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Post by L A C H on Jun 23, 2009 15:22:51 GMT -5
[/i] [/color] It's okay honey. Hold your breath.[/ul][/ul] Gabrielle Lach was almost one-year-old and alive. He was dizzy. Vertigo. His pack bustled around him as dust motes, frenzied with the sweet taste of blood on their lips. It dribbled down their chins like syrup from exotic branches and dappled their legs like viscous rose petals. They wore their war paint, their still-bleeding battle scars, as heavy as the wounds that their rival pack sustained. Restless but as self-contained as ever, the alpha male purled congratulations to his warriors. Good job you did today. I'm so proud of you. Beautiful fight you put up. Lach heard these words dissolve into a drumbeat in his auds.[/color]"
Everything is alright now. The drone of summer insects filled the wood, their symphony comforting and nostalgic. It was music that complimented rather than contradicted the hush-hush babbling of the brook in the late afternoon. Gold splashed the world at this hour, a shadow of yellow tinging all aspects of life. The weather was warm, not humid, and the spray of the waterfall was appealingly cool.
Hold your breath. Laying on the sandy banks of the lake, his gaspeite orbs were pale and distant. His ginger and ivory coat was matted to his sides, wet from a dip in the water, clearly showing his lean, racehorse shape. One flop like a drowned fish, and his short tail lay bristled behind him. He was preoccupied. The story from that oh-so distant last year spun cobwebs in Lach's mind. He could only see them glisten in the sunlight or feel them catch his legs like silk. That was how he was reminded of his misfortune: certain slants of light and make-believe sensations from a phantom limb. ___________ all good things come to an end [/size][/color][/ul] lawl, sorry. > o < i'm so out of practice plus i'm trying to clean up my style. and now i have to rush to the movies. be kind ...
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Post by epitaph on Jun 24, 2009 5:10:31 GMT -5
diversions and deviations;
An aberration away from her thoroughfare; a full moon’s cycle had at last come, and Leif was nowhere near the river’s end nor was she still following the river. She’d cut away from her path and took a turn for investigation. Having heard a gentle roar, the soft rambling of water that was not of the river, which seemed to never end now that she had the trouble of following it, she had come upon this strange a mystical location. The insects humming complimented the whisper of pooling water and gentle summer breeze that attempted to dull the ever pounding heat.
But the tranquil scene was brought to an end with the ginger and snow figure found by the lake’s edge. Leif cocked her head, brown auds standing erect as mahogany orbs gazed at the anomaly. He was a fine looking male, perhaps as large as she was – if not smaller for Leif was a rather hefty she-wolf. Well, not hefty so much as she was just larger than your average grey wolf female, standing at the height of a male and only slightly dwarfed by her fairly older sibling. She made a soft announcement bark, a tiny woof as she dropped her head and body to the ground, her light coloration contrasting the dirt and trunks of the trees around the two.
Her thick plume swayed behind her, the small black dot moving like a target waiting to be struck. For a moment muzzle met paws and a pink tongue entered to greet black nose, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, vanishing to the cave of fang and saliva. She waited for a reaction to her presence, unsure of what to do in the meantime.
count; 290 remarks; I need to get used to reading your writing style again.
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Post by L A C H on Jun 24, 2009 8:57:45 GMT -5
What is a ghost? An apparition. A spiritual being; the soul. An evanescent dead varg haunting the realm of the living. A mind disembodied, lost, unfortunate, and vagrant – a sad wolf with no place in this world or the next. Maybe a ghost is a fleeting shadow being like a demon at the witching hour. Perhaps ghosts were just out-of-focus images in peripheral vision.
What the soul left behind on earth was a body. The ghost in the machine, Rene Descartes' mind-body dualism, states that it is what animates and survives the mortal, physical death. The possibility of one's spirit escaping into the ether to leave a breathing shell of a lupe was frightening, but at moments, Lach felt as if his chest had been hollowed – his spirit stolen. He was just an exasperated sigh of his former self.
He didn't feel this all the time. When he bowed his auburn head to Fenris in prayer, he thanked the god for life and prosperity as he always had. Awkwardly to the observer, he stood up. A pair of lean, though not femininely thin, hind legs from well muscled haunches and only a single, sinewy foreleg supported his taut body. He was still, his thoughts dislocated. But standing on the shoal, a small bark was emitted from the scenery behind him, and his relaxed ears flinched. A wolf comfortable around others, Lach spun around sleekly (he was as able bodied as any mann, even on three legs.
