[html]
This post is craaaaaaaaaaaap. Shattered Coast.
He had a feeling that perhaps he should be worried.
The last time he had been lost, he hadn't made it home for more than eight months. But he hadn't really intended to go home at all; he hadn't been looking for it then. And now, well. He didn't have a place he called home anymore. He refused to acknowledge Esper Hollow as his home. He convinced himself that he was only staying there because they wouldn't let him leave, but the fact was that he had left, hadn't he? He wasn't there at the moment, so he must have left. No one had stopped him. Maybe no one would look for him. Perhaps Rachias would. Perhaps Ahren would. Perhaps not. If he really, really tried, he could probably backtrack his scent trail back to the forest. But Laruku, for the moment, decided that he didn't care.
The shore was nearby, and it must have been cloudy because he couldn't feel the sun on his back. The ground was in that strange transition state between grassy and sandy, and there were small pebbles around as well. The coyotewolf lay his head over his forelegs and sighed, facing the distant ocean and the beginnings of the sunset. It was strange knowing that it was sunset without the bright colors -- they were even more beautiful when it was cloudy, right?
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
I am in horrible writing condition tonight x.x.
wc424
Although he was no longer in the youthful condition for exploration he'd possessed as the yippy little whelp of himself he couldn't remember anymore, the need for seeing the sights still rushed through his blood and put his mind and wounds at rest when the opportunity rose. Phoenix Valley bore some interesting sights and scents of its own; the cattle and livestock were all too appealing, but it was too bad that his waned old leg no longer allowed even the dullest of sprints to catch one. Getting his own dinner was near impossible on his own, but luckily through the aid of his fellow packmates, he'd put some weight on his skeleton frame and, despite the gimply leg, useless eye, and multiple scars, was almost beginning to sort of, kind of look like he might have been alive at some point in his life.
Making his way from Phoenix Valley was surprisingly risky for the male, despite that he himself could not have cared less. The hybrid had to take frequent breaks to rest the leg and manage to scope out the entire area with the use of only one eye, not to mention take a moment to recall where he was coming from to prevent getting lost in the first place. Where he'd ended up was beyond him, but on the road thus far he had not seen a single soul from Phoenix Valley to wherever he'd stopped, but the rolling shore was quite enough to get him to forget everything and anything in order to sit on the sand and simply watch the water. In doing so, he found himself moving from place to place to get different angles, until he stopped dead in his tracks in seeing another body on the beach.
The hybrid's stomach turned for whatever reason and his ears twitched. From behind, the beast looked like he might have been dead, but his back heaving air spoke otherwise. From what he could tell, the stranger was not of Phoenix Valley... and from the few scents he knew of, not of anywhere else either. Creeping forward, he tried to be quiet--until he found that sand was not as supportive as firm ground as he thought, and in limping on his gimpy leg in such, fell flat on his face. He groaned, more out of annoyance than anything else, and simply laid there in sheer laziness of getting back up. "Oceans aren't supposed to make you look so depressed," he grumbled, peering after the fellow hybrid through his good eye.
| [/html]
[html]
Depression was a funny word in that it didn't really apply after a while. If it was defined as a lower than average point, and the average had become low enough, then it wasn't really depression anymore, right? Laruku did not consider himself depressed or really sad even, for a change of adjectives. He did not feel particularly upset, only empty. To believe in nothing was to be nothing, and the longer he lived, the more he gravitated towards that mindset. To believe in the idea that there was nothing to believe in was a paradox, equally empty, equally meaningless. The hybrid didn't really think he had anything to be upset about anyway, just like he had nothing to be happy about. Things happened. He lived through them. Life went on. It was a rhythm he couldn't seem to break, so he didn't try anymore.
