the seasons don't fear the reaper.

Barrett · 05-23-2011, 03:08 AM

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Just shy of a year had passed, but Barrett was profoundly struck by how much things seemed the same. Things had changed, of course--he'd gotten a little older, a little stronger; a little more learnt, though maybe no more wise. Nova Scotia had changed, too--great tracts of forest had been leveled, the trees scattered like toothpicks by reckless currents of snow; twice he stumbled upon lands that--as far as he could remember--had once been neutral, though now were freshly marked.

Such occurrences were a natural part of the ebb and flow of life, however, and he found himself more preoccupied with the faint perfume of freshly blossoming wildflowers, the tickle of pollen in his nose, the springy crunch of the grass beneath his feet, and the soft rustling of his bag as he walked. These, too, were normal things, but for the time they somehow seemed more significant.

With startling regularity a jarring thought would rouse him from this dazed reverie and just as swiftly he'd battle it back. For every one thing he'd accomplished in the week past, there were ten more waiting to be done. But to dwell now would serve no purpose, and in any case a clear mind seemed requisite for what was to come. Her scent was growing stronger now; at last he spotted her in a small clearing ahead. For the first time in a long time, he didn't have anything pre-rehearsed queued up in his head.

"Savina," he called gently, his tone a full octave lower than she may have remembered it. His ears fell back and the fur on his belly kissed the earth, but his tail swung optimistically behind him.

Savina Marino · 05-23-2011, 01:58 PM

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Word Count » 378 :: Whee Big Grin

The Consul was finally returning to her full emotional strength and health, now that the ghost of her son had been laid to rest properly. It was time to turn her focus back to her pack as a whole to make sure that they thrived this summer and avoided any more tragedies like they had suffered during the winter. Unfortunately family troubles still plagued the Marino matron's mind as it had come to light that her eldest son, Gotham, had become a bit of a loose canon morally over the months where her mind had been intent upon Artemis and Denali. She was glad that he had finally seen sense and come to her with his issues, but she could not lie that she had been disappointed in him. Gotham had, in many ways, been the apple of her eye in his youth and it was difficult to see how he had fallen now. Still, she had faith that he would turn it all around, with the family and pack's help.

These were the thoughts that drifted through the leader's mind as she leisurely patrolled the borders of her home. This duty had been sorely neglected by her in her weeks of healing and mourning and many of the scent markers were old and stale. The Consul frowned each time she came upon a marking that was stale, softly berating herself for her oversight and remedying the problem immediately. They had claimed new grounds too and it was crucial to keep those marked so no unwitting travelers traipsed into the new Dreaming territories. So locked up within her own mind, Savina did not notice the presence of a familiar scent until her name was called out on a deep masculine voice. Emeralds looked up sharply to see a figure that took her a moment to recall, but then a smile graced her features as she walked up to the young man. "Barrett, it's been a while. Where did you wander off to? I hope you didn't get into any trouble or surely I would have to answer to your mother," the Italian fey said lightly, remembering how she had promised Maserati to look after his welfare. That had proved difficult, when he had become absent from the lands.

Barrett · 05-23-2011, 02:57 PM

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The sable Italian acknowledged him quickly upon his call, orienting first her gaze and then her body as she drew closer. For a pregnant moment Barrett wavered uncertainly; he'd been focused enough (albeit in some loose way) on finding her that he hadn't noticed the heavy aura surrounding her outright. He was no mystic, no telepath; he could only vaguely grasp the penetrating, ceaseless concerns parenthood and leadership presented--and yet, he was perceptive enough to recognise a mind abuzz with troubling thoughts, even if he could not identify them specifically.

But his concerns took to the back burner when a smile graced her lips, and his tail swung harder as he peppered her muzzle with submissive licks once she was very near. "It has," he concurred. Her inquiry was typical and not unexpected, but now it was he who found his memories awash with the countless canines and territories he'd encountered over the year past. Some of the visages that danced before his mind's eye were kind, others cruel; many were comfortable and familiar, but others were downright strange. The range of emotion experienced since their last meeting was most overwhelming of all.

