06-07-2009, 02:10 PM
Loner plz.
1. Character Name: Akando Paxton.
2. Character Birthdate (including year): September 28, 2008
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci.
4. Species: Coyote.
5. Gender: Female.
6. A secondary form of contact: paracoconut@live.com (MSN)
7. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Played here before.
1. Character Name: Akando Paxton.
2. Character Birthdate (including year): September 28, 2008
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci.
4. Species: Coyote.
5. Gender: Female.
6. A secondary form of contact: paracoconut@live.com (MSN)
7. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Played here before.
Quote:Their hardwood paradise had been — in no other terms could it be put so well — utterly dull and uneventful. Arietta wasn't one to be discouraged by the lack of things to do, but she knew full well the pack was tender.
Somebody had died, and while she still had almost no concept of what that meant, or how serious it was, she made sure she kept out of the way. She made sure she wasn't treading on any toes or hurting anybody's feelings, especially the ones who were part of it. Her own puppysitter, Tandymao, and October and Orleans were hurting the most. She made damn well sure she didn't say anything wrong to them.
Discipline wasn't something she had to actively practise, though. She found behaving to be much easier than it had always sounded, probably because she always was behaving properly. She was a goody two-shoes if ever one existed, and she would remain that way.
The mid-morning was just as dull and drab as any other time of the day, and the puppy — a little bored despite herself — kicked a rock idly, afraid to sing to herself in case somebody came upon her again. She almost snickered at the memory of being caught singing, god forbid, but suppressed it. Now was not the time to laugh.
She sat down heavily, rocking back on her haunches and turning lavender eyes skyward to watch the sun through a veil of leaves and shadows, her tail thumping a perfect rhythm, as it always did.
Quote:Fact: Children have irrational fears that are not always easily understood.
Adults sometimes had them as well, but they were a far more common occurrence in children, particularly the kind that was only semi-permanent. It wasn't known so well when they developed, or if they always were there, or if there had to be some trauma, but it was often agreed the last option was ruled out. That was what made the fear irrational: the fact that there was no explanation for it being a fear, just that it was.
Arietta Roux-Abhren, law-abiding Argent Falls citizen, self-appointed role model, and alpha wannabe (if only because her mother had been an alpha, and her aunt and uncle were alphas, and she wanted their poise and correctness and lawfulness), always acted as though she had no fears. She was not conceited nor arrogant, but carried herself proudly, despite her shy voice and the self-esteem she often swallowed. To carry oneself proudly was not to be proud. She was quick to make known her shortcomings, and to make them more important than her accomplishments.
To the day, she still swore her voice, which was angelic and very, very gifted, was trash in the big garbage bin of Grand Scheme Of Things. Despite this she was still often seen to be seemingly fearless, a trait all of the Roux-Abrhen children seemed to share equally.
But not, she knew, truthfully.
It was midday in Argent Falls, and the wind was meagre. The sun was hot, and the grass and trees were splendorous in its giving waves. Graciousness was not something it ever considered, but merely went about its own business, unquestioning and unquestioned, and Arietta had never sought to make it different. She had never sought to make anything different, until today.
You see, it is in a child's nature to be insatiably curious, and to follow the trail of anything that moves. It is therefore easily concluded that butterflies, bees, squirrels, and yes, fallen leaves, are of considerable importance to a growing child. Today was a day where butterflies, bees, and leaves were abundant throughout the forest, and this resulted in just one thing: Arietta Roux-Abrhen was running for her life.
Her jaws were parted most unattractively as she panted and ran, dodging foliage and twigs and all manner of forest-y debris in her path. The waterfall thundered up ahead, and the pool, easily reached. She ran and ran, not in pursuit of a butterfly nor a bee or leaf, but away from them.
Arietta Roux-Abhren did not like them. Arietta was, in fact, terrified of little flying insects and falling leaves, and while the leaves did not fall as if it were autumn she had not yet had the pleasure of experiencing an autumn; the odd one stumbling through the air was enough to put her hair on end, and it only happened very, very rarely.
Poor child would be absolutely screwed come September.
Now, it was not her concern. She stood on a boulder just off the shore of the pool that collected below the waterfall — it pierced all sound and seemingly swept away any voices that close to it — gasping for breath, her tail puffed out like an agitated cat's, and her eyes zooming around like bugs. Zooming… Until they locked on to a bug.
It was long and skinny with a jewel blue body, hovering in place (peculiar, for a bug), with huge faceted eyes and four wings that buzzed, but seemed to make no noise. They were a blur, but she knew there were four; their bases were discernible. She gave it no more attention as her mouth twisted into a loud, horrifed scream and she stumbled away from it, tail tucked.
Consequently, she tumbled off the boulder into the cool pool and found herself sinking into a shelf in the water. She struggled, and instinct screamed at her to kick and surface, but Arietta had been so unprepared for the plunge that all she could do was flail futilely in the water, keeping her mouth closed because instinct also drove that.
But her breath, which had been shortened by the scream, would not last forever, and she had no help if that happened. She struggled harder, reaching the surface but unable to control herself, and splashed and gurgled in the water, her mind screaming, help! to any telepathic wolf to exist.
Quote:His chest swelled a little, like the spring flood over the falls.
He didn't know what to think anymore. He had left with warning, and yet something pulled him back to the place he'd left. Something pulled him back to the boy there, who was most likely not in favour of his decision. Yet something pulled him here too.
Misguided.
Tobias Byron had always wanted what was best for his friends. That went without saying. But when it was a question of a greater of two needs it was impossible for him to make the decision he felt was right. Had he come he knew Greybird wasn't likely to forgive him… Knew not because it had been said, but because he would've reacted similarly, if not worse. Had he not, he knew a certain someone would be hurting… Neglected by a friend she might not even forgive at all not once, but twice.
The conflicting, warring sides of him continued to rave inside his veins, punching through his frail heart and making his throat catch with every breath. So anxious was he that his windpipe rattled with each intake, and his body quivered a little. His eyes were sunken, but not from exhaustion. Not external or physical, anyway.
Tobias Byron de Lor had been destroyed, eaten from the inside out, by his own indecision and now standing there, he still wasn't sure if what he was doing was right. It was his weakness; he was misguided and he knew it but there was little he could do about it.
Misguided and weak. Misguided… Misguided, and without any hope of anybody coming to find him and rescue him.
They had made contact of course — he wasn't there aimlessly — but even as he lay on the cliff and stared down at what could be his demise below (something he would never have the heart to do but had the darkling region of his mind to think it) with a single long, heavy sunflower gripped between his teeth, he was uncertain whether she would come.
She might dislike him enough for what he'd done to her — she had run after all — that he may've left Greybird in vain and, if that were the case, his misguided soul would be led to water. A horse to water they said… You could lead it but you couldn't make it drink.
Well, his soul was a weakling steed. It would drink… Oh, it would drink itself to sleep.