Author Topic: Regrets collect like old friends [open]  (Read 2043 times)

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Offline Luxord.

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Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« on: February 27, 2016, 11:08:32 PM »
((This is liquid-timed BEFORE the war officially starts. I hope that's okay!))

A long time ago, he had appeared amongst the violet flowers of Inaria’s outskirts. The sky had been clear, the breeze a gentle swell. She had found him there, challenged him on his stroll—a sore thumb out of place, not one of hers. His laissez faire approach to things like packs and borders and rules had rankled her, and she nearly chased him off—and if she had, oh, if she had—perhaps her nation would have been a better place.

Maybe she, that old alpha Whitewind, would still be watching the flowers bloom in her twilight years.

Their son, the sweet but meek Elias would have never lost his head to the old kingdom’s Dragon.

Their daughter, Haylyn, would have never been forced to accept the heavy mantle of leadership, and in turn her son would have never broken her heart when he claimed it for himself.

But she hadn’t chased him off, had she? He told her a storm was coming—a bad one. That she would want to take shelter, that time spent chasing his old bones from her land would cost her. She hadn’t believed him. Who would? Not a thunderhead to speak of—she turned him away, and he went. But not far, never far—the storm’s heralds arrived and chased her down. Old alpha Whitewind would have died that day, had he not lingered—and the storm he foretold broke. The flowers he walked through that day weren’t there the next, torn stems and strewn petals across the miles of destruction.

Yet—he hadn’t been there when the real storm came for her, had he? But no weatherman predicts right every time. He cast his die and he won again and again. Probability, the backstabbing old viper, catches up to every dirty old gambling man eventually.

He’d never been suited to have a family. Chased off, gone, trailing his wins and loses like a tattered old scarf. Filling his time with charming vixens who licked his wounds that never quite healed. He took the fall for the Queen’s death and lost his children. The Siren left him (he lost his children). The Muse he followed into the lion’s den and made war with, settling old scores belonging to rosethorn crowns.

Ah, but when Alteron fell and was reborn, she never remembered her vow to him. He fought with her, spilt blood for that old rotten kingdom that had once been his enemy. He waited and he grew older as the seasons changed. The Muse sat in council meetings and championed an old lover’s son—one he never believed in, but never told her—and gradually forgot about him.

She’d gotten what she’d wanted, after all.

Like the ghost he was, he faded from Artih’s memory and her life, returning to the rogues and bachelors of the forest. He traveled and left the war of Alteron behind. He had a daughter that he’d promised—when his business was done—he’d come home. He’d finally come home. They’d catch up on lost time. He knew that most of his promises were lies. That old, venerated kingdom had a reward posted for his tired bones. But maybe he would get to see her before cashing in and clocking out. Haylyn. She looked so much like her mother.

The flowers weren’t in bloom when he approached this time, paws crunching through the crust of week old snow. Places were always warmer, softer, and more beautiful in fond memories than in the harsh cold of reality. He waits where he sensed the border, alone in the vast whiteness of the world.

There was once a time when he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Offline Weiss [rp]

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #1 on: March 08, 2016, 12:24:33 AM »
[ Kay if you still do want first post lmk and I'll edit this to reflect anything Ghost says/does! <3 I'm just going through what I owe ]

Weiss shivered as nerves at her spine flared with every scrape of her nails against the crunching ice as she tried to get her bearings by searching for landmarks in the blanket of snow that covered her homeland. It had been so long since she had wandered out of her den for anything but a desperate attempt at a meal, since the tail end of September in fact, and much had changed in her absence. She had heard the whispers of war looming over the horizon which had her tail tucking between her heels ever so slightly when they did not cease, and certain voices familiar in her childhood had long fallen silent. She hardly recognized anybody anymore, and with a careful blink realized that she also did not recognize the strange gentleman she had stumbled upon as her head came down from the clouds.

But there was an air about this stranger that made the fur on the back of her neck rise, and the girl tried to swallow the ball of anxiety that thickened like sludge on her tongue.