"Hello," he called out to her, his voice masculine and level.
___________ all good things come to an end [/blockquote] [/size] it was actually horribly difficult for me not to put something funny and stupid in my post. "... his spirit stolen... oh wait, no. just his leg." o u o
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Post by epitaph on Jun 27, 2009 0:05:51 GMT -5
diversions and deviations;
“I hope I’m not intruding.,, she murmured, alto voice oozing from her maw and riding on the wind to the male’s auds. She crawled a little closer before standing on all fours and moving to the pool of water, keeping an irresolute distance between their carcasses. Once by the mere she dropped her trap into the nectar of life and lapped a relief from its recesses. The cool liquid poured down her throat to rest coolly in her belly, comfort from the radiant heat at last. All of summer should be spent by something as refreshing as a lake or river.
Mahogany gaze scrutinized the man, but not in a manner that would be thought of as rude. Merely examining the figure of him, something was out of place; she couldn’t decide why he seemed to look so strange. Perhaps it was the bright ginger of his pelt; the markings that made him seem so much more domestic than a wolf should be standing out from the mute tainted white of how own, where tawny and mud mixed with mild black and greys and milk stayed dominant in the mixture of pigment.
It took her a while before she noticed, there was a limb missing from the males’ body, a crucial forelimb that should’ve been there to help the male stand straight, though he didn’t seem at all hindered but such a loss. She dismissed the though, feeling it might bring up anger, sorrow, and various other mixed emotions that the large fae tried her best to avoid.
count; 258 remarks; Sorry for the wait, took me a bit before I thought of something to do during this post.
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Post by L A C H on Jun 28, 2009 9:53:41 GMT -5
” His slender plume waved once, gently. Observing her, he noted her unusual, but elegant height draped in cool tones of rock and earth. She was his sister mirrored, he thought faintly, almost entirely in the back of his mind. Siberia had been tall as well, though maybe not as tall as this stranger, and her pelt was dappled slate and chocolate. The only physical attribute that was truly discernible was eye color. His sister, Siberia, had eyes the color of the sea.
___________ all good things come to an end
[/color][/ul] it's okay... mine's short and not-so-great.
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Post by Ƨγnєrgγ on Jun 28, 2009 17:59:00 GMT -5
The time was perhaps Syn's least favourite. As the heat of the day waned, and those beasts that hid from the noon sun rose again, the whole air felt drowsy with hushed reluctance to yield to the coming twilight, the following darkness, and farther off, the morrow. The afternoon had a lazy attitude about it that dragged on the young varg's temper; Syn wanted nothing better than to shake off the thickness of the day and make his way into the cool night.
Tender underbrush yielded to advancing paws, and Syn's desultory flight from sloth. Even as he slowed of his own accord, a bark rang out somewhere to his north. Tan auds flicked in the direction from whence followed unintelligible mumbles. Pushing through another layer of vegetation, amber eyes locked on two forms standing near a large pool of water. The air became lighter, and Syn could imagine a light breeze licking through his beige pelt.
As the pair were yet unaware of his presence, Synergy stiffened his neck, and stepped forward, tenderly at first. Vision adjusted to the lighter clearing, and auds filled with the pitch and whine of insects who's short lives centred around the clearing, Synergy grew infinitely more confident and stepped out onto the soil at the bank of the pool. Moist sand gave way to his paws, and as the cool earth wet his pads, he made a point to pay no mind to the two varg standing but thirty metres from his own flank. He flicked a dark tail once, and twice, then bent his neck to the pool, filling his mouth with cool water. Although aware of the two that cohabited the glade, Synergy was clear in that he would not hail them without reason; the young varg was curious, but not nosy.
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Post by epitaph on Jun 28, 2009 22:20:57 GMT -5
diversions and deviations;
She likewise bowed to the male. “A pleasure, I am Leif.,, He was of no notable resemblance to any in her family. All had been large wolves meant for fighting, all had been trained in the art – she had been the only one to weasel her way out of the cross fires of a bitterly possessive father and a secretly bloodthirsty mother. Whatever happened in Ursa was no concern of hers, the pacifistic fae who had been borne of their violence, no her only concern would be of middle Theo and how he would fare with those terrors, of Emil and if he might've been next. Perhaps there was more to fear than she really cared to consider, but for now the matter was out of her paws and couldn't take up her mind when she had survival to think about.
