passing bells and sculpted angels

[Kol Stormbringer]

OOC: Just had the urge to write something randomly while sitting at work.

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The air was heavy with humidity in the grey light of an overcast morning, the atmosphere causing a thick fog to hang low to the ground. The earth was wet from its thundrous soaking a few hours before, the dampness seeping into the feet of the ebony werewolf as she traversed the sacred ground of the cemetery. This one was different than the one in her packland; it was decidedly older and more reclaimed by Mother Earth than that one was. Kol had grown up near the ruins of a human village herself, and for some reason she'd always found herself drawn to the final resting sites of the species more than any other location. Her second favorite spot had always been the library, and she and her grandfather had spent countless hours in one another's company, researching and exploring the pages of the lost civilization's sordid history. In many ways, it was a shame that the species had met its downfall, for they had been Mother Earth's brightest children with more potential for greatness than was imaginable. They had achieved some of that greatness, with their apparent leaps and bounds in medical and engineering advancement, but more importantly they had succumbed to using their creative potential in harmful ways, thinking up ever more devistating ways to destroy each other, and anything else that crossed them.


Kol's mind, however, was not on such dark thoughts today. At least, not at first. Her hind paws fell silently amongst the ghosts of the graveyard, her form moving like a shadow between the fog-hidden tombstones and mausoleums. Over her right shoulder was strung a large leather backpack, one she'd made herself under the tutelage of her mother. It was the pride of her lessons in leatherworking, and had lasted through countless disasters and bad weather. The three books therein jostled quietly as she walked, the corner of one jabbing into her shoulderblade every few steps. The books were far different from one another; there was a large book on the mythology of several different human cultures, one about the history of the dark ages of Europe, and one science fiction novel by a woman author called Ursela LeGuin. Kol couldn't wait to get the tomes back to her den for further study.


Grumbling to herself as the first drops of a warm rain began to fall, the Stormbringer halted her steps and glanced around for some sort of shelter. Though her bag was relatively tough, that didn't mean she enjoyed putting it through unnecessary weather-related gauntlets. A smirk twisted her lips as the girl spotted a large mausoleum a few paces away, its iron gates long since fallen into disrepair. The shewolf carefully stepped over the ancient graves and slid through the gap in the metal gates, her black claws clicking softly against the stone under her paws. Placing her pack on the little stoop within the big stone structure, Kol shook her onyx fur free of the rain and stepped inside, folding her legs beneath her and sitting indian-style on the floor, her back against the wall. Her violet eyes stared out at the falling rain as thunder began to roll overhead, and she let her thoughts drift away to ride the lightning from cloud to cloud.






Table by Tay

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[Leland]

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After meeting with the Twilight Vale leader Leland had made his way up the long coast line, the beach seemed to go on forever. When the rain let up, he didn’t mind, and when it poured he was miserable. Either way he had kept moving. Walking was great fun for the male, though he couldn’t quite reason why, and running... well that was just pure unadulterate joy. What was even better was to have running partners, but even by himself he was happy. As long as his paws were rhythmically hitting the ground and propelling his body forward, he didn’t have to think about anything else, least of all the rain. That had been yesterday. His running had brought him to a great, looming city. Halifax.


Although he had never shown much interest in human life before, (and what was the point anyway) Leland entered the city and explored the ruins to his heart’s content. He was here now, and he didn’t know the next time he’d see a city that was in such condition, most any other human ruins he saw in his travels were far more delapidated than this. Mostly he just ran. In one building and out again. Ran up stairs and down again. Ran down the streets, leaping over rumble, then back again. Until his body grew tired of running, which had only take a little over twenty-four hours. And then he had slept in one of the buildings, snoring contentedly.


It was the next morning he found the graveyard, although he still didn’t understand the point of them. He knew that the bones of human’s laid under these stones. As a child he had found a graveyard once (one of the few remains of humans that was left near his homelands) and he and his friend Rue had set to digging under the stones, figuring that the markers were for something. After about six feet of clearing away piles of dirt he found the large box, which had mostly rotted away, and inside what remained of the box was more dirt as well as the bones. He had brought one home to his mother who scolded him. She never told him the reasons humans insisted on dedicating such large plots of land to their dead though. He didn’t ask.


Now he knew better than to dig under the markers. Instead he wandered aimlessly through them, reading a word he recognized on the stones here and there. “Rest” “Mother” and a few others were all he could really make out, he had never really wish to learn to read, had only started to please Lela. It was near a particularly large marker that he caught the scent of the female wolf. Intrigued to find another canine here, he followed the scent and came upon her inside a building, the use of such a building he didn’t quite know either. She was shifted and sitting crossed legged on the ground, and Leland became aware that his body was now blocked her view. Embarrassed, for this seemed like a private moment, he cleared his throat, prepared to back away. “Excuse me Miss.”

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