Author Topic: aftermath [ N ; prp serrate ]  (Read 1019 times)

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Offline Francisca

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aftermath [ N ; prp serrate ]
« on: May 09, 2016, 12:45:15 AM »
[ wow i said id post this like a week ago a+ me. takes place in gemini's camp ]

It's not what she'd expected. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure what she had expected. Gemini's camp is makeshift at best, which is likely good, but seems almost pointlessly careful. How could Saboro not know they were here, by now? Strangers outside the borders didn't matter, but strangers taking a vested interest in helping escapees? Oh, that... that did not seem like an insult Saboro would suffer to live.

Yet, right now, Saboro teetered on the edge of death.

Regardless. Her mind was wandering. These wolves had given her shelter, seen to it that her wounds were not too severe. Now she had taken to a corner of the camp to simply rest where strangers were unlikely to bother her. A moment of quiet, even if the not-so-distant sound of fires roaring across the Ravine and the nightmares of snapping teeth and Uncle Coven coming for her throat made it impossible to sleep.

Restless thoughts running through her head. She needed - she needed -

Motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Franky turned her head, just slightly, only to catch a glimpse of the color. And oh! Oh she was not so stupid to forget what that red hue meant. That brown which ran from the eyes like thick tears (like the cheeks of Sol Katti she knew would be coated in ash). And the curving red marks. Francisca in her brutalized gaze saw three things: one, a bloodline. Two, authority. Three, unfamiliarity. All she needed was to see this wolf's carriage for just a moment, see the ruling body here, and... and so many questions about Gemini were suddenly answered.

"So," she began, her voice low, but just enough to hopefully catch Serrate's attention. Given her charred fur and rasping voice, it would be obvious where Francisca was from. "Who are you?"

Your pack. Your name. Your essence. Anything would do.



#637198
how long, baby, have i been away?
oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days
there ain't language for the things i've seen
and the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams
the truth is stranger than all my dreams
oh, the darkness got a hold on me

i have seen what the darkness does
say goodbye to who I was
i ain't never been away so long
don't look back them days are gone
played by spearstrike

Offline Serrate

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Re: aftermath [ N ; prp serrate ]
« Reply #1 on: June 07, 2016, 05:56:07 PM »
Her return to the camp from the side without escape had been delayed by two eerie children—but she did swing through, murmuring soft words to those that would listen. Bolstering them and herself for what was still to come—they would have to find strength for the flight to come from somewhere, and if it need be from her, she would supply it with gratitude. Tell them, she might have said, tell Saboro that I was strong the whole time, strong in a way that they never valued. But would it matter, if they shouted it across the ravine? Did she care if they acknowledged her? She had, once. But did she now?

New faces and old are scattered across their makeshift camp, and she’s vaguely aware of Echo hanging back until she was prepared to leave again—and she would. She had work left to do with the hours of daylight ticking—there was a disquieting scent of fresh wood smoke that needed investigating—and clearly there was a way across the gap that separated them from the pack proper that she simply hadn’t found. She had nearly left the confines of their camp of rescuers and refugees when a voice comes from one who had seemed, to her, to be resting—

She pauses, a paw held briefly in the air before she sets it down. The ash here had been swept away, unable to settle with any ease amongst so many moving feet. She turns to look at the one who wasn’t sleeping, really look. She looks for a long time, seeking to place the face and finding that she could not—this one was new. Either beyond her notice in her failing last moments as Sabora, or from the time after her wild abandonment of this land that promised to kill her. Familiar in ways that clawed in the dark parts of her mind. Haunting. Her eyes narrow for a moment before she blinks away stinging ash.

Was this one mad? She looks so much like him, the drooling, sad boy. Who had agreed to have children with Zasha? She had to be one of his.

My name is Serrate,” she says softly, finding that she had little voice left in her wretched, cracking throat. “I apologize. I thought I would let you rest.” Her nostrils quiver and she turns her head slightly, trying to track where that uneasy smell came from—there were so many of them here, how could she trace just one? “This group is Gemini. We’re here to help.” There was so much left to do, and how many words could she spare when she had so few left to her—“Please… rest. We’ll need our strength soon enough.

