10-07-2008, 07:06 AM
[html]mall-caps;color:#880000;">do you believe in god written on the bullet
It had been weeks since Luka had touched land, traveling aboard the ship with his father and the other werewolves. But there was something about the ocean that entranced his soul, and while he missed the land when at sea, he found he missed the open blue more now that his paws touched solid ground. Zaets had found a place for them to spend while here in the remnants of an old building, and while he cleaned the youth had slipped away to explore. His father had longed to return home, but when they had arrived in the Russian's birthplace, they'd only found charred, burned lands completely devoid of life. It looked as though a war had torn the earth apart, as though the apocalypse had arrived and devoured the land and sky in a great inferno. And so, they had crossed the mountains, following the wake of the survivors from months earlier. Perhaps, his sire had mused, they'd find some familiar face he'd once known.
Either way, wanderlust struck the gypsy-pirate boy and he departed from his father's shadow, slinking off into the city beyond. He laughed lightly, tossing his sheathed blade into the air and catching it lightly, before whipping it out and listening to the soft whistle as it sliced through the wind. He'd been trained in swordsmanship and weaponry, but for the time being, all he carried around was a small dagger. After all, Luka was a wolf and his fangs and claws served a purpose. Beads and feathers entwined in his hair tinkling softly as they strucked against each other, boy turned toward the opening of a likely building. A pawn shop. This should serve some amusement, he decided, braving the shadows within as the sun hide behind a cloud, wrapping the city in a light darker than before.[/html]
It had been weeks since Luka had touched land, traveling aboard the ship with his father and the other werewolves. But there was something about the ocean that entranced his soul, and while he missed the land when at sea, he found he missed the open blue more now that his paws touched solid ground. Zaets had found a place for them to spend while here in the remnants of an old building, and while he cleaned the youth had slipped away to explore. His father had longed to return home, but when they had arrived in the Russian's birthplace, they'd only found charred, burned lands completely devoid of life. It looked as though a war had torn the earth apart, as though the apocalypse had arrived and devoured the land and sky in a great inferno. And so, they had crossed the mountains, following the wake of the survivors from months earlier. Perhaps, his sire had mused, they'd find some familiar face he'd once known.
Either way, wanderlust struck the gypsy-pirate boy and he departed from his father's shadow, slinking off into the city beyond. He laughed lightly, tossing his sheathed blade into the air and catching it lightly, before whipping it out and listening to the soft whistle as it sliced through the wind. He'd been trained in swordsmanship and weaponry, but for the time being, all he carried around was a small dagger. After all, Luka was a wolf and his fangs and claws served a purpose. Beads and feathers entwined in his hair tinkling softly as they strucked against each other, boy turned toward the opening of a likely building. A pawn shop. This should serve some amusement, he decided, braving the shadows within as the sun hide behind a cloud, wrapping the city in a light darker than before.[/html]
10-11-2008, 06:29 AM
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Arkham found it odd that so much time should pass so quickly. He didn't know how he could be spending his days that they should disappear so quickly. The city had been an easy place to distract himself from everything, and while he had never really been an escapist, perhaps he simply hadn't faced the troubling things he faced now. Or maybe he was just making too big a deal out of everything. His brother was dead. They had never gotten along to begin with, and Arkham knew, knew that he had deserved it. Whatever he had done, it had to have been horrible. So why did it upset him so? Was it just because he was family? Just because he was one of the closest relatives he had had since their mother and father both abandoned them? Or perhaps it was his sister's near-rape that was bothering him? Particularly because the would-be rapist had been their half-brother?
Why was his family so fucked up?
Today, he had forced himself from the old library and the stories that had nothing to do with him, those stories that had perfectly sane people and happy endings. The coyote wasn't a pessimist. He didn't know what he was, but it was hard to be optimistic when his deepest fear seemed inescapable. He couldn't help but feel like he was destined to be like the rest of them. It was in the blood, they'd all said. His family was mad. They were all mad. So he would be mad too. In fact, he was probably driving himself mad thinking about how mad he would be. Hilarious, really.
