but everything still happens anyway

Cassandra Asylum · 08-24-2012, 07:46 AM

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Late afternoon, 28th August. Myrika's room.

Each time she woke, for the briefest moment, she let herself believe that she was home. They had draped a fine collection of pelts on the sofa in the cottage den, warm by the fireplace. Their horses had been kept in a small barn nearby, and in the winter the air would always smell of burning wood and dried hay and snow and fresh mint. She and her sister would lay together reading while their father prepare meals in the kitchen, cutting meat into small enough bites that they could chew on their own. Afterwards they would all sit together by the fire, warming their toes, telling each other stories, real and imagined, until sleep came.

Here there was a fire, and outside there were horses. In a few more months, there would be snow, and in the hills further inland, she knew there was mint. She sat on a bed of furs that smelled like her sister, but this could never be home.

But why? Cassandra leaned against the wall, one knee propped up so she could lay her wounded arm over it. Having finally washed properly in the nearby lake, her fur was once again colorless and clean, and the silvery hair that fell around her face was no longer matted with dirt and blood. She thought the scent of death lingered still, but sometimes she thought this for weeks. (Perhaps it was only the scent of hatred, carried with her always.) Her shoulder did not seem to be infected, and as a flesh wound, she expected it would not bother her much by the time the leaves began changing color. Her ankle would be better by then as well.

And then what?

The albino woman drew her other knee up and for a moment tried to lean forward, prop both arms on her knees, and lay her head across them. But her shoulder protested with a sharp, stabbing jolt of pain that ran down the length of her arm. Wincing, Cassandra aborted her plan and leaned back again, laying both legs flat now and letting her arms dangle beside her. She sighed.

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Vesper · 08-27-2012, 08:44 AM

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Grouchyves!! +396

Her patterns of thinking had changed since the nights of the falling stars—or, more likely, even before all that. Normally her first thought upon crossing the borders was that of rest, dragging her body to the long cavern she inhabited and flopping down on the stuffed hide to sleep, and screw anyone who came to bother the Centurion if no one was dying. She had traveled to the southernmost part of the peninsula and back again, and damned if she was going to exert herself more the moment she was in familiar territory.

Presently, however, the one-eared coyote even stopped and took the time to shift into an upright form before loping past the archery stands and the moor toward the northern part of Inferni. She was home, and she wanted one canine in particular to know.

Vesper threw a suspicious look to the horses hanging out in the corral, but she didn’t know them well enough to tell if one was missing or not. That would change as she changed, but for now, she took long strides toward the entrance of the old schoolhouse. Her hand hesitated before rapping on the big door, and instead she fumbled with the handle before it was open. It would be better if she could surprise Myrika with her return, if only because she craved to see the delight on her face and know that everything was at it was when she’d left.

Scent more than familiarity told her where the Aquila’s room was located, only one sharp turn after entering the building. It was strange for her to be under a roof, but this place was far sturdier than the decrepit mansion, and she spared little attention to detail. She inhaled deeply then opened the door, a roguish smile on her face softened at the edges, a greeting on her tongue.

Almost instantaneously she closed off her expression, her ear falling back into her messily cropped mane. There was a strange coyote in the bed of furs, sickly pale enough to remind her of the spy she’d driven from the borders. It was a woman, pale skin riddled with scars old and new, and she smelled strongly of Myrika.

Any manners or inclination to stop and think the scenario through were abandoned, and Vesper instead sneered well enough to rival any Lykoi. “Who the hell are you?”

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Cassandra Asylum · 08-27-2012, 04:28 PM

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<3!

She heard the footsteps, but did not have time to guess at who it might be or what they might be coming for before the door burst open with a sudden, excited force. Cassandra started, shoulders twitching up and forward classically as her large ears swept forward in instinctive alarm before the rest of her caught up. The stranger was wiry and thin, missing an ear, and covered in old, knotted scars, proof of a dozen horror stories perhaps, or tales of triumph, though frequently they were not so different. In another place and time, the albino might have found this admirable and a decent conversation starter, but here, temporarily confined (willingly, but begrudgingly) to a place she never wanted to be, she had already been on edge, and the sandy female's stance, sneer, and choice of words did not bring her peace.