Her tail dangled behind her body, swaying slowly to show her ease in the situation. The second male had entered quietly; she didn't notice him until she heard the soft lapping of water away from her haunches. Her cranium did a pivot quickly, auds perking at the sudden sound that cause her body to become rigid. Once she was sure he wasn’t about to be any trouble she relaxed noticeable. Even after spending a month here, she wasn’t at all used to running into other wolves. Her pelt twitched at her shoulders as her hackles lowered as the summer wind whirled around the mystical clearing where the three had chanced a gathering.
She turned her attention back to Lach, as she had just been introduced, and gave a gentle smile – not that her smile had faltered by much, but her small start had caused the upturned lips to waver with something that could be called shock written in her features. There was always a worry in her body, even if she hid it on most occasions.
count; 317
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Post by L A C H on Jun 29, 2009 9:59:05 GMT -5
Lach bobbed his head in acknowledgement, thinking her name was fairly pretty if not sort of plain. Eyes with Leif center stage, there was still no shimmer of livelihood, of significance. But his thoughts lingered on his sister, recalling how she had wed so young to the hunter of an ally pack and left their ranks even before him. Last he heard (thank Fenris for curious little birdies), his darling older sister with sparkling puppy-blue eyes and mud-smeared grin had become with child.
As a third party approached, paused, and drank from the lake, Lach’s sonics alone twisted to the sound. He did not expect a wolf, but the scent of another mascu perfumed the area within moments. Unclouded orbs roving to the origin of the noise, his slim tail gave a wag. Perhaps it was in a fatherly tone: “Would you like to join us? We have only just introduced ourselves.” His offer was soft and warm though certainly audible.
“I’m only a Kerl on these lands,” came his abridged story in clear oration; he didn’t need to pour his mediocre drama on their backs (was depression-driven wanderlust even a story?). He also didn’t need to be a swift judge, but his heart decided that they had unhappy tales themselves. Not knowing if he was a good audience for such things, he was hesitant to pry.
___________ all good things come to an end
[/blockquote] [/size]
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Post by Ƨγnєrgγ on Jun 30, 2009 13:05:16 GMT -5
Perls of their bells met Syn's auds as the two exchanged short formalities to his right. He learned first, that the two spoke the common tongue, and the varg was slightly disappointed, but not surprised; he was no longer in the cold northern Slavic lands. Synergy breathed deeply of sweet summer air as if to remind himself of his new locale. As the male's voice rung out in his direction, Synergy lifted his head, redrawing the last several droplets of cool water into his jowls. Golden oculars scanning his would-be interlocutors, his mind snagged as the male (he had overheard his name as Lach) fell aside from the expected mold of a wolf. A momentary sense of vertigo swam over his vision, and before the world righted itself, Synergy saw that the male had only one foreleg. The varg dismissed it for the moment, but of course could not deny his curiosity.
Still, Synergy responded calmly with slightly boyish contratenor notes, often descending into the tenor range, clear reminders of his imminent adulthood. «Hello. I've overheard your name as Lach?» Syn inquired rhetorically. «Mine is Synergy, but you may call me Syn. And you,» He nodded to the femme courteously, «you are Leif?»
Synergy stepped forward slowly, pads settling into the brown and orange clay sand at the banks of the pool. He could feel the fur around his paws and ankles wet already, grit from the bare earth slicked against his skin. Approaching the pair, he sized them up. His earlier trepidation was entirely gone.
The femme, leif, was large for her gender, and it made Syn curious of her bloodline. The male however, was not shaped in any odd fashion aside from his missing limb. It was a queer standoff between the three, and Synergy wondered what other unique wolves left tracks in this valley.
The tan varg grinned, and returned his gaze to Lach. «You said you were a kerl. Where then, was your home?» Having heard little of the femme other than politeness, Syn would wait for her to volunteer more before he would attempt much dialogue.
