tame the ghosts in my head
#1
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Thread Information
Date: 15 October

Setting: Halifax

Time: Late evening

Character Form: Optime

Word Count → 456 :: Anyone is welcome to join. I apologize in advance for my supreme rustiness.

The darkness was settling in, though it wasn’t that late in the evening just yet. Still, the Russian had fallen into a slumber that would not soon cease. At least, not of its own accord. After such a long time spent on the sea, the steady earth beneath his paws had seemed unnatural. A short trek further into the harbor had led the male to a place that was rather reminiscent of the motel where he and his family had stayed upon their initial arrival to Nova Scotia. It wasn’t the same place, but it boasted a bed and that was all that the Russo man had needed.

The broad chest of soft tan rose gently while heavy, even breathing telltale of sleep filled the still air of the room. Amongst the ruin of abandoned furniture sat a collection of bags – the possessions the man had brought with him from the boat. For now their contents were concealed, apart from the knife and black vest that had managed to find their way amongst the worn floor boards.

Much had changed in the time that Silas had been away from Nova Scotia. His departure had been motivated by many things, and ever since his mind had been plagued with whether or not he had made the right decision. Even now, in slumber, one of the most pressings issues was brought forward. This, of course, was the lovely Lykoi woman for whom he had fallen for.

Dreams recreated the past, and Silas was once again in the mansion, searching amongst ruin and the snow for the woman’s precious rodents. When icy blue locked with fiery crimson, the passion there was as true as it had been in reality. A hand reached out for her, beckoning to gently stroke the soft curls that framed her face. As fingers drew nearer, however, the woman before him began to vanish as if being swallowed by a strange mist. Halo was out just of reach.

He stirred awake in the darkened, abandoned room. Laying in silence for a moment, Silas tried to collect his thoughts and remind himself that it was just a dream. All he was aware of for the moment was the stale scent of the room, and the quiet howl of the blowing wind outside. Collecting a pack of cigarettes and matches from one of the bags strewn along the floor, the Russo man rose from the room he had temporarily claimed as his own and meandered over towards the door.

Upon stepping outside, Silas lit up a cigarette, taking a deep drag, and leaned against the building’s outside wall. The harbor seemed rather quiet at this hour, but he did doubt that he was alone in this city.

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#2
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Sparrow felt the need to take a leave from Inferni for a while now, for numerous and different reasons. One that was prevalent in her mind at that moment though was the still marshy grounds that seemed to surround her. Indeed, the water poured from the hurricane was slowly receding, but it did not sink into the earth fast enough to satisfy the quirky coywolf. She had reached her limit when she had stepped out of the caverns one morning, and a rather chilling splash of water rose to meet her paws and soaked her leg. She snatched the cloak from her den, and metophorically stomped out of Inferni—she would not dare to force her feet upon the ground, shivering at the thought of the icy wetness freezing her again.

After masking her clan's scent out of habit, she made a bee's line south; she supposed if she was going to avoid her clan's territory, she should spend it somewhere she could find something useful. Hours passed, and soon she was towered by the large buildings once more. It looked different (With a nearly perfect memory and a detailed eye for such frivolous things) than the last time she had been in the city, and guessed that Halifax was not spared from the wrath. But, thankful, the ground was nearly bone dry, save for a couple of puddles, especially as she got nearer to the shoreline. The solid, cracking rock made it easier to spot water, and Sparrow gleefully sidestepped them, finding pleasure that she could beat the water by this method.

The day grew old, and the in-coming night brought with it its cooling touch. The woman was tempered for such weather, but the encroaching darkness egged her to find a shelter soon; while she did not fear it for the most part, she was rather worried about what lurked within it. The idea of sleeping in a crumbling, unstable structure made her nervous, but she knew that it was inevitable and there was not probably a den in the ground she could find quickly, and began to glance around the broken yet still standing towers.

The smell of smoke suddenly came to her on a gust of wind, along with the scent of a Luperci. Sparrow was apprehensive, but after determining that the male somewhere near had a strong coyote scent, she decided to press her luck. Careful never the less, she lightly stepped towards where the smells spilled out, and down the street—there, a small dot of light, faintly outlining a face of a canine. "Hello," she called out softly, pausing in her advance a good distance away, ready to take flight of the man suddenly turned hostile, or if she herself found his company something to be worried about. So far, he seemed okay.

ttly stealing this! And this reminds me of the time we threaded as Clover and Alyssum baww. ;___;


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#3
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Word Count → 410 :: Yayy, thanks for joining! And I know! D'awww. Those were the days. <3 Also, hover for translations! Smile

The cool ocean breeze was reminiscent of being on deck of the boat, but the ground beneath his paws did not sway as it had on the long journey back to North America. Though his time upon land so far had been brief, Silas felt himself silently readjusting to life on shore once again. To be near the water still, the smell and taste of salt in the air especially, was a great comfort to him. It was almost as if the Russian man could close his eyes and once again be home with his brethren in Arkhangel'sk.

