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born of cages - Kitsch - April 23, 2017
Kitsch very rarely left the forest, nonetheless West’s side. Kitsch found the woman to have quite a nurturing, motherly presence and Kitsch thrived underneath it. The pearl was a girl who needed to be taken care of — coddled, even — and West even seemed to appreciate it too. With Libeccio to safeguard them, who’s masculine presence she’d come to tolerate [if not somewhat enjoy], what else could go wrong? The feeling of loneliness had not touched the girl since their establishment in Neverwinter Forest [which was something she couldn’t say for Teaglaigh], even though the pack seemed remarkable absent. Kitsch didn’t care; she liked life this way, without the burden of a court and a kingdom to feign government of. It was her wish come true; the trio, just the three of them: West, herself, West’s brother …. oh, and Ondine.
Though she was in brighter spirits, there was a shadow of doubt that threatened to consume her. Often times, at night, Kitsch found herself lamenting the fact that she was feeling better at all — as if she didn’t deserve to feel such feelings. Her body had healed, for the most part: the bite marks that besmirched the nape of her neck had all but scarred over; with time, they would undoubtedly heal without a trace. Such a skilled healer she was lucky to have! Her thighs and stomach had recovered with the fervor of youthful resiliency, and the swelling of her ribcage subsided, but still the spectre in her mind followed her, haunted her from the shadows, whispering to her a constant reminder of her worthlessness.
It was wet that day. West was nowhere to be found. For the first time since encountering the shivering Prialux, Kitsch quitted the forest and ventured south to a place Kitsch knew well — the glen that lay next to the heartwood. The grove had harbored the trio while she convalesced; the girl did not have a skilled sense of direction, so she not dare stray where she hadn’t been before. But the glen was nice enough without any newness to it, and plus the recent rains would eliminate any scent trail to tell West of her leaving. So with any hope, Kitsch could skirt around her madame and return unpunished — West didn’t like it very much when Kitsch left.
So Kitsch ran through the rain, delighting in a jaunty run and loving how her body did not sting from the movement.
Though she was in brighter spirits, there was a shadow of doubt that threatened to consume her. Often times, at night, Kitsch found herself lamenting the fact that she was feeling better at all — as if she didn’t deserve to feel such feelings. Her body had healed, for the most part: the bite marks that besmirched the nape of her neck had all but scarred over; with time, they would undoubtedly heal without a trace. Such a skilled healer she was lucky to have! Her thighs and stomach had recovered with the fervor of youthful resiliency, and the swelling of her ribcage subsided, but still the spectre in her mind followed her, haunted her from the shadows, whispering to her a constant reminder of her worthlessness.
It was wet that day. West was nowhere to be found. For the first time since encountering the shivering Prialux, Kitsch quitted the forest and ventured south to a place Kitsch knew well — the glen that lay next to the heartwood. The grove had harbored the trio while she convalesced; the girl did not have a skilled sense of direction, so she not dare stray where she hadn’t been before. But the glen was nice enough without any newness to it, and plus the recent rains would eliminate any scent trail to tell West of her leaving. So with any hope, Kitsch could skirt around her madame and return unpunished — West didn’t like it very much when Kitsch left.
So Kitsch ran through the rain, delighting in a jaunty run and loving how her body did not sting from the movement.
RE: born of cages - Rian - April 24, 2017
As the weeks waned into near a month, Rian found himself looking back on the events that led him to the present day. From his encounter with Cypress in the eastern marshes, and their inevitable dispersal; to the fight with Rannoch, and the gradual acceptance of his position. Rian lie upon the loam with his ears twisted northward to their former home. The timbers of Neverwinter stood bold amongst the rain and mist, visible even from this great distance. A small, fragile, part of him wanted to return and seek out his family. But their absence in those final hours had inflicted a great wound on him, and left a lasting impression.
Rian frowned. It did him no good to think ill of his family, but he couldn't help but feel betrayed even now. He felt drained. He wanted answers, just as he still desired answers for his father's disappearance.
