In the skies, mysteries in a summer storm
#1
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Ooc: lmao, Evergreen lyrics XD W.C.: 525

Catherine was dried up. She could barely feel her limbs, the soreness of working all day long hitting on her like a summer storm. Lying on the tall grass, she rested. The refreshing night was delightful, the dew already forming up. The small drops drainning from the thalluses to her long fur and then, to the ground. Bulma whinned by her side. The poor mare had to work a lot as well. She made more than her normal work that day, that she was sure. Besides the already tiring scouting and messaging duties of her rank, what was, for her, the most important things to do.

As she was told, all the pack members helped with the task of preparing the ground to be planted. As the model packmember, she helped, using some of the tools she found near the fields. Bluma did her part as well, as a few tools could only be used with a horse. Both of the females took some time to discover how to use those. Then, they worked on it, the noon sun on their head. Of course, Seymour and Saw tried to help, though there wasn't what to do for them. After that, they couldn't help but to go home. Unfortunately, Bluma couldn't go far: the mare couldn't move a muscle. It wasn't used to work for so long, so hard. Sad because of the horse, the grayish female stayed with the horse, fatiguated as well.

Bluma seemed better now, but the equine relucted on moving. 'Lazy horse', Catherine thought. It happened during the sunset, and now it was getting near midnight. She could say that from the position of the stars. While she lived in Halifax, the wolfess had studied a lot, very interested with the great knowledge the humans had. Now, she could find most of the constellations they found in the night skies. Pointing with one finger -which trembled a little-, she formed lines, connecting star with star, until the constellation was formed, and she could imaginate the animal or thing it represented. Lyra, Hercules, Cygnus, Polar Major, Lynx... All of them very clear in the sky.

She wondered why they were like that. Why couldn't Hercules be somethign else. For her, it seemed like a fat guy waving. Lyra looked more like a water drop, Cygnus, like a crooked bow missing the string, with an arrow. The woman found herself forming constellations of her own, one crazier than the other. It was funny. She thought why she hadn't done that while she was a kid, while she got more creativity. Her only green eye notice Bluma looking at the sky as well, following her finger. That was a weird scene, and made her think if the horse could understand her. That was being a very crazy night, that was for sure.

Saw and Seymour seemed to have disappeared from the map, as they haven't came back. That wasn't right, but she wansn't caring much. Besides, it would be hard to get there quick enough with Bluma stuck on the ground. 'Lazy horse', she thought again, even knowing she was as lazy as the mare.


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#2
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500+


Night had fallen. It mounted the world with more power, with more subtlety and deception, than the day could ever achieve.


As surely as the night raped the world every night, so would be the certainty of his daughter’s fate. The sinister mind lingered momentarily upon the lighter wolf he had met upon his arrival in these lands. The thing would be made to see—Cwmfen would come to him by her own will, and his body would rid hers of any creature. He would be merciless if only to show her the power he knew her to love. And she would bear him a son. She would give to him the secrets of perpetual live held within her family’s blood. Such blood was rare, but he had found it. The Wolf God had lead him there, had lead him to Graine. But that bitch had been useless. Death would find Cwmfen if she too proved to be of little use. And he would not wait for her to bear a child to pursue it yet again. There would be no third time to charm. He would move on from the hypothetically defertiled line and find another, or another way. There was always another way. The pied brute never wasted his time, and he did not and could not become attached to a single cause simply because of its appearance. Indeed, his daughter’s body was a thing to consider. But carnal desires were the least of his concerns. The crow wolf was far beyond those simple needs.


The secui stalked the lands unclaimed, his black claws tearing the flowering earth as he went. In the dark he seemed to melt save for that white beacon of warning. It flared dimply in the night like the rings of some sperpent. The black, fathomless orbs scourged the landscape, penetrating and violating. And then, in the distance, he caught within that colorless world an insignificant blemish that seemed to move. Something within the male’s empty soul compelled him forward; perhaps he could better know the night of these foreign lands. The Korean had found nothing worth his while save for the presence of his daughter and that blindfolded thing he had left to die. And yet, deep within him he knew that it was not dead. He knew that it would return and that someone would die. The pied brute sneered, an empty gesture that thusly seemed distorting. His arrogance told him that he would once more prevail over that coyote.


