Misery was happy. It was strange for her to be that way - her name was rather fitting, but the old female was content. Anathema housed her true family, and she had bonded well with all three of her grandchildren. A quiet sort of peace was settling over her, and she was thankful for it. Peace had not been a constant in her nine years, and she quietly thanked Ankh for the peace that was prevailing. Perhaps kismet had brought her back, or her own sense of determination. But the reasons really didn't matter, she was home. The old female let a quiet sort of smile crawl across her features as she wandered the terrain, her bright gold-green eyes searching for anything interesting.
Scavenging was one of her better skills. Misery always had a way of finding useful or interesting things. The cave she had claimed in Anathema was proof enough of that - already filling with random refuse and bits and pieces of things she'd found interesting. The mountain wasn't exactly the best place to look for medicinal herbs, but she didn't know this land as well as she had known other places. In time the female would find favorite haunts and scavenging spots, but for now she was simply exploring. Misery looked down at an innocent looking flower and nudging it with the tip of her black cane, breathing in. It was nothing of any use, and she snorted, giving the flower another sharp whack with her cane - almost as if she was punishing it for not being useful - before continuing along her quiet exploration.
[/html]
[html]
<style type="text/css">
.mtree {width:400px; font-family:verdana; background-color:#F3EDE6; border: 1px solid #000;}
.mtree2 {padding:10px; color:#062431; line-height:15px; text-align:justify; font-size:11px;}
.mtree i {color:#436D80; font-family:georgia;}
.mtree b {color:#5F7C81; font-family:georgia;}
.mtree p {text-indent:39px; margin:0px;}
</style>[/html]
funny mental image of her beating up on a flower XD cai is in optime form.
The mountain folded around him, a perfect concealment for the giant now used to prowling in its depths. He had haunted this area for a few moons now, but the man's crippled mind had yet to title it as home. The cold, miserable territory of Halcyon was no home to him - It was transitional. A phase of dangerous growth, a place that mirrored the continuously twisting channels of his once pure mind.
The Wolfdog had surely been on a descent into madness. But one had stopped that - A creature born of fire and blood, with eyes as red as rubies and fur as soft as silk. He remained here, trapped on the mountain, for her alone. The loneliness sometimes ate at his insides, an acidic erosion of the vagabond, winsome creature he'd once been. But thoughts of Talitha Lykoi kept him sane in the long cold ours of echoed voices and deadly silence.
This was why, when the male stumbled across tracks that he instantly recognised to be those of the Luperci breed, he followed them without hesitation. The months of living alone had sculpted his once soft form into one of a survivor; Hard, lean muscles moved like well-oiled machinery beneath a dishevelled blue merle pelt. Eyes that had once been as cerulean as the eastern sky were now icy and pale, a hypothermia blue. They shone with flickers of curiosity as he followed the strange path to its source.
She revealed herself to be a woman, crafted purely from snow and imagination. Like a wraith - He had never seen a creature so white and uniform before. His immense size would make it difficult to conceal himself, and so the man made no effort, not bothering to silence his footsteps. A respectful, albeit wary, distance was left between himself and the older woman as he observed her curiously. Was she only a figment of his troubled mind?
Sorry for delay! And yes. Misery likes to thug flowers. She's gangster that way! She's also in optime form yaaay two feets!
In Character
The old female knew well of figments and the ghosts that could haunt a tortured mind. The ghost of her dead lover, the Crimson King of Chimera lived within her. His voice was as much a part of her as her breath and her heart. Powerful footsteps could be heard and her sharp ears swiveled to pick out the direction of the sounds. Some of her senses failed her - her right in particular was spotty, but she could still hear sharply. Her golden green eyes widened faintly as she looked at the beast that approached, and she could only hope his intentions were good. Misery was as small and thin as a luperci could get, and this beast seemed destined to be a Goliath. "'Ello there, big fellow."
The female's gaze was cautious as she crossed her hands over the sleek black cane she carried, the tip firmly crushing the offending flower into the earth. The fellow looked harmless enough, he didn't seem to be of an unctuous visage. He had the body of a creature used to surviving, and she could respect that. Fat, lazy creatures were normally of little interest to the old female. It was the wraith-thin survivors, the scarred big beasts that fascinated her. The road weary always had the greatest stories to tell.
table by alaki, coding by sie
[/html]
[html]
<style>.Freebie001 p {padding:0px 10px 10px 10px; margin:0px; text-indent:30px;}</style>[/html]
She turned to see him, and Caillen could tell that she was old. Her bones would be brittle, he knew, but the giant male felt no desire to harm her. He was a peaceful creature, by nature - The rage within him was buried deep down, beneath the layers of memory and consciousness he had long since discarded.
Besides, the old woman interested him. What purpose could she have, out in the wilderness? She smelt of no pack he knew, but that said very little; He had had interaction with a limited number of packs, and recognized few. She spoke, and his floppy ears swivelled forward to catch her voice. Icy blue eyes blinked - He was not stupid, but not overly intelligent either, and being alone for so long had left the male with a more primitive manner of interaction.
For a long pause, he did not speak, but took a few steps forward. She was so small, thin and dainty, but he could see the power in her acid-green eyes. "Hello, elder," The Merle goliath finally returned her greeting with a respectful title, his gaelic-accented voice rusty from a lack of use.
She's gangster that way! She's also in optime form yaaay two feets!