Narrowing her pale red eyes, Cassandra looked up at the other woman and flattened her ears. "I would ask the same of you," she said, curling her lip as she scowled. "Is knocking not typical here?" The colorless hybrid had no desire to speak with or get to know any of Inferni; they were background entities, shadows that her sister commanded, but which she liked not to acknowledge. She had not asked for details and had not been told explicitly, but it was clear enough who now led the clan, and grateful as she was for her granted sanctuary, that fact did not sit well with her. Regardless of where she stood in the hierarchy, Myrika was too good for Inferni, and always would be.

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Vesper · 08-28-2012, 08:59 AM

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short post before class go! 8D

Coldness came easily to Vesper; she had been a creature of ice and stone before coming to the fire clan. She knew how to wipe her face clean of expression, to bring down the temperature in her eyes to freeze whoever she looked at. She knew, most importantly of all, how to suppress any emotions that might want to shake her into vulnerability. It was this and her desperate trust in the Aquila that led her to stare at the albino like a snake had found its way into the room—rather than a woman who had found her way in her woman’s bed.

Red eyes narrowed back at her, and as the two stared their mutual displeasure, the intruder scowled and threw her words back at her. This drew a snort from Vesper, who crossed her scarred arms over her pale, steel-dappled chest as she considered. She would not deign to answer the second question; she had a right to be here that this bone-pale stranger did not.

“I’m Vesper,” the tawny hybrid responded after a beat, lips pulling taut, “Myrika’s—” And the hesitation came, a pause that might have lasted an instant, a pause that felt like a far more drastic stumble. “Second in command,” she finished with authority, but the mangled remnants of her left ear twitched discomfort.

Cassandra Asylum · 08-28-2012, 09:05 PM

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It had only been a short time since she had been reunited with her sister, but already Cassandra had allowed herself to reveal far more than she had ever intended. There had been, admittedly, some relief in sharing the burden of secrets; she had been grateful for the words given, the closeness and overwhelming comfort of familiarity, and the warmth of every embrace. But those feelings of security and trust diminished easily in Myrika's absence, and she again felt vulerable, weak, exposed. Though not always unbearably heavy and suffocating, the tightness in her chest remained. She was in Inferni: a place of betrayers and of fire.

The Infernian spoke her name and the albino found her scowl deepening in response. "Second in command" meant nothing to Cassandra; she was not a clansmember, and though she recognized her technical status as 'guest' at the bottom of the hierarchy, she had no patience for playing nicely with those that would not grant her the same. But Vesper? This was the woman her sister had given her heart to? The colorless hybrid sat up but did not stand, uninterested in revealing her sprained ankle.

"Cassandra Asylum," she said slowly, knowing, as always, that the name probably meant nothing. What reason would Myrika have had to mention her? "Myrika's told me of you... though she couldn't articulate what made you so great." Some part of her recognized that her hostility was as unhelpful as it was unwaranted. This was an Infernian, but Myrika had chosen her, as she had chosen the whole of the clan, over everything else she had known. There had to be some goodness here. (But so what if there was? It would never be good enough.) She knew it would upset her sister to know that she'd spoken to Vesper as she was. But Myrika wasn't there, and it was so much easier to be angry, so much safer to be angry, than it was to despair over things that would not be changed. "So," she continued, glaring critically at the other woman, "What makes you so great?"

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Vesper · 09-03-2012, 10:49 PM

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Table change because I'm a fancy young whippersnapper. And uhh, this is weirdpost.

There had never been a reason for her to hide her relationship with the Aquila—merely because it had been a thing of fleeting glances and soft smiles and quiet support. Since the night in the meadow it had grown beyond that, whatever that meant, and Vesper was beginning to rethink how flippantly she’d treated other coyotes’ view of it. She stood by her words that she would bite whoever looked at them cross-eyed, but she hesitated under the unnatural red stare of this stranger, wounded and narrow and probably judging her in the span of moments Ves had been silent.