The pawn shop was not a conscious choice. He just walked in. His hood was down and did not cover his head. Today, he didn't care. He walked in and a little bell rung.
Why was his family so fucked up?
Today, he had forced himself from the old library and the stories that had nothing to do with him, those stories that had perfectly sane people and happy endings. The coyote wasn't a pessimist. He didn't know what he was, but it was hard to be optimistic when his deepest fear seemed inescapable. He couldn't help but feel like he was destined to be like the rest of them. It was in the blood, they'd all said. His family was mad. They were all mad. So he would be mad too. In fact, he was probably driving himself mad thinking about how mad he would be. Hilarious, really.
The pawn shop was not a conscious choice. He just walked in. His hood was down and did not cover his head. Today, he didn't care. He walked in and a little bell rung.
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10-12-2008, 01:00 PM
[html]mall-caps;color:#880000;">do you believe in god written on the bullet
Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he blinked vaguely, stepping toward the counter of the store. Dust choked the air, laying thick like a blanket across every surface. This had once been a modest business, selling and trading things people no longer wanted, or occasionally treasured possessions for cash in desperate times. A glimmer in the pale light caught his attention and the pirate's eye trained on a jewelry case. Placing the vase he'd been examining back down in the circle void of dust on the table, he moved toward the treasure. Smashing the lid with a silver candlestick, he shuffled through the shiny objects, searching for pretty things that attracted his notice. Various piercings and rings already adorned the young werewolf, but he was always in search of more. Like a magpie searching for it's next prize, he tossed earrings and necklaces aside, finally finding a silver ring with an emerald gem embedded in a nest of celtic knots. Trying it on his finger, he admired the effect, satisfied with his find.
The tinkle of a bell and the opening of a door turned Luka's head around, noticing the silhouette that had filled the doorway. A young coyote, though older than himself, clad in a tan cloak and scarf and harboring a peculiar odor of mint that masked his own natural scent. "Strange," he said lightly, tapping his lip with a claw, as though deep in thought. "This creature masks his true scent, as thought not vishing to be recognized, yet valks around with his face bare." Luka grinned then, showing some amusement to the stranger, for honestly, the boy could care less about the being's identity or motives. It was none of his business who he was, or pretended to be. But he couldn't help commenting on his observations. And he could bet this coyote had an interesting story.[/html]
Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he blinked vaguely, stepping toward the counter of the store. Dust choked the air, laying thick like a blanket across every surface. This had once been a modest business, selling and trading things people no longer wanted, or occasionally treasured possessions for cash in desperate times. A glimmer in the pale light caught his attention and the pirate's eye trained on a jewelry case. Placing the vase he'd been examining back down in the circle void of dust on the table, he moved toward the treasure. Smashing the lid with a silver candlestick, he shuffled through the shiny objects, searching for pretty things that attracted his notice. Various piercings and rings already adorned the young werewolf, but he was always in search of more. Like a magpie searching for it's next prize, he tossed earrings and necklaces aside, finally finding a silver ring with an emerald gem embedded in a nest of celtic knots. Trying it on his finger, he admired the effect, satisfied with his find.
The tinkle of a bell and the opening of a door turned Luka's head around, noticing the silhouette that had filled the doorway. A young coyote, though older than himself, clad in a tan cloak and scarf and harboring a peculiar odor of mint that masked his own natural scent. "Strange," he said lightly, tapping his lip with a claw, as though deep in thought. "This creature masks his true scent, as thought not vishing to be recognized, yet valks around with his face bare." Luka grinned then, showing some amusement to the stranger, for honestly, the boy could care less about the being's identity or motives. It was none of his business who he was, or pretended to be. But he couldn't help commenting on his observations. And he could bet this coyote had an interesting story.[/html]
10-15-2008, 12:16 PM
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Maybe the mint's only there because I smell really bad,he replied without missing a beat, though it took him a few moments beyond that to really take in his new surroundings. It was a dusty, cramped, and moldy place. Nothing new. Most places in the city seemed to fit that description, particularly in those desolate streets filled with throwaway stores full of throwaway things. Even the humans must have found them a bit claustrophobic and unappealing to some degree, but it was in that very unpleasantness that there was something to like. These places were quaint, he supposed, personal, secure.
