[m] I'm wondering when will my life begin?
#1
((Sorry if this comes across slightly awkward. LOL "poem" by me, inspired by Coda by Marilyn Hacker.. wc 400+.))

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WARNING This thread contains: graphic sexual content, graphic violence, or extremely offensive material starting with the #th post. Reader discretion is advised.
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Liam was off wandering again. The father was at ease with that. He sat on his front porch on a fur he'd skinned when he'd first starting shifting in the souls lands. He'd done it at the time to get Liam used to wolves on two feet. The boy had been very curious at first, then had gotten used to it. Now Tal used his shifted from constantly. It actually irritated him to shift down because he lost the ability to write, and he lost the use of his thumbs. But on two feet he had those abilities.

He sat, now, on his fur on his porch, writing in his journal. It was just general ramblings, plans for his future, and memories of his past. Dreams of his mother were written down, as were the nightmares about Lucifer and Azza. Fears and hopes for Liam went into his journal as well. Regrets about Brighid and Liadain joined the scrawlings. He sat for a moment longer, then began adding a simple poem. One line at a time, the poem fleshed itself out, the words being drawn from somewhere deep inside.

Did you love well what very soon you lost?
This dream she held in her hands drew me deeper into her world
Where black butterflies entwined with flames dancing across her vision.
Deep blue sky met with darkest blood in her dreams
Come home, and take away this heartache.

Her nightmares were my own,
My dreams were her salvation.
And nothing could stop them,
nothing stopped the winter drifting dark across our windows.
Never so bereft....

I drank of her bitterness, and she stole my hopes.
Her dark angel swooped in and stole it all away,
in a single night the flames consumed our lives.

The only gift I gave is what I cried.
The only flood was my regrets.
Who wants to know how it feels to have lost so much so young?

We don't.
We don't care.
We are those who have lost and yet are to be found.
We dance with her butterflies in the dark.
We are the flames that have consumed all,
and in consuming all have burned ourselves to ashes.


Tal stared at the words, wondering for a moment where they surfaced from, what deeper part of himself had given his heart to Kira, knowing that her insanity would be his end. He sighed, setting aside the notebook and leaning back against the house, the sun shining down warming his feet. He laced his hands behind his neck and waited for whatever was coming.
#2
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OOC: I was wondering if we could possibly forward date this to the 14th of APR, I already have an important thread on the 13th and it might clash with this thread and i don't want that Smile
+3


Bartholomew had been disgusted. Utterly disturbed with himself because of he actions he had caught going on a week or so ago with Krystalle. He was still oh-so sorry and he had been in a lower mood than normal, this was obvious because the normally proud looking man had his shoulders slumped as he walked around. He was wandering around Thornbury, dressed out of the norm for Mars, because Bartholomew was finally tired of having the same clothing as Mars. He needed the individuality from him. You know, so others would finally realize that Mars was a fucking nutcase. Today he wore the white jacket that Mars had put together during the winter. Why Mars never wore the white jacket was beyond Bartholomew, but he figured that it gave Bartholomew more of a right to claim it since Mars didn't seem to fancy the white jacket that hugged his form ever so elegantly. He wore no pants though, because there were no pants that Bartholomew wanted to hassle himself with. He wandered around the place though, it seeming dead as hell around the pack lands. Bartholomew could only wonder why everyone was so reclusive right now. Wasn't their murderer problem solved?

Bartholomew continued to wander around, with nothing really interesting to do. His steel eyes moved over the terrain before they would catch themselves upon a figure that was sitting on a porch. Bartholomew had never seen the man before and was instantly curious of who he was, even the scent of the man was new around the Thornbury, and it was rather interesting that after all of what happened in D'Arte that there were new faces still showing up all the time. Bart moved towards the man's house and before he made it to the porch, he would stop in his tracks, give a friendly smile, and then open his mouth to speak. 'Llo! Teh name isa Bartholomew Cubbins. the man spoke to other. Who arr ya?



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#3
((Sounds good to me! Smile ))

The voice rang out. The male opened his eyes; he must have dozed off. He gave a somewhat groggy smile to the stranger. "Hello...I'm Taliesin. Story writer and dreamer extraordinaire." He felt pleasantly sleepy, and yet awake enough to be comfortable with anyone and everyone who approached today. "Pleasure to meet you, Bartholomew. Feel free to join me up here." He patted the porch, then returned to his at ease posture.