The albino she-yote shifted, and the Centurion watched her with the laidback vigilance of someone very used to looking for signs of trouble. She grunted in acknowledgment as the woman gained a name, but her indifference was shattered when a more precious name lingered in the open air. Pale blue eyes widened a fraction, and her fingers jumped to her throat to fidget with her rosary; it was not a gesture of any significance but something to do. At the same time, she noticed something around the other’s neck, barely visible for her snowy hair, and wondered.

“What, you don’t believe Myrika?” Vesper chastised, and flashed her teeth in a smug grin, deciding that arrogance was safest just as the other fell back on anger. It was short-lived, though, and she shook her head. “I’ve never thought I was that great,” she blatantly lied, “but I’ve never been one to argue with our scholar.” She returned the critical stare, but she had something to search for now, evidence to collect. “I’d assume she had to compare me to something to name me great, so I’ll take that.”

Cassandra Asylum · 09-06-2012, 05:23 AM

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Kids these days. So fancy.

In spite of her father's words, Cassandra was nearly always judging. She judged others the moment she detected them in the distance, the moment they came into view. She saw and she judged. The ways of loners wandering through the woods was one of anarchy and mind games. Seeing, knowing, and judging accurately kept her ahead of those that would use her. The subtleties of body language, scent, tone of voice, and general demeanor was integral to their society at large, but Cassandra was perceptive, and she discriminated indiscriminately.

And so of course, she judged the sandy-colored woman with her pale red eyes; the line of her mouth was thin and flat, scowl softened for mockery. But here what she saw plainly and objectively was clouded by her emotions. She knew this, and ignored it pointedly. "Myrika is naive, sometimes," the albino said simply, perhaps coldly. "I believe that she believes, is all."

She tilted her own head a little when Vesper's hand reached for her throat, trying to decipher every inflection and making a show of understanding. She recognized the rosary for what it was, but knew too, but tucked its possible significance away. "The comparison was a fool girl," Cassandra smiled thinly. "And the only thing you've got on the fool that I can see is that you can see Myrika for what she's worth." Her gaze bore into the other's, clearly uncaring of her position and rank. "I would assume most here do though. So what do you think Myrika sees in you?"

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Vesper · 09-06-2012, 09:33 AM

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i happy to play a bitchyves 8D +370

Vesper frowned in faint agreement at the albino’s view on Myrika, but it was short-lived agreement. Myrika was indeed, perhaps, naïve—but she’d shown how quickly she could grow when she took on the burden of leadership and fought through the war with the wolves. Both of the leaders had changed, softening or toughening up, and the personalities that clashed in theory warped to complement each other in a way that strengthened them both.

“Something can be said for that,” the scarred coyote said after a moment. “You go through life cynical and suspicious, and maybe you don’t get hurt as easily, but it usually means you’re already hurt.” Her fingers continued to toy with the rosary, lingering on the first Lord’s Prayer, but she was ignorant to its meaning. It was a large bead, held between her finger-pads as she dwelled on the statement that had more to do with her own life than anything else.

Cassandra brought up a comparison, and Ves’ ear snapped back at mention of “a fool girl.” Neither of them had discussed much of their history, including past lovers, and so this was the first time hearing anything like this. An icy flame was born and died in her eyes, and she drew her lips back as Cassandra continued.

“I’m modest,” Vesper answered snidely, and released the rosary, letting her hand drop back to her side and ball into a pathetic fist. “Do you know what the great thing is?” she asked, her voice brightening with all the acidic sarcasm in the world. “I don’t have to know, and I don’t have to tell you—especially you.”

She relaxed her fists, but the rest of her wiry body was tense. She strode closer to the bed of furs, leaning down to eye level and baring her teeth. It was an empty threat; she didn’t want to get close enough to instigate a fight, and there was little pride in beating a wounded enemy. Her heart beat an erratic pace in her chest, but she kept her perplexing fear and anger and every other emotion hidden, letting her face become a mere mask riddled with scars.

“I’ll ask you again. Who the fuck are you?”