The harsh burn at the back of his throat was a welcome feeling, as Silas leaned heavily against the wall and let his icy blue gaze lift to the darkening sky. There were so many unanswered questions he’d have to work at solving now that he had arrived in Nova Scotia once again, and it was hard for him to decide what it was that he wanted to discover first. The Lykoi woman, of course, was always on his mind and it seemed obvious would be the first thing to explore, however Silas was also afraid of what he might find. The possibility of that venture ending poorly for him was too great, and so he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to yet face that risk.

On the other hand he needed to find out about his family – his brother and sister, especially – and see where they were staying now, if even still in the area. Because of the Russo’s notorious promiscuity, it would be no surprise to the man to find he had some relatives still living in the area, despite the fact that an ocean separated them from their native land.

A scent reached him on the light sea breeze that rolled by, only seconds later preceded by a voice. Though the scent was entirely unrecognizable, something about it seemed strangely familiar although Silas couldn’t quite put a finger on it. His gaze immediately abandoned the sky and searched the dusk shrouded surroundings for the owner of the voice. The woman he finally came to lay eyes on was not one he recognized, which made the familiarity in her scent even more puzzling.
"‘Allo," he responded, voice tainted with a slight roughness from the cigarette smoke. Silas cleared his throat after the wisps of smoke billowed away from muzzle and nose before speaking again, "How are you zhis evening, dorogaya?"


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#4
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The wisps of the cigarette he was smoking was nothing that Sparrow was familiar with—it must have not been clove, one of the the only thing she recognized as something smokable. It tickled her nose, making her want to sneeze, but she refrained and just rubbed the tip of her muzzle to keep it from doing so; the thought of sneezing breaking the silence was both humorous and embarrassing, and she would not have known what to do if it did happen. It stopped inching soon enough, and soon she was accustomed as she could be to the smell.

The male had seemed deep in thought, or found the sky interesting. Curious, she too glanced up before she had called out her greeting, to see if there was anything to be seen. Nothing peculiar stood out, only the deep blue chasing away the light of day, and decided he must have been thinking about something. When she had spoke out, his gaze tore away and came to her, and she blinked at the strange tenor that accompanied his voice as he spoke back. It was, again, nothing she had ever heard before; she had heard at least three different accents, and yet there had seemed to be even more. Perhaps he too was from across the great water that she had never visited before, and that was the reason he spoke strangely and with words she never heard.

"I'm fine, thank you," came the quiet reply, "Are you okay, too? I didn't mean to interrupt you with... whatever you were doing." He did not seem to be doing anything, but it was better to apologize than not to, and he did seem to be thinking about something when she said her greeting. She fidgeted a little, rubbing her arm over her other, when she thought that maybe she did disturbed him, and quickly added, "M' name's Sparrow."

/nonchalantly switches tables


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#5
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Word Count → 296 :: I forgot how fun it is to write dialogue for Silas and his accent hehe. :3

A quick once over of her decided that she was of coyote blood – if not fully, than dominantly. Some things about her did seem somewhat wolfish, to which Silas could compare. Although rather lean and lithe himself (clearly reflecting his coyote heritage), the Russian had been given the broad wolfish shoulders of his father. Nothing that he could see now identified her in any way that he might know – no family symbols, talismans, or tell-tale aesthetic traits. Despite the hint of something familiar in her scent, this girl was all but a stranger to Silas it seemed.

"Aye, I am good." He told her in between drags from his cigarette. The cooling October breeze kept the billowing smoke lingering in the air a little longer than usual. Pale eyes briefly watched it rise in clouds above their heads. "No, no," he waved his a hand, cigarette still balanced between index and middle finger, as if to dismiss her words. "You didn’t eenterrupt anyzhing, mine dear. I vas just zhinking ees all." He wondered if she was cold, or if it was just the slight awkwardness that accompanied many first encounters like this that prompted her to rub her arms. Luckily for Silas, his Russo blood line had provided him with a thick coat in the winter to keep him insulated (despite the fact that he still regularly wore his denim jeans and vest).

"Sparrow, eet ees a lovely name. Mine ees Silas," he told her in response. "Do you leeve een zhe harbor?" His hand waved vaguely at the buildings that surrounded them. Perhaps she had been on her way home before coming across him. "I ‘ave only just arrived," he divulged to her then, flicking the ash from his cigarette into the settling dusk shadows.

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