rattlesnake.

Myrika Tears · 11-22-2011, 01:45 PM

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(362)

Myrika is by Kiri!

The hybrid watched as Ezekiel reached into the fire fearlessly. Her face twisted into an expression of surprise, quickly becoming a look of captivation. He showed no pain and no fear; it was clear the coyote clan's leader was not a poltroon. The rusty-shaded woman herself was not certain she could have stuck an arm into that fire without so much of a twitch on her face. His prize was a roasted bird, its crisp skin crackling and char-marked. Her eyes glittered with the firelight and fascination, and she reached for the bird, nodding her thanks.

Even as she took the first few bites, sinking into the deliciousness of the food, she listened to him carefully, frowning. His sister -- her cousin, or something like it. Myrika did not know the exact words by which to call all of this extended family; the hybrid barely considered them family, after all. In the Caelum's mind, her family consisted of Kharma, Cassie, and that spectral being, her mother, Rachias. It was through Rachias Myrika even had these tenuous connections with this family -- Kharma's family was a mystery, something they'd never spoken of, not even once.

I could have gone home with dad and left... but, Ezekiel, she said, after swallowing the last bite of the bird she'd taken. Sometimes you have to live your life for yourself, too. Or for a greater cause... ah, I don't mean, like -- I don't mean something's better than your sister or mine, but... if you didn't lead Inferni and you left to go find her, who would keep it together? she asked, fidgeting. She did not want him to take offense to her words, but they were difficult ones to speak, and they hadn't come out quite right, either. I came here because I can't imagine my world being Thornloe and Thornloe alone, she finished, not quite sure what it was she was even talking about anymore. The rust-hued canine had upset herself with the potentially offensive comment, and now turned her attention to the bird, picking a sliver of flesh from along its ribs.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 11-22-2011, 09:19 PM

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The savage in man is never
quite eradicated

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He stared at the coals as she ate, thinking of a thousand different things. Even as she began to speak he stared ahead and watched fireflies be born, die, and small flames lick across blackened branches. The wood itself was sooty and black, but the flames had all but died down. Now red and orange coals burned away, changing color with each passing breath. Those colors fascinated him; he did not understand the chemical properties of fire and thought of it as a living thing, in its own way. Like storms, the sea, and the darkest nights…everything was alive.

Oddly, he was not irritated by her speech. Ezekiel cocked his head in her direction, finally, and smirked. It was painfully obvious she still didn’t know how to speak to him. Then again, what had he presented her with? A stoic and scarred coyote who talked to birds was hardly the sort of fellow people looked to for conversation. “No, you’re right. I didn’t go after her because of Inferni.” Though he might have, if his father had remained…just taken off like there was fire under his heels.

“I did a lot of traveling when I was younger,” he went on, then fell silent. The coyote leaned over and pulled his bag up onto his lap. He dug through it quietly, and produced a small leather container. From this he drew a hand rolled cigarette and leaned forward to take advantage of the coals. After a few puffs, this was lit. He exhaled smoke into the air. “What was Thornloe like?”

Myrika Tears · 11-23-2011, 08:11 PM

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Myrika's attention remained carefully focused on the bird carcass. She popped the strip of meat she'd torn from the bone into her mouth, savoring its taste. She did enjoy the fire-cooked meats, true enough, but she could so rarely be bothered to cook for herself. It was a good change of pace to be cooked for, and Myrika suddenly felt a jolt of irrational fear jerk through her. Maybe Ezekiel would never speak to her again, let alone cook for her -- maybe he'd throw her right out of Inferni. She could not tell, looking at the silent man. He gazed into the distance or into the fire, the rusty hybrid could not tell, and she dared not do more than throw the occasional fleeting glance toward him. For a long time, the only sound was that of the fire's crepitation.

At long last, the moment of apprehension passed, and he spoke again. To her relief, it was not an admonishment. Instead, he admitted she was right, and Myrika hadn't the faintest idea how to react to this. She regarded him cautiously, puzzlement faintly apparent on her face. She did not press about his travels -- instead, she answered his question after a moment, her own voice low and hesitant. It was... well. It was good, I guess. My dad raised me and my sister, and we were close. I learned a lot about horses and livestock by bugging the adults, you know? I never much liked hanging around the kids, though. They weren't so nice, she admitted, the most succinct truth about Thornloe she could give. Her father was the best part of it; the rest wasn't so important.