"I'm new here. Just came back from bein gone a year or so. Things change in that time." He shrugged. It wasn't quite like him to be so...indifferent to a stranger approaching him, but the minor nap he'd taken had relaxed him to where being a little out of character didn't seem so bad. The last few months of constant tension and worry had taken their toll on him, and he was ready to relax.

He absently studied Bartholomew. "I love the jacket. It looks soft. Wish I knew how to make things like that." He did too, creating things besides words strung together was beyond his scope of practice. Even the herbalism he knew was basic and simple. "Maybe someone could teach me someday." It was a passing thought, said in a soft voice. He loved learning. One of these days he'd probably take up Krystalle on her offer of meeting her horse, Senorita. He could learn about horses along of Liam. It could be fun.
#4
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OOC: sorry for the wait @.@
+3


Bartholomew smiled at the ivory man with bi-colored eyes. It was an interesting mixture of colors, that Bartholomew himself had never seen (but Mars had seen the same mixture with Addison) and he almost found himself jealous of the man's unique eye colors. Bart didn't realize that he was pretty interesting looking himself and that he didn't need two different color eyes to catch the wandering eyes that were of the world around him. The other man that was here in front of him needed something besides his white pelt to make him be an individual. The other man introduced himself as Taliesin, and then patted the porch and invited Bartholomew up on the porch. Bart took the opportunity and moved towards the porch and once he was close, he sat down next to the other man. It's my pleasure. the man spoke, nodding his head lightly, and turning his steel eyes to the other man who went on to tell him that he was new around here. Bartholomew himself was not into the pack life here, for Mars was the one that everyone knew more so than he, but Bartholomew knew the basis of the pack that he lived in. They were artists the lot of them. Bartholomew wouldn't have picked this pack, simply because he was better at other things besides the art that he did know. He did know what rank different from Mars' rank he was going to take though. Imma painter. the man lied, but kept a grin on his face as he kept his face turned to the other man.

Imma not from 'ere originally. I was'sa born in a' Los Angeles in America. the man continued to lie, Mars was born south in Fresno and he traveled to LA to get away from his mother before Mars had run away to here, Nova Scotia. The other man complimented the jacket, and Bartholomew giggled lightly. Oh please, Imma nuh good at sewing. Dis was'sa done by mah' brother. Bartholomew corrected, and smiled to him. Imma good at things done outdoors, and'a paintin', drawin', stuff like dat. the man spoke, nodding his head lightly.

What made ya' come back 'ere? Ya' got family 'ere er somethin'? Bartholomew asked the other man, wondering what made him leave in the first place, even though he hadn't gotten a reason why he came back in the first place. It was a little backwards for him to ask, but then again, Bartholomew seemed to be a very backwards person in general.


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#5
((WC 3+))

The other male had such an interesting voice. Batholomew Cubbins, the painter. Tal gave an easy smile, his tail wagging. Why did he come back? "This is where I grew up. Figured it would be best for my son. His mother died back in Michigan." Every time he told it, the lie came easier to his lips. Kira wasn't dead, but she might as well be. The woman who'd mothered his son would never find him here, and even if she did, it was fine. It was Liam's half brother the male didn't want to find them. Azza had murdered the rest of Liam's siblings. Tal didn't want to loose Liam too.

Did he have family here? "My brother Noah is in Phoenix Valley. My mom helped found it before she left. She's back in Michigan, found herself a pack away from the coyotes that she fears. My dad?" He paused, and then spoke again softly. "My dad is dead."

Okay, so Lucifer wasn't dead. The male's body was still up and walking at least, but the dad Tal and Noah grew up with, the one who'd loved Deuce so much, was dead. He'd been replaced by a rapist bastard. The male lifted a hand and scratched his pierced ear idly. The piercings were thanks to Lucifer, his way of marking Tal as belonging to him. Tal hated the male who'd sired him. He had vowed to never refer to Lucifer as dad or father again. As he said, his dad was dead, to him at least.