"It's a long story," he said at last, though he was quick to add a reassuring, "but I've mostly been at home." They would catch up in due time, of course--soon, even--but he would need time to organise his thoughts. Strangely (or not), it seemed easiest to work backwards instead. "Mom and grandpa are doing well," he added. "They've both sent things for you," he remarked through a smile, gesturing toward the large bag that draped awkwardly across his quadruped form. He didn't suppose there was any use trying to handle the bundles without ... well, hands ... but he knew better than to show up on claim lands shifted, even if it probably wouldn't be an issue just this once.

"How're you holding up?"

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Savina Marino · 05-23-2011, 03:29 PM

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Word Count » 524 :: I'm not meaning to write so much, I swear XD; Also Savi's scars are on her right shoulder where an arrow hit her, a puncture scar on her left thigh, and a slash across her left ribs

Her mind was indeed filled to the brim with thoughts, but thankfully they were no so grim as they had been for weeks prior. Savina had finally emerged from the suffocating cloud of grief and depression that she had been swallowed by in the wake of learning her son had been killed. The loss still ached deep in her chest, but it no longer controlled every thought of every moment. Denali would always be with her, but now it was time to think on the living, of those souls she was still responsible for and could still help and guide. It was good to see one of the lost 'Souls of Crimson Dreams now returning to its borders, especially one she felt such a kinship with despite not knowing him all that well. As he licked at her face she could not help but laugh lightly at the gesture. It spoke to a deep instinct in her and she knew what it meant, but she could not recall the last time it had happened at the borders; usually it was her own children or mate lavishing such attention on her.

Behind his gold hued eyes she could see memories flash, though of course she could make no guess as to what they were or what they meant. It was just a look that she recognized when it came to thinking on the past and surely there was quite a bit to recall since she had last seen the scraggly youth. It was a long story, he said, but his addendum brought some calm to whatever worries she might have had. "I'm glad to hear that." Maserati must have been very pleased to have her son return to her, if even for just a short while. Such was the nature of motherhood. Speaking of his mother, she was very happy to hear that she and Anselm were well. "It does my heart good to hear such news, and how kind of them," she remarked, eyes shifting briefly to the satchel. Anselm had always been a good friend, and he had helped her through many rough periods. Gods knew she could have used his help this past winter, but it was better he was happy and away from such strife.

Barrett's question made a weary sigh issue from the woman's lungs, a tired expression eclipsing her happy demeanor. "It was a rough winter, for both the pack as a whole and for myself. Things are looking up now though." The puffy pink scars were a readable testament to the struggles. Perhaps sometime soon she would tell him of all the ills they had suffered, but right now such things would only sink both their spirits and the Marino did not desire to dive back into the depths of those troubled waters again so quickly. The ebon fey perked back up though and looked at the younger wolf with a question in her jeweled eyes. "So, are you just here for a visit, or are you looking for a more permanent residence?" Her accented voice hinted at the fact that he would be welcome to either outcome.

Barrett · 05-23-2011, 05:09 PM

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Barrett's idea of what constituted family was pretty weird, but then his family was pretty weird, too. Though he and Savina were bound by neither blood nor time, the connection he felt to her could only be described as familial. Who else but family would accept his random departure and subsequent reappearance without chastise or scorn? An apology was embedded in those licks and he was grateful that his quasi-aunt seemed to understand the message. He was genuinely glad to see her, too--it wouldn't be right for their reunion to be awkward or glum. For as pleased as she could be by his return, he was just as delighted to find her still in place at the lakeside pack's helm.

All too often Life had her own agenda, unfortunately, and their meeting felt bitter-sweet. A lingering sense of guilt persisted in his case (made greater, perhaps, because he'd been off largely living carefree while the Dreamer struggled); meanwhile, much heavier things were weighing on the Marino woman's mind and body. For the first time his eyes found her fresh scars; they widened briefly and he couldn't help but cast a questioning glance, though he said nothing. The wounds did not look natural and he could guess they were from a werewolf. Away from the hubbub of populous Nova Scotia, it was easy to forget how trying the "real world" could be.