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Ezekiel de le Poer · 11-28-2011, 08:05 PM

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The savage in man is never
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Cooking was not one of Ezekiel’s skills—he had learned which herbs tasted better after having worked with them as an apprentice healer. While his lessons had ended abruptly after his ascension to Aquila, he retained the knowledge well enough. He was hardly the sort to truly spend time on something trivial, but once and a while (and usually when he sought to bribe someone) the skills could be called upon. He was simple in the way of his upbringing, and did not find time for greater expansions of his person.

He had traveled, mostly, into the wild. Deep forests had filled his whole world, and turned him into a beast both primal and yet very much conscious of himself; it was a peculiar paradox to live with. Since his return, his savage nature had been hidden for the sake of gaining trust…but he had found Inferni equally as savage. So his mask had begun to come off, little by little.

Yet it lingered, this plastic thing painted to resemble a man, and he took what she said in stride. Her home had not been idyllic, which explained her desire to leave. Ezekiel did not blame her. Why stay in a place that offered nothing? “I never really spent time with other kids,” he offered, attempting to ease her obvious discomfort on the subject. “My sister and I were the only children in Inferni, and our father sent us away during the war. Of course,” the Aquila smiled savagely. “When I came back here I was still young. I picked fights with just about anyone. Did pretty well for myself up until I got these,” Ezekiel concluded, gesturing to the scars over his left eye. They had once been marks of shame, but he had found shame bore no weight upon him these days. Who did he need to answer to? God, and God knew the color of his soul.

Myrika Tears · 11-29-2011, 08:10 PM

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The last two days have been on a Dark Tower binge... Myrika keeps wanting to call Ezekiel dinh? <_<

Myrika is by Kiri!

Perhaps if she had stayed in Thornloe, the faint echoes of mockery would have faded to nothingness. Perhaps the children would have grown up and forgotten the cruelties they inflicted on a kinder soul, slowly befriending the russet woman. Myrika thought it very likely -- it was not so commonplace to remember one's transgressions and trespasses against other canines, especially while young. When they were all serried together in the same area, they would eventually have learned to tolerate and even love one another. She hadn't given them the chance, however, and Myrika was not absolutely certain she ever planned to return to Thornloe.The rust-hued coyote was not certain if Inferni was meant to be the place where she made her life, but who was when it came to lifelong pursuits, after all?

The hybrid listened to her Aquila carefully, nodding slowly. She wished she had spent time away from her agemates. If the rust-hued hybrid had lived exclusively with adults, perhaps she would have had a happier childhood. The woman frowned, looking away from her leader and into the distance, which had become extremely interesting. Her ears stood at half-mast, and one corner of her mouth twitched. She brought her gaze back toward him with some effort, apparently ashamed. I've never fought before, she began, falling silent again after a moment, seeming to consider her words carefully. Before I came to Inferni, I was warned... told this place was full of devils and bloodshed, constant warfare, she continued, her voice low and cautious. I don't believe it, really, she said, though her turquoise gaze turned to Ezekiel with a question lurking somewhere within them.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 11-30-2011, 06:35 PM

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The savage in man is never
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A long time ago, Ezekiel had been presented with a choice. He had the potential to rise above other men, to shine and glow golden as the sun…but this had been filtered through the trees and the branches and the darkness of deep woods and old growth. The wilderness had clung to him then and it clung to him now, even if he carried weapons or rode a horse. If he had his way, there would be no law and order, no rules or moral choices to make. To live without knowing would be easier, but God was cruel. God had given them thought through means of the virus that gave them hands. Trapped now within the concepts of why, they would rot from the inside looking for answers.

Fighting gave him such an escape, and this was why he enjoyed it so. Ezekiel spoke with his body. It was easier, sometimes, than words. Yet he had read, and he had been taught, and he had walked where others now followed. Myrika spoke of her doubts, and spoke of what she had been told about this most-terrible place. He smiled bitterly. “War came to us,” he admitted, and turned his gaze to the fire. “Demons live everywhere,” the Aquila went on. “They find holes in weak hearts; they build upon fear and turn it into hate. A demon scarred my face when I was a boy, and the man who started the war was a demon. But I’m not,” he added, lifting his eyes to her. “And I don’t think you are either. Inferni is a trying place, but it’s no more evil then what’s out there.”

Myrika Tears · 12-01-2011, 01:35 PM

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Myrika is by Kiri!