The thing he had seen was a female wolf and a horse. They watched the sky—it was a pointless thing for the stars held nothing. The world was nothing. And that thing he saw was noisy in her movements as she pointed to the sky. So captivated was she that he slid into that circle like a shadowed wraith, his movements ethereal and fluid, a thing he had given to his daughter. The pied brute, as he had done before, simply sat. His sudden presence required submission, and he did not expect any less. The domineering presence would smother this noisy thing, and it would be easy.

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#3
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Ooc: --

Catherine was forming, probably, the thriteen constellation when Bluma whinned loudly, adjusting the chocolate-brown front legs, as the mare tried to get up. That startled sound made the wolfess to remember of when the horse had done the same sound, but in the presence of a cougar. For a few minutes, canine and feline fought, althought it hadn't last too long. Luckly, the feline ended badly that time. It was an alarming sound, that something wasn't right, or was suddenly new. The grayish female shifted her body so she was with the belly down, and rose up her head. Of course, it ached her joints, but she didn't care. Anythign that deserved Bluma's attention, deserved hers as well.

She half relaxed, as she found out it was another wolf. Or it looked so. The creature was very big, the fur on the neck longer. It almost faded in the dark, only a path of white -around the neck, maybe?- that broke that invisibility. In that moment, the moon that, until now, was hidding behind a thick cloud, and glowed with all the light it could, as it was in the waxing phase. Every single blade of grass lit up, the dew in them gliottering strongly. With that, her only eye could see better the shape sat on the ground. As it seemed was a very bulky male. More than normal Secui forms were. She swallowed air, burning her throat.

Huh...Hello?..., she said, with a light interrogative tone in the phrase. What that unknown was doing there? She straightened her body, so she was sitting on her knees her hands in the tighs, looking like the oriental humans.May I ask what are you doing in the tribelands, mister...?, she asked, her voice polite, but demanding in the same time. As well, she made an indirect question of his name. Sutil. The horse relaxed as the woman took the lead of the situation.


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#4
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500+


It was the horse that noticed him first. The silent brute allowed a single, sharp exhale of mocking amusement, the sound of laughter that could not be completed for the empty soul that lay within. It seemed that the prey animal were all that were left within these lands. Save for Cwmfen, there was nothing that had brought him here. This place was like the breeding grounds for disease, and the disease was the wolves that resided upon these pointless lands. There was no point—the packs had no limit, it seemed. And the pack in which the lighter male resided, the same in which his daughter resided, was the largest of these diseases. The Korean sneered. The child of Nemain thought herself safe, thought herself secure within those large boundaries. But boundaries did not bind him, and he sought now to release himself from the necessity of Death, to free himself from that cycle. He had considered the possibility of destroy Life by doing so, for how could Life exist without Death? But what concern was it of his? He required nothing save for power and Darkness.


The thing rose, or at least sat up—it moved. And the male simply stood there, his black eyes watching with that impenetrable, tenebrous ferocity. It seemed as if this thing thought it was in control, thought that the horse was a lesser thing. But it was that thing that was beneath the horse, for the horse retained those instincts which had apparently been lost upon the keeper. And then the pied brute thought suddenly: It had not even sensed My presence, and My presence is of a likeness to a god. A flash of teeth shone in the dimness of the night as he gave a silent, snarling sneer, a soundless laughter that mocked her. The shadows that had gathered about his form tugged at his fur, wanting, desiring. And yet he thought nothing of them. He was above them. Not even the whining wind could move him now. The Darkness was both nothing and everything.


The thing spoke, its voice and words filled with a vulgarity. The emotionless façade did not display the disgust he had for this lower being. The emotionless façade was held in place, immovable against the efforts of the world about him. The silence he commanded held an eerie quality, as if the male were a wraith, a deliverer of Death arrived to extract his price. He did not respond to that ignorant greeting—it seemed as if this creature could identify nothing. She was a wolf no longer. "Your boarders do not bind me," the suave tenor soothed, and yet the gelidity of that voice was not soothing in the least. He knew the laws of the pack, but he believed that they did not apply to him. And there was no one here save for this insignificant thing. "And soon I will be able to leave from this place, virus." Then he laughed, but the sound was a mirthless, cold grating that clawed the air with its cruelty. And unfortunately for the thing, he did not recognize that which was not imminent within himself (save for fear, which is the opiate of life, it seemed) and so the thing received no name.


