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+--- Thread: Moonspear by a route obscure and lonely (/showthread.php?tid=20049)
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by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - January 13, 2017
@Alya, only if you have time. [nuzzles]
Stretching north, west, and south of Neverwinter Forest, there was pain — it lurked, too, in the boughs of the evergreens and the empty sky that had swallowed up Allure in addition to Scimitar, Eshe, Lucy, and Rannoch. Often Cypress felt he would never be free of it, and the joy Kjalarr and Ondine shared in the birth of their son drove him deeper into a despondency so profound he felt the very air was thick with it.
The gargoyle shambled through the glen where he’d found Amari and lost Lucy. A heavy sense of regret drove his shoulders and hips into a low-slung slouch as he materialized from shadow to shadow. Amari had kept her promise, returning to the borders of Neverwinter Forest against every possible odd, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her. What would she think of him now? Everyone close to the raven prince had disappeared or been killed — even October and Kendra were missing. Slowly he had come to believe that he was cursed, and for that reason he wanted nothing to do with Kjalarr’s mate and son, let alone his cousins and aunt. Suicide was too foreign a concept for the gangly adolescent, but he’d be lying if he said he wanted to continue existing without the wolves he’d lost. He held on simply because instinct decreed it.
The wandering phantom arrived at the base of a mountain thick with wolfscent, and sulphureous eyes sparked with curiosity that was short-lived and lukewarm at best. Still, with reckless disregard he pressed forward, keeping well outside the territory borders while trying to peer deeper into the unfamiliar territory. It was the first pack he’d encountered outside his natal pack and a small, vicious voice assured him with saccharine venom that he didn’t need to feel guilty about the wolves he cursed here. He could satisfy the atavistic need for companionship without strings or attachment, and if anybody died — well, as long as he kept them at a distance, he couldn’t be held responsible and he needn’t mourn. No harm, no foul.
The gargoyle shambled through the glen where he’d found Amari and lost Lucy. A heavy sense of regret drove his shoulders and hips into a low-slung slouch as he materialized from shadow to shadow. Amari had kept her promise, returning to the borders of Neverwinter Forest against every possible odd, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her. What would she think of him now? Everyone close to the raven prince had disappeared or been killed — even October and Kendra were missing. Slowly he had come to believe that he was cursed, and for that reason he wanted nothing to do with Kjalarr’s mate and son, let alone his cousins and aunt. Suicide was too foreign a concept for the gangly adolescent, but he’d be lying if he said he wanted to continue existing without the wolves he’d lost. He held on simply because instinct decreed it.
The wandering phantom arrived at the base of a mountain thick with wolfscent, and sulphureous eyes sparked with curiosity that was short-lived and lukewarm at best. Still, with reckless disregard he pressed forward, keeping well outside the territory borders while trying to peer deeper into the unfamiliar territory. It was the first pack he’d encountered outside his natal pack and a small, vicious voice assured him with saccharine venom that he didn’t need to feel guilty about the wolves he cursed here. He could satisfy the atavistic need for companionship without strings or attachment, and if anybody died — well, as long as he kept them at a distance, he couldn’t be held responsible and he needn’t mourn. No harm, no foul.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - January 13, 2017
By now, Alya knew the scent of danger. She was long-legged and quick, but not quite grown out of the chubbiness of her youth - that was a blessing in this weather. It was good that she was not yet the scrappy teen that she would soon become. If it were not for the extra layer of fat that laid over her vitals, she might've been a lot less comfortable in this sudden bout of bad weather. As it was, the occassional shiver rippled down the princess's spine as she trailed along the edges of Moonspear, watchful and alert. She was sure her parents would not approved of her being out this far on her own, but she was loud, and they would know if she needed them.
But she knew the scent of danger, and this was not it. This was wolfscent, young and sorrowful, and Alya peered through the gloom for signs of the strange male.
"Come out," she said softly, but like all her words, they rang out clear and bell-like through the cold. She just didn't know how to be quiet, how to be soft.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - January 13, 2017
“Come out.”
The voice was dulcet and clear, and it rang brightly through the crackling cold; tall, tapered ears tipped forward upon Cypress’ skull as he listened. She sounded blessedly different from any other female he’d heard, so he did as she commanded and emerged from the underbrush to stand before her. Her appearance, though, caused his heart to seize painfully within his breast. The blue brilliance of her eyes was so similar — and so were her long, gangly legs and pitch black fur. There were subtle differences, but he wanted so badly to see Lucy that he didn’t bother to mark them. To banish the flighty runner’s ghost, “What’s your name?” he asked her, his quiet baritenor falling hoarsely from his lips. He knew all about being quiet — but there was nothing soft about the raven, whose scarred muzzle quirked downward at the leftmost corner and whose lantern yellow eyes were hollow and hungry. He was a study in severity, his wild, unkempt fur tousled by the winter wind and his stoic face a mask of hard, implacable lines. To his jaded eye she seemed young and inexperienced, and he did not have the heart to tell her she was doomed to die.
