the only lights here are made
#1
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Non-mandatory pack thread... over by the Border Tree! Skye needs to reply first. Smile Predated May 3rd!


He was a private individual; never did he ask for attention in neither behavior nor appearance. Micah was one to blend into the background unnoticed, a face in the crowd, where he was safe from targeting. His anxieties would not spike, his hands would not shake, his eyes would not dry from lack of blinking, and this was all because he was, after all, a private individual.


Micah knew that in order to remain a piece of Cercatori d'Arte, he would have to step outside his own comfort zone and become familiar with those who shared the space. The pack was small in size — a more ideal situation for someone so socially anxious — and though he had not been there long, in his chest blossomed a sense of pride for being called a member. No, hardly anyone knew him yet, but the pride dwelt there no less.


The boy shook the can of spray paint in his hand, stepping back and pulling down the handkerchief from his nose as chocolate eyes gazed upon all he had created. It was a long shard of wood, found somewhere on the territory, that he had whittled down to a near-smoothness with a knife during much of his free time. The boy had leaned it against the Border Tree, where so many of his fellow artists had marked their pride for the pack; the boy had painted at the wood with swift, sweeping motions, and called it complete as she stepped back.


"Cercatori d'Arte," it read, like all the rest of the tree's markings. He hardly knew them, but he was a piece of them. Micah breathed pride, a sheepish smile at his face as he brushed black curls away with color-tainted fingers. He would leave it there, hoping the graffiti might be embraced by his packmates, and sneak away unnoticed. It was what he did best.


A crack and disturbance in the brush and forest behind him — had he been discovered? Micah panicked, looking over his shoulder, and in quick motions he gathered his things and fled into hiding within the undergrowth, peering out anxiously at whomever had been approaching.

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#2
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no posting order! Smile

Skye Collins was in her last stages of pregnancy - her puppies had to be due any day now. Her belly was swollen, but not enough to impede her walking; she did take to wearing a larger, long dress that she had found and fixed up. It had been rags, but using other bits of cloth she found, she managed to make it into a rather patchy but functional dress. This is what she wore as she walked slowly around the Cercatori d'Arte area; she felt happy, rather than angry and miserable like she had felt during her pregnancy recently.

She found herself being carried towards the Border Tree, where she and Shaw first met the members of Cercatori d'Arte and said that this was where their pack was, this was where their home was. She hadn't seen Shawchert a lot around lately; she would have to catch up with him soon. Walking towards the tree, she noticed that through the thick foliage, Micah was painting a strip of wood.

She stopped, curious as to what the man was doing; he lay the wood against the tree eventually, revealing its title - Cercatori d'Arte - and began to walk away. Skye wanted to talk to Micah; he seemed amiable, although timid, and wanted to know him better. She stepped on a loose twig on the ground - as soon as the wolf before her heard this noise, he gathered his things and dove underneath the foliage, just like he had done the first time she had met him.

Skye walked into the clearing before the Border Tree and looked at where Micah hid. "It's alright, Micah, it's just me," she said warmly. She looked at the strip of bark he had lain at the foot of the tree. "I like that, it's quite nice - it's been a while since anyone's put anything near the tree."

She sat down on a log nearby, admiring the tree. Suddenly, a glint showed in her eye; "It's been a while since Cercatori d'Arte has celebrated together, hasn't it?" she asked no one in particular. Without warning, she let out a howl - it was unprecedented by any actions, but Skye was feeling in an unusually good mood, and she wanted to share it with her packmates.

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#3
Tal pointed to a letter on the paper. "Liam, what's this letter?" Liam stared at it, then grinned. "A. As in apple. And ant, and Alice, and alligator, and-" The howl from Skye cut them short. It was a summons from the female leader. The father son duo had yet to meet her, but her authority was clear in her voice. She had a friendly voice, though, and so the duo set aside their lessons. The call had come from somewhere around the borders, between the Ethereal Eclipse lands, and the pack lands. Tal followed Liam's eager trot, his own pace easy and relaxed.

They arrived a short time later. Tal smiled at the obviously pregnant femme. He bowed extravagantly, his bi-colored eyes dancing. "Taliesin Dir Rhiannon at your service, ma'am. I'm a writer, and you can feel free to simplify it to Tal. And this young lad is my son, Liam." The rust colored boy in question was sniffing at the female's ankles, then grinning at her, his tail wagging. Five months old, he was a friendly little thing, with no signs of being predisposed to madness as his mother had been. He took more after his father than his mother. His green eyes were full of innocence and wonder, as if he'd forgotten his turbulent first months of life. And mostly, he had.