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#5
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Ooc: W.C.: 500+5 XD

Catherine couldn't grasp what was the male's thing. He had something in those ferous eyes, in that tenebrous laugh, which made the reddish mane that went down her spine rose up. That was something wrong with him. Besides that, he was just... excentric. Or a psycho. Never mind that, he was weird. Not like her, the grayish female was just weird outterly speaking. Him, in other hand, was weird both innerly and outterly. His pelt, similar to a raven's, wasn't as strange as her was.

Her colors weren't so harmonical. Mostly because of herfather. She remember he was very weird looking. He was a mix of bronze and silver, with a glowing, long fur, and his mane were litterly made out of gold. His eyes were similar to a cat's, but the color of those were... violet. Completely out of place.

Details apart, they were two strange creatures, with a mare that seemed a bit different herself. Almost a comedy scene. The three weirdos. The wolfess laughed inside, with those thoughts. He spoke, shaking her funny thinkings, and forcing her back to reality. She wish he hadn't. His first comment barely bothered her. Those fences, from what she experienced, only were useful on keeping the horses and the preys inside. No biggy. It was his other phrase that made her chocked and completely ingant. Virus?!? 'Who the hell he thinks he is?! she thought, enraged.

The woman felt a twinge, in the deeps on her brain. She almost heard the click in her head when she recalled of that poking feeling, right before she entered in Berseker. Her hands formed fists, to control the impulse to jump on his throath and rip it off. Swallowing her anger, she took a deep -but forced and noisy- breath, and calmed down. It was for those situations she trained so much to control her "behaviour issue". She couldn't attack him, don't matter how much the monster inside her mind wanted to.

Still affected by the surge of adrenaline in her veins -which made her breathing light and fast, her body a bit numb, her throath dryed up and light-headed-, she heard his laughter again, which rose up her spine fur again. It, somehow, helped her to think straight. Forcing a gentle smile -she doubted if the Secui male would see. If he did, it didn't look fake-, she said, with a -fake again- warm voice. Would-, her voice broke. Would you mind to join me? she finally said, faking the tender voice nearly to perfection. She could make a living at it. With one hand, she tapped the ground besides her a few times, and lay in the grass again, trying to remember the constellations she already made.

She noticed the horse rise up slowly, still aware of the possible black predator, and started to meal at the wet, tall grass. The grayish female looked at it, surprised, but sighed, irritated. If the horse wasn't that tired, both of them could have be home, avoiding that rude person.


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#6
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500+


A sneer tugged at the corners of those black lips, for a moment disrupting that emotionless, immovable façade. And then it was gone, his lips still, even that gesture of mockery taken by the Darkness. Those black orbs flickered with a sinister black flame as the fierce gaze remained locked upon the thing that spoke. He smelled its sudden anger, and only within his malicious mind was there that mirthless laughter. Pathetic, the mind sneered. It was so easily angered—and what, by his diction? A pink tongue flickered out as if to taste the air in the manner of a malignant snake before it disappeared again. But the male made an understanding within that sinister mind; it was only appropriate that such a think would invoke such an emotion. These creatures were weak, their emotions the opiate of their strength. And it was this specific emotion—anger—that was made to release those chemicals in succession, to override logic and reason. However, although the pied brute recognized this imminent weakness within the world about him, this weakness which he did not believe himself a part, it still caused that sneer: how easily within this thing before him was that emotion invoked.