The voice was dulcet and clear, and it rang brightly through the crackling cold; tall, tapered ears tipped forward upon Cypress’ skull as he listened. She sounded blessedly different from any other female he’d heard, so he did as she commanded and emerged from the underbrush to stand before her. Her appearance, though, caused his heart to seize painfully within his breast. The blue brilliance of her eyes was so similar — and so were her long, gangly legs and pitch black fur. There were subtle differences, but he wanted so badly to see Lucy that he didn’t bother to mark them. To banish the flighty runner’s ghost, “What’s your name?” he asked her, his quiet baritenor falling hoarsely from his lips. He knew all about being quiet — but there was nothing soft about the raven, whose scarred muzzle quirked downward at the leftmost corner and whose lantern yellow eyes were hollow and hungry. He was a study in severity, his wild, unkempt fur tousled by the winter wind and his stoic face a mask of hard, implacable lines. To his jaded eye she seemed young and inexperienced, and he did not have the heart to tell her she was doomed to die.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - January 22, 2017
She replied so quickly that it didn't even feel like a lie. There were days when Alya wasn't even sure who she was - sometimes, she felt a lot more like Lyra than Alya. Sometimes she was even her mother, but that was far less common. It didn't make sense for her to be Mamakaze (and their eyes were different, anyway) but she could be mistaken for either of her mirror sisters. Not even her own parents could really tell them all apart.
So, "Lyra," she said, simpering and sweet because of this. Of course, she knew the real Lyra would be a little more wary of the dark stranger, but she was not all the way Lyra. She was somewhere in-between. "What's your name?" she added, moving a few steps closer. He was as big as any adult, but there was something strangely youthful about him, even with his solemn nature.
Alya crept closer still.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - January 24, 2017
I am so sleepy. This post is no good.
The girl who was not Lucy crept closer, and Cypress curled his haunches to sit facing her. His bearing was Kjalarr’s, straight and tall and a little standoffish, but the brief flash of nearly forgotten kindness that flickered in his lantern yellow eyes was all Eshe. “Cypress,” he answered Lyra dully, tacking on a hastily added, “but sometimes Torgeir.” The Norse name Kjalarr had christened him with didn’t feel like his yet.
Would it ever?
Questions and emotions tumbled over each other in a tangled welter, and he did his best to keep them in their proper boxes. He wished he didn’t want to ask her things like, “Are your parents still alive?” or, “Do you have brothers or sisters?” — but he did. Abruptly he realized that he would feel guilty if something happened to the plucky little sprite, and that was infinitely unsettling. What he did say was something incredibly stupid to tell a child: “I might be cursed,” he informed her in a flat, “just so you know,” baritenor.
Would it ever?
Questions and emotions tumbled over each other in a tangled welter, and he did his best to keep them in their proper boxes. He wished he didn’t want to ask her things like, “Are your parents still alive?” or, “Do you have brothers or sisters?” — but he did. Abruptly he realized that he would feel guilty if something happened to the plucky little sprite, and that was infinitely unsettling. What he did say was something incredibly stupid to tell a child: “I might be cursed,” he informed her in a flat, “just so you know,” baritenor.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - January 26, 2017
Everything about the young male invited Alya's curiosity. He was a stranger, but he was Dark like her, like her sisters and her mother. Like Dashie had been. Already, she felt a certain kinship. But there were other feelings, too. Not kinship, and caused by something other than the color of his pelt - though it was still a sort of darkness, what drew her.
"Cursed?" she asked, a chill going through her at the word. A flash of tawny fur and pale, hungry fangs tore across her memory. "What do you mean? What's cursed? How do you get cursed?"
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - January 29, 2017
“I don’t know,” the boy said unhappily — not a prince, not a raven, not a warrior; just a scared, lonely, bedraggled boy. “Cursed is like…when bad things happen all around you — all the time — and they’re all your fault. It’s — you don’t even have to do anything, but the bad things’ll still happen just because you’re there. I mean me-you, not you-you.” He looked at her quizzically, wondering whether she could possibly understand. “Everyone I love,” he uttered more quietly, without diverting his gaze or fidgeting, “dies or leaves. My parents, two brothers, my sister — even Lucy.”
Lantern yellow eyes watched the girl searchingly. “I won’t love you, Lyra,” he promised staunchly, “and then you won’t be cursed.” It seemed like a pretty foolproof plan, all things considered.