An oversized and tattered ear flicked backwards at the sudden sound, having been completely oblivious before. The voice of a stranger. Like many others, the very scarred man thought for a second that the other sounded familiar, but as soon as he thought that, the feeling was gone, and he was half-sure that it had only been his imagination. (Everything is your imagination, remember? Even yourself.) Laruku turned to glance behind him -- it was a habitual thing; as soon as he did it, he realized that it didn't whether or not he turned his head because he couldn't see -- and shrugged. Do I look so depressed? he wondered. His voice was even and bland, like an old recording, without feeling. I wasn't aware.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
wc316
It was not until the tawny halfling turn and glanced at him that Jefferson felt a chill slide down his spine, only then noticing the frightening amount of scars that decorated the sad creature. His own scars and slashes were plentiful as well, but nowhere nearly as eerie as the stranger's. A rare glint of compassion flashed through his singular green eye, doubling when the opposite hybrid gazed his sightless eyes in his general direction. Jefferson swallowed hard, resisting all yearnings to sympathize with the creature so eerily like him. The scars, the eyes, the emaciation--it was all too real. Their scars spoke different tales, however; it was obvious that the blind hybrid had gone through a different kind of hell than he, but both had met equal opponents and felt the sting of hate and anger in their flesh. "Small world," he said calmly, rising onto his stiff limbs and gradually making his way to the sightless stranger. "Losing your sight is depressing by itself. I know." An ear twitched.
Jefferson had walked these lands only a number of days, yet already his trails and and steps had changed. The rogue was still as antisocial and independent as before, but the amount of voices and faces that sent a twisting feeling to his stomach continuously grew and grew. The hybrid was slowly beginning to regret arriving there, but the sights and smells that called out to him constantly perked at memories he couldn't find and only stirred all the more curiosity within himself. His gimpy leg ached, his head spun. He calmly sat down beside the stranger, and stared out at the horizon. "Water's water. Like hell if it ever changes." A pause. The winds shifted, redirecting the scents in the air. "You should find yourself somewhere to live. Life's hell in that condition on your own."
| [/html]
[html]
He could only shrug in response. Truthfully, Laruku had not spent much time contemplating his loss of eyesight. At this point, it was just another thing that had happened, something else he had to deal with and move on from. He didn't dwell on the inconvenience it caused, though almost everything he did reminded him of it -- every accidental turn of the head, as if he could still see, every blink of the eye, as if clearing dust from them still mattered. He could picture the world in his mind, but the present and the future had disappeared. He could only see things from the past: people and events that were long gone, that no longer mattered (that had never mattered in the first place, you mean). But he couldn't dwell on them either. Anything but that. So he thought about nothing. And therein was the basis for all that he'd become, which was, quite frankly, nothing at all.
Maybe he appreciated the other's sympathy, or empathy, how could he tell? Perhaps the stranger was alluding to knowing others who'd also lost their vision, or perhaps he had lost his own. But for the latter, he'd surely have to have only lost one eye, otherwise how could a blind man tell that another man was blind? He might have laughed if he'd been in the right mood, but it seemed like every other person that'd ever been relevant in his life had ended up losing an eye. A lover, an ex-lover, the ex-lover of the demon in his skull, or the mother of his children. Who was this here now? Of course, the hybrid could never be sure of all the people he'd inadvertently slept with, but oh, wouldn't that just be too ironic? But a bad memory and no vision kept him from any sort of confirmation.
Nothing really changes in the world, he said with another shrug, sitting up. He didn't know if he believed in what he said anymore. People seemed to change, sometimes, though never for the better. People grew up, and then nothing ever changed after that. Life's hell anyway. There was no conviction in his voice. He wasn't sure if he believed in that either. Hell was what you perceived it to be. Maybe his life was perfectly normal. Maybe everyone's life was like this. If that were the case, what would be classified as "hell"? If everything was bad, what was worse? And it's better if I stay away from other people. He would only hurt them in the end. That never changed.