The stories and warnings were ingrained in her, true enough, but the rust-hued woman was now seeing something entirely different from what she expected. Perhaps it was possible to make a home forever in Inferni. The carcass of the bird was mostly forgotten in her hands, though she now poked at it uncomfortably as Ezekiel spoke, her ears standing half-mast. She was not particularly religious -- she did not remember her father speaking of spirituality too frequently. Her family was consumed with more practical pursuits, and in childhood, Myri hadn't stuck around when adults started talking about such things in her vicinity. Still, talk of demons was unsettling, and the woman did not like the sound of war. It was not the first she'd heard of it, though.

I believe you, she said, nodding toward the book. I collected the stories of war from K -- our grandmother, she said, hesitating and nearly saying the woman's name rather than her title. She supposed either was correct, but something felt right in reaffirming their shared blood. I don't think Inferni was the primary aggressor, she said, rolling a shoulder. Of course, her version of the clan's history was skewed and told from its own perspective -- there was no neutral perspective from for the rusty woman to seek. The coyote reached for the unfinished book, offering toward Ezekiel. Still working on it, the woman said, her voice rather quiet.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 12-04-2011, 12:17 PM

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The savage in man is never
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The faith that Ezekiel held onto was one muddled and dampened by time and doubt. He had always been a boy who looked to the sun, and verily he still did, but for every moment of brightness and equal shadow was born. Cynicism had not yet taken him, though a bitterness burned and twisted in his heart. How could it not, when everyone he had ever cared about abandoned him? In many ways, he was still that young boy crying for his family and being led away from home in the darkest hour of night.

His red hands took her prize carefully, recognizing the work that must have gone into such an endeavor. With great care he began to look over her writing, considering what she had said. Even after the first few strokes of letters and shapes and words, he knew that the stories within had come from someone who lived through them. “Not in that war, no,” he admitted, though his eyes remained on the book. Ezekiel read quickly; he had learned to do so while recovering from broken ribs. He devoured words like some great beast that hungered for stories of old. She had much yet to write, and he was curious as to what she would say about him.

Ezekiel closed the book and passed it back to her. “When you finish, I would like to read that.” A pause. Then, if suddenly remembering why it was he had come, Ezekiel let out a sigh. “I do have a question for you,” he began. “Have you ever heard of keeping birds before? Not like Ibsen, but a bird to use like we use the sheep you captured.” Hopefully she had; he had not traveled to many packs and thus had little clue such a thing was not only possible, but going on around them.

Myrika Tears · 12-05-2011, 12:53 PM

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(300+)
Lol backpeddaling in first paragraph. <_< Hope okay. Watev. Also almost forgot about Donovan, fufufuf. Lawl.

Myrika is by Kiri!

The tawny coyote did not know how to respond to this; instead, her turquoise eyes drifted away from him. There was nothing for her to play with in her hands; she'd set the bird carcass aside and wiped her hands before handling the book. The cover was hard boiled leather and a little grease would not harm it too much, but she wished for it to last a long time -- the more care it received, the longer it would last. Her gaze focused on the frondescence of a nearby bush. It would soon be winter-bare, but a few stubborn leaves still clung to its branches, half-green at best. Ezekiel seemed engrossed in the book for the moment anyway, and the tawny hybrid allowed her mind to drift, relaxing and daydreaming quietly about the good days in Thornloe. Afternoons exploring with Cass, spending her time around the horses and the adults.

Rustling motion drew her out of daydreams and back to reality, which seemed duller and harsher after the rose-tinted dreams of youth. She peered at Ezekiel and smiled, nodding in what she hoped was not an overly-enthusiastic manner. Before she could respond, he posed a question, and the excitement drained from her face as she considered his question. It was not a grave look that dawned over the rusty hybrid's face, but a contemplative one. Of course you can read the book, and contribute, if you'd like. As for birds -- well,

I knew of chickens kept in Thornloe for eggs and sometimes meat. And my father, he used to keep a kestrel -- it's a falcon; like a hawk, a bird of prey -- to communicate with my mother, she said, smiling. I miss Donovan. Is that how you mean? She was not terribly familiar with Ibsen beyond that he was a crow and his relationship to the clan seemed marginal at best. I watched my father with Donovan, but I don't know that I'd know how to train a bird beyond books and intuition, the woman cautioned. Chickens, simple creatures they were, required no training and would not be a problem for Myrika. Hawks and falcons were another matter entirely. If you need me to do it, though -- I'll try, she said, determined to at least attempt whatever endeavour Ezekiel had in mind.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 12-10-2011, 09:32 PM

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The savage in man is never
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Ezekiel knew how to read, but writing was a skill beyond him. He had tried, once, but found it was a skill not meant for deft hands. Talitha had been the more talented of the two, the left-brain to his more simple, calculating mind. There was a lot he could not do. Reading was one of them, and he loved to read with reckless abandon. When he had been terribly wounded, he had read for days. All of the names of demons were held in his mind, stuck in areas where they could be called upon if there was such a need.