He found his smile had drawn down into a grimace, but he perked up again at the prospect of a home. "I'd like to rejoin you," he said with a few beats of his tail and a quick dip of his head in gratitude. "Would you like to go back to the manor?" he suggested tentatively, not wishing to sound too bold. "I wanna show you everything, but it's mostly for around the house." The gifts were impractical things that served no real function, but he understood them to be thoughtful and believed she would like them. Maybe talk of old family and friends could keep the dour atmosphere at bay if only for awhile, before they had to turn their attention to more serious and dire news.

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Savina Marino · 05-23-2011, 05:45 PM

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Word Count » 370 :: Feel free to PP them getting to the manor and whatnot Smile

When Barrett had gone missing no fear had gripped her. A bit of concern perhaps, but she did not worry that anything bad had befallen the boy. The wanderlust was surely in his blood and he had come by it naturally. Both Anselm and Maserati were the same way, settling for a while and then moving on for the next interesting thing or adventure. It was something she might have begrudged in her blood family, but she could not find it in her to be upset at anyone else for it. While such feelings had never gripped Savina, she knew how they worked upon her brother and she understood them. Barrett was not a child to be chided, but a sort of distant nephew that she was happy to look after whenever he were in her neck of the woods.

She could sense the guilt that drifted her way from the younger luperci. He had no real reason to feel guilty, but she could understand if it were mostly out of sympathy for the difficult times she and the pack had just endured. His golden eyes found her scars and she could see the question in those oculars, but the woman just shook her head as if to say "not today". Savina was not ashamed of the marks, not vain about them as she might have been in her more youthful days, but it was not a story to tell on a day of reunion. It was bloody and unpleasant; not the sort of images she wished to place in his head upon his return.

As he said that he wished to rejoin them her smile returned in full, her own tail swinging back and forth in a few happy beats. "Wish granted." Barrett would always be welcome in the pack, just as his mother and grandfather would be if they ever had an inclination to return to the lands of Nova Scotia. "Heading back to the manor sounds perfect. I'm excited to see what you've brought with you." With a flick of her bottle-brush tail she turned her nose in the direction of the mansion and began to lead the way back towards the heart of the Dreaming territory.

Savina Marino · 05-23-2011, 05:46 PM

Congratulations!

Here are some things that we suggest you take a look at, now that you've been accepted:

Check out the Game to see how you can start collecting points for fun prizes!
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Barrett · 05-23-2011, 10:05 PM

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It was true that his family was notoriously flighty. At times he thought his most immediate relatives were the worst violators--and they were as guilty as anyone--but the critique was a bit harsh. Part of the illusion stemmed from the fact that Gabriel had been in place as Inferni's leader since before Barrett was even conceived. Anselm, and Barrett by proxy, knew nothing of the saddled hybrid's exploits across the continent. Meanwhile, Corona and Conway had ventured as far as Europe... but his grandfather was unacquainted with the latter and not very familiar with the former, either, so it never came up.

de le Poers aside, the track record for the Aikas and Thirteens wasn't much better. Unsurprisingly, Barrett had given up keeping track of his wandering relatives. Excepting Apache and Twilight, he wasn't personally familiar with any of them beyond Anselm's generation anyway. And really, trying to keep up with the O'Clavins, his great grandparents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, first cousins, and siblings--not to mention his more accessible distant relatives in Nova Scotia--was quite enough. He could probably yak at her for a good half hour about everyone but he wouldn't bore her with the drivel and drama about folks she'd probably never meet.

For now he was content to fall in line a couple steps behind her to the left; he could vaguely remember which of the larger territories lead to which, but he'd largely have to explore the details anew. Anselm had rewritten him directions to get to the garage and even then it had taken a good four hours to find it. As they walked he spoke of Maserati's second litter--his two little sisters. He briefly mentioned his uncle Detroit's little boy who'd been born about the same time, only a couple months ago. He talked about Anselm and his mate, and he said Detroit had finally come around and warmed up to Anselm.

