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+--- Thread: Cedar Sweep i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus (/showthread.php?tid=23095)
i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Arturo - September 10, 2017
Arturo lingers on the very precipice of sanity, clinging onto the edge though he knows his claws are slipping. He looks up at Riptiide as Mufasa looked to Scar: though Arturo does not beg to help. He wants to give in, he wants to surrender, to drown in the peace of numb that the witch doctor offers him. Riptide has always been there, silent. Learning, gathering strength and at the first sign of vulnerability the sinister parasite swooped in as villain or savior depends. He is, perhaps, both. Salvation and destruction. The gangster struggles and clings only because he feels that he needs to. For Hemlock, the for the children. To lose Lotte and Arturo ….would it be too much? Riptiide doesn’t much care — it’s not his problem. Arturo is breaking, cracking, coming undone in his own mind. Some part of him had always known that he would forever suffer the consequences of the tumble he’d taken down Ravenshook Cliffs that fateful day. In his heart of hearts he’d always suspected.
Arturo feels him, even now. Ready. Ready to push him off that edge. Ready to steal the spotlight. Ready to conquer. There is a war in Arturo’s mind and he’s fucking tired. It’s the reason he takes @Ceallach with him because he isn’t so sure he won’t just collapse from the crushing weight of the world. He’d thought about having the boy stay back and guard Hemlock but she is tended to by Eirlys and Arturo trusts that Tapat won’t let anything happen to them, memory issues aside; and anyway the Fearghal men are not too far away that they couldn’t hear a howl if it rose.
The svelte coywolf takes the lead, weaving through the tangled cedars as they began to map out a route. They cannot move with Hemlock so close to giving birth but that doesn’t mean they can’t have a plan ready. A safe path that they can carry the babes to the coast. As per Hemlock’s request: far away from forests. He freezes when he catches a familiar scent trail, faded but unmistakable all the same. Old enough that it was a few days ago (a week at most) but she’s been gone for two months and he knows she’s been through here recently. So close to Teaghlaigh. And yet, she hadn’t came to check in on them. Hadn’t came to see the woman whom had adopted her as daughter before she died.
Arturo’s head begins to pound with ferocity and he closes his eyes. From this, he can only draw a single conclusion: that Chusi has abandoned them. For what other reason would she have for being so close and never letting them know she was there? Her scent trail is mingled with the scent of other packs, Moonspear the strongest one he can discern and there is a violent anger that tears through him. His head pounds so hard that he can feel the pulse of it behind his eyes. Over the edge, over the edge, over the edge! In his mind, Arturo pulls himself up only to be slammed off the edge by Riptiide. His breathing is heavy pants, labored and the ache in his head eases, dulls and then is gone.
Eyes of fiery twin suns peek open and a low, mirthless chuckle escapes the witch doctor’s lips as flesh curls back from sharp incisors, forgetting in the shift of power within him that Ceallach is there at all, or why Arturo had even been furious in the first place. It didn't much matter now because it had made Arturo vulnerable and allowed for Riptiide to take what he wanted: absolute control.
Arturo feels him, even now. Ready. Ready to push him off that edge. Ready to steal the spotlight. Ready to conquer. There is a war in Arturo’s mind and he’s fucking tired. It’s the reason he takes @Ceallach with him because he isn’t so sure he won’t just collapse from the crushing weight of the world. He’d thought about having the boy stay back and guard Hemlock but she is tended to by Eirlys and Arturo trusts that Tapat won’t let anything happen to them, memory issues aside; and anyway the Fearghal men are not too far away that they couldn’t hear a howl if it rose.
The svelte coywolf takes the lead, weaving through the tangled cedars as they began to map out a route. They cannot move with Hemlock so close to giving birth but that doesn’t mean they can’t have a plan ready. A safe path that they can carry the babes to the coast. As per Hemlock’s request: far away from forests. He freezes when he catches a familiar scent trail, faded but unmistakable all the same. Old enough that it was a few days ago (a week at most) but she’s been gone for two months and he knows she’s been through here recently. So close to Teaghlaigh. And yet, she hadn’t came to check in on them. Hadn’t came to see the woman whom had adopted her as daughter before she died.