Or I've gotten tired of this pretentious disguise.Arkham shrugged and picked up the vase the other had set down only recently -- the mismatched placement of the dust ring caught his attention.
You're not from around here, are you?It was mostly a guess, but there was just something that seemed foreign about the other male. His way of speaking, perhaps, though he'd encountered plenty of misfits who seemed to have come up with an accent out of nothing. The coyote was not so well versed in specific regional accents, and thus could not place the other as having come from overseas. Arkham set the vase down, seating it perfectly in its dust-free ring with an obsessive case he hadn't quite realized he had.
That's a pretty color,he added, nodding towards the emerald.
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10-21-2008, 07:51 AM
[html]mall-caps;color:#880000;">do you believe in god written on the bullet
"Vell, that's a good reason," replied Luka, amused by the coyote's answer. He wrinkled his muzzle half in a laugh, and half as though the other truly did emit a foul odor that disgusted his senses."Vhatever works," he added, moving around the counter to rummage further through the junk in the pawn shop. Picking up a silver spoon engraved with intricate patterns his glanced shot back up toward the stranger. "Nope," he concurred, realizing his accent was surely a dead giveaway of his foreign birth, if not his demeanor and attire. Most of the wolves around here seemed to prefer a feral existence, while overseas they seemed more partial to imitating humans. While his accent was not nearly as strong as his father's, there was still a hint of something different in the way he spoke. A ghost or shadow in the way he pronounced certain words.
"I vas born in Europe. My parents vere travelers," he added, including a little bit of information about himself for conversation purposes. From birth he'd moved around a lot, traveling with the gypsy-band his parents had come to be a part of, wandering across Europe and never truly settling save the occasional encampments that never lasted longer than a few weeks. Hand lifted almost as though unsure what the creature was referring to, looking toward the emerald ring he'd only just filched from the glass case behind him. "It is, isn't it?" he said in a pleased manner, smiling lazily at his prize. "Do you vant it?" Luka asked vaguely, slipping it from his finger and holding it out on the palm of his hand. While he may of adored shiny things and admired his find, love of objects didn't possess his soul, and the other being may of wanted the ring more. Besides, he only had ten fingers, and if he filled them all up right away, he couldn't have fun exploring the city in search of more any longer.[/html]
"Vell, that's a good reason," replied Luka, amused by the coyote's answer. He wrinkled his muzzle half in a laugh, and half as though the other truly did emit a foul odor that disgusted his senses."Vhatever works," he added, moving around the counter to rummage further through the junk in the pawn shop. Picking up a silver spoon engraved with intricate patterns his glanced shot back up toward the stranger. "Nope," he concurred, realizing his accent was surely a dead giveaway of his foreign birth, if not his demeanor and attire. Most of the wolves around here seemed to prefer a feral existence, while overseas they seemed more partial to imitating humans. While his accent was not nearly as strong as his father's, there was still a hint of something different in the way he spoke. A ghost or shadow in the way he pronounced certain words.
"I vas born in Europe. My parents vere travelers," he added, including a little bit of information about himself for conversation purposes. From birth he'd moved around a lot, traveling with the gypsy-band his parents had come to be a part of, wandering across Europe and never truly settling save the occasional encampments that never lasted longer than a few weeks. Hand lifted almost as though unsure what the creature was referring to, looking toward the emerald ring he'd only just filched from the glass case behind him. "It is, isn't it?" he said in a pleased manner, smiling lazily at his prize. "Do you vant it?" Luka asked vaguely, slipping it from his finger and holding it out on the palm of his hand. While he may of adored shiny things and admired his find, love of objects didn't possess his soul, and the other being may of wanted the ring more. Besides, he only had ten fingers, and if he filled them all up right away, he couldn't have fun exploring the city in search of more any longer.[/html]
10-27-2008, 01:34 AM
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sharks
sharks
sharks
Interesting,Arkham mused, moving up next to the stranger so that he could also look into the smashed display case.
