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Tristan Nakado
July 19, 2004
Luperci
melissa.surgent@gmail.com
a talented child (AIM)
indent It had been over three years. He had lost track of time, but never his goal, not until recently. Now, he couldn’t remember why he had left; only that he had. No explanation, no reasoning. The wilderness had called and he had gone. For as long as he could remember he walked, following no pattern, going from one road to another. In that time, he had seen a thousand different faces, and never remained in one place long. Still, he could never be truly happy as long as he was alone—so he had gone on, as he always had.
indent Something had changed though. He had caught their scents along the way. One he had known; his sister Alarice, whom he had not seen in years. The other, while familiar, had no name. So Tristan had come. His build had not changed considerably since his youth—while he had lost most of his bulk, he was still large like his father and this made things easier. The only thing that had really changed was his eyes. Born dark blue, as was the natural pattern, they had begun to lighten and were now nearly colorless and slate-gray.
indent An invisible line signaled this was the end of the road (at least, for the moment). Shifting his weight and settling onto his haunches, the burly male waited. Someone would come, and someone would give him the answers he was looking for.
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[html] It was her nature, her common ideal, that as an Omega and a leader, she was required to take care of her pack just as she would her own family. That meant commonly patrolling her borders, combing them for any signs of danger or for any new comers who might have been searching for a 127.0.0.1. the Great Mother caught the scent, strange and yet somewhat familiar, as she walked the borders, her steps short and quick as per the normal for her. Knowing that she had a significant number of brothers left out, there six in total, her mind regularly visited them, wondering what they might be doing, what they might have made of their lives.
From her only sister, Alarice, the Great Mother had learned the names of her two younger brothers, Laurent- the carbon copy of her father Harley, who had been lost as a young puppy- and then Tristan, the boy would had grown as large as their father, with eyes the color of cold steel. Alarice, like the Great Mother, had taken after their mother with her vibrant, beautiful coloration. Her older brother Kalina, now the oldest of their brood, had also taken on their mother's amber coloration, but his eyes gleamed cold gold. Jinx had been like Mercido, solid black and burly with striking green eyes. Jinx' twin brother Hex had been a mixture of Desoto's golden orange and Harley's mottled black and brown. His eyes had also been green. A rainbow of children had been born from the two mates who had come together in love, had remained faithful and together in love, and who had raised their children in love. Harley, the romantic wayward son of a Canadian-French clan of wolves, had wandered into Awenasa, the tribe of Desoto Kali. His French words and his sappy, adorable ways had won over the heart of the half blooded beauty. By the end of their first year of mateship, they had been blessed with a large litter of puppies.
Tragedy waited few months, leaving the poor children to believe their parents perished in a bear attack. Years passed, the children had grown up. Two years after watching their children run away, Desoto Kali gave birth of her final three children. the Great Mother repeated the litany of her family in her head, wondering still where her other siblings were. Mercido was buried in the yard of the 127.0.0.1 he had used, his claws removed from his front paws as was the Awenasa tradition. the Great Mother had given them to his first born son Malachi. The other five brothers, the Great Mother had no knowledge of. Her bright green eye peered off in the distance, spotting a male figure in the distance. Approaching, she slowed her pace slightly. "Looking for someone?" She asked, her voice gentle, and yet authoritative. There was no question of her place in this pack, it had been her 127.0.0.1 for four years, and there was no replacement for it. "These lands are called the Mountain Pack, by the way." Maybe it would mean something to him. It certainly meant so much to her. [/html]
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indent It was going to snow soon. He could smell it in the air and while the sky was still mostly clear, experience told him otherwise. Winter weather was nearly as unpredictable as summer storms—a clear day could be encompassed by a blizzard at any given moment. Passing through the mountains, he had seen this. Survivalism was in his blood. It had been the only thing to save him, when the temperature had plummeted.
indent Tristan knew only names and relations, though these would soon be expanded, for a familiar looking female approached. Her coloration and eyes, as well as that scent made him wonder if she was perhaps a relation. His head dropped, eyes turning to her feet, and his large body shifted slightly as if trying to diminish the height he could not. “I am,” he said, rough baritone voice leaving steam clouds in its wake. “My sister, Alarice.”
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[html] mall-caps;">this table was touched by Misery
He submitted to her, and it was welcome, she even went so far as to offer him a smile. It wasn't until he spoke though, that he really caught her interest, and her ears perked up, swiveling to face him. "Alarice Kali?" She asked quietly, her eyes not leaving his frame. This certainly was a turn of events, a strangely delightful one. With a grin she spoke again: "Are you Tristan, or Laurent? Because she's my little sister too." Oh, what a strange game of chance they had entered into. He, coming into a random land in search of the sister she had discovered! "I'm Fatin Kali, it's nice to finally see one of the wayward sons find his way here." She said with a smile. Alarice had told her plenty about the two brothers, one who strayed long ago and the other, who had finally come here.....perhaps even, had finally come home.
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indent His sister’s name spilled from her mouth and Tristan was surprised—more so when she asked his name. He started a little, sitting up before realizing what he was doing. Only after she explained herself did he finally make the connection. This was the elder sister who was said to have died a long time ago. Had he known of this place sooner, he would have been here long ago. “Tristan,” he said dumbly, still recovering from the shock. “So she’s here? Are there more of our family here?” It was a surprising thing, really—finding ones family in the middle of nowhere.
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