dedicating himself to his tasks as a warrior. “Did’ya son join Anathema with you?” he inquired, making small talk.


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#6
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He invited her in with a wave of his hand and she approached him without much concern for a place to sit; she seemed comfortable enough just standing. For a moment, she remained silent, watching him work on whatever it was he had decided to occupy his time with. Often, she had witness Citlali put together bracelets and baskets — she enjoyed the tedious tasks, for they helped her understand something that the boy enjoyed. Was it the same with this dark wolf? No, naturally not, but it did not stop her wandering fire eyes.

His explanation was that the task was a side hobby, something used to occupy his time. It seemed he put little stock into it. Much as Tlantli expected, it seemed only Citlali loved his work the way he did. Her arms crossed beneath her small chest, hip leaning ever so gently against the surface he was using as a desk or table. "Si, aye come here recently. Maye son, he ess not maye real son, but he comes with me ahs well. Aye would never leave Citlali behind." It was truth, for she had grown incredibly fond of her nephew since they had left Eterne. He was too old to be her son, but she loved him like she would any child, and knew that their legacy rested on his pure shoulders. Tlantli and her brothers were marred by subtle hints of wolf blood, but Citlali was all that Eterne wanted. Perhaps he would be the saving grace of her home, the one thing to make Metetztli proud. To give Metetztli the family he deserved. Perhaps.

"Ahnd who ahre you, handsome craftsman?" Handsome he was, his pelt dark like so many others. She marveled in the melanistic fur found on many of the wolves within Anathema. They didn't have such things in Eterne.

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#7
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Out of Character

Coding by Sie.

(WC: 243)
Short post xD


In Character


A short nod was his reply to the female’s explanation regarding herself and this ‘Citlali’. Recently there seemed to be an increase in those wishing to join Anathema, to the point where the young Dasa only knew a handful of the current members and was struggling to keep on top of familiarizing himself with each new addition to the ‘family’. It pleased him to see that the golden female felt loyalty and love to a child that wasn’t hers; he himself had been adopted and had some understanding of the situation she and her son were in.


At the ‘Handsome Craftsman’ comment, he stopped playing with the materials on his desk and looked up to the female with mild surprise. He’d been referred to as many things before, but this had to be the first time he had been called the two and in the same sentence as well. In response, he dipped his head slightly, “I’m Alaki. One of the four Dasa’s of Anathema” he added to the end, to clear up the craftsman comment; he may be capable of a craft, but he saw himself more of a warrior.


A dark ear flicked and his tail swayed steadily; he was a sucker for compliments, and he was beginning to find the strange female more tolerable by the minute. “Since you’ve just joined, I assume you are still a Zepar? Any idea in what you will specialize in?” he questioned the female.


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#8
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She marveled at his work, but remained fairly quite despite her explanations, a trait that made the coyote female who she was. The Eternian had never found it necessary to be loud and vivacious — why ruin her strength with childish, girly antics such as that? No, she much preferred her silence. Even if others did not. Fiery red eyes turned from the craft to the man as he spoke, noticing how his tail swayed behind him and the surprise in his eyes. His name was Alaki, and she had been wrong. He was a warrior instead of a craftsman. How silly of her to assume otherwise.

Tlantli allowed her posture to relax, weight falling comfortably against the nearest wall as she pondered his question. What did she want to do there in Anathema? What suited her best? "Aye ahm ae fighter. Warrior. Strong, liek you, aye ahm sure." More subtle, vague flirtation that didn't show on her features. She was a fighter, yes, with more skill than strong Miqui or quick Imacai, but she would not be a warrior there. "Aye haft not think of what aye do here. Maybe aye eksplore caves. They ahre intres'ing." It seemed a simple enough task, to be interested by the caves. Or perhaps she could remain as she was and simply teach those she felt worthy before moving on to some new place.


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#9
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Out of Character

Coding by Sie.

(WC: 262)
Smile


In Character

”I’m never strong; always weak, for there is always room for improvement and things to learn. I am young compared to some and so lack experience aswell” he said, the answer was automatic and what he believed someone of his age would say if they had had a remotely standard upbringing. It wasn’t as if he did not appreciate what Jay had taught him, but others seemed to fear him when they learnt he had been brought up and raised as a killing machine.


Maybe that’s why he found peace in his craft? It was something he could do that did not involve violence and killing, nor did it remind him of his own lack of childhood. On the contrary, it reminded him of the few and rare moments where Jay had acted like a parent instead of a military instructor.


This time round, he ignore the subtle flirting; he had someone else in mind and despite the harmless nature of the conversation he would not respond eagerly to the female’s words; regardless of how flattering they were.


“The caves are fairly complex in some places” he agreed; when he’d joined he had spent some time exploring and learn all the tunnels and had enjoyed doing so thoroughly. “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but if you are trained as a warrior, why not follow that path? Anathema could always use more warriors” he paused, considering his own words and then laughed lightly. “Then again, I swear there are more warriors than anything else. Maybe doing something else would be beneficial aswell”

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#10
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Where there was once no animosity, bitter distaste rose with the words of the male before her. Admitting weakness, even though it was in some strange mantra, left her ill. Weakness. Sickening. Admonition of his weakness, and inexperience as well, ranked as such a high sin in the mind of the Eternian woman. Younger than he was, her beliefs called for esteem in ones own abilities. Metetztli had never said otherwise, had never told her of humility or being humble in the faces of elders. Why should she sacrifice her pride to make another happy? There was no purpose.

She grimaced. As he continued to speak, asking her a question about her choice in path, she wondered how to best get away without appearing entirely rude. Of course, it was overshadowed by her internal questioning of herself. Why not be a warrior? If this man was weak, they would need someone far more worthwhile. She pushed herself from her place against the wall, stepping toward the center of the room. "Aye did not think that Anat'ema needed me. But, if you ahre weak ahs you claim, pearaps aye ahm wrong." The words lacked feeling. Her gaze was the same. As she watched the dark male, she silently wondered what he was doing as a warrior if he was truly so weak.



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#11
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Out of Character

Coding by Sie.

(WC: 324)
A hypocrite having a rant about strength <.<


In Character

The others words effected him little; in his mind no one was strong, always weak. There were those who could be dangerous, those with the potential to harm others or protect their pack, but no one was strong. For in his mind, someone whom was called strong would be perfect, never making a mistake, never slipping up, a flawless being. And as far as he had seen, everyone had atleast one flaw and so everyone was weak.


Strength could be interoperated in many ways. There were those who possessed strength in a physical or mental form, but that did not make them strong. There were others who had honed their skill and served their leaders and gained strength through time and patients, but they too were not really strong. In the young Dasa’s mind, only a godly being had the right to call himself strong and truly believe it; one may lie and call themselves strong, knowing they aren’t, but it is wrong to believe you are strong; by doing so, you ignore your flaws and become weak.


“Then you would believe yourself to be strong? Even though it is a fact that there will always be someone stronger, someone more experienced, a situation where you can do nothing but fail? Can anyone truly call themselves strong under such circumstances?” he asked the female out of curiosity; it often intrigued him to see another’s point of view and her answer may hold information. With knowledge came power and knowing about others was something he always tried to do and keep up-to-date on.


“But yes, Anathema can always use someone of ‘strength’ and skill. If you are trained as a warrior, I don’t see why you wouldn’t put to use such skills… Unless of course you wish to learn something new” his words were honest, for if fighting was strong point, why did she not build upon it and use it to benefit the pack?


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