He had heard of people keeping birds of prey—two of his members did, after all. Well, one now that Kesho was dead. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought about using messenger birds. “No, but that’s a clever idea. I’ve used Ibsen in the past; it’s easy because he can talk like us. Hell, I sometimes use the rest of the flock for eyes…I can talk like they do,” he added, and chuckled at the thought. “But no, I’m after eggs. It’s really a selfish thing, but eggs are quite delicious. I’ll see if I can find chickens around here. I’m sure some pack would have them, if yours did.” It was uncommon to Inferni, but perhaps elsewhere it was not. Many other of these packs were, after all, domesticated. No better than dogs, really.

Myrika Tears · 12-10-2011, 09:48 PM

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(302)

Myrika is by Bobbi!

Horses were Myrika's preferred pet -- she had loved Donovan, but it was mostly her mother's messages that made her love the bird. It had little to do with the kestrel himself, although Donovan had been a calm sort of pet, seeming to enjoy working for the Luperci who provided him with such morsels and tidbits of meat he would never have been able to procure on his lonesome. The rust-hued hybrid was interested in the idea that one could talk with animals, but it had been a rare skill in Thornloe, and Myrika had never learned. An off-kilter smile graced her rust-splashed muzzle, and she nodded, finding the relationship between Ibsen and Inferni rather like that of Donovan and her family. Birds did not seem to be particularly affectionate pets; it was not love or duty which tied them to their masters, but a simple little thing like meat.

Bird scouts, the coyote remarked, musing over this with an approving nod. Wings carry you faster and higher than feet, for sure, she said, thinking over what he'd said. I'm sure I can find chickens somewhere. Maybe to the south in the wild -- I think there were more farms that way, she said, looking to Ezekiel with the question clear on her face. Her familiarity with these lands was not as established as Ezekiel's own, and she looked for confirmation of her thought. Myrika did not mind trading with the other packs, but it was easy enough to catch a wild chicken, and if they could avoid the cost of barter, it was better for Inferni as a whole. Such things were affordable for the coyote clan, certainly, but if they could avoid sharing the wealth with other packs, it was too their advantage, too.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 12-10-2011, 10:00 PM

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The savage in man is never
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“He’s very smart. Too smart,” Ezekiel admitted, a chunk of hair falling in his face. He reached to his bag and produced a hand-rolled cigarette. “His father was something else, though. Marlowe could read and quote everything he had ever seen. He stole his name from a man, too.” There was a fondness and a bitter sadness in his voice as he reflected on the bird. Of all the losses, that had been the sharpest. Gabriel and Talitha were not dead. Marlowe was—he had been shattered by a mountain, of all things.

The coyote leaned forward and lit the cigarette from a coal, taking several puffs to start the tobacco and clove mixture. Once it was comfortably burning, he took a long drag and savored the comfortable burn of smoke against his tongue. “I’ll look, sometime.” It was not a true confirmation of his plans—trading did not always take, despite the loss to their supplies. Much could be gained by familiarizing his face with the other leaders. Salsola and Ichika he knew, as was the newest south of them. Even Anathema was somewhat familiar, at least from what he had been told by his cousin. “Why did you decide to live up here, Myrika? You’re a bit out of the way, you know.” A soft tease, though his eyes remained sharp.

Myrika Tears · 12-10-2011, 10:10 PM

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Myrika is by Bobbi!

The russet woman did not know how a companion could be too smart. She frequently wished Eira was smarter -- perhaps if that was so, the horse would not have spooked at the storm. She would have understood her own safety, and Myrika would not have been separated from her father and sister. There were reasons it had happened, though -- Tyveni and independence, for two. Myrika saw the good in these occurrences more than the bad, though she missed her family. She pondered how Ezekiel might now Ibsen's father, and then presumed it might be much the same as how she knew Ezekiel's father without ever having met him -- if the bird could talk, he could provide his life story, if he so chose.