Liam grinned at the female. ]"I'm Liam Rhiannon. I wanna be friends with you. Whats that you're wearing? It's like Krystalle's jacket, except it's lots longer. Is it a long jacket? But it's not leather like her jacket. Do you have a horse? Krystalle has a horse. I haven't seen it yet, but she said I could." He sat, waiting for her to answer his questions.

Tal laughed at his son. "Forgive him, he's always full of questions. I was too at that age. How my mother put up with me, I'll never know."

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#4
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+5. Wheeee. STRESSED BANGLE IS STRESSED.


This stress was more than he could take.

Bangle was always a carefree type of male, but ever since he stepped foot past the big, decorated oak and all its splendors, life as he knew it would change forever. The "artsy-fartsy" pack, as the coywolf would like to call it under his breath, was now devouring his very lifestyle. This grew more apparent when Skye woke him up suddenly, a few days before, claiming that Shawchert had left. Just vanished without a word or note to anyone. Now his mate felt the world on her shoulders, and he knew she was even further burdened by her pregnancy.

It wouldn't be long, now. Now it was a simple waiting game. To the multicolored coywolf, however, it felt like a bomb slowly ticking away until its detonation. Never had the former gypsy felt his freedom being slowly choked away from him, like sucking the very air of the atmosphere. It had slowly become apparent, at first, when the craftsman settled down into his new home. Then the fiery-headed female took him by storm, and Bangle was swept up in a firestorm of passion he had never known. And now - this.

As his form slowly made its way through the thick forest and towards the large tree, Bangle didn't carry much with him. His painted skull, gnarled wooden staff, lute, and a satchel of provisions. Shoulders slumped in an obvious fashion, his joy as gone as the wind he used to travel with. The male couldn't bring himself to put his own, personal troubles upon his mate - she was heavy with many other problems. A part of the male felt, that when he and Skye became parents, that last bit of freedom would disappear over the mountains with the setting sun, forever casting him in a dark shroud of commitment.

Despite the foreboding circumstances, Cercatori was in need of another of its irenic get-togethers, but to Bangle it felt like it would be a gathering of the same old faces he'd seen lately. The rattling that came from his staff and other ornaments hanging on his frame announced his arrival at the Border Tree, though there was no real grin cracking his face in two nor his usual, positive vigour when seeing someone new. For the moment, at least, only one was unfamiliar to his orange eyes, clouded with a dullness that could not be perceived.

However, the coywolf had hoped his negativity would not ruin the seemingly positive attitude of his woman, who stood before the tree and awaited the arrival of her packmates. Despite the bright fire that burned within her, Bangle knew what she was capable of - what she could and could not handle. It seemed to weigh him down as much as it had been on her, as the previous days found her relaying everything upon the craftsman. As he passed by, he stopped to lay a hand upon her belly - not long now. His gaze met her own for a brief second, and was found with only a flitting smirk upon his lips, before Bangle took a few steps to the nearest tree, and hunkered down at its base in a cross manner.


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Table by Sorin!
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#5
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Word Count » 481 :: And awkward Slade is awkward!


It was about time Slade actually spent time within the lands of his own pack. It had started shortly after Shawchert had announced that there was a killer in the pack. Even though he had heard from Skye that the situation was all sorted out, he still found himself outside the territory or around the border during most of his time. There was no way he would ever dream of leaving his pack; no, he didn't really fit in, but by now he was so suited to the territory, the fact he was a member of Cercatori d'Arte seemed to run in his blood.

These type of thoughts were going over in his mind when the coyote's ears pricked, hearing a howl. It was Skye again. Shaking his head, Slade realized that he hadn't really seen Shawchert around. After all of the recent drama, he just hoped that the noble leader hadn't gone and commit suicide or something of that ridiculous sort. Maybe he was still in a state of depression. Either way, it wasn't any of his business right now, but he wanted to find out the truth eventually. He was still very out of touch with the drama in his pack. He didn't care much for drama, but it was still nice to know about.

The sound of the howl led Slade away from his makeshift den in Thornbury and all the way to the Border Tree. As he left the shadows of the bushes, he noticed that he was once again surrounded by strangers, canines who were supposed to be like a family because they were in the same pack, yet he had absolutely no idea who anyone here was but Skye. Even then, it took a moment for him to recognize her; looking up from his short lupus point of view, he wasn't used to seeing her with a dress.

A quick glance around told him that, again, he was the lone lupus of the meeting. Well, there was that puppy - as if he didn't already feel awkward enough - who sat at Skye's feet, looking up at her expectantly, but if that white male was his father - the tall man was looking down at the puppy with a humorous gleam in his eyes that probably meant he was indeed a father - that puppy would grow up to be yet another bloody Luperci.