My parents were the opposite, I suppose,though he wondered now if his mother might have been better suited for the traveling life. She had always seemed rather aloof, despite her perceived responsibilities -- clearly she didn't take them as seriously as anyone might have expected her to. His father had roots to land though; if he didn't know anything else about him, he could have gathered that for himself. The grey coyote wasn't so sure of his own ways; he still felt a bit loose and disconnected without a home, but he knew he didn't want to go back to Inferni anymore.
sharks
No, thanks,he said of the ring, turning to grin a little at the other,
It looks better on you.There were many other jewels in the case, anyway. Aside from rings, there were also strangely intricate bracelets, ornate earrings, and other items of jewelry that he'd never seen before. Arkham hadn't had much time to be a cityboy when he was younger. Everything seemed to have gone by so fast. He looked to the other side of the case where a crumbling bookshelf was shoved against a similarly crumbling wall. He had always preferred those sorts of treasures, it seemed.
What is it like, not having a home?Really, he could have asked himself that question.
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11-06-2008, 08:53 AM
[html]mall-caps;color:#880000;">do you believe in god written on the bullet
Gaze drifted across the stranger's visage as he moved next to him, briefly taking in the coyote's features. A sound of assent followed his words, as though simply to show he was truly listening, but rather lacking in a response. "You zhink so?" he said with a grin, amused, as he slid the ring back onto his finger before continuing to shift through the case's contents. Luka's eyes followed the coyote's gaze to see what had attracted his attention, eying the bookcase with him. He was a fan of books as well, but they weren't the best possessions to carry around with you. Rain and weather destroyed them, and thus they were better left in dusty libraries, read and absorbed before continuing on your way. He had read many books in his life, but titles and details faded away with time, leaving behind only the vague stories and morals obtained. Luka looked back toward the coyote at his question, thinking a moment before answering.
"I guess, it eez freedom. I can go anyvhere I please, and the vorld is my home." But even so, he couldn't help but desire what his father, and his father before him had: a place to return to. The tiny star on his wrist was meant to be his guiding star, but where was it leading him to? Luka didn't even know where he was born. His family had been wandering when he'd been birthed, and so of his birth-location all he has is that it was somewhere in eastern Europe. They had come here to this place for Zaets to seek those he'd left behind and revisit where he'd grown up. And Rurik had been born and raised in Russia, growing homesick and abandoning his children to seek solace in it's familiarity.
If a look crossed his face betraying his deepest thoughts it was but brief and vague, quickly gone before anyone could even know it was there. It was lonely, spending your life on the road, friends only those you met along the way.[/html]
Gaze drifted across the stranger's visage as he moved next to him, briefly taking in the coyote's features. A sound of assent followed his words, as though simply to show he was truly listening, but rather lacking in a response. "You zhink so?" he said with a grin, amused, as he slid the ring back onto his finger before continuing to shift through the case's contents. Luka's eyes followed the coyote's gaze to see what had attracted his attention, eying the bookcase with him. He was a fan of books as well, but they weren't the best possessions to carry around with you. Rain and weather destroyed them, and thus they were better left in dusty libraries, read and absorbed before continuing on your way. He had read many books in his life, but titles and details faded away with time, leaving behind only the vague stories and morals obtained. Luka looked back toward the coyote at his question, thinking a moment before answering.
