up on melancholy hill, there is a plastic dream.

Alessandra Von Sin · 06-05-2012, 01:44 AM

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less is by nat.

ooc; sorry for taking so long to put this up. :3 this is in the morning before it gets warm aand in a pocket of trees away from the ruins.

The morning was crisp and clear, the salt off of the ocean staining the chilly morning air. This was the time most Luperci were sleeping, waiting until the day had warmed up before coming out of their sleeping furs. Not Alessandra. This was prime training time, and she was making the most out of her mornings. Quietly the birds of Salsola started to stir, to sing out their good mornings in low speech to fellow avians, and this jovial morning song floated from the trees into the waiting ears of Alessandra. A rare smile floated across her maw as she walked briskly to a little pocket of trees away from her sleeping quarters, nothing more then a shallow den at the moment. She slipped through the thick trunks into the middle of the clearing and turned a 360 degree turn, her eyes soaking up the details in the worn and aged trunks that surrounded her. This suited the female perfectly, and so she tossed her black cloak lined with white rabbit fur on the ground a ways away from her so that it wouldn't get in the way. Her skull, as always, adorned on top of her head, but it was easier to train without having blind spots.

Gently she removed the vessel from her head and shook out her long white hair, placing it near her cloak. As one final preparation she grabbed a strip of leather and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, brushing her bangs to the side as she shook out her fur to get in the swing of training. First she began stretching out her muscles, pulling her arms this way and that and moving into strange positions to relax her tense muscles, she didn't want to injure herself without even fighting, did she? After all was said and done she began moving across the spongy ground, practicing her punches and kicks against the powerful trunks of the trees. Some skin was removed and she grit her teeth against the annoying pain that came as she struck the trunks, but without some pain there was no way to improve, right? Though skilled as a weapons master, she still had lots to learn with hand to hand combat though she had enough skill to be able to defend herself. Over and over again she hit the tree, aiming to make her punches straighter, stronger, to be able to leave dents in the wet, soft wood.

Her kicks followed, one leg after the other. Dully a pain started in her shins, and she brushed away the bits of wood and debri away from the flushed skin before going at it with her fists again, her grunts now mixing with the birds in the mornings noises. She raised her leg a final time and kicked the tree with all her strength, the force of the kick sending vibrations up the tree and the growl that followed sent the birds that were sitting in the branches into the sky, singing their displeasure at the whole ordeal. Sighing she walked away from the tree and to the middle of the clearing, appraising the trees with her hands on her hips, trying to figure out what to do next.

Sirius Revlis · 06-16-2012, 10:57 AM

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Hi, my name is Alaine, but you might know me from such films as "She is an assbutt!" and "I'm sorry I'm so slowww!" <3 >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

He hunted for the sake of hunting - Not because it was necessary, for there were those in his kingdom dedicated to hunt night or day to serve their monarch. He hunted for the joy of it, for the release of it; For the fact that it was what he did best.

The darkness what his friend, his guide. A breeze brought with it the soft scent of dawn, and Sirius was returning from the unknown lands, the lands unclaimed by pack, by friend or foe. On such a morning as this, the man could believe that even the forest and the mountains bowed to his rule. But it was a whimsical, passing thought - This wild land submitted to none. It was a wicked, as fickle and as ferociously beautiful as many considered Sirius to be, and that was why, as he passed through the thistle borders that marked his kingdom, the man allowed himself a feral smile that set yellow teeth to glinting like blades around his current mouthful of fur. He had traveled into the darkness in his four-legged form, but the coyote hybrid had left his belongings stuffed in the hollow of a tree on one side of the pictou, and he shifted now to his preferred form. Joints popped, muscles stretched, and then he was running fingers through his dark locks, and picking up the dead rabbit that had dropped from his mouth.

He pulled the thick bearhide over his broad shoulders, and set off at a purposeful walk, long stride easily clearing the gnarled forest of Salsola. His direction was towards the Ruins, where in a central chamber, a golden-haired woman was curled, asleep, around the two new princes of this land. Dark little Lokr, and light, chubby Larkkin, born into the bleak Northern world only two days prior, had been ferociously guarded and hoarded by the king until this very morning, when he had needed to dispel of a build-up of energy.

Sounds distracted the man from his path, and finding his muscles still eager for release, the King shifted the dead rabbit into his other hand and headed in the direction of the noise. Thumps and grunts evaded the soft song of birds, which were stilled and silent the nearer he got to the creator. The sharp and sudden cries of startled feathered creatures trilled in his ears, and the man paused to watch as a small flock of them took to the air, winging east towards the denser forest.

Truly curious, now, he emerged into a small glade, simultaneously placing the scent of the female with the sight of her. Black lips curved up into a bemused grin - The King was in one of his rare, genuinely pleasant moods this morning. "And just what did that tree do to offend you so?" Came the thick purr of his voice, warm and caramel as it swelled from between yellowed teeth. His narrowed pupils had picked up the marred bark of the nearby trees, and placed the thumps to her attacks upon them.

Alessandra Von Sin · 06-29-2012, 01:00 AM

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(505)

less is by nat.

ooc; i am trying to improve my writing, would you give me your opinion on this? the last paragraph is the worst. :3 i will also reply faster to this. xD

The morning carried many messages, some of which were lost in the wind and other carried to their destinations. The birds rising from the treetops spoke of her assault, and the silence that seemed to echo her pause. The morning was hers and she could choose to dominate it and continue her training or give into the pulsing burn that was present in all of her muscles. However, Alessandra was a creature of perseverance. If she wanted to oppress her enemies she would have to work herself to the bone. This she was willing to do, and so she shifted her body downwards into fighting stance and prepared to assault the aged bark further. A familiar, dominate scent crept it’s way into the glade she had chosen and her black muzzle wrinkled, inhaling the musky scent. It seemed she would have company on the still, cool morning. Her back was facing him and she straightened up and turned around, a sickly sweet smile mirroring his own present on her bleached features. In proper Salsolan culture, she dipped her head and cast her ears slightly downwards, muzzle pointing at the ground in a show of respectful submission.

“ My king.. What a beautiful morning to cross paths. “ Her tone was honeyed candy, softly spoken in his powerful presence. Perking forward, the marked ears that sat high atop her head in coyote fashion moved to meet his words, her brain working to figure out the best answer to please her lord. “ It did not offend me so much as offer it’s assistance in my training, sire. “ Alessandra knew his words were a jest, though she thought it wise not to cast doubt on his musings. As if to punctuate his question she glanced at the beaten bark, marred and imperfect. “ It is proving to be a worthy opponent, I did not escape without repercussion. “ The coyote said, offering her hands knuckle up as proof of her words. In some places the fur was thin and missing, the skin underneath flushed and red. Her palms were untouched, not having used them in her barrage of attacks. Eyes the shade of light cerulean studied him and his muscular form. He was a beautiful creature, her king seemed to be crafted from the lands of thistle and thorn themselves. There was simply no other explanation on why he fit so perfectly and ruled so harshly. He was a man of acidic darkness, and Alessandra would have served under no other.

Her own dark pelt was marred by nothing besides the white skeletal outlines bleached onto it, and it rose and fell with the timing of her breath and heartbeat. It had quickened when he had arrived, his raw power seemed to fill the air and she recalled fighting alongside the thistle king. Though savage, his attacks were almost elegant in the precise way they had been carried out and it was most admirable. Silently she stood, waiting on almost baited breath for his next words.

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