"Hello there..." Her greeting wasn't much more than a soft murmur that escaped a chattering jaw, her energy reserve low enough nowadays that she was scrapping the bottom of the barrel for any dregs she could use. Disabled and without anyone to care for her or help her, staying alive and keeping herself fed was a struggle every day. "Did you need s-some help with s-something... ?"

Perhaps the gambler would see how from her build to her demeanor she was a shadow of a young son long past, her seasonal coloring that of a lover long left cold, and would make the logical jump to the color of the blood that ran through both their veins.



She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.


|Roleplayed by Kookamunga|

Offline Luxord.

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #2 on: April 28, 2016, 01:54:18 AM »
The sound of her dainty, hesitant gait is the first thing about her that he notices. He wonders who has come to greet him with false pleasantries and doubts, turning a grizzled, age-whitened muzzle towards her. Perhaps it was his age, a little mental lapse that triggered upon seeing the girl on the old snow. Perhaps it was his weariness finally taking a toll on him, and she was not actually there, a hallucination played by light bouncing off of the finely ground ice crystals. Perhaps the afterlife was real, perhaps the beliefs he’d held all his life were lies—here she was, her spirit, her ghost, and he stands to greet her.

Whitewind.

Something changes before her name leaves his lips. The sun moves an iota. He blinks his eyes and sheds the illusion—he’s known Whitewind to be dead all these many years, HE WATCHED HER DIE—but the triple beat of his heart, lodged firmly in his throat…

Ha, he thinks, you’re getting weak, old man.

Her whisper of a voice is enough to encase his paws in cement and toss his foolish dream off the end of the dock. He smiles at her, the stiff winter breeze whistling quietly through the hoops that hang from his ears, and he shakes his head. “No,” he says softly, the vision of her swimming in front of him, nothing a blink of his eyes couldn’t fix—“Just an old stranger come ‘round again…” He relives his past, looking at that frail girl that was Whitewind but most decidedly not. A wisp, a slip, a little nothing to the piss and vinegar that was that old bastion of Inaria—but there’s a part of him that plays along, the part that keeps bringing him back to this old kingdom that never wanted him.

There’s a storm comin’,” he remarks, turning an eye to a sky of white blanketing clouds. “Think it’ll cover up all this old snow.” He sucks on his teeth and nods, looking back down at her, flashing his teeth in that same old flippant smile. “You look hungry,” he comments, not unkindly, his tail giving a brief wag. “Let’s you and I rustle up a bite for you to eat, then you take shelter wherever you can, what do you say?

For old time’s sake, young, sweet child.

You won’t want to be out in the storm,” he advises, a deep part of him knowing as it did so many years ago that he would never leave her to die, “So we better get goin’.
« Last Edit: April 28, 2016, 01:58:00 AM by Luxord. »

Offline Weiss [rp]

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #3 on: April 28, 2016, 04:28:19 AM »
[Will edit for typos in the morning because it is 4 AM now but I had to get a reply out gdi sev you know how to play me like a fiddle ilu]



"A s-storm... ?" The warning had her head tipping towards the heavens above as her eyes traced where the swelling clouds began to distend, and her tail began to scythe inwards at the idea of an extended winter. Paranoia told her that he was just telling her what she wanted to hear, that he could read her desperate struggle to survive etched in the curves of her ribs and was playing on just that, but something else was whispering that there was something more to it all. How would helping a dying girl benefit him at all- was he looking to bribe or hurt her? But Weiss could feel a pull in her chest towards the old male, something utterly magnetic about him drawing her to him, and she took a step undeniably marked in hesitance to him and the picture he was painting that she found herself craving.

But again, there was hesitance.

She had not the will or the strength of the paragon that was her ancestor- had not the lips torn from her face by treasonous, cowardly teeth that thristed for power while a mother still nursed her children, but no one could say that there was not a resemblance in the determined furrow in her brow or in the way her head was held when the demons who brought it low were shaken at the grips when a fierce sort of curiosity had taken root.

"Ah, a question first? I-If that's all right... ?"