"I guess, it eez freedom. I can go anyvhere I please, and the vorld is my home." But even so, he couldn't help but desire what his father, and his father before him had: a place to return to. The tiny star on his wrist was meant to be his guiding star, but where was it leading him to? Luka didn't even know where he was born. His family had been wandering when he'd been birthed, and so of his birth-location all he has is that it was somewhere in eastern Europe. They had come here to this place for Zaets to seek those he'd left behind and revisit where he'd grown up. And Rurik had been born and raised in Russia, growing homesick and abandoning his children to seek solace in it's familiarity.
If a look crossed his face betraying his deepest thoughts it was but brief and vague, quickly gone before anyone could even know it was there. It was lonely, spending your life on the road, friends only those you met along the way.[/html]
11-12-2008, 06:15 AM
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sharksPerhaps their preference of treasures were really enough to set their lifestyles apart. It was certainly true that he was capable of reading the contents of a novel or two and then never touching it again, but he had grown up with a bookshelf in the living room and a thousand books that were like his neighbors. They had been his companions when his siblings had been busy or away, and they had filled his head with all the things he'd never bothered seeking outside his territory's walls. He liked the familiarity of an old book -- one that he'd read more than once; he liked that they could hold memories, just like other mundane objects, and that they had the power to bring back to mind what he might have otherwise forgotten. There were dozens of stories that were repeated in any number of books, so the words could be found again even if he didn't have the same copy of a text, but it was never quite the same, somehow.
sharks
sharksPerhaps their preference of treasures were really enough to set their lifestyles apart. It was certainly true that he was capable of reading the contents of a novel or two and then never touching it again, but he had grown up with a bookshelf in the living room and a thousand books that were like his neighbors. They had been his companions when his siblings had been busy or away, and they had filled his head with all the things he'd never bothered seeking outside his territory's walls. He liked the familiarity of an old book -- one that he'd read more than once; he liked that they could hold memories, just like other mundane objects, and that they had the power to bring back to mind what he might have otherwise forgotten. There were dozens of stories that were repeated in any number of books, so the words could be found again even if he didn't have the same copy of a text, but it was never quite the same, somehow.
sharks
The world's a big place,he mused, picking up an aging brown softcover whose title was so marred that it was unreadable.
I don't think I could ever get used to that, but I'm having a hard time getting settled again anyway.The book was filled with poetry; faded and missing words made for an interesting effect, and he couldn't help but grin a little at them.
Where's your home here at the moment? Or does it just depend on the night?
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11-12-2008, 07:46 AM
[html]mall-caps;color:#ca7c37;">swallow the sun, erase the sky.
But even if he longed for a place to rest his feet and always return to, no matter what, Luka would never of given up his life for anything. Traveling with the gypsies and his family had been his earliest memories and he held them close as any child would. It was a part of his nature now, to long to always be on the move. Staying in a single place too long made him nervous and anxious, and he had to set out again, leaving behind anything familiar for the thrill of something new each day. He had promised in a year's time to met the rest of his family again at the edge of a known river in Europe, and Luka knew if they missed each other they'd never meet again. The world was too large for a single wolf to find another--especially when they were all wanderers, never settling for long in a single place. He had realized long ago it wasn't the place that made somewhere home, but those who resided there. But he couldn't help but long for some anchor in their lives--somewhere and somehow knowing no matter what happened, there was a chance they'd see each other again before the afterlife.
"Eet eez," the Russian boy concurred, watching as he flipped through a faded, aged book from the shelf. "But eet isn't zhe rocks and trees zhat really make a place home, eet'z the memories," he said with a small shrug, also moving over toward the books to drag a claw lightly across the bindings, searching for an interesting title. "For now I am in zhe city," Luka replied, glancing toward the coyote male. "Anyvhere I please, but my father eez here as vell. So I try not to vander too far, eef I can." He smiled lightly, picking up a thick, green-bound book and thumbing through the faded words.[/html]
But even if he longed for a place to rest his feet and always return to, no matter what, Luka would never of given up his life for anything. Traveling with the gypsies and his family had been his earliest memories and he held them close as any child would. It was a part of his nature now, to long to always be on the move. Staying in a single place too long made him nervous and anxious, and he had to set out again, leaving behind anything familiar for the thrill of something new each day. He had promised in a year's time to met the rest of his family again at the edge of a known river in Europe, and Luka knew if they missed each other they'd never meet again. The world was too large for a single wolf to find another--especially when they were all wanderers, never settling for long in a single place. He had realized long ago it wasn't the place that made somewhere home, but those who resided there. But he couldn't help but long for some anchor in their lives--somewhere and somehow knowing no matter what happened, there was a chance they'd see each other again before the afterlife.