And the anger was stilled. Perhaps, the pied wolf considered, she knew that to attack him would be foolish. Perhaps she was not as ignorant as she appeared. Corvus remained sitting as he was, silent and unmoved by whatever mental endeavors overtook the mind of the thing before him. The black orbs flickered over the horse that had risen. How easy it could be for his jaws to crush that soft flesh of the neck, to have a meal more than filling and to leave the remaining carcass for the scavengers. How easy it could be for his jaws to crush that soft flesh of the thing before him, differentiated from the horse only be shape for he saw no colour and cared not for patterns. As the wind tugged at his fur, as the tail jerked slightly at his side like the body of a snake, the brute remained lithic, the effigy of some long forgotten god. These insignificant beings were not worth his time. Soon he would depart from their presence, their lives not worth the ‘honor’ of his attendance, just as he would leave this land. Filled with viruses.


Those auds, raised above his head like those infernal horns, drank the sound of that galling voice. For a great long moment, the Korean responded with nothing. The silence was permitted to fill the space between them, as permeating as the Darkness that had gathered about his form, that filled his soul and mind. The black orbs pierced the gaze of the thing, searching for something and yet finding that it was lacking. Then, suddenly, he exhaled sharply, a cold, mocking attempt at laughter that could not be completed. "I do not join you," that suave, tenor sound replied, its empty tones hollow and ambiguous. There was a flash of his strong, white teeth—a smile or a snarl?—that glinted hungrily in the night. "This world is built upon causality," the voice soothed, dripping with mockery because he did not expect it to understand. "And there is no cause for Me to join you." And the dark tendrils did not even seek to draw this ignorance to him.

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#7
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Ooc: --

Catherine heard his reply, and wasn't planning to reply back. She planned to let the male go, to do whatever he wanted to, since he didn't mess with the others tribemembers. Then, he would be in trouble. So would she, becase she let him lurk around freely.

No, she would let it go, seeing things that way. The grayish female mused at his words, feeling her philosophic side popping up. That was a rare side or her, but it was still present. Luckly. It had waited too long to sit still. It took the answer out of the box, and forced the woman's lips to move, building up the words.

I guess it means I need to give a good reason for you to join me, aye?, she asked, a petulant tone in her voice, as if she was bragging. She wasn't waiting for an answer, but she only made a brake to make things more dramatic, and to take a long breath. If the world is made of causes, what is the cause of we meeting, right here, right now? Why not tomorrow, or yesterday?, the female asked a rethoric question, wishing to confuse the confusing male. I think the world is made of random acts, that is completely on our control. We have to choose one act between thousands of others, all the time. Those acts defines our faith, and the ones near us. They are affected by our actions as well, in one way or another., another long, deep breath before continuing. We create our destiny. It is not written in stone... Besides, "we are nothing more than ashes and shadows". she finished her line of thought with that phrase. Not sure who, when or where it was made, nor if it was actually like that, but it was deep. When she read it the first time, in one of her books, it sinked so deep in her soul that she, once in a while, thought about that phrase. Philosophic.


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#8
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500+


Once more his words seemed to invoke within the thing a response. His maw twitched as if to form a sneer or perhaps a snarl. And yet once more that emotionless facet would not allow such a thing. The Korean’s beautiful and yet terrible features remained unmoved, cold and impassive. But that sinister mind behind those black, fathomless eyes swirled about with an innate darkness. This thing before him—it continued to be that symbol for her kind. This virus that spread upon the earth was surely because of creatures like the thing before him. Ungraceful in speech and surely ungraceful in action. Why had Cwmfen fled here? She was of his blood. She was higher than these things. But then, her mother had been a common creature, her bloodline the only thing that had brought the crow-wolf to her bed. There was no doubt in his mind that Cwmfen’s mind was tainted by such common thoughts, by such vulgar mindsets. It was a shame, really, that biology would not allow for a single gene to completely override other. There could have been so much perfection formed by the seed of his loins.


When the thing spoke, the sneer tugged in vain at his lips once more. It was pathetic the efforts of this thing. It was as if the thing thought that it could understand. Pathetic. "Mistaken yet again; I require not the reasons of some commoner." Perhaps the thing did not understand the speech of the elite, or perhaps the twist upon the words he had created—could he expect more of such a common mind? The tenor voice fell silent in the night, those cold, suave tones harsh for their emptiness. The black eyes pierced it. It could not command him, it could not move his lithic form that stood like the effigy of a long forgotten god. And perhaps the thing did not understand the nature of gods and spirits on earth. They did not come. It was the things of earth that crawled like those insects, like the virus in the body, that came to them, to him. But he neither required nor desired the thing before him.