Arturo’s head begins to pound with ferocity and he closes his eyes. From this, he can only draw a single conclusion: that Chusi has abandoned them. For what other reason would she have for being so close and never letting them know she was there? Her scent trail is mingled with the scent of other packs, Moonspear the strongest one he can discern and there is a violent anger that tears through him. His head pounds so hard that he can feel the pulse of it behind his eyes. Over the edge, over the edge, over the edge! In his mind, Arturo pulls himself up only to be slammed off the edge by Riptiide. His breathing is heavy pants, labored and the ache in his head eases, dulls and then is gone.
Eyes of fiery twin suns peek open and a low, mirthless chuckle escapes the witch doctor’s lips as flesh curls back from sharp incisors, forgetting in the shift of power within him that Ceallach is there at all, or why Arturo had even been furious in the first place. It didn't much matter now because it had made Arturo vulnerable and allowed for Riptiide to take what he wanted: absolute control.
RE: i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Ceallach - September 10, 2017
In the days that followed his mother's passing Ceallach had been....off. Sure, he was trying to be helpful to his Täti as she neared whelping but the boy barely spoke. He spent most of his time with Eirlys, and the only reason he had been even willing to leave her side was for the sake of going with Arturo today. Scouting their pathway would not only help Ceallach to prepare for leaving the Strath but it would also do well for not only Hemlock but his little siblings. He gave a breathy sigh, eyes fluttering for a moment as he followed a pace or so behind his father. They were nearing the same size, and it was astounding to him to realize that he had grown that much.
His brow knitted in deep concentration, the inky mask on his face only masking some of the shifts as they happened. Like ripples - the stone being his mother's death, and not having her had loosened some of the control that he'd felt he had. Unknown to him his father faced similar struggles, although when Arturo stopped abruptly Ceallach felt his fur bristle and his hackles raise. He hit the marker a moment after Arturo did and a snarl surprisingly formidable from the child sounded in the air. What he understood was that Chusi could have seen them - that she might even have been around, and she hadn't. THere wasn't the scent of a struggle or blood or anyone else nearby that could have suggested it wasn't a choice.
Where the demon his father allowed in had a name, had a personality, had a voice what lurked inside Ceallach was different. It was pure rage, tangled and breathing in hatred only to spew out destruction. The boy scarcely heard the bitter laughter of his father, launching himself at the nearest tree to cut his claws into it. To carve his fury, to make it known, an outburst stronger than he'd had so far.
RE: i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Arturo - September 11, 2017
Memories are ….murky at best and some have followed the gangster to the grave within his own mind; and the mind is no longer shared as it first was. Even then, they had not shared memories, both wholly independent entities. There is a massive gap of missing information in Riptiide’s memory: the last thing he remembers is being apart of Skellige’s pack in Stavanger Bay. For a second, the witch doctor is disoriented and it is enough to cause a rise, a hitch of fear in him and lets out a hollow gasp as he tries to re-orient himself. Where is he? What has happened? What has the gangster been up to while he slumbered? A lot, evidently. There is a sound from behind him and the witch doctor spins to find a boy lashing out viciously at the nearest tree and remembers that it had been undiluted wrath that had tore down the last remaining walls of the gangster’s sanity that had allowed Riptiide to seize what he’s wanted. There is awed fascination as he studies the child: quickly noting how much the boy looks like him but no recognition in the fierce sun storm of the witch doctor’s eyes. It is easy enough to discern that the boy is Arturo’s …or well his …in a sense. He is Arturo. Arturo is him. They are and are not.
There was something about this scent — a girl’s Riptiide deduces, laden heavy with scents that are all unfamiliar to him — that has upset both Arturo and his protégé. The Witch Doctor turns back to it and investigates it some more though it sparks …nothing. No anger, no pain. Because Arturo is dead and Riptiide misses a little more than half of a year of information. He recognizes the Hinterlands from his trip here once to find medicines but why is here? It is so very far from the coast and last that Riptiide had known Arturo’d had no talent for medicines and poisons.
