Chirography and Chicken Scratch

Finn Fidh · 01-05-2012, 07:38 PM

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WC: 600+

Dating this thread to the 6th, if that’s all right, cause the bear attack technically happened today. XD

The fires of the kitchen were larger and hotter than those of her little cave, and Finn soaked in the glow, trying to convert that heat into some kind of soothing balm for her cuts and bruises. The battered she-wolf lay in a small alcove out of the way of the main floor, so that she might not be underfoot of any who would use the kitchen for it’s real purpose. However, the cavern was empty, and thus Finn was able to peruse her latest find with only the crackle of flames to meddle with her concentration. Well, the flames, and the aforementioned cuts and bruises.

Finn shifted uncomfortably. It seemed that every surface she endeavored to lay upon the stone was injured in some way, leaving her tossing and turning with faint grumbles and mutterings. This was, by far, the worst outcome of a fight. Give her the shortness of breath, the surging of blood, her heart beating so fast it might burst. Give her the immediate and scintillating pain of a freshly cut wound. But gods save her from the aches and pains of the day after. Finn had been treated by the most adept medic in the pack, Panda, soon after the bear had been felled, and while she was hopefully safe from infection, there wasn’t much she could do about sore joints and achy muscles.

So she read. Or tried to, at least. Finn’s pale gaze returned to the book propped up between her forelegs, pale eyes flickering over the words. What did they mean? It was like staring at a locked gate and trying to open it with your mind. This particular tome concerned birds of North America, and while the pictures were pretty in and of themselves, Finn was quickly growing frustrated by her lack of knowledge. She wanted to learn, she really did! But it was almost embarrassing that she didn’t know how, and the she-wolf felt the heat of embarrassment, more piercing even than the fire, at the thought of asking someone for their help.

In the end, Finn had learned that the only person one could really, truly rely upon was oneself. Friends were fine and good, but eventually something would happen and they would fade from her life even as they remained vivid in her memories. Though her father had taught her how to fight, Finn had learned all the rest herself. She had to, or she would have died upon some snowy mountaintop long, long ago. But it seemed that strength and speed and skill did not translate onto the page, and so the wolf who had, up until a few weeks ago, been a ceaseless wanderer, was left clueless.

Finn turned a page carefully with her snout, staring intently at the image there. “That’s simple, then. It’s a bluejay!” She muttered, looking down at the little text below the picture, hoping for a shot of inspiration or divine instruction. They were still just squiggles in ink, though. A little faded from time and exposure, but still legible, hopefully. It wasn’t as if Finn would know if they weren’t. “Bah,” The she-wolf huffed, turning away from the book to stare back at the fire.

Did everything have a language? Finn knew that the lower animals could, and did, speak to each other. Some wolves even mastered the tongue. But what about fire, or stone? Was that crackling she heard the sound of the the flames singing themselves to sleep? Were the avalanches that occasionally tumbled down the steep slopes of the Halycons, just one mountain shouting a greeting to another? Finn had never met a wolf who could speak to a rock. She imagined it would be a very slow and ponderous activity. Finn lapsed further into her strange little thoughts, resting her chin upon the stone as she stared at those hypnotic flames, becoming so engrossed that she did not hear the approach of another.

Caprica D'Angelo · 01-05-2012, 08:42 PM

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WC:637+ Great minds think alike! I've kept the wounds and stuff vague as I have no idea what will/have had happened. Hehe timeline foolery messing with my grammar again... XD Let's hope nothing too dramatic goes on in that thread and makes us have to change things. Haha.

The ebony lady had the unfamiliar experience of beginning a day with a morning-after, and she hurt. At least the pain was merely physical: they hadn't lost anyone and in some ways the encounter with the bear had been more of an uplifting experience than the nightmare it could have been. Anathema had come together as one to fight and they had won. They had shown the strength she had always known to be there, bred into the rocks and foundations of their deep and secret mountain-heart society. Even the birds of the air and strangers from outside had been called into service in the protection of their next generation. Returning from the village where she'd merely fed and groomed her horse - being too exhausted to ride - Caprica found the scent of one of these newcomers, tracing an olfactory path to the kitchens. This was a true blooded member, of course, unlike the pale one who had merely been in the right - or wrong, whichever you preferred - place at the time. She was, although, a very recent arrival and the tribe's mark did not yet hang heavy upon her. It was fortunate for them to have such a valuable addition at such a timely moment, and Caprica was determined to go and meet her properly.