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Post by epitaph on Jul 7, 2009 3:37:03 GMT -5
diversions and deviations; A lazy smile reached her face as she turned over her shoulder again, attention directed at the male behind. “Yes, please do,,, what she did not mention was that it would be better than him eavesdropping on a conversation, and more polite to include himself in their socializing. “It would seem that we are all nomads of these lands today.,, Commented the large fae, Leif made a motion with her head, as if beckoning for the other to join their gathering that had begun. It was a good time for gathering, sunlight pouring down on the forms through the trees in soft rays of heat and delicacy that dappled, danced, and swirled on water’s surface.
To his tones she would nod as he offered his name in compensation for their own, it was the natural thing to do upon joining into a conversation or gathering of which one was invited. She nodded to tell him he was correct in assuming that her name was Leif, it was the moniker that her father and mother had given her at least a year ago upon her birth.
As Syn’s tones again broke the lofty afternoon and posed a question – directed to their companion, Lach. Audits twitched as her attention turned to watch the snowy ginger male with eyes of sparkling emerald and an allure that could only be called friendly.
count; 228 remarks; lol Lief, I make that mistake a lot too. I keep telling myself that spelled that way her name would be Life and not Leaf. Also, this post sucks so bad. I’m sorry. T^T
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Post by L A C H on Jul 7, 2009 11:09:45 GMT -5
[/color],” and his return was plainly said, but warm. Lach didn’t remember which direction he had traveled so clearly, and that was half of his problem returning home. A flip of his slender broom, and the tall mann watched Fenris’s rays squeeze through the gaps of the canopy and illuminate the lake. Spheroids more like a pair of raindrops, stones of gaspeite pinched up at the corners, watched the dust motes swirling a few inches above their heads in common eye contact aversion. “ My homelands are not very big, you see,” Lach furthered his answer. Elodea coated his single forepaw, enveloping his digits like a tiny emerald mermaid. “ And what about you two?” he reflected the question back. ___________ all good things come to an end [/size][/color][/ul] [ word of the post : littoral which is growing on or near a shore of a lake, sea, or ocean. Or intertidal or just pertaining to the coast or shore. And lolol at elodea. I did a science fair project with them once.]
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Post by Ƨγnєrgγ on Jul 7, 2009 13:51:14 GMT -5
Synergy paused, optics scanning back and forth between the two. He had a sense that the conversation between the three was making little traction. Synergy inhaled deeply, and released the pressure with a low whine, a hum descending as the basso-continuo to the chorus of the waterfall beyond the waters at their feet.
Synergy began: «This whole thing seems tense. I'm afraid if our introductions don't hold, then neither will our conversation.» The young varg eyed the femme, leif. She seemed stiff. To himself, Syn hoped that he didn't appear so reserved, although he suspected it wasn't his aura that the trio would be drawing from. Lach, the male, however, seemed a bit more comfortable, alive. «Your leg,» Synergy interjected, letting the words fall like punctuation. Synergy grinned while he spoke, imagining the weight of his meaning pulling his tones to the earth at their feet. His eyes were fixed on Lach now. «Is that why you left your homeland?» Syn knew the question was forward, but it begged to be asked. «I'd like to hear the story there.»
In his curiosity, Synergy felt as though he had missed something. Pupils widened in the dying light picked apart the sand at Synergy's feet as he gathered his thoughts. Where he stood there was little debris from the water, and tiny glimmering crystals yielded to the varg's wet paws. The earth nearly drew his attention away from the conversation before he could regain his thoughts to speak again.
Quickly, as though by fleeting though, he answered the query posted in his direction. «I come from a land very far to the north.» As he spoke, he drew nearer to the other two vargs, pads leaving the clean earth where he stood to trod upon the mess of plants and dark shapes that the other two had inspected in their own thoughts. Synergy was amused as he drew in their scents, circling to Lach's flank, while casting interested gazes across the gap in space to the femme's form.
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Post by epitaph on Jul 7, 2009 15:55:45 GMT -5
diversions and deviations;
Bodice twitched as various insects tentatively landed, only for precarious take off thereafter. She wasn’t at all tense, as was floating around in Synergy’s mind, quite the contrary. She had a lazed expression, and her body was allowed to bask in the warm of the day. If he’d caught her weeks ago she would have been very tense, attempting to set a false trail with her sister’s scent. To lead father away if he so chose to follow. But hopefully he wouldn’t, she would dread the day that Arvid would arrive, spittle on his maw and prepared to shred her throat for stealing away his darling, precious little cub. Would she fight to protect Amira when that day is to come?