There was something about the way this man held himself that spoke about an intimate familiarity with the land- a familiarity that while draped over his back like a favorite coat also rankled the wounds underneath with every shift, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. Pain and yearning were both languages she could sing in like they rang from within the marrow at the core of her bones, and while many often confused the slowness of her depressed person for a equally simple mind that ran just as sluggish, there was a sharp undercurrent that hummed bright in eyes colored by ancient winds and war.

Oh he was no true stranger this old stranger of hers, that she knew for certain. Of course she knew not who he was or what he meant to this place, her knowledge of history and the blood that ran deep and stained it very much lacking due to a prison sentence cast upon her by a mind that rebelled against her body and soul, but she very much knew how to read the easy slope of the shoulders of a man come home.

This was where his body was telling him he belonged, and it seemed that after so many years of hearing it maybe he had begun to isten.

"Will you stay, old stranger?" she wondered in a soft murmur that spilled from her lips in quiet, colorless plumes into the frigid air between them, and offered him a smile that would perhaps warm the space. "If the s-storm is as bad as you say it is, will you seek s-shelter as well?"
« Last Edit: April 28, 2016, 05:30:01 AM by Weiss [rp] »



She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.


|Roleplayed by Kookamunga|

Offline Luxord.

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #4 on: April 28, 2016, 05:56:14 PM »
Yes,” he assures her, knowing in the marrow of his bones that there would be a storm—perhaps not tonight, probability was a cruel mistress—but soon, there was always the chance of a storm on the next horizon. Gut feelings were a foolish way to predict the weather, but it had only led him astray half of the time—decent odds, if you really wanted to think of them like that. He watches her, seeing hesitance and yes, undoubtedly hunger. “I won’t hurt you,” the old fighter promises the fledgling in the snow. He meant it, though the scars beneath shifting fur wrote a different story—one that his larger than life reputation resolutely backed. It proceeded him with every step that brought him closer to the hallowed violet boughs that sheltered her body, his son’s body.

He smiles through a grim acceptance of this fact when she proposes a question. The other shoe falls, promising to destroy this perfectly pristine moment—but he, as always, was in the business of dangerous hopes. Chances on dances an loaded dice—he smiles at her with battle worn teeth, smiles in that easy, charming, disarming way, and promises, silently, again, I will never hurt you.

After all these years, all the hardships and loss, he wouldn’t take the cynic’s path at the end of his long journey. Ask your question, his eyes urge, and he prepares himself for the worst while rolling on the best.

She surprises him into a chuckle, asking not for his name (an old trap, he might say), not for why he had come, for none of the things he expected. What she does, this shade of Whitewind that haunts her old copse, is what Inaria has never done for him in all of these wasted years—

Open the door that had long since closed and rusted shut.

If,” he addresses her, knowing full well that she wasn’t his old love now, that wonderful harpy who turned him away until he proved utterly useful—“you’ll have me.

What a sweet girl, hungry and alone here in the wastes—cherished was this moment of acceptance and anonymity, amused and touched in turn by an old ghost holding the door open to him as he was, he wouldn’t allow her to make this mistake, to carry his troubles.

My name is Luxord,” he bows his head and lays down his hand, revealing the King of Diamonds up his sleeve, “What may I call you?

Offline Ghost

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #5 on: April 29, 2016, 08:24:18 AM »

Sorry but you are not allowed to view spoiler contents.


There had been some distance to travel, blustering wind pushing against his sides and frazzling his sense of direction momentarily as loose dirt and fallen leaves swirled about. Mainly coating and irritating those intense grey eyes, forcing a pause to rub them clear. They stung and watered, and likely would be annoying him until a proper flush in the stream later. Resuming the relaxed pace, pushing against the wind with a shoulder.

The search hadn't been for Weiss, the Sister he had attempted to seek months before with no success. How many moon cycles had passed since the pair had seen one another? Too many to count, or be able to recall. Yet it was her he found, not Haylyn. The girl disappeared from view before Ghost could call out to her, the distance was too great anyways. So instead, he simply followed with a stronger pace than before.