Arturo sat on a wall,
Arturo had a great fall,
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Arturo back together again
There is a rise of a giggle in the witch doctor’s throat but he bites it back, remembering that he has company. And though sooner rather than later the child is bound to realize that something is amiss he tries not to let the magical side slip through just yet. But, it isn’t as if the witch doctor can imitate the gangster. There is nothing remotely similar between the two; and without the vital knowledge Riptiide is over half a year in the past; but it is easy to deduce that the gangster has not been idle during that time. Skellige’s scent is no longer present anywhere, and the scent that both of them carry is heavy with sweet mother’s milk. Very busy, indeed. Riptiide turns back to the boy studying the scars the tree now bears before his gaze goes back to the “mini-me”. Not quite so mini now, he corrects himself. “Impressive.” The witch doctor admires in a voice that is smoky but lacks the lilting accent of the gangster. Different personalities, different interest, different voices.
There was something about this scent — a girl’s Riptiide deduces, laden heavy with scents that are all unfamiliar to him — that has upset both Arturo and his protégé. The Witch Doctor turns back to it and investigates it some more though it sparks …nothing. No anger, no pain. Because Arturo is dead and Riptiide misses a little more than half of a year of information. He recognizes the Hinterlands from his trip here once to find medicines but why is here? It is so very far from the coast and last that Riptiide had known Arturo’d had no talent for medicines and poisons.
Arturo sat on a wall,
Arturo had a great fall,
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Arturo back together again
There is a rise of a giggle in the witch doctor’s throat but he bites it back, remembering that he has company. And though sooner rather than later the child is bound to realize that something is amiss he tries not to let the magical side slip through just yet. But, it isn’t as if the witch doctor can imitate the gangster. There is nothing remotely similar between the two; and without the vital knowledge Riptiide is over half a year in the past; but it is easy to deduce that the gangster has not been idle during that time. Skellige’s scent is no longer present anywhere, and the scent that both of them carry is heavy with sweet mother’s milk. Very busy, indeed. Riptiide turns back to the boy studying the scars the tree now bears before his gaze goes back to the “mini-me”. Not quite so mini now, he corrects himself. “Impressive.” The witch doctor admires in a voice that is smoky but lacks the lilting accent of the gangster. Different personalities, different interest, different voices.
RE: i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Ceallach - September 11, 2017
The cut into the bark satisfies some deeper itch, some drive in him that has been showing more and more frequently since Roarke went missing. He could still remember the first outburst - his desperate yelling near Sirius. Not at the boy, but Sirius had witnessed it and it seemed like just as fast Sirius had run away and Ceallach still thought it might have been because of his behavior. It had manifested in other ways, too, a near numbness shutting down his emotional response until he couldn't handle it anymore and it became a physical response. He could feel a few cuts on his paws from the ferocity of the swipes of his paws and his over all inexperience. He wasn't as well practiced as his far off brother - his most likely opponent had been gone for months now.
After he was left near breathless and panting Ceallach backed off from the tree to survey that damage he'd caused. His chest heaved, bark stripped in wide swatches and uneven patterns from the base of the tree. The tree itself wouldn't die but it certainly wouldn't grow over, the softer pulp mutilated beneath the bark he'd stripped away. His brow furrowed when all Arturo said was 'impressive' - but it sounded so different than Arturo's normal voice. Maybe it was something to do with what Ceallach had been doing, how he'd responded, but still the boy looked to him with a rare scrutinizing eye. Typically he was respectful to his parents, rarely disagreeing with them.
"How dare she?" He hissed, choosing right then not to think too much on a different tone to his father's voice. His response had been outwards, maybe, Arturo's was more inward. He just had no idea how much. "Why didn't she come home?"
RE: i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Arturo - September 23, 2017
The boy looks at him with a scrutinizing eye and Witchdoctor lifts his chin, fiery gaze sliding from his ( much younger ) look-alike to the marred tree. The voices whisper chaotically in his head and it takes much restraint not to shake it, as if that would dispel them. Witchdoctor knows that it would not and might just be an action he would have to explain; and he doesn’t feel like explaining much of anything at the moment. Ah, old friends, how I’ve missed you, he thinks with a punch of undiluted sarcasm to the sepulchral voices in his head. Was it too much to ask for permanent residency without the annoying neighbors? Evidently, the witchdoctor thinks. The tree is mutilated where the boy’s claws had sliced into the unyielding bark and Witchdoctor twitches his right ear, and then his tail against his hocks. How typical of Arturo to leave him with problematic children, Witchdoctor internally huffs. The boy, the villain acknowledges, has some serious anger issues.