Lantern yellow eyes watched the girl searchingly. “I won’t love you, Lyra,” he promised staunchly, “and then you won’t be cursed.” It seemed like a pretty foolproof plan, all things considered.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - January 29, 2017
Lyra stared at the dark boy, feeling a growing sense of worry and confusion growing in the pit of her stomach. She could not imagine the pain that this stranger had gone through, but to the young girl, it was easy to liken his situation to her own. After all - she'd had wolves leave her. And Dashie...
"When I was realy small, I got my Dashie got eaten by a mountain lion," she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. "D'ya... Do ya think I could be cursed? 'Cause Dashie died, and then Cosantine and Eelee left, too. Do you think more of my family will leave?"
The darkling was gripped with an unholy terror at the thought. What if it was one of her mirror twins to leave, next? Or her Mamakaze, or the Great White? Lyra turned her terrified gaze to the older boy, begging for him to correct her.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - February 02, 2017
Cypress studied the girl with regret stirring in his sulphureous eyes, and his tongue moved thickly to moisten his numb lips. “It was a bear that got my parents,” he uttered hollowly, feeling the telltale ache in his throat and the unsettling flutter in his lungs that meant he was near tears himself.
“Listen,” he said, a bit huskily. “You can’t be cursed, because you’re — ”
a girl
“ — you know, you’re — ”
a good wolf
“ — immune.”
That sounded good. It wasn’t true, and Cypress felt guilty for lying, but telling Lyra the truth — that it sure sounded like she was cursed, so she had better say goodbye to the wolves she loved or at the very least start following them around — was too difficult. He didn’t have the wherewithal for “difficult” right now.
“Leaving doesn’t mean dead, Lyra,” he added. “Maybe Cosantine and Eelee’ll come back. Anyway, a mountain lion isn’t your fault. It’s only your fault if you were the one doing the killing with your own teeth.” He didn’t feel the same way about himself — but then, he was willing to warrant a guess that Lyra hadn’t been the man of the house who was supposed to take care of things, either. “On that note, if a bad wolf attacks you and you fight it off and it dies, that’s not your fault either,” he tacked on. He didn’t want her to be afraid of fighting tooth and nail if it came down to that.
Trying to turn the mood around, Cypress quietly intoned, “Maybe it’ll help if you make up in your head what happens to Cosantine and Eelee. Sometimes I do that about Rannoch. I don’t know if it comes true but I just — try to pretend — ” His breathing fell into an uneven pattern as he swung his scarred muzzle away from her, out toward the frigid expanse. If his eyes watered from the cold, it wasn’t the same as succumbing to the babyishness of actually crying — right? “I just try to pretend he’s growing while I’m growing and he’s not sad anymore. Maybe he finds Lucy and they get to be together. That’s how it was always supposed to be.” It didn’t really make him feel any better to think about Rannoch and Lucy, together somewhere without him. It made him feel pretty fucking lousy, if he was being honest. Still, it was the happiest outcome he could wish for — even if it didn’t make him happy.
“Listen,” he said, a bit huskily. “You can’t be cursed, because you’re — ”
a girl
“ — you know, you’re — ”
a good wolf
“ — immune.”
That sounded good. It wasn’t true, and Cypress felt guilty for lying, but telling Lyra the truth — that it sure sounded like she was cursed, so she had better say goodbye to the wolves she loved or at the very least start following them around — was too difficult. He didn’t have the wherewithal for “difficult” right now.
“Leaving doesn’t mean dead, Lyra,” he added. “Maybe Cosantine and Eelee’ll come back. Anyway, a mountain lion isn’t your fault. It’s only your fault if you were the one doing the killing with your own teeth.” He didn’t feel the same way about himself — but then, he was willing to warrant a guess that Lyra hadn’t been the man of the house who was supposed to take care of things, either. “On that note, if a bad wolf attacks you and you fight it off and it dies, that’s not your fault either,” he tacked on. He didn’t want her to be afraid of fighting tooth and nail if it came down to that.