When he caught sight of Rannoch taking up a place opposite of him, Rian decided to take a moment to himself. He rose and set off into the rain without so much as a glance towards their defacto leader to indicate he wouldn't be gone too long. His feet carried him in a northernly direction, and it wasn't until he nearly crossed into their old hunting territory that he caught himself wandering the familiar trails he once followed whenever he needed to escape Neverwinter for a spell.
He sucked in a breath, and nearly turned around to head back when the sound of rapid footfall caught his attention. He whipped his head around and fixated on the sound, fearing the worst. Rian lifted his tail and hackles as the sound neared, but the wolf that crested the hill at a casual clip was both unfamiliar and non-threatening. Shamed, he cast off his aggressive posture before she could draw any closer and splayed his ears in a innoculous display.
RE: born of cages - Kitsch - April 27, 2017
Kitsch was never the most vigilant of wolves — she never had to be. Others upheld that job for her: her guards looked out for her wellbeing, her advisors maintained her political career, her court nurtured her social standing. They told her what to do, she made the arbitration, someone else swung the sword, they all reaped the benefits. Was she a puppet for? Yeah, maybe. But she was a happy puppet so it was all alright in her books.
It all had changed after the attack [mostly, her opinion of herself had shattered] but with every passing day she could feel her soul creep, little by little, back into her body. While she was by no means a happy or contented girl, but life with West and Libeccio was quite alright. She was no longer a worthless thing, waiting to die. She was now a worthless thing who craved her own dependency.
In her flight of freedom, she crested a small slope and felt her momentum pull her downwards — her legs responded and she sprang faster and faster, not sure if she had ever moved so fast before; not sure any wolf had done so before! Her vision blurred and she became one with her body and its movements, recognizing it for the things it could do and not the things that had happened to it.
But, as she neared the bottom of the slope, a dark blur caught her eyes and she was immediately jarred back to her reality. It was him — her assailant, a dark blur in the distance. She was right; the man had been following her. It wasn't her frayed mind playing tricks on her. Apprehension ran through her and her legs ceased to work. Kitsch’s sprint was slowed to a walk and then she halted, ears splayed back, hackles raised, sneering at the man in the distance. This time, with her mind clear of poppy, the kitten would not be a victim.
It all had changed after the attack [mostly, her opinion of herself had shattered] but with every passing day she could feel her soul creep, little by little, back into her body. While she was by no means a happy or contented girl, but life with West and Libeccio was quite alright. She was no longer a worthless thing, waiting to die. She was now a worthless thing who craved her own dependency.
In her flight of freedom, she crested a small slope and felt her momentum pull her downwards — her legs responded and she sprang faster and faster, not sure if she had ever moved so fast before; not sure any wolf had done so before! Her vision blurred and she became one with her body and its movements, recognizing it for the things it could do and not the things that had happened to it.
But, as she neared the bottom of the slope, a dark blur caught her eyes and she was immediately jarred back to her reality. It was him — her assailant, a dark blur in the distance. She was right; the man had been following her. It wasn't her frayed mind playing tricks on her. Apprehension ran through her and her legs ceased to work. Kitsch’s sprint was slowed to a walk and then she halted, ears splayed back, hackles raised, sneering at the man in the distance. This time, with her mind clear of poppy, the kitten would not be a victim.
RE: born of cages - Rian - May 01, 2017
The response he recieved went against everything he understood so far in life. His neutral display was met with flared hackles, curled lips, and a stance that threatened violence as she came to a jarring halt. Rian gazed across the distance, which was no more than a dozen yards away, and tried to ascertain the intentions of the rogue wolf. But he knew one thing: he would not be a doormat to misplaced aggression. He lifted his tail in a high arch while his hackles puffed out around his nape in a show of both dominance and uncertainty. It was clear he was quite nervous about her actions so far, but he wouldn't be taken unawares.
However, he knew he couldn't ignore her. Especially with her being so close to their temporary camp. If she was ill, or harbored ill intentions, Rian needed to drive her off. But if it was just a case of nerves, or confusion, he would be happy to explain. Either way, he needed to get closer. So he turned and began to circle in close to her. Not moving directly, but in an arch that was slowly closing in. One ear remained trained on her while the other was twisted out towards his surroundings. He kept his gaze locked on her, though his stance suggested caution, not dominance, and when he was close enough he called out. "I mean no harm."