Gliding into the cooking-room rather slowly so as not to impolitely blunder into anything, Caprica let her eyes flick over the wolf just once before she held a more friendly middle-distance gaze. But she could barely hide her reaction to seeing the woman up close. Her body was marked from head to toe with swathes of missing hair and flesh, reminders of battles probably far more frightening than yesterday's. It was impressive and she almost felt the awesome sight a reproach upon her own unmarked pelt. Caprica was not a coward, in the same way that she was not lazy. She merely preferred to stay out of trouble, for convenience's sake, just as she preferred to expend as little unnecessary effort in manual tasks as possible. Both of these aspirations were simply based upon logic and self-respect - her time and safety were in her opinion worth more than needless labour or heroism. And perhaps it was merely her good fortune she had not been required to face as much danger as some. But if she ever was, she would certainly fight and earn her scars - she was, as she repeated to herself once more, no coward.

The towering optime felt ridiculously oversized filling the doorway while the four-legged wolf form lay almost hidden to one side, but she was quite used to her domineering size by now and knew that most people were sensible enough to realise she could not help her height or bulk and that it did not mean she was trying to overpower every situation. Only idiots made that mistake, and the scar-studded lady had her nose in a book: she was most likely not even slightly an idiot. Caprica could read, but only in a slow word-by-word way so mostly she stuck to recipe books. She was fascinated by the one the wolf had propped against her forepaws: from this sidelong angle it looked like there were good-quality pictures within which still held their colour. The things those humans had managed to achieve, they never failed to amaze her.

"Sorry, I guess I'm interrupting," she said, breaking the short moment of silence, "I just hoped I could meet you properly, after you helped save my brothers - and you are family too now you live here, right?" she smiled, wondering how deeply the wolf understood the Anatheman customs. "I'm Caprica by the way."

Image courtesy of Ant Jackson@Flickr; Table by the Mentors!

Finn Fidh · 01-05-2012, 09:59 PM

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WC: 700+

Haha, yeah. It’s hard to write just after big events like that, cause you always have to assume that certain things went down. P:

Finn’s attention was drawn immediately towards the source of the voice who intruded, not at all unwelcomingly, on her thoughts. Blinking a little to combat the false darkness caused by staring too long at a bright light, Finn smiled wryly and said, “Not to fear, you’re not interrupting much,” So easily she became enmeshed in her thoughts these days that sometimes it felt like stepping into a labyrinth. A nicely ordered labyrinth, well lit and with plenty of directions, but cavernous all the same. And every labyrinth was sure to have a minotaur.

In this case, it was the one thing Finn could not remember, and simultaneously prodded at like a sore tooth and shied away from as if it had horns. She knew it was there, or rather, not there; a piece of the great puzzle that made up her life had been misplaced, though how large a piece and how important she could not say. Perhaps it had simply been a boring, summer afternoon, serenaded by the satisfied humming of fat bumblebees, or a winter night just like all the rest, cold, pale and endless. Something so profoundly uneventful that it had simply blended into the surrounding tapestry. Perhaps she was just getting old, a thought that almost made the she-wolf frown.

The darkness of the rest of the kitchen had finally come to light, and Finn took in the new arrival with her usual benevolent expression and intense, memorizing eyes. This one was tall, quite tall, and gave the impression of steadfastness. Finn prided herself on her ability to read into a wolf’s general nature by their stance and posture, though she was a less adept at reading luperci. This one, this woman, however, strongly exuded a certain solidness of personality that was reassuring to see. Finn couldn’t help but admire her glossy black pelt and smooth curves. By comparison she felt quite ugly and brittle. Finn had never been much of a looker, life had seen to that rather quickly in her case, so it was something of a fascination and a sore point to see a wolf so pretty and well put together.