Her plume swayed slowly, sweeping the ground and picking up various debris like twigs, grit, and foliage. Gentle eyes watched the males while careful auds listened to their words, still included in the conversation it seemed, and she spoke in her turn as it arrived in the circle that had begun to center their conversational order. “I come from the opposite end of the river’s waters, far enough and yet still so close.,, There was a strange note to end her verse, a small regret that she was still so near, even after a month it was feeling still dangerous, the brief moment allowed her to console herself in mind only – and not body. She instructed that she was still far enough, the comfort of those words like delicate down pillow.
And then it was Lach’s turn again, the unavoidable query of his leg. Though Leif thought it rude to bring up such unhappy circumstance, she was sure Lach had his story well rehearsed by now, or perhaps he would be angered by such a thing. Either way the question was voiced, it was there in the open for all to hear, and as such attention would be pressured onto the male, where Leif would slightly advert her gaze so as to ease such heavy burden.
count; 337 remarks; Synergy, it’s Leif… not Lief…
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Post by L A C H on Jul 7, 2009 16:36:30 GMT -5
[/color],” and he looked to the female with a twinkle in his emerald spheres. The tawny boy had a shadow of gossip sitting on his withers, so Lach entirely put away the idea of sharing his war stories. Giving a toss to his drying encolure of amber and orange, he watched the small tide lick at his talons, his eggshell toes. Synergy was a curious boy, and Lach knew that pups had more questions than there were answers in the world. Always a neutral adult, always a teacher, the tall mascu let Synergy's mind (and perhaps the more docile Leif's thoughts as well) collect with hypotheses. After all, it would have taking a lot of nursing and trouble for a varg's leg to even be allowed to heal this well. If not for the kindness of his pack, he would have never even survived the night nor been fed while he couldn't hunt. There was something melancholy lurking beneath the sounds of Leif's voice, things hidden in her syllables. Lach pitched his eyes expectantly in her direction. ___________ all good things come to an end [/size][/color][/ul] [ word of the post : encolure – the mane of a horse.] not a great post.
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Post by Ƨγnєrgγ on Jul 7, 2009 20:22:50 GMT -5
It came to Syn perhaps a little too late that he was unwanted there. The varg gritted his teeth. It frustrated him a little that he was forever incapable of pulling off a clean conversation with any other. Still the concerns washed away from his mind as quickly as they bathed his judgement: in the end he knew he'd chalk it all up to some disharmony between him and his peers, whether he'd known them for months, or a few fleeting seconds. The varg sighed, at once missing the puff of condensed breath that would have been expelled from his nares had he been at home in the north. He let his mind wander for a second before coming to a resolution.
Although somewhat inept at expressing his own sentiments, Synergy was not the least bit dull, nor did he lack any senses of perception. His auric gaze caught the fall of Leif's own orbs as he voiced his query on Lach's leg. He would have dismissed her opinion on his faux pas as simple discomfort on her part had it not been for Lach's response that followed. The bell tolled clear in Synergy's mind.
Eyes wandering up and down Leif's form, Synergy began to voice his concerns. «Do my questions make you uncomfortable?» He gave her no time to respond before pivoting on the mann. «I would have called the foul hers had it not been for your taken offence.» He dipped his muzzle slightly in apology, tail falling, ringing unconscious submissive tones. Still, his hackles grew out of anger, or frustration. For now, Synergy was unsure to whom his choler was directed. He would decide later.
Synergy stepped backwards once, putting space between himself and the two. The heat dissipated dramatically. For one of the yellow humour, he seemed to prefer the chilled melancholic black bile of his lonesome to what had begun beneath his very maw. Synergy considered a growl, dropped the idea, and retreated further. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was anger rather than some earthy humour that confused his position.
«Well, I suppose I've made an ass of myself, and I'd hate to be a nuisance.» He turned his flank to the pair, preparing to leave, but paused as though waiting permission from the male who had gained the upper tooth. Synergy exhaled, emptying his lungs, and set copper orbs on his interlocutors for their replies.
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