The other's scent drifted to him when the breeze shifted. Familiar again, like his voice. Laruku frowned, but a name wouldn't come to him. Maybe that part of the past was too long past. Maybe he just didn't want to remember. Maybe he was still just making things up. Are you from around here? he asked decidedly.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
wc459
As much as Jefferson wanted to consider himself from 'somewhere', the concept was still a foreign and advanced one; the mindset of a steadfast loner was tough to overcome. Phoenix Valley was, at the time, still only his place of rest, but not yet considered a 'home'. In his mind, the stubborn hybrid was as much a dignified loner as he had been for years before--his entire personality and structure had been shaped around his self-sufficiency and the need for constant exploration and discovery. Settling down in one place, so to say, was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever done. As Jefferson had entered the pack more by mistake than anything, the original plan had been to remain there until his health restored to the point that he could struggle on his own once again, but as time passed and faces came and went constantly, he found the situation changing. He was gaining weight little by little and old senses that had dulled and betrayed him were resurfacing. He was beginning to feel alive for the first time in what felt like eternity and provided the male with an odd, foreign sense of security and acceptance that he had never before witnessed. The pack life he had once scoffed and misunderstood was gradually becoming clearer and more enjoyable, but the loner-at-heart hybrid could not yet set aside his genuine nature. He was still a loner, even if to himself, and whether or not he would end up as such again was unknown. "No," he replied gruffly. "A pack far from here took me in out of pity. They're kind, but you're right: Your--our--kind are misplaced puzzle pieces on their lands."
His eye wandered down, cast on the bony figure beside him. "The leader is kind. I was brought in because of my condition; she might have a place for you as well." Rare was it that Jefferson showed such kindness, especially to a stranger--but the reason seemed to lie beyond the poor soul's wretched body and eyes. A familiarity laid in his scent, in his voice; Jefferson was inevitably intrigued, and if the creature possessed some knowledge to the gimpy male's background, Jeffers was going to hear of it. "Phoenix Valley. Only downside is that one of the leaders will probably have my head for being a crossbreed, but hell with it. The only thing I know about my father was that he was a coy, and I might as well take pride in something." Why was he so suddenly talkative? His glance strayed back to the stranger and thinned--he was never so unusually bold in words, so comfortable in speaking; another chill ran down his spine and he swallowed the discomfort in his stomach. "Jefferson. ...Your name?"
| [/html]
[html]
Laruku had never been a wanderer. Both times he had left home had been involuntary. A make-believe father who hadn't really cared in the end and a fire that had consumed his entire life -- those had been the only reasons, though there had been so many other things that should have driven him away. For reasons he still had trouble understanding (so much that, like most other things, he had given up on trying), he had chained himself to a place he had never belonged, though arguably, he didn't really belong anywhere. They'd been his family, or they'd told him they were his family, but they were distant and they were different, and he had never considered himself part of that tree. He should have died long ago with his real family, but he didn't really dwell on that either anymore.
Laruku was not used to being a loner, but it felt natural (since it was what he should have been all along, if not dead). He flicked an ear and stiffened a little as the other elaborated on his current living situation. Phoenix Valley was undoubtedly the pack Iskata had spoken to him about on that rainy day, named after a mate that was apparently no longer around. Oh, definitely, he said with a hint of something unidentifiable in his voice, She would have a place for me. Iskata would be thrilled out of her mind if I went to live with her. The slightly younger hybrid was not familiar with Deuce's racial intolerance, but wouldn't have remembered if he did anyway. Their encounters had never been important to him, and so he'd forgotten them quickly. Maybe he should have been surprised that someone that was against hybrids was leading alongside his cousin, who had a mixed child of her own, but the thought came and went, and he decided it didn't matter.