The crow wolf was silent, allowing the thing to spew all that it could to enlighten him upon its ignorance. When silence finally filled the night, he exhaled again, that single sound of cold mockery. "And that is where your mistake lies. There is no such thing as choice, only the illusion of choice." Was it this mistake that made the virus continue? This pitiable thing could not see, could not see the flaw of its existence. And thus it was doomed to disappear, unable to make even a significant impact upon its environment. Those who did not understand could do nothing. And the thing could do nothing."You tire me," the tenor voice continued at last, those hollow sounds falling dully into the silence. The tendrils of shadow clung to his fur as the lithic creature of darkness finally rose, turning his back on her and moving as if to leave. She was so insignificant that he found no danger in her presence, knowing that he could and would defeat her.

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#9
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Ooc: Crappy post XP

Catherine mused about his comments. His reply to her rethoric question bothered her a bit, but mostly because it wasn't supposed to be answered. His next ones, made her reason. If there was only an illusion of choice, she prefered that than to believe that I'm doomed to an unknown faith, or that I need a cause to do anything, she said, an empty and hollow voice. For me, fate is written on the beache's sand. It fades whenever a wave crushes on it, or whenever a new illusion appears, to erase it., she mused upon that deep thought. Her philosophy of life. Where that beach lies, or how long it will stand, she will never know.

His indirect rejection to her invitation of joinning her was simple, but rude. Actually, she thought the contrary about him. Although of his... uncivil nature, he was rather interesting. Better than stargaze... No, stargazing was better than anything, but he got quite close.


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#10
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500+


The male paused, his stride ceasing as he suddenly stopped. It was as if his limbs were made of the earth’s stone themselves, cloaked in the darkness of death and the night, of the unknown. He did not turn his head back to look at her. Thos black orbs simply saw what was ahead. "Then you live in a lie, a self-imposed reality that betrays only yourself." The corners of his lips twitched in that telltale manner, but that sneer was never made upon his cruel jaws. It was this thing’s mind that fooled itself, that created a world that did not exist. He exhaled sharply, that sneering laughter unable to form. It was amazing how some creatures could do that to themselves, to be so blind to what it was the world held. The nature of the world was simple; there was birth, life, and death. Indeed, the pied brute himself ‘followed’ a god, but he did not doubt that it was an entity that his mind had somehow created. And why deny the mind? This thing before him did so, implying that the self had no control. There was control; many simply lacked the foresight.


Finally, his head shifted, a strange and fluid movement—it was unreal. Those fathomless orbs, cold and mocking, watched the trying creature with a sidelong glance. "Fate, he sneered. "It is not Fate but Causality that moves the world." But then he had already explained that; it seemed as if the thing could not grasp such a concept. "Faith and hope are the source of your greatest weakness. It blinds you." Even now he could see it blinding it. And because of such a thing, it continued to create metaphors that were false. It was a fool, a jester. The pied brute didn’t have time for such creatures. He could kill it, but he did not want this tainted blood within him, infecting him like the virus it was. There was but one blood he would accept, but that masked coyote had not made himself manifest. And Corvus knew that he had not died, that was certain. There next meeting was inevitable; already their chance encounter, the blood had had been given, drove the two toward each other with an unstoppable force: causality.


Indeed this thing struggled with the philosophical world, but its efforts were futile. The crow wolf was not captivated by her presence, nor was he inclined to remain. Her words naïve, and her efforts to mimic his voice were only trying. And there were so many of such creatures here. With a last look, the male’s gaze moved away, turning back to the path that was laid before his feet. But the brute paused as if expecting something of the thing at his back. Perhaps he expected another futile attempt to elicit a profundity upon his sinister mind. Perhaps he expected the thing to finally challenge him for his presence within the boarders. But he did not think that this jester of a creature was capable of such a thing. Its intelligence had not been impressed upon him. He did not think that its intuition would prove any better. It was simply not in his nature to expect greatness from commoness.