RE: born of cages - Kitsch - May 03, 2017
He reciprocated her apprehension and began to round his way too her – to any one else, the nondirect approach might have been appreciated, but Kitsch’s mind suddenly flashed back to the happening – how he had approached her, quietly – silently – as would a predator stalk its prey. He was back, she thought as she saw the man’s dark coat, and West isn’t here. The wastrel berated herself for allowing herself to become so flippant with her wellbeing when the safety of West’s and Libeccio’s wings were mere miles away. Why did she leave the forest? Had she forgotten what happens to pretty little things who stray from their homes?
The girl then went weak of both strength and will power – any ability she had to fight her assailant had been surrendered to an supreme sense of fear. Kitsch shut her eyes tightly and steeled her body, hoping that it would be over sooner if she did not resist. But then the man’s voice jarred her from her spiral – it was not his deep, gruff voice that was produced from the brutish maw. No, that voice repeated in her head, over and over again – it is the sins of another you pay for, it is the sins of another you pay for, it is the sins of another you pay for – and this was not it.
One aquamarine eye peeked open, then two, and Kitsch saw that it was indeed not him.The girl shuffled her feet uncomfortably, completely overcome with embarrassment over her extreme reaction. He probably thought of her as a fool. Kitsch’s ears splayed back once more, but this time, her demeanor gave off an air of regret and silent apology. ”Hi,” was all she was able to mutter, muted by her bashfulness. If he only understood…
The girl then went weak of both strength and will power – any ability she had to fight her assailant had been surrendered to an supreme sense of fear. Kitsch shut her eyes tightly and steeled her body, hoping that it would be over sooner if she did not resist. But then the man’s voice jarred her from her spiral – it was not his deep, gruff voice that was produced from the brutish maw. No, that voice repeated in her head, over and over again – it is the sins of another you pay for, it is the sins of another you pay for, it is the sins of another you pay for – and this was not it.
One aquamarine eye peeked open, then two, and Kitsch saw that it was indeed not him.The girl shuffled her feet uncomfortably, completely overcome with embarrassment over her extreme reaction. He probably thought of her as a fool. Kitsch’s ears splayed back once more, but this time, her demeanor gave off an air of regret and silent apology. ”Hi,” was all she was able to mutter, muted by her bashfulness. If he only understood…
RE: born of cages - Rian - May 15, 2017
The mood shifted again and she was left hollow, and frightened. He slicked both ears back now and lowered his nose so that it barely kissed the damp grass as he neared. Though her eyes were shut tight against the horrors that seemingly plagued her, he could sense she was whole and hale—she harbored no foul scent of illness, nor were there visible complications to her physical body.
Rian didn't relax when she opened her eyes, and slowly regained her composure. The initial ferocity left him taken aback. His frown deepened. "What was that about?" He asked directly, tail cricked in a uncertain curl that hung slightly leeward.
RE: born of cages - Kitsch - May 29, 2017
The girl had hoped that they could simply move on from her panic but the boy would not let her; instead he probed into her reasoning, which something truly obscure even to herself. Her gaze of faceted topaz dulled and fell to the space in front on her paws. ”S-sorry,” came her apology, small and without fire. ”I'm sorry,” Kitsch faltered again, not entirely sure why she was saying it a second time. Her vocabulary was barren of all except for one word. ”m'sorry…” Her heart clenched and her jaw clipped shut — perhaps, in a past life, she might had shed tears [it was a tried and true tactic in getting what she wanted] but not here. not now. and definitely not after she stammered the same word three times. ”It’s just…”
It’s just that you look exactly like him.
The thought echoed through her mind but was not uttered by her lips; and her sentence, her reasoning, went unfinished. Kitsch grimaced at his cool regard and tried to offer the stranger a sheepish smile, but her entire demeanor continued to speak please don’t hurt me. Finally, Kitsch found her tongue and tried to shift the zeitgeist of this entire encounter. ”Y-you always sneak up on people like t-that?” the pearl spoke with an attempt at lightheartedness, despite that fact that it was she who snuck up on him.