Laruku, he answered absently, turning back to the sea. The stranger's name did not stir anything in his mind, unlike his voice and his scent. He had encountered amnesia before, of course, in the case of aforementioned cousin, but it was not common enough for him to jump to that conclusion first. It was easier to believe in his own madness, which was a tried and true conclusion. My father was a coyote, the blind man said, I would have killed him if someone else hadn't already. Nothing to be proud of in that bastard. It didn't occur to him that his words might be taken as anti-coyote, but he probably wouldn't have added anything even if it had.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
wc264
The light sarcasm hidden in the stranger's voice was all too familiar for Jefferson; the coincidences in similarity between the two were becoming surprisingly innumerable. The scars, the voices, the personalities--it was beginning to disturb the coldhearted hybrid, but all perplexed emotions were expertly kept within. Green eye strayed back to the creature called Laruku, a tinge of something striking in his mind at the name, but any more than that was blurred. However, it was at that point that it became apparent to him that the two must have met sometime before, possibly before his leg was mauled and the loss of his eye, if that far back in time. It may have been to their advantage if Laruku had been able to see and recognize him, but Jefferson had yet to determine if the two had met from an enemy's standpoint, or whether the two had passed like ships on the ocean.
The male chose not to comment further on the snide remarks towards his pack, but internally questioned as to why one would harbor such sarcasm and an apparent dislike for his leader, but the question was quickly dispersed. As a loner, his feelings had been identical. The feeling of separation and isolation overwhelmed everything else--at the time, there had never been any excuse to make contact with pack leaders or appeal for help. Whether or not this was the reason for Laruku, he didn't know, nor honestly care. "I don't remember my father. Might be better off," he said seriously and dipped his eyes. "The hell did yours do to you?"
| [/html]
[html]
Sometimes, the hybrid questioned whether he'd really met Arlo that day. Everything surrounding the encounter now seemed surreal, dream-like; it had been a strange fantasy meeting with a grey knight and a haunted library that had somehow turned into a ghostly forest. The thing he'd seen there could have been a dream, a nightmare, just like everything else. The voice and the hatred and the fear -- it wasn't Arlo he attributed them to anymore, really. Laruku closed his eyes and tried to just think about his father because that was the subject at hand, not Tsunami. It was hard, and he opened his eyes again because it felt more normal and because closing them felt too much like the same dream. It made him feel like he would lose his balance and fall because he couldn't see the ground.
He raped my mother, he explained simply. These days, he figured it didn't matter if the world knew everything about him -- they had every right to know, and he had no secrets anymore. If they could realize that he was a monster on their own, then all the better, right? Maybe they would leave him alone then. Maybe they would let him die. She died giving birth to me. I was given to another couple in the pack that'd had a litter two weeks before. A pretty little pseudo-family. He'd gotten a mother and a father, a brother and a sister. All of them had abandoned him, though he didn't fault any of them now. Perhaps they had known all along what was destined to be, that Clouded Tears was doomed to fall under his reign, that he would grow up to have a demon lurking in his skull, that he would do unfathomable things. That he would destroy them all if given the chance.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
Disregard the fact that I was listening to the Killers during this post and clearly used their lyrics as an influence. Shh. Also, I love this thread. :x
wc326
He understood. He couldn't relate, but he understood. Jefferson sat silently a brief while as he mused over such words in his head. What had his own father been like? His mother? Such thoughts had always been cast away quickly--he'd always been ashamed to give such musings a piece of his time. His parents, family, "home"; they had always been thrown on the backburner and ignored like worthless trash, as if the past he couldn't remember were completely pointless in moving towards the future. This had always been the reality to him, though in the back of his mind he'd always wondered why. Why couldn't he remember them? Why did it bother him so, even if he refused to let the mindlessly nostalgic feelings surface? Why was he all alone in the end? As far as Jefferson was concerned, he had soul but was not a soldier, and despite all the trucking he had done by himself for years, the past he didn't know was constantly a haunting tinge in the back of his mind.
Jefferson nodded slightly, eye distant as it focused on the horizon. "Rape. I see," he muttered, rolling his shoulders nonchalantly. It seemed that fate had played some games with Laruku--born out of rape, but fortunately raised by another pair of parents. He wondered how the male had taken the news when he first found out, or had he always known? For a time, the hybrid considered Laruku almost lucky--at least he could remember his upbringing. At least he had the memories to haunt or teach him, or pass along to his own children. Whether or not the stranger had any was another question, but Jefferson considered him somewhat aged and respectable in manner, and didn't see why not. "I suppose you were lucky enough to have family for a time, adoptive or not." He shrugged, "Must've felt nice to be cared for like that being brought up. Can't say I can relate."
| [/html]
[html]
I like this thread too. 
