all the world in half an acre.

Ithiel de le Poer · 12-03-2011, 06:52 AM

[html]<style>#sieLoc td {vertical-align:top; text-align:center; }
#sieLoc #location{background-image:url('http://www.soulsrpg.com/images/BSMapPixels_subterr.jpg'); width:150px;height:150px;float:right;border:1px solid #000000;margin-left:5px;background-position:37% 44%;}
#sieLoc #pushpin{position:relative;left:73px;top:79px;}</style>

Form	Info Date: 5 Dec (f-dated) Time: Morning Words: 1426

Ethereal Eclipse

Ramble ramble ramble. Edit: Lol, this was in the wrong forum for like. Days. I did not notice. <_< I swear I had Seabreeze + Tangles open at once, though. |: -quietly moves-

The boy had no idea of his own heritage: he knew only his father's name, and little else. Jezebel had not been privy to the long history behind his surname, and the march of canines that had preceded Ithiel. Perhaps he would have been startled or horrified to learn he had come from wolves -- his grandfather had been nothing less than a full-blooded wolf, once-alpha of the long-dead Chimera pack. There was much for him to learn in his new home, in Inferni, but the dust-hued wolf had business to attend to first.

Aemon had given him a little foreknowledge of the surrounding packs. It wasn't much, but it was a start. It was with this information that the man set out, heading south two days past. It probably wasn't too good of an idea, setting off right after arriving in Inferni, but the hybrid man would have it no other way. He was not charged with keeping the clan together; he did not hold a leader's position or responsibilities. As a footsoldier, Inferni could afford to lose him for a few days. As a brand new footsoldier, Inferni could afford to lose him permanently -- he had yet to secure his place within the clan.

Ithiel did not plan to remain too long with the coyotes. They were his father's people, and his father was not among them. His half-brother, yes, and a hundred other distant relatives Ithiel had no knowledge of -- but not the one who mattered. If Ithiel had been strong, if his horse hadn't needed the rest -- he would have wanted to depart again immediately, heading back west to Scintilla. There was no point in remaining in this place when their mission was elsewhere, after all.

Then again -- there was a reason they had come to Inferni, and perhaps they simply had yet to discover the deeper meaning of their purpose. Perhaps this was yet to be revealed, and Ithiel needed only be patient. The man trusted this was so -- his life was, after all, balanced on the pinky of the greater being, and He would pull the strings as He would.

A long, deep lake stretched out before him. Ithiel could just make out the far shore -- the morning's cool, sharp air was thickened with fog, as it had been the past three mornings. To the south, the fog seemed worse -- in Inferni, it hadn't been quite so thick. His cherry eyes took in these sights calmly, the faintest of smiles touching his coal-hued lips. Home or not, these lands did possess a particular beauty. The man stretched his arms upward, interlocking the fingers of both hands and pulling until a satisfying crunch ran along his spine.

Zedekiah watched this with unblinking eyes from his perch in the tree, shuffling back and forth before calling a single word to his master. Go? Ithiel looked to him for a moment, hesitating, and then shrugged. If the fog does not hinder your view, go, he suggested with an indifferent shrug, not so much as looking toward the bird. Ithiel figured Zede would not be able to discern much of anything useful until later in the day, when the fog burned off. The bird grunted in response, and made no move to fly upward. Now would come a rare sour mood, Ithiel knew -- Zedekiah was not fond of his work being hindered.

He had been watching these packs the past few days, taking trips to the south, east, and west, seeking each of their borders from afar. Ithiel himself remained more than a respectful distance from each pack's perimeter: he wanted no more trouble from the wolves than trouble he himself sought to make. There was no inkling to cause them harm, though he knew they would never accept him or Inferni for what they truly were -- equals. Still, they had committed no known trespasses against Ithiel, his kin, or his clan, and so he would observe, simple as that.

Zedekiah had been doing most of the scouting for him -- he flew impossibly high and meandered, unnoticed, over each of the pack's territories. His size made him nigh impossible for any native bird to attack, and Zede himself was not a predatory type. He would kill and eat, if so inclined, but Ithiel's generosity made this completely unnecessary. Perhaps he scavenged on his own -- Ithiel didn't know, and didn't much care, either, so long as the bird performed his duty. There were no worries about that, however. Zedekiah's only pleasure in life seemed to be serving his purpose, and Ithiel was glad enough for that.

The man settled back to the ground and set to carving an arrow. There was little else to do but wait while the fog cleared for Zedekiah. Ithiel didn't have to do a whole lot of scouting himself thanks to the bird, and for that he was glad. There was little he could think of that would quite equal up to spending time with the wolves of these foreign groups. With a small amount of luck, he might be able to encounter a coyote of these packs, but blood coyote or not, they still chose the life of a wolf.

He sliced a thin sliver of wood from the barest edge of the stick, wary of the slight curve in the wood. It might have looked straight to the average eye, but Ithiel knew it was curved all the same. Nothing of God's creation was perfection. Seeking it was a failed pursuit from the start, but one could strive for it all the same, and so Ithiel did, slicing carefully along the wood and shaping it with his hands. It was tiresome work, but broken and lost arrows were a part of life. He must replace them, if he wanted to remain effective.

The minutes ticked by, and Ithiel did not look up from his carving until Zedekiah gave a grunt. A pile of carved arrows, ready to be notched and fletched, sat beside him. The man's cherry gaze peered inquisitively toward the bird, who shuffled on his perch. Clear now, he said, opening his wings and stretching them, as if this posed the question rather than a verbal inquiry. Ithiel merely nodded, a slow, fleeting smile dawning on his face. The bird hopped downward and spread his wings, powering them several times to fly into the air. Ithiel felt the wind of him against his face, stepping back from the vulture's massive wingspan. In a moment, Zede rose, still flapping his wings, and finally seemed to catch hold of an air draft, soaring upward more quickly without so much as flapping.

The coyote watched him go, satisfied, and turned back to carving. It was all he had done yesterday, and it was likely all he would do today. Lystra could take care of herself, grazing on the rope he'd secured her on. She could have easily broken such a thing, and perhaps would, someday, but for now, Ithiel was content to leave her. Inferni had enough horses so that he might have his pick, if only he asked his half-brother. Half-brother -- imagine that. Mother had neglected to mention the existence of half-siblings to Ithiel.

A dust-colored hand reached to scratch behind his ear, and Ithiel grunted at the thought of his half-siblings. If all was told correctly, there wasn't just Ezekiel, but a plethora of Gabriel-spawn for them to contend with. Ithiel and Aemon were just two more illegitimates, and even if Gabriel had been here -- he would not have returned, Ithiel thought. He was an old man now. A sense of disappointment had clung to him the past few days, and now it swarmed over him. It was a strange feeling, the sense that he'd lost someone he had never known. Perhaps there was nothing here for him, after all.

His faith was not so weak as to shatter at such thoughts, however, and he lifted his head with a more resilient feeling, one that he must stay. Kastra and Aemon would, too. Until he felt the call to move west again, he would stay here, and watch, and wait. He would be shown the work he was sent here to do, sooner or later -- if he never was, then he would spend his life in suspension, waiting. It was not his choice to make.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?