"What about you? Your family here or back in Los Angeles?" He found himself growing more complacent with the male next to him, and was almost surprised to realize he was feeling physically attracted to him even. Tal had never given the thought of sleeping with a male any consideration until Lucifer had forced it on him. Now Tal found himself eyeing every male who walked by, wondering how they would feel against him. It was strange to him, that he was so strongly attracted to males after what had been done. He didn't know it was a common coping mechanism of the sexually abused.
#6
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OOC: I'm so full of fail I'm so sorry about the wait on this T.T
+3


The other male mentioned having a son, and that this was where he grew up, in Nova Scotia. Bartholomew, by his accent was obviously not from here, but then again, he didn't speak like where he was from either. He had a made up accent that was from the south United States. Mars probably had heard the accent from a passing by merchant or something and picked it up and applied it to Bartholomew when Bartholomew was in the making within Mars' fucked up mind. Imma sorries ta' hear tha' she'sa'dead. Bartholomew politely spoke to the man, bowing his head lightly to the other, in respect for his dead mate, should she be so. Tal went on to speak about his family, like Bartholomew had asked, speaking about how his mother was in Michigan, and that his father was dead. Bartholomew frowned lightly. My respects to yerr old man as well. the male spoke, finding nothing wrong with respecting the dead, even though Bartholomew did not know that this other male's father had been a rapist. Bartholomew couldn't talk anyways, apparently, he'd found himself to also be a rapist of sorts. He had given it to Krystalle even though she had not wanted it. Even though he had no recollection of anything until he had woken up in the middle of his knot tying himself and the woman together. So, Bartholomew couldn't judge even if he did know that the other male's father was a rapist.

Bart was asked by the man what was up with his family, where they were. I haffa no father. My mother lives back in tha' City o' Angels. Imma here because mah 'brother' dragged me out here. Mah best friend ended up fallowin so I jus' made myself comfy 'ere. the man spoke, a smile returning to his face, and he nodded his head. He looked back at the bi-colored eyed man, and he held that wide smile on his mismatched face of his. Where's yerr boy? he asked, wondering where the boy was now, since he had mentioned that he was a father and all and that his mother was not present within the pack, because she was dead and all.



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#7
((Everytime I read this post, I can only hear Perelli from Sweeny Todd...LOL *hugs* Its okay, btw...I'm not the best at remembering my threads either. LOL Sorry about the short reply, too.))

Tal inclined his head, gracefully accepting the condolences on the 'lost' family. He himself was smiling at the male, enjoying this exchange of words. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed a conversation with another wolf so much. "My son...he's wandering around somewhere. His name is Liam. And what a handful my boy is, too. Just like his mother in many ways. Full of piss and vinegar." The smile on his face spoke volumes on his pride in his boy, though. His gaze drifted to the male again, and he found himself fascinated by the male's fur. He lifted a deceptively feminine hand to touch the black fur, then pulled it back as if he'd been scalded.

His face warmed. "Sorry...I've never seen anyone who's fur was marked like that...I was wondering if it was dyed. When I was growing up, I thought having two different eyes was odd, even though my mother had the same eyes. But I've never seen fur like yours."
#8
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OOC: >.< I fail at this thread. I really do and i'm really sorry. +3


The man told him of the name of his son as well as the part where the boy was a handful so he was off wandering around. Bartholomew knew nothing about being a father, for he never had to deal with a woman coming up to him and dumping his illegitimate child on him. He was lucky that he hadn't had a kid yet, for the child would probably be very confused about why the male was not always called Mars, but was also called Bartholomew, and most recently there was a third name, Hurricane. Bartholomew chuckled regardless. Boys will be'a some boys. the man commented, a smile on his handsome maw when he had realized that the man reached out to touch him. The touch of the man was gentle, and quick, only because the male was out of turn for doing so, but Bartholomew was not one to resist the touch of one, even though he was shy about it. His mismatched ears were pulled towards the man and his head cocked lightly as the other spoke to him.

A smile still stood strong on Bartholomew's face as he sat there next to the male. It'sa all natural, believes it 'er not, sir. Bartholomew mused, nodding his head to the other and he put his hand to his coal chin. I'mma not all wolf. Mah mam isa husky dog. Mah brotha's anda sista's arr uh, pretty unique lookin' too. the man commented, nodding his head again as he folded his arms over his chest. Yerr eyes are pretty though, I wisha dat I had yerr eyes. Though they are kinda perfect on ye. the man complimented the other male, the words smoothly running off of his fake accented tongue that was characteristic of Bartholomew Cubbins.

Bartholomew then looked to the notebook that the male had been writing in. Hey, uh, what d'ya write bout? the male asked, curious as to what the male had been writing about when Bartholomew had walked up.

OOC ending: I know this is a random ending but after a little bit more of talking, Bart and Tal start to pet heavily before retreating into Tal's house and doing the nasty and then Bart takes his leave back to his house. They keep this relation a secret.

Does, "Speaks," Thinks.


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