His dull amber gaze swept from canine to canine as he sat down, trying to stay closer to Skye since she was the only one he really recognized. He noticed that her attention seemed to be mainly on a bush nearby. Taking a quick sniff of the air, Slade noticed that someone was hiding from them. Well, it was nice to know that he wasn't the only coyote in the pack, and that he wasn't the most introverted canine here either.

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#6
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Word Count → 000

Micah's got Slade beat. XD


The last thing Micah desired was for more attention to be called to his little art project, but she did just that — the few moments' comfort and the slight emergence from the undergrowth at the sight of a friendly, known face was quickly replaced with a spike in anxiety and panic and a dive further back into the brush, his tremors wild and teeth chattering. How could she do such a thing? What if nobody else liked it? Surely nobody else would like it; there were so many things wrong with it! Teeth chattering, the coyote set his bag aside with horribly trembling fingers and ducked down deep against the earth, hugging his arms, praying the tremors would just leave him be, wishing his anxieties would spare him just this one time.


One by one they responded to her call; Micah watched, bug-eyed, his cheek flat against the soil as he peered from beneath the bushes at a distance. Surely they sensed him there, caught his foreign scent or detected his painting as too horrible for any other members to have created. Surely they hated it — no one said a thing, save a child and his father who properly introduced themselves but had their names suppressed beneath his suffocating panic. The Lykoi clamped down on his tongue, vaguely tasting the salt of life-blood in his mouth but unfeeling of its flow over the wicked quake of his body. His stomach lurched, threatening reflux; his head pounded, threatening migraine. Still he gazed on, watching his fellow members dwell in silence amongst themselves, and both his mind and Storm Lily alike screamed torments and scoldings: He was not good enough to dwell with them. His art was inadequate. He was not one of them.


Pushing himself up to sit on his knees as silently as possible, Micah hugged his ill-afflicted stomach, poisoned with panic, and remained still. A pathetic sight at best, he held his breath and trembled on, praying only that none would venture to collect him.


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#7
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jeez, people!! xD

Skye grinned as the first person arrived - Taliesin dir Rhiannon, he was called. It was the first time she had seen him in person, but she knew that Shawchert had mentioned him once or twice before. She smiled at him and replied in turn; "Skye Collins," she said, withholding her rank for now - she saw no need to talk of it. She was about to say more when the small inquisitive pup beside the white male piped up, letting loose a plethora of questions.

She laughed at Tal's remark. "That's okay, I was, too," she said, looking down at the pup. "I do have a horse," she said kindly. "He's big and black and white - his name is Jack. I'll show him to you later, if you want," she said, making sure that she'd follow up on that offer. She was delighted to see young members to the pack, and was sure that he'd grow up to be a fine young wolf.

She turned as she scented someone else - someone very familiar to her. She looked on as she saw Bangle, who seemed weary and tired, walk up and proceed to stand beside the tree that marked their territory. Skye's heart sank slightly as she saw how unhappy her mate as - she wasn't sure what it was that made him like that, although she suspected it had to do with the looming idea of being a father. She walked up to him and smiled slightly, reminiscent of the days where she was still yet not an adult and they had still been just friends. "Have fun tonight," she said. "You can forget everything right now."

And it was true - every once in a while, it was okay to forget yourself. So it was that she saw Slade walking up soon, and was reminded of how shy the coyote was. She was also reminded of another shy coyote, who had seemed to have taken refuge behind a rather large bush. Rolling her eyes to herself, she smiled at Slade. "Hi, Slade," she said friendly. "I think there's someone you might want to meet!" Determined not to let Micah's shyness get in the way of making friends and connections in the pack, she walked behind the bush where Micah was conspicuously hiding.

"Micah," she said, slightly taken aback by the horror-struck appearance of the man, but not letting that sway her, "Do you want to meet a friend of mine? His name's Slade Auctor, I'm sure you'll like him a lot. He's also a coyote - and a writer, too."

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#8
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Word Count » 480 :: XD (#3)


Slade's eyes widened a bit when he was spoken to. Somehow he just wasn't used to having a comment directed completely towards him when there were others around. During the snowstorm and former pack meetings he had just stayed in the sidelines, watched from the shadows, just as he had tried to do here. It looked like Skye was trying to help him--and possibly the mystery coyote--make friends.

Sure enough, her attention turned to a bush, where the hiding canine's scent was strongest. Did he really think that he could hide like that when his scent was so obvious? Unless Luperci can't smell as well when they're on two legs. Finally, something that makes regular Lupus superior to them...?