Cassandra Asylum · 09-06-2012, 10:18 AM

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It was obvious enough that there was no correct answer, but confrontation, as unexpected as it was, was an easy enough way to assess a personality quickly. Cassandra was distantly relieved that it seemed Vesper was more agitated with her than their discussed third party. Anger was an honest sort of emotion, even when as they both did their best to mask it with cold smiles and practiced experience, and the pallid woman realized perfectly well that she was leaving herself open too, going down that road.

She maintained her critical stare, but the hairs on her tail and the back of her neck stood on end. Sitting, her body was less tense than it might have been otherwise, but there was most certainly a primal part of her that wanted nothing more than to see which of them would come out on top in a fight. Even injured, even without her cloak and daggers. The other woman was larger than her, but most of her opponents tended to be, and that only meant that she was probably faster.

"Getting hurt is inevitable," she said, red eyes still boring into blue ones. "You're either already hurt, or you're going to be hurt, and the longer you put it off, the more it'll probably hurt." Cassandra leaned forward slightly, propping the elbow of her good arm on her knee when Vesper dropped to eye level. Her mirthless smile was gone. "Myrika is my sister," she said sharply, lips pulling back to reveal her own teeth for just a moment. "And if you hurt her, I will skin you alive."

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Vesper · 09-07-2012, 02:22 PM

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There was no fear in the albino—at least, none that she’d permit to show—and Vesper thought back to when she’d been recuperating in the guesthouse near the mansion. She’d been afraid, then, with Helotes pressing into her space, her injured body helplessly curled in a tight ball. She reasoned that she wasn’t as scary as the dark brute could be, though, and she knew deep down she didn’t want to scare or hurt Cassandra until she was given a reason. She did want to gauge the other’s strength, though, and let her know that she was serious, a member of the clan to be respected even if the loner didn’t believe in hierarchy.

Her response made sense, and the pale tawny coyote might have agreed with it, but she no longer wanted to talk bullshit and philosophy. There was a stiffness to her wiry body as the other leaned forward, her claws sliding from their sheaths to tip her white fingers, but then the other bared her teeth with a sharp proclamation that had the Centurion drawing back slightly.

The grin Vesper shot the albino woman was sharp-fanged, not quite friendly but not quite as unkind. “Good,” she yapped back, and straightened. “I’ll hold you to that, and I’ll do the same to you if you hurt her.” It was clear she didn’t have much faith in sisters. She continued to grin a ’yotish grin, tilting her head slightly as she regarded Cassandra in a different light. “I don’t think we’re that different, you and I,” she remarked lazily, blue eyes flickering over the other’s narrow features. That was probably why they already got along so well.

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Cassandra Asylum · 09-12-2012, 04:18 AM

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Family was a loaded word, in part because Cassandra had always known of Inferni. From the earliest stories, the thing she took away the most was the fact that she had many, many relatives, and that the shared blood spiraled through hundreds of individuals across a half dozen generations or more. She knew that the name Lykoi lived everywhere, across their continent, across the sea, across seas beyond that. She knew there was madness and betrayal in the blood, and she knew that family meant nothing.

But Myrika and Kharma had been more than just family, more than just her closest of many relatives. They had been her caretakers, and they had loved her. Loved her still, if she would believe it, though they did not know her anymore. And her own feelings were balled up somewhere in the middle of her chest, tangled in with everything else; they were not clear enough to verbalize, exactly, but the conviction she felt in her threat was as fierce as anything.

"Perhaps not." A sneer found her face again. "How long have you been together? How long have you been second-in-command?"

Distantly, she thought of what it might be like to be skinned alive. Betraying was in their blood, and though Cassandra could not fathom the circumstances where she might sin against her sister, she could not believe that it would never happen.

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Vesper · 09-23-2012, 07:49 PM

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Sorry for late, crap reply. x_x;

It was the albino’s turn to sneer, although Vesper only flattened her ear and let her grin shrivel and wrinkle down into a scowl. Throwing the comparison out there had been something like a truce, but it looked like they weren’t done questioning each other, even though Vesper’s had mostly been answered—namely what the hell the stranger was doing here, in Inferni and in Myrika’s bed.

“Since the war,” the coywolf answered to the first question, although that wasn’t quite right. She and Myri had kissed and admitted there was more than a friendship between them at about that time, but they had more defined their relationship only recently. “And I’ve been a subleader since the beginning of the year,” she added.