Yet, in the time it took the stocky King to catch up she'd found someone else. Someone unfamiliar but who spoke as if he knew Inaria, though, there was something... About him. A draw. Ghost too, felt the magnetic pull Weiss did. He grew nervous but made no move to act on it, only moving to Weiss' side and searching this older male's posture for answers. He was relaxed, calm... kind.

“My name is Luxord, What may I call you?”

Ghost wasn't as relaxed as Luxord as the introduction was made, previous conversation missed by his arrival a few good minutes behind Weiss. Side-stepping to leave less space between himself and Weiss, his beige eyes met their mirror, the familiarity causing him the frown ever so slightly. Waiting for Weiss to speak before he did.

"Ghost."
« Last Edit: April 29, 2016, 08:24:28 AM by .Ghost. »
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Offline Weiss [rp]

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #6 on: May 03, 2016, 10:36:24 PM »
Weiss nodded, her trust in this man- this stranger really, implicit. She had no explanation for the pull she felt towards him, this comfort she felt in his presence, but just when she was about to say more her ears picked up a familiar tread on the horizon. It was her oldest brother, and just the sight of him made her duck her head and her eyes as he approached. To someone out of their circle it might have seemed submissive or afraid, but truthfully the reflexive gesture was born out of shame for how far her condition had deteriorated and the fact that her failure now had such a personal witness.

"Luxord..."

The name sounded so familiar, something Merope had mentioned years ago in her attempts to educate a princess unable to care for herself about the history of their kingdom, but as of now for the life of her she could not place it. Bicolored eyes flickered to her brother to see if it was a different story there, but nevertheless she offered the older gentleman a smile that was a shadow of the first as her frayed nerves sung their anxiety.

"I'm Weiss," she said to the man who unbeknownst to them had lent the gray to both their pelts long before their father had, and she looked over a shoulder at her brother when she heard him step even closer to her. There the two familial pillars stood in front of the foundation that had built them up so long ago- one with strong shoulders that carried them all and a cautious eye, and the other with a welcoming sort of warmth even as she lingered on the verge of wasting away. "He says there's a s-storm coming," the girl murmured to her littermate loud enough so the other male wouldn't think they were keeping secrets, and she couldn't help but shift to lean against Ghost's side when the windchill became too much for her sparse coat to handle. "I offered him s-shelter, since he had offered to help."

But she did not have the ultimate authority in this situation anymore, not with the King present, so her word did not matter much in the wake of his entrance. Waiting for a decision to be made on this stranger come home, she hoped that Ghost would realize that Luxord had been nothing but courteous and hadn't asked for anything.

She felt like she at least owed him the same amount of respect.



She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.


|Roleplayed by Kookamunga|

Offline Luxord.

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #7 on: May 11, 2016, 03:58:01 PM »
He smiles encouragingly at the girl as she repeats his name, eyes drifting just past her at giant that dwarfed her. Fringe, he suspects, wondering if the experiments of a time before him continued still—would Whitewind turn over in her grave, mourning the deaths of children that might have been prevented? Playing God was as much of a gamble as anything else in life—the payoffs, of course, were bigger and the consequences more dire—nothing he had the stomach for, but he’d loved that old woman for a reason, hadn’t he?

He shakes his head slightly, laughing under his breath as he observes the two in front of him. What fortune, really, that he should find them here—ghosts, the two of them, finding warmth and familiarity in one another and strangely, in a stranger. “Siblings?” he guesses, willing to bet on the answer. He allows them their moment, their explanations, their bond—he wonders, for a brief moment, who their father is. The red, he’s certain, is not his—perhaps something recessive, but here he was jumping to conclusions! He knew better than that. Allow for chance, prepare for loss, and the world will never catch you unaware.

Now,” he proceeds with a gruff clearing of his throat, “Ghost… let us be good lads and fetch something for sweet Weiss to eat, mm?” He looks into his own eyes, barring fangs in a good natured grin. “If we dawdle any longer, I’m afraid she’ll starve waiting on we two fools!” Overstep your bounds, show familiarity not earned—and as he turns away from the King, he scents the air, fur swept by nefarious winds. “There should still be hares about at this time of year… perhaps the odd deer?

