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Topic Started: Jan 25 2011, 10:42 PM (170 Views)
Audrey
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[quote author=Rip link=topic=31025.msg215108#msg215108 date=1301159175]
Ooc: oh my god I can’t write today. I apologize of this mangled shit of a post.
---
Sunlight sliced through the canopy, splashing stripes onto the undergrowth below. Brilliant gold outlined the edges of thick trees, illuminating insects scurrying up the bark. Their armor flashed like eyes, like teeth, inheritably beautiful but deadly things. Beyond the leaves and twisted branches, clouds whisked the sky, playing a game of hide and seek with the sun. The day was still crisp, carrying potential for the stone—sink or swim.

A small, cream-coated she-wolf traveled down a broken path in the center of the forest. Calling her a wolf was most definitely giving the creature too much credit because no wolf had such long legs. No wolf had such a slight body. And no wolf, not even a dog, would have such an abnormal tail that curled underneath instead of overtop. It was quite lucky then that Thayle never held titles too close. Even she had a difficult time explaining what she was (a porpoise, she’d offer sometimes, with a hint of seal and perhaps even a little bit of blackbird), and in the end often gave up on it.

Or perhaps she was just plain useless.

Whatever-she-was walked through the thorns and pricker bushes without notice, craning her neck over larger hills that towered into her road. She scented the marker yesterday, and of course understood what it meant. She was at the brink of some large pack of probably-not-porpoises, and there was a chance she could join them. The implications of acceptance meant a lot of good and very little of bad, if it lived up to her dizzy daydreams concocted on the journey to the boarders. With any luck, it would offer a warm place to sleep that did not involve angry bears or disgruntled badger. It might also guarantee food with no run-away-from-the-tiger catch.
And maybe, if the world did not hate her so very much, it would even dissolve her nightmares.

If this mystery place, full of magic, could strip away the shadow that itched at her heels every night, she would do anything for it. She’d fly to the moon and bring back its face if they asked her to.

If only company could take away the stench of death.

The boarder came upon her so suddenly that she almost tripped over it, as if it were some real physical barrier that could do such a thing. Thayle glanced around, seeing no one that wanted her to see them, and decided it would be quite impolite to stand like a mentally challenged duck until someone happened upon her. So, she sat, and contemplated how to out the real wolves. Real wolves, as her old pack was very fond of telling her, shouldn’t feel bothered by lesser creatures.

Eyeing the trees with her head inclined towards her shoulder, she called out in a light voice, "Hello wolves. The moon is quite blue, so why don't you come out?"

Mumbling prayers in her head, she begged and pleaded that the gods or spirits or whoever pulled her heartstrings and forced her to strut across the stage would, for once, allow her a better life.

[/quote][quote author=Kashmir link=topic=31025.msg217731#msg217731 date=1301428705]
He followed her inexorably across the stage.

Perhaps Kashmir viewed Thayle like she in turn viewed the beetles, all surface shine and thread-like legs and tiny clicking mandibles, foreign things of mystery that might bite, that could have the propensity to be venomous or otherwise harmful. Or conversely, they (and she by osmosis of metaphor) might belong here, part of this gargantuan machine that was the Inarian forest, which ate itself and lived forever, sheltering the aristocratic wolves within, who he in his delusion believed were the focal point of a world that could be good... but most certainly was not.

And so he'd brandished his own obsessive best to do what he could about this over the years, delivering evil unto evil or simply prowling the borders even though he was not a sentinel, scouting for the acceptable and the undesirable and the hideous, sorted and filtered through a monochrome morality. His own ticking quota might have been satiated for the time being, evidence of this being the ugly healing slash that curled jaggedly from his ear down to long jawbone and crusted beneath thin fur, but Kashmir knew he was not the only one here to account for. Hawkish gaze observed Thayle as together they closed the distance between their bodies, her with a certain desperate serenity and he with a guarded paranoia more befitting a prey animal than a predator.

"Hello wolves. The moon is quite blue, so why don't you come out?" The stranger was poetic, disarming. He would not be swayed or distracted unless he felt inclined to be. So many evil things were stunningly beautiful at their shells, weren't they?

"Only before it all goes black," mused those rustling leaves whose depths Thayle investigated, or perhaps it was just his strange voice, high and thin, curling with its usual soft politeness from his maw as he emerged from the lavender underbrush. The jackal faltered imperceptibly as his own words, too dour to be some awkward joke, too offhand to be all that serious, and one might wonder if he'd meant to utter them at all from such a reaction. Well, social skills had never been his strong suit.

Yellow eyes watched her sharply, inoffensive yet undeniably aware of every move, snout tuned to any scent that might tell a story (good or bad, though he was hopelessly so inured to the latter) of this female. "Who are you?"

A spider or a butterfly?
[/quote][quote author=Rip link=topic=31025.msg218086#msg218086 date=1301450172]
Beneath the branches of the ancient trees, blotched by the shadows they painted over her body, Thayle waited. She was not kept to grow cold in the shade for long. No sooner had the final word slipped past her lips when a creature emerged from the woodlands to greet her.

No, emerged was the wrong word. ‘Formed’. The creature was of the darkness between the ferns and brambles, and he simply chose to mold away from them. He recreated himself from inky blotches in the forest, into flesh and blood.

I’m being silly, she thought, though it didn’t squash the queasy feeling fluttering in her belly. Don’t spoil the dream.

Dreams are dangerous, a philosophy Thayle strained (and succeeded) to repel during her exploration of the outlying forests of wolf country. Every time the threat of attack crept up into her mind, a free floating image of teeth, fully capable of shredding that pretty fur off her back, she viciously expelled it. There was no room here for the possibilities of failure and, least of all, death. Not in the morning, with the sun still shining, warming the nape of her neck, reminding her of her mother’s breath as she cooed sweet nothings into her ear. Death was reserved for the evening, where it would come to her and whisper different things, lay its claws across her chest while her heart throbbed and thudded against its fingertips—a promise.

But it was the morning. There were no promises here. Only opportunities.

”Only before it goes black,” said the male, and for a moment she froze. Head still tilted towards her shoulder, her ears swiveled in his direction, even her eyes went still.

Coincidence, surely.

“When the moon goes black, I shall die,” she replied. “I won’t need you then.”

A small smile, soft while a bit shaky, flowed over her face. Examining him in better light, she realized this ‘wolf’ was more likely a half-breed, similar to herself. That would make things a little smoother.

(but he is full of teeth full of teeth)

Hush.

He asked who she was. She was inclined to answer.

“I dance under the blue moon, like you,” said Thayle. “and sing to it if asked politely.”

She hesitated a moment. Long ago, when the world was sweeter, her father warned her about offering her name to strangers. Father hadn’t warned her about the implications of unknown motives, or not specifically anyway, but rather to fear giving up one’s own name alone. There is power there, old and sour. It was tearing one’s own soul out and handing it over for whatever need the other had for it.

But still, this was the reason she arrived.

“My name is Thayle,” she continued. “and it is very cold. I hope to join you here, where I likewise hope it’s warm.”

[/quote]
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