Before long the manor loomed in the distance and the duo started to shift as if by instinct. Once indoors, he carefully wriggled out of his backpack and rummaged around for the first gift. He produced a palm-sized, heavy, spherical object wrapped in paper and cloth. "That's from grandpa." He waited for her to unwrap it; it was a custom blown glass doodad (the humans might've called it a paperweight), predominantly a swirl of blues and sea-foam green which rippled below a crystal clear cap like waves in the ocean. Tiny air bubbles, thoughtfully placed "underwater," enhanced the illusion; as it would turn out, both of her gifts were "oceanic" in theme. "It's a new trick he learned from dad's side of the family," he explained.

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Savina Marino · 06-08-2011, 03:52 PM

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Word Count » 345 ::

The Consul was more than happy to leave the ills of the winter behind her and hear about Barrett's family as they casually made their way to the large house that had been her home for three years now. It was exciting to hear that he had little siblings now. Savina always had and always would have a soft spot for pups in the motherly heart, however she knew she was done having anymore litters herself, at least for a while. She was blessed to have her six healthy children surrounding her, not to mention all of her nieces and nephews, the Marino was ready to focus on other things for some time. Undoubtedly her body could use a reprieve as well. It also warmed her heart to hear that Anselm and his lady love were still happily together. It was still a little surprising to her that he had actually settled down—he had never seemed the type. Hopefully one day she would meet this Alacrity who had stolen the vagabond's heart.

When they finally reached Haven Manor both took to their more human-like forms and they settled themselves comfortably in the common room as Barrett took his bag off from his back and rummaged around for the things he had brought from Anselm and his mother. The first wrapped package was heavier than she expected and she nearly dropped it from the unexpected weight. Thankfully she did not though and as she revealed the glass inside her eyes grew wide in wonder. Savina held the thing up to eye-level to better inspect the intricacies encapsulated inside the glass, completely mesmerized. "This is amazing! Anselm made it himself?" Savina would never had imagined luperci had the capabilities to make such things, but that seemed to be the case. It made the gift all the more wonderful. "I'll have to put it somewhere special. You'll have to thank him for me if you see him before I do, which surely you will." She certainly had no plans to make such a long trek anytime soon.

Barrett · 06-11-2011, 02:53 PM

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There was no need to reinvent the wheel. While electrical generation (and all that went with it) eluded their race, the luperci still benefited from the technologies pioneered by early men. Techniques like glassblowing had been developed before the humans' Christ walked the earth; metalworking predated recorded history. Just as soon as they mastered the dexterity their new bodies afforded them—along with the faculties to decipher old texts—hundreds of doors flung themselves open. Distillation, domestication, agriculture, and navigation; aqueducts, incendiaries, masonry and geometry—all of these things anteceded even the Renaissance by a considerable margin.

Acquiring the proper equipment and materials could be another story. Barrett's paternal grandmother had been blessed with the good fortune of finding a suitable furnace twice in her lifetime. One had been consumed in the blaze which levelled the Concrete Jungle, Storm, Jaded Shadows, and all of the other old packs. The other was back near Woodstock. Landlocked in interior New Brunswick, the bobble had been forged from the recycled remains of shattered glass found littering old human streets instead of fresh sand. “Well, he had a little help,” he laughed, “but the design was his and he coloured the glass that went into the 'watery' part, made the rough shape.” The simulated bubbles had required Matrix's more practised skill.

“Anyway, he'll be glad to hear you like it. I'll be writing them both in a few weeks, maybe a month.” Apache would send his falcon as a carrier; fortunately, his family had realistic expectations about how soon he'd get around to penning the letter. Barrett truly did not like to write; it required a lot of slow, deliberate actions that made his hand cramp up by the end of a single sentence. Happy to change gears both mentally and conversationally, he rooted around for the final gift. “And uh, this is from mom,” he concluded, passing over the second bundle. This one was bulkier, but lighter, less solid. Unwrapped, it would unravel into a series of cords fitted with seashells of various sizes: a windchime. These shells were purchased from a trader in Freetown, along with the driftwood to which they were strung.

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