Trying to turn the mood around, Cypress quietly intoned, “Maybe it’ll help if you make up in your head what happens to Cosantine and Eelee. Sometimes I do that about Rannoch. I don’t know if it comes true but I just — try to pretend — ” His breathing fell into an uneven pattern as he swung his scarred muzzle away from her, out toward the frigid expanse. If his eyes watered from the cold, it wasn’t the same as succumbing to the babyishness of actually crying — right? “I just try to pretend he’s growing while I’m growing and he’s not sad anymore. Maybe he finds Lucy and they get to be together. That’s how it was always supposed to be.” It didn’t really make him feel any better to think about Rannoch and Lucy, together somewhere without him. It made him feel pretty fucking lousy, if he was being honest. Still, it was the happiest outcome he could wish for — even if it didn’t make him happy.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - February 05, 2017
Being still young, and used to her parent's attentions, Alya's first instinct was still to turn this situation around and focus on herself, instead of the plight of the older wolf. After all, bad things had happened to her as well, and shouldn't that be just as (if not more) important than whatever'd happened to Cypress? He missed his family, but Alya still missed her Dashie, and she still wished that Constantine had stayed and paid attention to her, like she'd wanted.
But there was something in his voice. Something in his lantern-lit eyes.
"That sounds very sad," she said in a small voice, shivering as a she thought of trying to pretend her own sisters were still with her when they weren't. They'd grown apart lately, but they were still three heads of one body. They were still the same. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked hopefully. Suddenly, it seemed imperative that she do something for this troubled young wolf.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - February 05, 2017
Empathy was the last thing Cypress expected from the girl, but, “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, the hope in her luminous blue eyes stabbing poignantly at his heart. His own eyes rounded briefly in surprise as he asked a little stupidly, “For me?” He cracked a bemused half-smile, his somber visage momentarily recapturing its youth as it shed the hard lines of pain he worked so hard to carve into something resembling strength. “Naw, darlin’,” he muttered, his mother’s rollicking manner of speech coming back to him in a rush as he scuffed a forepaw in the snow, feeling embarrassed and confused and hurt and happy all at once. “I’m all fixed up.” It was a phrase from his childhood — something he and Rannoch had learned from Eshe. “Mama’ll fix you right up, honey,” she’d say in her slow, honeyed way, tackling every injury, slight, or illness with a copious amount of grooming, fussing, and tickling. “Okay, I’m all fixed up, mama,” had become the signal for Eshe to stop — sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t.
As his mien gradually settled back into a collection of sinister lines and hard planes, “Thanks for helping me feel better,” Cypress tacked on, realizing that in some odd way it was true. Now that he’d adjusted his grip on his composure and released some of the pressure by confiding in the strange little darkling about his fears and hurts, he did feel better. He didn’t feel great, but he didn’t think he was going to cry anymore, at least. “What about you?” he questioned in his quiet baritenor. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. Is there something I can do to make you feel better for awhile? Are you cold? Hungry?”
As his mien gradually settled back into a collection of sinister lines and hard planes, “Thanks for helping me feel better,” Cypress tacked on, realizing that in some odd way it was true. Now that he’d adjusted his grip on his composure and released some of the pressure by confiding in the strange little darkling about his fears and hurts, he did feel better. He didn’t feel great, but he didn’t think he was going to cry anymore, at least. “What about you?” he questioned in his quiet baritenor. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. Is there something I can do to make you feel better for awhile? Are you cold? Hungry?”
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - February 06, 2017
Something jolted through the darkling's body at the new and unexpected quality of his voice. And - and darlin', he called her. Alya shivered again, eyes wide as she stared at the dark boy, still trying to comprehend all that he'd made her feel before she was darlin'. This new stuff? She didn't even know what to do with it.
But the main thing, she supposed, was that he still sounded very sad, even if he said he was all fixed up. It was a term that the princess had never heard before, but the words fit together in a way that just made sense. All fixed up; All better. But Alya couldn't imagine being worse. Sisters gone, scars on her face (what would she do, if she were scarred? Would her sisters take the same marks?), and something low and writhing in her eyes. Something about him seemed very broken. Very wrong - and therefore, very interesting.
"Cold," she said quickly, slipping out of Lyra for a moment in her haste to gain closeness with the boy. She hestitated a moment, thinking about putting Lyra back on.... but she didn't. "I'm cold," said Alya, creeping forward on silent paws. "Will you sit close with me?"
In Rescue the Princess, those words were usually spoken with a fluttering of lashes and a secretive smile. In real life, with Cypress, Alya found herself unable to do more than simple ask, a sheepish and hopefuly sheen to her eyes.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - February 10, 2017
The haunted raven’s eyes were wary and watchful as Lyra crept nearer, and he drew his tongue slowly and indecisively across his lips at her request. It took some time, but, “Yeah,” he decided finally, finding himself unable to deny the girl despite his obvious trepidation. It’d been different with Maude — she’d invaded his personal space despite his fastidious desire to segregate himself from the rest of the pack both literally and figuratively, and in doing so, had aroused a plethora of emotions he still couldn’t make heads or tails of. “C’mere, though; I’m not allowed in there.” He gestured with his muzzle toward the grandeur of the mountain, hesitating briefly before he tacked on what might have sounded like an odd request.