The rusty hybrid watched him light the cigarette with curiosity, cerulean eyes regarding the substance with polite inquisitiveness. She inhaled the unfamiliar, smoky scent, considering her answer a moment before providing it. I was afraid to come to Inferni at first, she admitted, flicking an ear as she did so. She hoped it conveyed indifference; in truth, she was embarrassed about her long delay. Very afraid. I lived just outside of the peninsula, on the far side of the land bridge, she explained, now digging a toe into the dirt. I stayed there for a really long time, visiting Inferni from afar. The skulls always drove me back, and I didn't come here until there was nothing left for me out there, she said. It related to her choice to live all on her lonesome here, of course.

I prefer my own space. Living crowded together with the rest of the clan -- if I need to escape -- well, I can just come out here, and nobody will come and drop by without a damn good reason, she said, smiling faintly. She hoped it did not appear too asocial to Ezekiel; perhaps he understood, in his way. If it inconveniences you, I can set up elsewhere, she offered, perfectly willing to relocate for her Aquila's convenience.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 12-10-2011, 10:33 PM

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The savage in man is never
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Oh, they looked the part of savages all right. It had been Gabriel who brought the practice to the north, and Gabriel who had begun it again after the fire. Ezekiel had never found the threats grotesque, though he supposed they could be taken as such. He ignored them because they were normal to him; savagery as a whole was normal to him. No part of him lived in a world of domesticity or softness. Such ideas were saved only for comfort—he had learned to make his life easier, though he did not rely on such things.

He smoked silently and listened to her. She was like him, once, but as he would have been with fear in his heart instead of anger. “No, you stay wherever you want,” he offered, and flicked ash near his feet. He smiled lightly and shook his head, looking to her with his raptor-colored eyes. “I don’t really like living close to people either,” Ezekiel told her with a wink. “As Aquila, though, I have to be nearby everyone. The Caves aren’t too bad; most of our members live in the Mansion these days.”

Myrika Tears · 12-10-2011, 11:13 PM

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Myrika is by me!

The rust-hued coyote could not imagine what it was like, being quite so beholden to the clan. As a member, she was free to leave at any time she pleased for whatever reasons she pleased. If she walked away, perhaps she could not return, but her departure would not deal death to the clan. The departure of an Aquila, an alpha, a leader -- well, she was sure Inferni had a chance of surviving if such a thing occurred, but its perseverance was not guaranteed. She considered this especially hard, though the rusty-hued coyote did not think she would ever lead anything. Ezekiel led after his father and Gabriel after his mother -- she was but a royal cousin, unimportant to the dynasty of Inferni.

Despite the idea that he was obligated to the clan, there were certain perks, too. He was privy to the innermost secrets of Inferni, the adytum of the clan's knowledge and heart. Had his father educated him especially? She did not know if he had been preened for leadership, directed and gently guided to his destiny. Perhaps it was not quite a burden to the tawny-hued man before her, smoking so casually. He did not appear to have the weight of all the world on his shoulders, but then again, leaders were not supposed to show such pressure. Their game relied upon a tranquil demeanor, showing none of the certain stresses and pressures of the job.

I might like a cave better, she ventured, though she was not certain on this point. Gotta duck for doorways and stoop on low ceilings, but most of the schoolhouse is high-ceilings and tall doors, fortunately, the woman said. The same could not be stated for the D'Neville -- she felt like a giant in a dollhouse when she entered that particular place. Inferni on the whole is not what I imagined it to be, she added, shrugging. This was perhaps the most important thing she had to say, but the hybrid posed the statement casually. Much better, I would say, she added, smiling faintly. She did not imagine she would find a home here amongst the coyotes. In her mind, it had been a temporary stop on the road.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 12-10-2011, 11:43 PM

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The savage in man is never
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There had been little time for practice; Ezekiel had been shoved into his role. It had come with fire and fury and all the dangers of enemies in and around his throne. If he could have said no, he would have. Now, though, he knew there was no option. Halo would have led them to ruin. So would the others. Something about their bloodline demanded sacrifice; he had to shed blood to keep his throne and he would do so again.

He had not really noticed her height until she spoke of it. Most of the others here were taller than him; Ezekiel and his sister had, despite their wolfish heritage, taken after their mother. The blonde man was nearly a foot shorter than this cousin, but he carried himself well. Mastering his physical behavior was something that allowed for such illusion.

Perhaps because he imagined she felt something was wrong about her height, he did not bring it up. Instead, he smiled at her comment—it was a true smile, a toothy one that gave him back some of the lost youth when he had been a promising golden boy. “I’m glad. I want Inferni to be…something more,” he searched for the words, but found them failing. He breathed in smoke, held his breath, and laughed. It was a barking thing, perhaps more like the ravens he so favored. “But what do I know, eh?”

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