He laughed, though it was that bland, mirthless laugh that didn't sound much like a laugh at all. He wasn't bitter. He didn't feel sorry for himself. But the idea that he'd had a pleasant childhood was amusing. Of course, he'd be lying if he had said there hadn't been pockets of childish innocence, a few months of play before being hurled unfairly into the uncaring world. But no one had a nice childhood, it seemed. Not really. No one was special. Clearly, he didn't know the stranger's story, but if he couldn't remember his parents and wasn't raised by anyone else, then something must have gone wrong. If you want to call it that, he said, My adoptive father took me and dumped me in the middle of no where when I was three months old. I still don't know why. When I finally did make my way back some months later, my adoptive mother not only didn't remember me, but apparently had it against hybrids as well.
Laruku couldn't keep the devil's sliver of a smile from his face. He had hated Colibri for forgetting him, and then later, he had hated her more having pretended to be his mother, only to remove herself from his life time and time again. And then he had decided that it didn't matter. And it still didn't matter, just like he didn't care anymore why Acid had abandoned him. Just like he didn't wonder where or why both Akeni and Maluki had gone. On good days, he assumed they had found some rare slice of peace, like the place the grey wolf had spoken to him of once. But on bad days, or most days, he believed that they were all most likely dead after having found some other horrible civilization, wherever it was. Bleeding Souls had been miserable. This new land was no better. Most travelers seemed just as worn and weary, so why should he think that they were the exception rather than the rule?
It doesn't really matter though. All of them are gone for one reason or another. Pause. What happened to you?
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
wc283
"Couldn't say," the male shrugged carelessly, whether or not his unlikely companion could see. An ear flicked and a sigh unintentionally released from his lungs and a snort from his nose. "I don't remember a thing about them. Too many knocks to the noggin and all that gets wiped, apparently. My furthest memory is waking up half-dead. Saw 'Jefferson' on a sign on a fence somewhere, so I kept it. Thought it sounded like a good name." It was probably a good thing he'd never had kids, or they'd all be named horrendously. One had to be humorous somehow. "I figured eventually that someone might just recognize me and fill me in, but after a while it got old. It'd be nice to know why faces are beginning to look familiar, though." He scoffed, released an unyielded yawn, and rolled his shoulders.
"The most I really know is that my folks crossbred. Anything more than that, good question." He could understand why Laruku had given up--"all of them are gone for one reason or another"--as the hybrid had done literally the same, even though he had never tried to find his family in the first place. In his mind, he'd never been a pup. He'd never learned morals, never shared stories, never curled up in a den for sleep. He'd always just been the ruffled up loner he'd gotten used to, and for the most part he was okay with that. "Could have been a rape baby myself. Would make some sense. Hell if I know, though. Your adoptive ma wouldn't want a thing to do with me if that was the case." A chuckle.
| [/html]
[html]
The tawny male wondered what it would be like to lose his memory. He wondered if he would care, if he would have a completely different personality, if any vestiges of his past would cling on to him (or if he would cling on to them). He wondered if he would try to get them back, or if he would just try to start over. He wondered if the demon in his head would still be there, if perhaps he would just wake up as him one day instead of himself (of course, they were the same person, in the end). He wondered what it would be like to be free, as it were, of everything he'd gone through. He wondered if he would still know that he deserved every scar on his body; he wondered if he would still want to die.
Iskata's lost her memory once, Laruku told the other, I think she's gotten most of it back now, so maybe she could help somehow with that. He shrugged. Iskata had also had the help of her telepathic mate-to-be, but she'd still gone through the experience of losing and regaining memories. And if things are starting to look familiar, then maybe you're from around here. Or at least, from the other side of the mountain before everything caught fire.