“Go slowly, okay?” he murmured, his quiet baritenor a little stilted. “I’ve been alone for — I don’t know, sure feels like a long time — and I might not be good at it right away.”
“Go slowly, okay?” he murmured, his quiet baritenor a little stilted. “I’ve been alone for — I don’t know, sure feels like a long time — and I might not be good at it right away.”
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - February 10, 2017
Now when she heard his voice, the dark princess could not unhear the strange accent in his voice. It was something she'd never heard before, and it tickled against her ears like her daddy's whiskers or the warm, puffing breaths her sisters as they slept together in their puppy-pile. But it was different than that, too, because those things had never made her heart want to punch right through her chest, and right then, Alya couldn't tell whether she was excited or afraid.
But he went on, and Alya decided that there was nothing to fear from this boy. He was sad and alone - two things that Alya was very unfamiliar with - and the young princess began to think past herself and her sisters for what was, probably, the first time. "Don't worry about that," she found herself saying. "I'll be good at it."
The dark girl moved forward, paws silent on the snow, and slotted herself slowly against Cypress's side. He was warmer than her, and his fur felt unfamiliar against her own. Alya turned her head in, sniffing at the fur on his chest, and then turned her head away with a mighty sneeze when some of the fur went up her nose. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, peering up at his lantern-lit eyes. "Is this okay?"
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - February 10, 2017
Putting what tattered shreds of faith he could muster in Lyra’s grasp, Cypress nodded a bit stiffly to give her the go-ahead and fiercely bade his body, “Endure.” He gulped air like a landed fish — one swift, vigorous snap of his jaws as his stern mouth settled into a grim line — and held it until the pressure in his lungs became painful. By the time he loosed it on a slow, fluttering sigh, he was dizzy — and she was a palpable, precious weight settled tremulously against his side.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - February 10, 2017
The tension of his body sent a flutter of uncertainty through Alya's own. The snap of his teeth was loud and near, but somehow, the girl kept from flinching and remained where she was, eyes tracing the hard and overwraught lines of his face.
Cypress didn't answer her question, and Alya got the feeling that he hadn't heard; that he was too far away to hear. Feeling this, she remained silent as well when she turned her head into his chest and let the heat of his body warm her freezing nose. She found that she was cold, though she hadn't known it when she'd requested this. It surprised her. A lot of things did. Like how she was the one comforting him, now, when she'd asked for this in order to gain something for herself. Taking his warmth is enough, she thought, I can't take more. He doesn't have it left to give.
Alya pressed her head closer against his chest. His heartbeat was profound. A revelation. For one flash-flash-flash second, she keenly felt her own insignificance. There was a living boy beside her that needed things, who hurt so badly that he could not hear her voice.
I won't love you, Lyra.
"I'll love you," she said in a breath like a sigh, so soft that it might only have been. Then, more loudly but in the same soft tone: "I lied; my name's Alya. Lyra is one of my sisters," she admitted. "Sometimes we pretend we're each other, because... sometimes we are." She did not explain that they all looked exactly the same. It was such a deep, abiding truth that it did not bear mentioning. Part of her must have assumed that Cypress would just know.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - February 11, 2017
Minor powerplay; let me know if I should change it! Tagging for reference. ♥
Craning his neck degree by slow degree, Cypress regarded the lissome girl at his side with a mixture of wonder and fear; his skin prickled with a strange sort of electricity wherever her downy fur brushed against his stiffer, silver-tipped pelage. The pound of his heart was loud and distracting and he didn’t catch the first words that tiptoed from her lips on the wings of a fragile sigh. He couldn’t imagine ever pretending to be Rannoch — or anyone from his family, for that matter. “It’s okay, Alya,” he assured her. “I don’t know what that’s like — being someone else.” The ache in his throat was tight and painful as she nestled nearer, and he sucked in another slow breath. She was so cold — he could practically feel the sting of her skin more sharply and painfully than the frigid winter air — or was she blazingly warm? He couldn’t tell.
Just in case it was the former, the eidolon shifted his weight to his opposite side, elbow bending and shoulder cresting as he made to drape his foreleg over her shoulders. “Would this be too uncomfortable?” he asked her, stuck in limbo and not nearly settled enough to take liberties. He allowed his limb to hover in the air just short of touching her, and the pose was as awkward and uncomfortable as it might have looked to any bystander. “I guess you probably look like your sisters?” he ventured, his whiskers quivering as he bent to sniff curiously at the fur at her nape. “I don’t look like anyone from my family — at least, not the ones I’ve met. My paw was — ” don’t think about him! “ — really tall, with great big muscles, kind of like…well, a bear, I guess. Rannoch looks a lot like him, except Rannoch is mostly gray and our paw’s mostly brown. They’ve got the same eyes, though — kind of a greenish blue. My mama was — beautiful. She’s probably where Rannoch gets his gray from. She, uh — my eyes, they look like hers.” Realizing too late that he’d spoken briefly of each parent in the present tense, Cypress bent his head and tucked his muzzle alongside the slope of Alya’s ear.