He tosses a look over his shoulder with eloquent ease, eyes dancing. “Which do you prefer, little Weiss? I will find you your favorite.

Offline Haylyn

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #8 on: July 14, 2016, 02:31:00 AM »
It was his scent that drew her like an old haggard witch from the thorny keep she had selected so carefully. How long had it been, exactly, since she had gone into hiding? Too long, far to long - the former queen had moved like a phantom through the jacaranda trees, riding out the winter mostly on her own, and being on her own into the spring and summer. Shoulders rolled, joints popping with stiffness and disuse.

Haylyn tracked her father's scent through the lush forest, head hanging low with nose to the ground, tail low behind her. It wasn't that she was trying to go about unseen by anyone, it was just... easier, when she got to decide whether or not to interact with someone else. After the loss of her crown to her son, it had been.. hard for the royal-blooded woman to look anyone in the eyes, and so she had simply decided to withdraw until she could face everyone again.

It seemed to her that that time had come.

Mingled in with Luxord's scent was that of her daughter, Weiss. Immediately her pace quickened, ears perking forward to catch any snippets of conversation that she could. As Haylyn neared, she smelled Ghost's scent as well, and for a moment her pace slowed almost to a stop, uncertainty flashing through her mind like a blast of electric light. The sky blue girl inhaled deeply and forced herself to continue onward, pace rising to a steady trot until finally her children and her father were in view. She approached at a slowed pace, first moving over toward Weiss and nuzzling carefully into her daughter's neck ruff, withdrawing after a short moment and smiling softly at her with mazarine eyes bright and apologetic, loving, worried -- always worried. Then, to Ghost she approached almost hesitantly, but with love and care in her bright blue eyes nonetheless. If allowed, she would press her forehead under his chin and give a few motherly licks to his ruff.

Then she faced him, regarding Luxord with a strained sense of wonder and uncertain affection - but affection still. "It's.. been a while, huh?" she asked no one, asks everyone. Haylyn lifted her head then, straightening out her spine from it's slightly hunched position, standing tall and looking her father over before speaking once more, throat almost too-tight with tension. "I missed you. A lot has happened. Weiss, Ghost," she addressed them both, positioning herself to be able to see all three of her family members. "I'm sorry I haven't been here for you guys lately.. I intend to change that." Her muzzle tipped down as she spoke, eyes wandering the ground and inspecting the grass, the mother too ashamed of herself and her actions to look up as she admitted her wrongdoings. As her sentence finished, Haylyn forced her gaze to rise, looking at Ghost, at Weiss.

"This is Luxord.. your grandfather." Haylyn had never been one for subtleties.



cries please excuse this, i'm trying to get the hang of posting with her!

 

show me your true colours in their blinding brightness
show me your true colours like they glow in the night
when you are dreaming. forget about the others
the unbearable lightness of our being
   

Offline Rhiow

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #9 on: November 13, 2016, 08:16:07 PM »
(( :)?? ))

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"Formerly" known as Serrate/Fortune/Sevena!

Offline Weiss [rp]

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #10 on: November 13, 2016, 08:26:18 PM »
don't do it it's a trap



She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.


|Roleplayed by Kookamunga|

Offline Rhiow

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #11 on: November 13, 2016, 08:36:55 PM »
WEISS!!! GIRL!!! YOU BETTER RESPOND TO THIS THREAD, GIRL!!!

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Offline Weiss [rp]

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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #12 on: November 13, 2016, 08:56:59 PM »
someone get this man his life alert and glasses



She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.


|Roleplayed by Kookamunga|

Offline Hayley


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Re: Regrets collect like old friends [open]
« Reply #13 on: February 23, 2017, 11:32:18 PM »
shoves this up



There is no difference in what we're doing in here
That doesn't show up as bigger symptoms out there
So why spend all our time in dressing our bandages
When we've the ultimate key to the cause right here,
our underneath