Then, her tone smooth with some difficulty, she asked: “Why haven’t you come here sooner?” She hadn’t really known that Myrika had a sibling—or at least one important in her life and worth mentioning—but it was strange to think that Cassandra hadn’t come to Inferni in all that time. Even her own sibling had found her way to the coyote clan, and neither of them were Lykois.

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Cassandra Asylum · 10-02-2012, 08:24 PM

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Me too. ;_;

Cassandra thought she recognized enough rough, awkward goodness in the other woman that she could understand to an extent why her sister was attracted to her, but Vesper's size and scars and the way she had echoed her threat made clear, too, that she did not quite have Myrika's quiet and almost determined innocence. That was surely for the better though. They were not so different indeed. Bitter jealousy and cold resignation burned close together in her chest.

"I never wanted to come here," the pallid woman said, cold humor gone from her tone. Her brow was furrowed, and her mouth and voice was flat. "And Myrika should never have either." She stared critically at the Centurion, wondering if her sister had shared any of what their father had spent so long telling them. Most likely not, especially now that she led them. Cassandra turned away after a pause, giving an odd, one-shoulder shrug. "But she has already made this home, so she'll stay." To her credit, she did not think she sounded too bitter. If Inferni kept Myrika safe, even just for the time being, then she would accept it. "But I won't. I will leave when I heal,

so don't worry. I won't be intruding."

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Vesper · 10-04-2012, 11:18 AM

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We can end here if you like, up to you. <3

The tone of the other’s voice shifted, and Vesper narrowed her eyes with puzzlement as the albino woman stated that neither of the sisters should have come here. She couldn’t understand that, mostly because she’d regarded Inferni as a haven in her time of need, and a rough place that could be redeemed through the actions of its members and leaders. Maybe it seemed dangerous, but she thought that Cassandra, at least, could take care of herself—and Myrika had many clan mates to protect her even as she fought to get stronger herself.

The Centurion frowned in silence until Cassandra admitted that Myri would stay, at which point she nodded and tried to keep the worry from her features. She doubted that the Aquila would leave, anyway, especially after the way that Ezekiel had just dumped the leadership into her lap. She refused to think any more about it, not wanting to see herself betray her other comrades, her family and friends, when she likely followed Myrika out of the clan; and really not wanting to consider that there would be an alternative, not now.

Cassandra stated her intentions after she healed, but curiously Vesper didn’t feel any relief or crude agreement with that plan. She only stared at the other scarred coyote and said, “It would make Myrika happy if you stayed.” She glanced down at herself, at the old knife scars rumpling her tawny pelt. “I came to Inferni wounded and intending to stay only until I healed. Maybe you’ll change your mind, but maybe not. But I’m sure your sister would always make you welcome, Cassandra.”

With that she turned, intending to leave the room and leave her lover’s sister to her silent recovery.

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Cassandra Asylum · 10-13-2012, 04:40 AM

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It was a notion that bordered on fantastic, but even without the apparent history there to back her father's beliefs, Cassandra now had cynicism and a cold contempt to also support the idea that cruelty and betrayal and madness ran in the family. Or in their species and cousin species. Proximity made them madder, had been one such postulation. She didn't know exactly how many of them there were, or how many were in Inferni at that specific moment, but the numbers were not few, and Kaena had to count for at least a half dozen. They were not meant to have come. But they had, so it was better, of course, that at least one of them didn't stay. Right?

"Myrika is already happy," the albino said. Other things came to her tongue, but she let the urge to say them pass. If she stayed Myrika would have the opportunity to constantly worry about her. When she left, the immediate concerns of day-to-day Inferni life would occupy her again, and any lingering worry would be regulated to the back of the mind. But of course, this was just the selfless frame she used to make it easier. In the end, it was still about herself and satisfying the desperate loyalty she felt towards her father, as if it would pardon her conscience.

She watched the other woman leave, then leaned back against the wall with a vague sigh. Everything she did seemed too layered in pretentious justifications. She was so very tired. What if she did just stay? What would it really matter if she did?

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