His quiet baritenor was muffled against the thicker fur at the angle of her jaw as he asked, “What’s it like to be someone else?” He found himself wondering if it would be better to be someone like @Kjalarr, his self-assured older brother — or @Rian — a hunting prodigy who, at a very young age, had caught three rabbits in one go. A benevolent hunting prodigy who’d willingly shared his kill with his ugly duckling of a baby cousin. The sting of moisture at the corners of Cypress’ eyes filled him with shame.
Just in case it was the former, the eidolon shifted his weight to his opposite side, elbow bending and shoulder cresting as he made to drape his foreleg over her shoulders. “Would this be too uncomfortable?” he asked her, stuck in limbo and not nearly settled enough to take liberties. He allowed his limb to hover in the air just short of touching her, and the pose was as awkward and uncomfortable as it might have looked to any bystander. “I guess you probably look like your sisters?” he ventured, his whiskers quivering as he bent to sniff curiously at the fur at her nape. “I don’t look like anyone from my family — at least, not the ones I’ve met. My paw was — ” don’t think about him! “ — really tall, with great big muscles, kind of like…well, a bear, I guess. Rannoch looks a lot like him, except Rannoch is mostly gray and our paw’s mostly brown. They’ve got the same eyes, though — kind of a greenish blue. My mama was — beautiful. She’s probably where Rannoch gets his gray from. She, uh — my eyes, they look like hers.” Realizing too late that he’d spoken briefly of each parent in the present tense, Cypress bent his head and tucked his muzzle alongside the slope of Alya’s ear.
His quiet baritenor was muffled against the thicker fur at the angle of her jaw as he asked, “What’s it like to be someone else?” He found himself wondering if it would be better to be someone like @Kjalarr, his self-assured older brother — or @Rian — a hunting prodigy who, at a very young age, had caught three rabbits in one go. A benevolent hunting prodigy who’d willingly shared his kill with his ugly duckling of a baby cousin. The sting of moisture at the corners of Cypress’ eyes filled him with shame.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - February 18, 2017
The girl's heartbeat spiked and then slowed as Cypress draped a foreleg over her shoulders - or made to. Alya found her voice absent, and in lieu of verbal response, pressed herself closer against his chest, like she would Hydra or Lyra during Rescue the Princess. But Cypress was bigger than her, instead of exactly the same size, and there was something about him that felt very different from anyone she'd ever known. She likened his presence most closely to that of her father's, but it was different even from that.
Well, duh, she thought when asked if she looked like her sisters, but she wouldn't say that to Cypress. He probably felt bad enough without her telling him he asked dumb questions. Either way, the question was forgotten quickly when the boy delved into a short description of his family. The way he spoke of his mother struck her most of all. Selfishly, all she gleaned from the conversation was that she wanted him to call her beautiful. Thoughts for his brother and father were quickly filtered down the drain that was her attention span. His new question was more than enough to fill her mind.
"It's the same as being me," she said after a moment, not really understanding the question. "Me and my sisters are... we're just the same. We look the same and we think the same - mostly - and we were born together." It was as simple as that. He probably wouldn't even notice if she dashed away and another head of the Cerberus took her place. They could both take up her mein so easily, there would be almost no difference.
A familiar swell of dissatisfaction rose up in her chest, and this time, Alya made no effort to tamp it down. Sometimes, she wished she could be like Korei. No one ever thought she was someone else. No one ever took her place. "We need a password," she blurted, and a moment after she said it, she glanced wildly around, waiting for one of her mirror sisters to jump out and accuse her. To her knowledge, they'd never given someone this power before. The power to tell them apart. "If you see me, or someone who looks like me, and they tell you it is me, you can't believe me until I..." It had to be secret - something not even clever Hydra would recognize as a password. Something that neither of her sisters would be able to guess. "I'll bring you a leaf. When it's me, I'll pick up a leaf and bring it to you."
There. What reason would her sisters have to give Cypress a leaf? It wouldn't happen organically, that was for certain. As long as she never told them about this part of the conversation (for she didn't fool herself into thinking she wouldn't tell them the rest), they would be okay.
"I will see you again, won't I?" she asked, suddenly worried that he would disappear without a trace. "Do you live nearby?" Near enough to visit?