He gave another haphazard smile, Everyone that leaves here seems to come back eventually. It's like some kind of curse. Oh, that again. Distantly, he wondered when exactly he'd started believing in that (if he even actually did). After all, hadn't he told Maluki so long ago that he didn't believe a word of it? He couldn't remember.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
Fire. Something clicked in his head, all of a sudden, and the hybrid twitched as if he'd sneezed without premonition. He wasn't sure what it was; the male quickly glanced over his shoulder thinking he'd been attacked from behind or something similar, but the beach was barren there. But when "curse" rolled off the blind fellow's tongue, something seemed to flash before his eyes. The male's jowls clamped shut as his mind suddenly jumbled at the word much to his surprise and confusion, and Jefferson leaned forward to stare at the sand beneath his talons overwhelmingly.
"Curse," he stammered, shaking his head furiously to regain his composure. "What curse? What fire? What happened to those lands?" Unbeknown to Laruku, the hybrid's single green eye flashed over to stare indignantly at the blind creature. "Where did you fit in with all this?" His voice was grim, serious--his queries were more of demanding than questionable, as such a reaction had never jolted the hybrid before. He was chilled to the bone... a unique feeling for a demeanor like Jefferson's.
| [/html]
[html]
It would have been hard to not notice the other's reaction. Laruku could hear the teeth click together when his jaw shut suddenly. He could hear the uneasy shifting of his body. He could feel it, he supposed, the sudden anxiety, nervousness, whatever it was. Something he'd said had struck a chord, it seemed, though the blind man could only regard it with a mild interest. No one was unique; whatever this Jefferson's story was, he was sure he'd heard it before, somewhere, somehow, with someone else. The curse, the fire. They were both things that should have meant a great deal to the coyotewolf, but he felt distant. They were far away, like everything else, even though he could see them both in his mind.
Laruku shrugged again. I don't know. Maybe I made it up, but it always seemed like people who left that place couldn't help but come back. I saw it a lot in my pack, but it seemed to apply to the entire valley. Everyone came and went. M'pack had another "curse" that was supposed to be more unique -- our alphas all died in shitty ways -- but I don't think you'd have to look far to find another pack that could say the same. And the laughter in his head still could not help but continuously point out just how ironic it was that Clouded Tears' curse had bestowed the contrary on its last reluctant leader. The scarred hybrid would live forever, but it would be a shitty existence. Perhaps it was because all the others had wanted to live, and Laruku just wanted to die.
The real curse was never having what you wanted, but that was just life. The whole world was under that curse.
There was a crazy wildfire back in spring. Destroyed everything, I guess. Everyone came here. I don't remember much of it. He hadn't meant to leave. He had wanted to die there in the only place he'd ever pretended to belong. He had wanted to burn into nothing but ashes in the wind. Another shrug. I was there, and now I'm here. What else is there to say?
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
-SQUIRM-
wc282
He closed his eye, slamming jowls closed again. The effort and intention to shake off the feeling was gone, but the answers and information he felt was hiding in the back of his mind were just beyond the reach of his fingertips and the strain to meet them was overwhelming. Curse rang through his mind, echoing continuously as if it was waiting to be found out. Something about the word was all too familiar, yet so distant at the same time. His memories were of no help; they remained clouded out and lost as always. Curse, curse. A grunt arose from his throat. Smiles, some blooded, some genuine flashed before his eyes from faces he'd never met and couldn't recognize, but still the word emanated and the hybrid was given no more slack. The pack. Something about that pack.