It’s just that you look exactly like him.
The thought echoed through her mind but was not uttered by her lips; and her sentence, her reasoning, went unfinished. Kitsch grimaced at his cool regard and tried to offer the stranger a sheepish smile, but her entire demeanor continued to speak please don’t hurt me. Finally, Kitsch found her tongue and tried to shift the zeitgeist of this entire encounter. ”Y-you always sneak up on people like t-that?” the pearl spoke with an attempt at lightheartedness, despite that fact that it was she who snuck up on him.
RE: born of cages - Rian - June 14, 2017
He didn't like this. The entire situation reeked of something unpleasant and, while he was entirely content without prying into the details, he was extremely uncomfortable with the girl prattling off apologies to him while her body trembled with unspent emotion. She was... broken. There were pieces of a personality scattered about, but it didn't take a genius to understand she was coming from a darker place. The aggression and, now, the shyness—the fear.
Rian towered over her like a shadow and, unknowingly, bore the queerly similar image of her demons.
A furative glance was spared to the hillock she'd descended and he searched the darkness for any signs of life, but found nothing but shadows. He drew his lips back into a tight frown, and exhaled through a soft groan. "No," he replied with a skeptical quirk of his brow. "but I wasn't sneaking, either." the yearling remarked. Facts were facts, after all.
"Do you often bullcharge strangers for fun?"
RE: born of cages - Kitsch - June 20, 2017
playin' around with some colors!
Inside, Kitsch’s mind reeled. For a lady who tried so hard to uphold her blasé exterior, the interior of her mind was uncommonly quick and even more volatile. She was confident in some ways, yet terribly uncertain and wavering in others. It had been something that plagued her since she was a small child, a swaddled princess in the arms of her court and royal bearings. The pearl had been groomed to swallow all emotions and maintain a haughty mien no matter what faced her — for her own good as well as those subservient to her.
It was a defense mechanism just as much as it was her childhood conditioning.
And here, in front of this unknown man of mahogany and sienna — obscuring her emotions felt so futile and ineffective! Kitsch knew nothing about him, but it felt as if he already knew everything about her; saw right through her, as if she was as thin as a sheet of paper. There was nothing in his words or actions to support this, merely an idea conjured up in the dark mind of the besmirched girl… but this did not matter. She was one-dimensional wolf now, she guessed — a woman made of nothing of substance or worth keeping.
Having seen right through her attempt to turn the tables on him, Rian questioned her own unceremonious entrance. ”Oh… no, not really.” she responded demurely to his question. A kittenish whuff of air rushed from her nostrils as she huffed and rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tenseness that had settled there “It just felt nice to run.” Yeah, felt, in the past tense — her stupid brain had very quickly taken care of any sort of euphoria the short jaunt had provided.
“Sorry, I’m… weird.” it was the best she could do, honestly. There was no other way to relieve this weirdness other than to acknowledge it, face-to-face. The girl pursed her thin lips and looked up at him, her gaze somewhat hollow. ”You probably want to go, don’t you?”
It was a defense mechanism just as much as it was her childhood conditioning.
And here, in front of this unknown man of mahogany and sienna — obscuring her emotions felt so futile and ineffective! Kitsch knew nothing about him, but it felt as if he already knew everything about her; saw right through her, as if she was as thin as a sheet of paper. There was nothing in his words or actions to support this, merely an idea conjured up in the dark mind of the besmirched girl… but this did not matter. She was one-dimensional wolf now, she guessed — a woman made of nothing of substance or worth keeping.
Having seen right through her attempt to turn the tables on him, Rian questioned her own unceremonious entrance. ”Oh… no, not really.” she responded demurely to his question. A kittenish whuff of air rushed from her nostrils as she huffed and rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tenseness that had settled there “It just felt nice to run.” Yeah, felt, in the past tense — her stupid brain had very quickly taken care of any sort of euphoria the short jaunt had provided.
“Sorry, I’m… weird.” it was the best she could do, honestly. There was no other way to relieve this weirdness other than to acknowledge it, face-to-face. The girl pursed her thin lips and looked up at him, her gaze somewhat hollow. ”You probably want to go, don’t you?”