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - February 18, 2017
“That’s weird,” was on the tip of Cypress’ tongue, but he stifled it in deference to the girl’s feelings. “Huh,” he murmured thoughtfully instead, trying and failing to put himself in Alya’s — and apparently by extension, her sisters’ — shoes. He and Rannoch had been inseparable in their youth, but even before their forced estrangement, they’d begun growing apart ever so slightly as they explored different places and met new wolves. The hollow raven simply couldn’t comprehend the bond Alya shared with her sisters — and, if he was being honest, it made him feel a little uneasy. She’s special, he realized with a boatload of dismay.
“Well,” he said haltingly, “I know you. I know you. I don’t know them.” Shifting his weight, he made to draw her closer against him as a bitter winter wind rocked him where he sat. It made sense, he guessed. In every physical aspect Alya and her sisters were identical — they came from the same parents and lived in the same pack; they looked the same, probably spoke the same, maybe even thought the same — but the idea that he might make a mistake was terrifying. He’d made so many mistakes, and every single one of them had ended up in someone leaving or dying. Though he couldn’t see much from this angle aside from black fur and pert ears, he stared hard at the girl as if by doing so, he could espy some surefire way of telling her apart. It would’ve been better if she had a scar or something. Maybe — would she — no.
“I broke my family — I broke it.”
“I live nearby,” he answered quietly, glossing over her first question as he turned it over in his mind. “Maybe a day and a half north.” He hesitated briefly. “I don’t want you to go looking for me,” he told her plainly. For now, at least, Alya was someone he didn’t have to share with Rannoch — better than Lucy in that she saw him and knew him and didn’t know his bigger, stronger brothers and cousins existed. He amended that there were almost certainly bigger, stronger wolves in her own pack — including her father — but unless she went poking around Neverwinter Forest, she wouldn’t see what a poor option Cypress was.
He certainly appreciated the idea of a password and told her so. “I like the way you think,” he said, his voice warm with an unspent chuckle. “If I meet one of your sisters, what do you want me to do?”
“Well,” he said haltingly, “I know you. I know you. I don’t know them.” Shifting his weight, he made to draw her closer against him as a bitter winter wind rocked him where he sat. It made sense, he guessed. In every physical aspect Alya and her sisters were identical — they came from the same parents and lived in the same pack; they looked the same, probably spoke the same, maybe even thought the same — but the idea that he might make a mistake was terrifying. He’d made so many mistakes, and every single one of them had ended up in someone leaving or dying. Though he couldn’t see much from this angle aside from black fur and pert ears, he stared hard at the girl as if by doing so, he could espy some surefire way of telling her apart. It would’ve been better if she had a scar or something. Maybe — would she — no.
“I broke my family — I broke it.”
“I live nearby,” he answered quietly, glossing over her first question as he turned it over in his mind. “Maybe a day and a half north.” He hesitated briefly. “I don’t want you to go looking for me,” he told her plainly. For now, at least, Alya was someone he didn’t have to share with Rannoch — better than Lucy in that she saw him and knew him and didn’t know his bigger, stronger brothers and cousins existed. He amended that there were almost certainly bigger, stronger wolves in her own pack — including her father — but unless she went poking around Neverwinter Forest, she wouldn’t see what a poor option Cypress was.
He certainly appreciated the idea of a password and told her so. “I like the way you think,” he said, his voice warm with an unspent chuckle. “If I meet one of your sisters, what do you want me to do?”
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - February 21, 2017
Alya immediately began to pout when he commanded her not to seek him out. It was phrased as a simple statement of his own desires, but the tone of his voice rankled the spoiled princess's pride. "Why not?" she demanded, her voice all bluster but with hurt in her eyes. She realized a moment later that this sort of behavior was exactly the kind that made her father sigh and sometimes even growl; that insolence was an unattractive trait.
Hurrying to gloss over her blunder, she replied to his next question with a wagging tail. "Whatever you want," she chirped. "They might pretend to be me, and they might not. You can let on that you know me from them, but there's really no point. Sometimes we can't help being each other."
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - February 26, 2017
A pouting princess was something Cypress had never been privy to before, and he found it fascinating rather than annoying; he watched, bemused, as Alya’s face crinkled with displeasure. “Because,” he said succinctly, childishly, finding that he grew calmer the more blustered she got. He liked it less when she tidied up, but he couldn’t like her less even if he tried. He hesitated, torn between lying to Alya by burying his insecurities under a guise of chivalry — “Wouldn’t want you going out and getting lost, darlin’,” — and telling her the truth, but in the end his honest nature won out. “I don’t want to share you,” he admitted in a shamefaced mutter, “and I don’t want you to like my cousins better’n you like me.”