"Eet eez," the Russian boy concurred, watching as he flipped through a faded, aged book from the shelf. "But eet isn't zhe rocks and trees zhat really make a place home, eet'z the memories," he said with a small shrug, also moving over toward the books to drag a claw lightly across the bindings, searching for an interesting title. "For now I am in zhe city," Luka replied, glancing toward the coyote male. "Anyvhere I please, but my father eez here as vell. So I try not to vander too far, eef I can." He smiled lightly, picking up a thick, green-bound book and thumbing through the faded words.[/html]
11-14-2008, 07:24 AM
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sharksBriefly, Arkham considered what it might be like if he just went away again, and if this time, he didn't come back. The potential of a life on the road had its romantic qualities, and he imagined that there was no limit to the characters he could meet on the way to wherever. But the coyote knew himself as well as he could, and he knew that he got lonely very easily, that he liked things that were familiar and old, and that he hated the idea of being far, far away from anyone he had ever known. Or at least, he hated the idea of not being able to find them again. Stationary was reliable. Stationary was secure.
sharks
sharksBriefly, Arkham considered what it might be like if he just went away again, and if this time, he didn't come back. The potential of a life on the road had its romantic qualities, and he imagined that there was no limit to the characters he could meet on the way to wherever. But the coyote knew himself as well as he could, and he knew that he got lonely very easily, that he liked things that were familiar and old, and that he hated the idea of being far, far away from anyone he had ever known. Or at least, he hated the idea of not being able to find them again. Stationary was reliable. Stationary was secure.
sharks
Do you have any siblings?he wondered suddenly, putting the book back on the shelf in favor of another, though he picked it up more out of habit than anything else. It was another unreadable cover.
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11-14-2008, 08:49 AM
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Flipping through the book became an involuntary action as Luka again regarded the stranger and his inquiry. "Da, I do, but zhey're in Europe vith my muzzer," he replied, glancing again toward his book. There was a drawing on this page, done in Medieval woodcarving of a dragon with flames erupting from it's parted jaws. He turned toward it's cover again, squinting at the title to try and decipher the letters there, but it was futile. They'd been done in gold leaf, and it'd since been rubbed off over the years. "Do you?" the werewolf asked, placing it back on the shelf. Gaze noticed a deck of cards with a pentagram star printed on the cover and he picked this up, turning toward the other and smiling faintly. Opening the top, he slid the cards from their box and began to shuffle them.
"I have a question, eef you don't mind," Luka said lightly, continuing to shuffle. "Vhat's your name? Here I go, telling you my life story, and yet I 'ave nozzing to call you by, should ve ever meet again. I am Luka, by zhe vay." He pulled a random card from the deck and glancing at it, repressing a vague smirk. On the card was printed a man carrying a bag of belongings and a rose, glancing toward the sky about to walk right off the edge of a cliff. The Fool--how quaint.[/html]
"I have a question, eef you don't mind," Luka said lightly, continuing to shuffle. "Vhat's your name? Here I go, telling you my life story, and yet I 'ave nozzing to call you by, should ve ever meet again. I am Luka, by zhe vay." He pulled a random card from the deck and glancing at it, repressing a vague smirk. On the card was printed a man carrying a bag of belongings and a rose, glancing toward the sky about to walk right off the edge of a cliff. The Fool--how quaint.[/html]