Deepwood Weald ambrosial grace - Printable Version +- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com) +-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5) +--- Forum: Archives (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: Deepwood Weald ambrosial grace (/showthread.php?tid=28347) |
ambrosial grace - Dirge - July 11, 2018 It was raining again, snuffing out the sunlight of early morning. Rolling fog had come down from mountains to meet the mist along the outskirts of the weald, and it was there that Dirge moved along as quietly as he could manage. With @Nyx keen to roam a bit, he had been the one to linger now instead, weaving among the ferns of damp trees. No one had ventured through where he thought to cordon off a parcel of the woodland, which made this round of patrolling a mockery. It was boring, but perhaps for the better. It even crossed his mind not to bother with marking things, the notion that if no one took notice of he and Nyx then the less trouble there would be, but that was presumptuous; they hardly did anything to draw attention beyond crossing paths with others along whatever grassy or stony path the strode. It set his expression into a grimace as he battled pros and cons of one thought and another; he thought perhaps he would take it up with his fairer haired sibling once she came back around. Pausing to shake the damp free of his coat, he discarded his thoughts to take study of the northern curve of the woodland. Here nothing seemed too out of place, but then again few things did when even he still learned the lay of the land in depth. With the veil of mist shrouding things, it may as well have seemed a different place altogether and if the clouds and rain lingered then morning in the valley would hold fast to that shroud well into the day. He pressed on again towards the bend of the forest, and sought to lurk in its density once more. tags are for visibility
RE: ambrosial grace - Hamartia - July 17, 2018 tag for ref! also lol timelines what are those
The sorrow that has settled over her heart in Phocion's disappearance has turned into something cold, a brutalist acceptance of practicality. It is not the first time she has worn tragedy as surivival and she doubts it will be her last. @Cortland is well enough that she can leave his side with careful assurances of her return (she will not leave him alone, not after their newforged bonds). They cannot stay alone on top of the mountain for-ever. She does not mind the thought of remaining a loner, but she worries for her companion, who strikes her as needing... kindly, supervision. But they have time, still. Summer is long and bountiful. She winds her way through the weald, curious about this half of the wilds, having spent her time to the east of the mountains mostly. The coast is beautiful in the distance and the faint hints of sea salt in the air bring clarity back to her mind as she disappears into the thick woods, quiet in her contemplations until she comes across the scent of a stranger. Chuffing to announce her presence she moves in his direction, coming to stop once he comes into her line of vision. She does not speak yet, waiting to make sure her company is wanted, first. RE: ambrosial grace - Dirge - July 23, 2018 And along the those borders he had been setting, the density of the forest wasn't a guarantee. Though the boughs spread long and tangled gently here, they came in patches. The reality of lurking deeper along its depths resembled rolling swells of the sea; Dirge appeared just as often as he disappeared, whether the ferns or the hardwood concealed him. He abandoned this effort shortly after, opting for a worn deer trail that followed the curve of the weald, and paused to absently check over markings left by his sibling—a not so distant noise stopped him from assessing it further. Head on a swivel, he rose to his full height as he picked over the scenery. The she-wolf slipped from the hazy depths and he regarded her with interest, but no spark of recognition came. For a change of pace, this stationary lurking had not entirely connected the dots that others would simply happen by; the gearshift between aimless adventuring and directionless desire to hold his ground was as unfamiliar as the abstract design she wore. He was drawn to her eyes, and it was there his gaze lingered. "Hello there," he offered, softly. sorry for the brief delay... and the unexpected roughness of this post. i tried to smooth it out but i'm certain it's worse haha. too much travel and work this last week.
RE: ambrosial grace - Hamartia - July 29, 2018 no worries my friend ❤
He speaks first, greeting her through the lingering shade the forest offers, the weight of shadow as heavy on her as Phocion's disappearance. Surely it must be writ over her face: my love is lost, my body abandoned, even in peace and calm I am lost. If it is he gives no indication of recognizing it and she is grateful, slipping into a mask of self-assuredness, the reckless casuality that led her first to Wardruna and then to Bearclaw. "Hello," she returns, her voice even, "what brings you here?" (As if she wasn't the one who stumbled upon him, as if she's not the one looking for an out.) RE: ambrosial grace - Dirge - August 13, 2018 Her composure gathers and finds him in what seems to be good company, though admittedly he often took what he could get. It was there he took notice something burdened her, that something was gently masked behind her pleasantries. Those things were not the sort he would seek to tease out like tangled tendrils; he offered a thin smile instead to her inquiry. "I live here," he said. Drawing his gaze away from her to look about, he spared a second to wonder when that would feel more natural, when the notion of possession would be held in more than word and score marks to old wood. Perhaps it would seem becoming of him as few things were. Dirge let his gaze rest on her again. "What of you? I find we don't have many who come around these parts. Keeps it quiet I suppose," and perhaps better that it a quiet place than rife with unfortunate circumstances. Plenty had drawn he and Nyx both out to the weald to begin with, granted he tried to bear some of the burden she kept locked away with mismatched success. But for now that was neither here nor there; he was interested in what story was to come, if any. And there was, saved for another time and unwritten. thank you for your continued patience! ♡
|