Before he had time to question his own brazenness, “If you want to see where I live, I’ll show you someday — and your sisters, if you feel like you want to bring them, and if you bring a leaf.”
Before he had time to question his own brazenness, “If you want to see where I live, I’ll show you someday — and your sisters, if you feel like you want to bring them, and if you bring a leaf.”
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - March 15, 2017
Alya stared at the strange, dark boy, something strange and dark creeping up in her throat. It was a lot like excitement, she thought, except it was scary, too. Scary and - and something else, too. But there was still something about Cypress that made her feel safe, so when a tiny shiver raced it way down her spine, she only pressed closer to the lantern-eyed boy.
"What's a cousin?" she blurted, asking the first question that came to mind. A beat later, she realized that there were other things she wanted to know - like what was up with his cousins that would make her like them, and like how exactly did he plan on not sharing her if she couldn't even find him again? But she didn't know how to ask - didn't know how to phrase it so that it didn't seem like she wanted to meet his cousins, whoever they were.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - March 17, 2017
“Cousins are…” Cypress’ voice trailed off uncertainly as he tried to put it into words. He knew he was related to them, but he didn’t know exactly what made them related. “I think they’re sort of like brothers and sisters, only with different parents. They’re my aunt and uncle’s kids, and my aunt is my paw’s sister. I’ve got four of them: Rian, Dublin, Eimear, and Szabala.” He cleared his throat a little uncomfortably, ashamed to admit that, “I haven’t seen much of them lately on purpose. Haven’t seen much of anyone lately on purpose.” He saw Alya, though — he stopped looking out at the horizon line and abruptly tipped his muzzle down to look at her, his lips accidentally grazing her velveteen brow.
“S-Sorry,” he blurted out in an embarrassed mutter, but he didn’t draw away.
“S-Sorry,” he blurted out in an embarrassed mutter, but he didn’t draw away.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Alya - April 17, 2017
To Alya, these names were beautiful and exotic. She looked admiringly at Cypress's sharp, angular face, lips parted in awe as she listened to his explanation of cousins. "And what's a brother?" she asked, the word feeling strange and clumsy on her tongue. Of course, she'd heard it before. She knew that her dad and Uncle Floki were brothers, but what did that even mean? (Sisters, she knew. Sisters were all she'd ever known.)
But she soon forgot her question; Cypress was so close to her, so big and so warm. She didn't understand the flutter of her heart, but apparently, it was something Cypress thought he ought to apologize for. Alya tucked in her chin, embarrassed without explanation, and soldiered through the strange feelings welling up in her chest.
"How come you don't wanna see 'em?" she asked, wondering why anyone would ever not want to see their family.
RE: by a route obscure and lonely - Cypress - May 04, 2017
Grateful that she’d asked him something he could answer definitively, Cypress swallowed the blurt of a chuckle whose origin confused him utterly and said, “A brother’s the same as a sister, only a boy.” Lest she not quite understand his meaning, he elaborated: “If Rannoch was a girl he’d be my sister. If Lyra was a boy she’d be your brother.” Her second question was more difficult to answer, and the weight of it had his muzzle dipping down. This time when he touched her, his chin hovering just above the divot between her eyes and his throat flush against her crown, he didn’t move. In truth, maybe there was part of him that drew strength from her nearness as he replied. “I only really knew Rian,” he mumbled, his baritenor muffled against the velveteen between her ears. “I didn’t see my aunt or uncle much; can’t even remember what my uncle looks like,” he reminisced, “but, Alya — I know he left to look for my brother or maybe my paw, and if I’d taken better care of Noch maybe he wouldn’t’ve left and maybe none of this would’ve happened. My cousins have no paw because of all this.”
His throat worked as he made his confession, and for a long while after he said nothing.
Then, out of the blue, “LeastImetyou,” he muttered, his words slurring together as absurd tears stung his eyes and he blinked them away. Alya felt so good here, closer than Lucy had ever been.
He let himself feel good — let himself enjoy it.
Then the guilt kicked him straight in the gut.
“I better go,” he said hastily, honest regret in his voice, as he pushed himself up and away from her. “Will you remember about the leaf?”
His throat worked as he made his confession, and for a long while after he said nothing.
Then, out of the blue, “LeastImetyou,” he muttered, his words slurring together as absurd tears stung his eyes and he blinked them away. Alya felt so good here, closer than Lucy had ever been.
He let himself feel good — let himself enjoy it.
Then the guilt kicked him straight in the gut.
“I better go,” he said hastily, honest regret in his voice, as he pushed himself up and away from her. “Will you remember about the leaf?”