Snapping his thoughts back to reality, Slade tilted his head slightly as Skye addressed the hidden coyote as Micah. He turned to the bush as well, pricking his ears. Introverted he was, but he didn't quite go around hiding in bushes; of course, if he felt extremely out of place he would just fade into the crowd best he could and leave. He had to give Micah credit to sticking around... even if, after pricking his ears, Slade heard the leaves inside the bush rustling.

Knowing that he hated being stared at, Slade tried to momentarily direct his attention elsewhere, also trying to ignore the fact that Skye was calling him a writer, which had certainly made his ears go warm. He couldn't write, he could only read and imagine the sorts of things he would write down if he could. In fact, at this rate, he was more of a stray rock to the pack than a member; he was just there, not being a liability but not exactly helping out, either. With this thought in his mind, he suddenly wished that he had a hole to hide in, even if hiding in a hole--his den--was what he did for most of the day.

Eventually his gaze rested on the Border Tree, which he hadn't seen since joining the pack. It was as decorated as ever, but this time he noticed a particular piece of wood with the pack's name written on it. That hadn't been there before, he was sure, and it actually smelled strongly of Micah. So this is his creation.

Hoping he could manage to lure Micah out of his shelter, Slade turned back and managed, "That's a nice... wood... you have there." It came out completely wrong, of course, as if he was insulting the piece of bark, but he didn't quite know how to word it. "You decorated a chunk of wood most beautifully" wasn't something that he could picture himself saying, nor did it sound right either. He just had to face the fact that he would never be good at trying to have a conversation no matter how many times he had to.

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#9
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Word Count → 000


Much against his wishes Skye burst in upon him moments later, luckily after a majority of the panic attach had passed; though pains still tensed in the muscles of his chest, Micah managed to collect himself enough to look relatively normal, though hints of panic still widened his eyes. The Lykoi would have much preferred to be left alone, to remain in hiding and eventually sneak away unnoticed, his artwork thus unattributed to no more than a faceless name for most of the pack. Instead, however, Skye came to retrieve him and force him into the presence of another she found bore resemblances. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Micah abided — raising to his feet on shaking knees, the boy sank behind his curls and into his shoulders, and remained as such as Slade was introduced and addressed him.


Slade complimented his "wood," which judging by the expression on the Auctor's face immediately thereafter, had come out sounding completely opposite of its intent. Micah only withdrew further, making a weak smile and brief choke of a laugh. Chocolate eyes dashed from side to side, heart pounding — were the others watching? Were they laughing at him? Was this Slade even serious? He couldn't have been.


Fiddling with his fingers, Micah dipped his head and mumbled quietly. "Um," he stammered, "um, thank you, I think, n-nobody was supposed to see it..." Keeping his eyes on the ground, peppered ears bent flat against his skull, nearly becoming lot in his mess of curls. "I-I'm not feeling well, sorry..." How he wished he could escape.


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#10
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:3 WC: 332.


There were several reasons for the coywolf's sour mood, many of which he could never, or would never, speak to with anyone else. The main reason lay protruding within the Capitana's belly, as Bangle sneaked a glance over to her as he sat at the base of the tree. It was inevitable. Becoming a father was happening all too quickly, but the pups would not stall for the craftsman's problem. It seemed as if his eyes, or his lack of mannerisms, betrayed him as Skye walked over to him, the issue looming just inches from his face, now.

Her words were comforting, but there was no response from the coywolf other than a small smile. It seemed he just couldn't hide his displeasure, but even if his mate wanted to scorn him, he knew she wouldn't among the other pack members. 'You can forget everything right now,' she had said to him before walking away again. Arms crossed tighter over his chest, eyes downcast to the ground. Right.. forget. The idea seemed thrilling to the former gypsy for but a moment, feeling his restless feet tingle in their motionless state. But how could he forget? Before, it was easy to leave behind troubles, women, and troubling women before the day broke out over the horizon, but now..?

His thoughts were shaken as bushes rustled along the other side of the large, decorative tree. Bangle hadn't noticed another there among the dark umbra that the adjacent forest created, quiet and humbly. It occurred to Bangle then, as Skye attempted to introduce the two of the quieter members, that the number of coyotes - full-blood or mixed - was growing. The craftsman leaned to his left to peek around the tree trunk, though he still remained sitting, feeling a small chuckle bubble up within him when one coyote complimented the wood of another.

Even when he had his own share of troubles, the coywolf still managed to laugh in the face of it all.

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.bangle-deerskull-gift {margin:0px auto; width:400px; background-color:#2b6533; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/HJxRg.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #cbcfc1; padding: 350px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#36b347; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
Table by Sorin!
[/html]


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