“Ah well, I’m honoured by the thanks, Caprica, but I’d do it again for nothing. I’d never willingly see a child come to harm.” Finn said, shifting slightly as a particularly large bruise on her elbow began to throb. “If Judas and Severus are your brothers, that would make you Naniko’s child, am I correct?” Finn enquired politely. The sight of the three young wolves, reassuring each other in the way that only siblings could, once the bear had been slain had brought a wistful smile to Finn’s lips.

It reminded her of the family she had left, though this family here put hers to shame. Her father and her eldest brother were not the most kindly of wolves. That left her and Brom to cling to each other like leaves in a gale, hoping with the simple, straightforwardness of children that if they stuck together they’d come out of the storm relatively whole and unharmed. To her infinite sorrow, if hadn’t ended up as they had planned. Finn briefly entertained the thought of her brother, living here in Anathema beside her, before it became too searingly painful to hold.

“It is a nice thought, to believe I am a part of a family,” Finn agreed, distracting herself with her own words, “Though by nature I am unused to such camaraderie. I have experienced far too little of it in my past.” She found this whole custom of Anathema’s intriguing, entirely due to its alienness. A whole pack of canines bound together by blood and friendship… It was somewhat unheard of, at least to her. Finn’s father and uncles had been close, if that was the right word for it, but it was not close in a familial sense. More close in a, “lets band up and subjugate the neighbouring valley together” sort of sense.

“I am Finn Fidh,” She said, ”And it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The she-wolf rose, abandoning the book behind to sit nearer to Caprica. She was not longer in the mood for trying to decipher that mess of scrawlings anyway. Talking was a far more enjoyable pastime than the mental equivalent of beating your head against a wall. “Have you lived here in Anathema long, Caprica?”

Caprica D'Angelo · 01-15-2012, 08:18 PM

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WC:453+

Everything about Finn spoke of endless battles, like a Grecian hero indeed, she seemed to have come up against multiple monsters. She spoke with honour and intelligence, quite unlike the axe-wielding bruiser her wartorn appearance was reminiscent of - he had been encountered in this same room, but the conversation had hardly sparkled and as Finn returned her remarks Caprica learned more in a few moments of her than she had of that hulking male. She could admire this lady more, though, for the trials she had faced must have been done from a standpoint of deliberation and calculation rather than simple brutality - which took both more courage and more incentive. Caprica couldn't see a mannerly woman like this enjoying raw blood-lust for its own sake, but then, you never knew.

"Yes'm, I'm one of those wretched D'Angelo's," she affirmed, smiling wryly but with a faint smoulder in her green eyes that hinted at a familial pride only just loose enough for her to joke about. Finn's next words were more melancholy and the humour faded from her expression. Although Anathema seemed to have its darker side, its strong blood-bond meant that many members found something here they had been missing - something Caprica had found herself, extremely tangible in the form of a mother, but that was no less real for anybody else who entered the clan. "I'm sure you'll get used to it," she smiled. "We aren't so much of a raging love fest, anyway - we got each others' backs and if you're loyal, you get respect, but like everyone else, we're all wrapped up in our own lives most of the time." This, at least, was her appraisal of the pack. "I've been here 'most half a year," she was quick to add, not wanting Finn to think her an absolute expert on Anatheman ways when she had been here less than half her life, and spent most of that time distracted by her little brothers and not involving herself in pack politics whatsoever. She hoped that would change now they were getting a little older, though, her mind ached for more intrigue and juicy social life dynamics to get her teeth into. "How'd you find us, then?" she wondered. The mountain pack had taken her long enough to stumble across, and she'd been searching for Naniko's hide-out for weeks if not months. Of course, she had been taking her time over the search. But up here, who would ever expect there to be a wolf pack, tucked away into the rocks?

Image courtesy of Ant Jackson@Flickr; Table by the Mentors!

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