"A curse," he choked out, strainfully guessing at his memories and trying to piece the things that stood out together at random. "Cercelee--no, similar..." He shook his head, again trying to collect himself and peered pathetically at the blind beast. "The curse... on a white wolf--I think she looked like that leader Cercelee, I recognized her--she must have been the alpha." Eyes strayed downward. He was babbling nonsense, no doubt, but belittled that factor in that he was finally having some access to what he thought might be his past. Never before had it suddenly mattered so much to him. His voice and gaze dropped, almost ashamed of what he'd been unable to keep within his own spiraling mind. "I think... we might have been related somehow. I don't know. I could never remember anything until now, but... I'm not even sure I'm remembering."
| [/html]
[html]
Sometimes he felt like perhaps he had lost his memories, or at the very least, his sense of self, somewhere along the way. Perhaps he had been someone else entirely once upon a time, and it had been so long that he couldn't tell anymore. There was nothing left to remember, and he would never be any wiser. If it had been such a clean break that nothing was left behind, then it was certainly possible, but it seemed as if everyone retained some vestiges of the lives they left behind, whether they wanted or not. The hybrid felt like he could relate to that, at least a little. Those little flashes of things he should remember better, little moments of things he'd forgotten juxtaposed with little moments that never went away. That was the state his own mind was in now; just little pieces of everything, but he still supposed that most of it was true. He knew where he'd come from and what had happened. Mostly. (You pretend you do, baby.)
He turned his head at Jefferson and perked his ears half-heartedly at his apparently painful reactions, or what he could only guess to be painful reactions. You know Cercelee? Laruku wondered, and wondered further, how his cousin's child was doing now. Of course, Cercelee could have never been alpha of Clouded Tears; she was far too young, but Ceres. The similarities had always been there, and there seemed to be little doubt now that the stranger had been a member of his pack at some point. For the first time, the blind man wondered who exactly the other was, though it was a muted curiosity at best. Mostly, he decided that it didn't matter, like most things didn't matter. Other than his haphazard "family," there were few people he remembered or knew well from the Clouded Tears. Indeed, few people from anywhere had ever mattered to him enough that he remembered them now.
Related though? Cercelee is the kid of a cousin of mine, Iskata's brother. Do you know if you're related to either of them? It was hard for Laruku to guess at who this Jefferson might be even though his mixbreed heritage and age should have made it more than obvious. There weren't very many hybrids in the Sadira clan. It basically boiled down to Acid's litter, Maluki's litter, and DaVinci. Age ruled out the former and the latter. Gender ruled out Akeni. It should have been easy. But Laruku had always been distanced from the prevailing family of the pack; his tie to them had always been minimal; he did not have a direct blood link to the litter he'd once known to be his own. And after the last of them disappeared, he had stopped thinking about them for a long time. Perhaps, in that sense, he had lost his memories also.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/ ... F-head.png); background-position:top; background-repeat:no-repeat;">
wc386
He didn't know. He didn't even want to think about his pack or packmates at that point in time; the moment that his memory began to strike was beyond importance, beyond what was going on in his life right then. It meant leaving to go wherever "home" was, if he could remember that far. Perhaps it was optimism and hopefulness getting the best of him, Jefferson didn't know. The thought of shaking off the feeling was far gone, especially since Laruku seemed to know of a connection. Something in his voice said that he'd woken the blind brute up from his indifference, but Jefferson had no time for that. If Laruku knew more about his past than he did, then perhaps their meeting was more than a simple coincidence. The hybrid couldn't tell for sure, just yet.
"I met Cercelee," he mumbled, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to relax. He cleared his throat. "I couldn't remember why, but she looked familiar, but there was something sad about her... or, who she looks like." His eyes dipped again. "I don't know who it is she looks like, but I feel like they were a leader, or an alpha. I think they ... died. I don't remember who or why, but I think it must have been hard for me at the time." A pause.