Who? Witchdoctor wants to ask but bites lightly on his tongue. Perhaps…now is not the time to admit that he’s not Arturo ( though the signs are all present because the Witchdoctor has no idea how to act like the gangster ) and so he lets out a quiet hum of contemplation: because he has no answer ( and because he had no idea whom this elusive “she” was ). “It could be many things: guilt, betrayal, or that she doesn’t see home as her home anymore.” Witchdoctor offers the boy before he lowers his head to draw in the scent of this mysterious woman. He recognizes none of the scents: not her’s and not the ones she carries and thus he cannot piece together why it’s a big deal: to this boy and to Arturo. Wolves left packs all the time without word. Why should one be so much more special than another? And oh! how it was a big deal to the gangster. A big enough deal for him to tear his guard down and allow Witchdoctor to deal with killing blow.
Who? Witchdoctor wants to ask but bites lightly on his tongue. Perhaps…now is not the time to admit that he’s not Arturo ( though the signs are all present because the Witchdoctor has no idea how to act like the gangster ) and so he lets out a quiet hum of contemplation: because he has no answer ( and because he had no idea whom this elusive “she” was ). “It could be many things: guilt, betrayal, or that she doesn’t see home as her home anymore.” Witchdoctor offers the boy before he lowers his head to draw in the scent of this mysterious woman. He recognizes none of the scents: not her’s and not the ones she carries and thus he cannot piece together why it’s a big deal: to this boy and to Arturo. Wolves left packs all the time without word. Why should one be so much more special than another? And oh! how it was a big deal to the gangster. A big enough deal for him to tear his guard down and allow Witchdoctor to deal with killing blow.
RE: i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Ceallach - October 05, 2017
Chest heaving still, Ceallach still couldn't handle the thought that Chusi had been there so close to their borders and then she had just... Gone. Left them behind. It stung more than the thought of Roark and Mallaidh missing - that was an accident, things happened. This was a choice. This was a thing that Chusi had done to them. Anger spiked in him again but he did not have the energy to turn to and rage against the trees again. What his father said might have made sense but it just didn't. It wasn't right.
"She left us." Ceallach said bitterly, and in that moment made the choice: should he find Chusi again, he would be sure to tell her she was no relative of his. "If I see her again, it will not be as any sister of mine." Bitter and childish in his raw emotions, Ceallach could not promise his father he would harbor any good will towards her. He didn't know how Arturo would take that news, not when he had lost his wife in one day and now a daughter in another.
RE: i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Arturo - October 07, 2017
The Witchdoctor takes his cues from his ( much younger ) doppelgänger, noting the heave of the boy’s chest as he, presumably, works out that pent up anger that has seized him. Thus far, Witchdoctor is able to deduce that he’s supposed to care about this girl having walked right past their little pack. He’s not sure if he’s skilled enough at pulling that sort of thing off but perhaps he won’t have to. The boy bitterly states that the girl left them, as to which the Witchdoctor had figured out on his own without the verbal confirmation but gives a solemn nod nevertheless. “Only cowards run away.” The witch mutters under his breath. “Clearly we don’t mean much of anything to her and we certainly don’t harbor her respect, for if we did she would have at least told us she was leaving.” He is a harbinger of chaos and discord is his realm. He will gleefully stir the pot of family drama without a moment of hesitation. He’s making wild assumptions, haphazardly piecing together that which has revealed itself and calling it a masterpiece: and not necessarily to enrage the boy once more. That's not his end goal. The simple truth is: he doesn’t particularly care about the little family Arturo built for himself and in the doctor's general opinion, the less of them he has to deal with, the better.
me writing this post: ...wow, that has to be a new level of asshole, smh. >_> xD
RE: i was everywhere, like a god, like a virus - Ceallach - October 18, 2017
While normally his father's wisdom provides a comfort to him now Ceallach just feels like he's burning alive. His anger grows and he feels himself near trembling - some unnamed current beneath his fur that he can't quite shake. "I don't understand." And that bothers him - that his sister would betray them that way. "Chusi better not show her face again." His mother would admonish him, surely, but Lotte isn't there and he cannot pretend to swallow his anger for the sake of a wayward child who didn't love them. Maybe she never had. "Lets. Lets get back to scouting." Ceallach wants desperately to put as much distance between Chusi's trail and scent and himself as possible and things won't get better until they do.