She was kind enough, and surely there would be time for introductions and life stories later—somewhere safe, somewhere cool. Somewhere away from old haunts and their ghosts. Somewhere away from this world that threatened to tear itself apart.
#CD5C5C
The Observatory | Profile
Domino motion,
Jump starts when we touch.
A blackout approaching,
Here it comes now, wish me luck.
It's all over, it's all over, it's all over in a flash.
I can't remember what have I done now?

Offline Francisca

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Re: aftermath [ N ; prp serrate ]
« Reply #2 on: July 07, 2016, 08:00:33 PM »
Her call, if it could be called that, actually draws the attention of the red wolf. One good eye watches, somewhere between curious and scrutinizing, as Serrate approaches. And surprisingly (why?) the stranger is soft to her, weak but reassuring. It seems unlike their line. Katti is - best not thought of, but not quite like this. It's strange. She doesn't know much of it.

The stranger apologizes, urges her to rest. Franky tilts her head slightly, looks around at the camp. "I don't think I can sleep right now," she said, with the hanging implication of not this close to Saboro. If Gemini really understands their predicament, they will understand that. She glanced back up at Serrate. Her voice is still raspy from long disuse and  "You look tired. You should sit, rest your paws for a few minutes." In truth, Franky doesn't know why she is so... eager? For this company. No, that's not it, it's that Serrate feels like the answer to a puzzle she's trying to put together.

If Serrate takes her offer and sits, Franky would be silent for a few moments. They are both tired and plagued by dry throats, but she can't help but ask questions.She has many, but one is most important. "Are you their leader?" It seems natural, of course, that the red bloodline would lead, but still....

The blue girl hesitates a moment longer, aware of the stranger's- aware of Serrate's presence. Perhaps she should give her name, but it feels like giving herself up, like-! Panic dissipates in a moment, and she remembered where she was. Everything smelled like smoke. "My name is Francisca."
« Last Edit: July 07, 2016, 08:01:31 PM by Francisca »


#637198
how long, baby, have i been away?
oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days
there ain't language for the things i've seen
and the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams
the truth is stranger than all my dreams
oh, the darkness got a hold on me

i have seen what the darkness does
say goodbye to who I was
i ain't never been away so long
don't look back them days are gone
played by spearstrike

Offline Serrate

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Re: aftermath [ N ; prp serrate ]
« Reply #3 on: October 18, 2016, 05:51:48 PM »
Of course her urging to rest was refused—would she be able to sleep beneath the falling ash and watchful volcanic eye? Of course not. Of course not. She’s so weary already, and the day has only just begun. Trials lay ahead of her. Ahead of all of them. There were fights left to win. Fires to jump. Ghosts to confront. Bodies to haul. She’s so tired, but she doesn’t know what exhaustion really is. It feels wrong to sit. But sit she does, after a flickering moment of hesitation.

I am,” she murmurs, voice low and husky. It was an answer to it all, wasn’t it? She was tired, but she would lead them from this place or die trying. Returning to the land beyond the rift was not an option. She sits in silence for a time, eyes heavily lidded. Cast in the hazy glow of the mother mountain, she looks nearly how she had long ago—young, afraid, bearing a crown of crushing weight. But she wasn’t, was she? She had been so rigid, back then. She would not have sought the companionship of this familiar stranger—this conversation would have been stilted. One sided. She revels in silence now only to catch her breath.

Things have changed.

Francisca,” she repeats, committing the girl to memory—this, at least, was the same—“I’m glad you made it out.” She takes a deep breath that hitches in her aching throat. Exhales. She looks like she wants to close her eyes. Bow her head. It bobs like one who wants to sleep—but she refrains. Staying still would be the death of her. All of them. Wasn’t that right? She knew they could not linger here long. There was so much that had to be done. So little time to do it. “We… will be leaving by nightfall.

Even that might be too long. What would the wolves of Saboro prioritize—saving their own lands, or the not-quite-strangers at their door? “Do what you can to be ready by then,” she advises, “We have a long way to go before we will be able to rest.
#CD5C5C
The Observatory | Profile
Domino motion,
Jump starts when we touch.
A blackout approaching,
Here it comes now, wish me luck.
It's all over, it's all over, it's all over in a flash.
I can't remember what have I done now?