"Iskata?" His gaze lifted back to the blind hybrid. "I don't know. I thought she seemed kind of 'familiar', but... not much. Not like Cercelee." Another long pause, this time as Jefferson's eye focused more on Laruku's face. His brows furrowed somewhat, now taking the time to clear the clouds that had gathered. There was something noticeable about him, too, like the uncanny way that his presence had Jefferson's defenses down completely. The way that Jefferson had spoken so openly. It wasn't that Laruku was blind or scarred as badly as he. Something else... was there. Nothing had possessed him as such before; he was always cold and rock-hard when it came to strangers. "Or... you." The words had crept from his throat unintentionally--the hybrid quickly straightened and cleared his throat again. "Forget it. I'm babbling; I'm just hungry, is all. Makes me see things." He hadn't seen anything, he'd remembered things. There was a difference ... Jefferson was beginning to realize it.
| [/html]
[html]
SO sorry for this wait. ;; Maluki/Jeffy can try and stop Laruku from leaving if you want; s'all good with me. :3
Of course, Laruku had no choice but to remember eventually. Memories had always been memories, and while much of the time now, they chose to elude him, they never really disappeared. Things he'd thought he'd forgotten long ago would come back to him, even if sometimes he wasn't sure if they were really memories or something he'd made up on his own, in a dream somewhere. It was impossible to confirm, and there was no one to tell him yes or no other than the cackling laughter in the back of his own head, speaking to him in his own voice, and sneering at him with his own face. Who would trust such a face? The hybrid did not have much faith, least of all in himself; those that he had placed his faith in were scattered and far. He did not want to see them again; he couldn't, in a way.
Once upon a time, he had had a family. It had been a false family and a real family simultaneously, and he had loved them. He had loved Colibri as his mother and Acid as his father. He had loved Maluki as his brother and the only person that really played with him in their litter of disconnected siblings. And even later, when their perceptions came to change and the world started its slow descent, Laruku had cared. He had been stubborn then, childish, but he had cared. And perhaps it could be said that he still cared -- too much, as always, but he had withdrawn to the opposite end of the spectrum. He used to overreact. He used to speak his mind. He used to be assertive. Times changed. People changed. Suddenly beside his make-believe brother again, Laruku wanted nothing more than to disappear. There was no need for Maluki to remember who he was. It would only hurt them both.
Ceres, the scarred, blinded man said quietly, Cercelee looks very much like Ceres. Laruku stood up. Your name is Maluki Soul. Your mother's name is Colibri Soul. Your father's name was Acid; he was Ceres's son. You belonged to a pack named Clouded Tears. Your parents left a long time ago, he refrained from adding. You left a long time ago, he didn't say. And Clouded Tears is dead.
Go talk to that alphess of yours, he said, She'll be able to tell you more. Including, of course, Laruku's identity, but the hybrid could disappear by then. He started to walk away.
[/html]
[html]
wc314
escape is never the safest path
Maluki? Colibri? Who were all these people, that were so suddenly identified? Were their names so unimportant that they could be whisked so easily into the air without any further explanation, like dust into the wind? Such a pain seemed to possess them both then from two different categories; Jefferson ached from the unending cycle of questions that could only return with such a blatant, sudden identification and the realization that he'd once had a life somehow that inevitably was thrown away by this Maluki--but why? He'd had parents and a home, according to this Laruku. This creature somehow knew of Jefferson before he was even himself, when he was someone else. And yet, after an indistinguishable amount of time spent apart, the blind one was still somehow able to give him a name simply by a few vague memories. There was always room for mistakes, yes, but Laruku also recognized the similarities that Jefferson had found in the white wolfess to an unidentifiable cloud of memory hidden in the back of his mind. The hybrid could not tell whether the stranger--was he a stranger?--was suddenly pained or disgusted, but hastened to his three legs when Laruku began to stride away.
"Wait," he called suddenly, green eye focusing on the stranger's retreating form. He couldn't possibly leave him with information like that. It had to be more than coincidence that the two had suddenly met and were recognized. "Who are they? Colibri? Acid? Ceres? I don't even remember who this Maluki is. You knew him. You knew me." His voice grew grave, now removing the innocence and confusion from the conversation. The time had come to start demanding real questions--at which point, Jefferson limped his way after the creature again. He was not going to be left behind again. "Who are you? Why did you know me? What the hell happened to my life, Laruku?"
|
[/html]
|