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#11
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Ooc: Quite a crappy post -______-

Catherine resisted the urge to be unpolite, to say the last. Although that weird male was rude, it was a deep conversation about deep stuff. It was good to do it, time to time, the problem was to find the perfect match for that kind of conversation. Then, I love living in a lie. It's not the truth, but it's better than no life at all, she said, with a snob tone in her voice, but very shallow. Better than no life at all...

I don't think like that, but everyone can think about the world the way it wants. I think fate decides what happens to us, and we build our own fate. And we affect the other's fate with our acts. It's all a great wire., she said, her phrase ecoing in her own head. Well, she never expected to say something so... poetic. It is the weakenesses that make us real, make us unique. I'm glad I have my owns, the grayish female replied, thinking the same thing as before. Actually, she wasn't that glad. Her real greatest weakness turned her into a monster. That wasn't so pleasant.

A question sinked in her mind as a dagger, and it wasn't going away. Only now she noticed that the male avoided it, by calling her a virus, and she forgot it by her "behaviour issue". What's your name? she asked, that bluntly, and yet, so curiously. If he did not reply, she wasn't going to push him to say it.


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#12
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Sorry about the wait! But we should probably end this one soon, since Corvus isn’t becoming engaged with her, ^=^;; We can still continue with several more posts if you want, though~
500+



The pied brute allowed a sneer to split his maw, and a cold, cruel laughter of a mirthless void grated in the air. The thing itself said exactly what made this place such a place the epoch of the digression of the world, of an intolerable place of decay. When that mirthless cachinnation finally abated, the brute turned his horned crania back, those fathomless eyes flickering with open mockery and with something darker. "Indeed," that tenor voice soothed, dripping in a black sarcasm. "And in doing so, in living the lie, indeed you live no life, as you say it. You merely bring upon yourself that which you seek to escape." And it was that which made this place unbearable. The things ran from what they didn’t want to see, but in the end they lived with that very thing from which they ran, too ignorant to realize the truth. And the unwillingness to realize the truth simply pushed them farther into that inevitable regression. It was amusing, but it was something that the male would not suffer for long. Soon he would be gone from this place.


"You don’t think that way because you’re ignorant," the tenor voice countered immediately, something black and dangerous hissing in the undertones of that empty sound. The pied brute’s tail flickered silently behind him—he should just kill this idiotic thing. But he did not want her blood. He did not want to know her. His jaws hungered only for her death, and that was not enough. She was not worth his time. The pied brute looked away again. "이 불상한 아이," the quiet tenor murmured quietly upon the whining wind, that Korean language spilling effortlessly from his foreign tongue. It would never be made to understand because it was content with that lie. And this tribe member was not a creature of dark. It was nothing. Its soul was ugly, undesirable, just as this place. She was the symbol of these lands. "It is weakness that kills you. That is all." And he sought to eliminate such a thing.


The brute turned to leave, but its incessant voice fell into the silence once more. "Corvus Vendetta," the suave voice soothed. Names mattered. But this name was not his true name, and none knew it. Those who had known it were dead, killed by his own jaws or by those that he had led. As a gang lord, there was very little that he could not do. But that was no longer his path. That was to be lost in the path, a part of life that had been nothing more than a mere developmental stage of his early life. And he had learned the futilities of life and the idiocies of mortal minds. He had kissed Death, and now he was nearly beyond its eternal grasp. He sneered, but did not ask for hers. He did not require her name, did not need that secret to control her. She could be controlled with little force, manipulated with minimal effort. But he did not doubt that she would give it—was it not customary for these things to share such information?



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#13
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Ooc: How about you reply and then I finish? Or you want to finish?

Catherine didn't understand what the weird guy said, what he meant by that, but she did in his second commentary. It made her frown and her back's fur rase up. That stupid bastard! How can someone be so annoying?! What he said next was just impossible to know. A bunch of blabbing. And she was the ignorant!

I'd rather die for my weaknesses than to die knowing that I lived a boring, flawless life, she said, a reluctant tone. She wouldn't give up of her thoughts because of a sadic, stupid, ignorant guy.

She now smiled. He wasn't such a jackass, after all. Catherine, a pause Corvus, she finished, ending the greeting. A proper greeting, that they haven't got before.


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