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+--- Thread: Blackbeak Bluff and when you wanted love, i bled myself again (/showthread.php?tid=30869)
and when you wanted love, i bled myself again - Caiaphas - November 18, 2018
they settled under the eaves of blackbeak's frowning cliffs, the sea's waves snarling at their sides. it was strange to sleep alongside the ocean's ceaseless surf again, and caiaphas found she could not sleep.
too many questions, too many loose ends.
the snarl and slap and suck of the tide.
where do we go?
the ceaseless tormenting noise.
had she grown into an inland wolf?
would raleska and svalinn be safe -- ever?
it was not the cathartic jaunt she envisioned, traipsing like roughshod and homeless vagrants up along the coast. it had been grueling and cold, and while her limbs were travelworn and hardened, she knew svalinn and raleska had no such internally built up fortitude. the winter would kill them, same as it had stolen and killed the rest of her family.
overhead the stars, dim and set in distant pools of black, seemed to stare down with pale and uncomforting light, oblivious and indiscriminate to the struggles of the waking world. caiaphas' gaze swept their silvery-studded realm with quiet disdain as she pondered the group's grim future.
RE: and when you wanted love, i bled myself again - Arturo - November 19, 2018
despite his intention arturo heads south along the coast from ankyra sound. he'd wanted to go inland, hearing the scolding and croaking voice as a distant echo of what the medicine woman would snap at him if she knew he was defying what she'd taught him. each step brought him closer to ravensblood, to the sentinels. to memories of what once was.
if you don't stop you'll be sucked into an endless vacuum of your past. you've grieved. you've mourned. now let it go.
the gangster tells himself he'll go no further south than blackbeak buff on the coast. this is where he'll draw the line. he's been playing russian roulette with his past for too long and the stakes of losing what peace he'd made keep rising the closer he gets. he was running out of empty chambers. even a gambling man such as himself had to know when to take what he's earned and walk away.
the cliff makes the soothingly sinister coywolf nervous. he shies away from it's edge. though he walks a path closer than he'd like. the drop, he knows without seeing it, is steep and rocky. the ocean waters that crash against the rock wall are cruel and merciless. they'd offer no respite in the case of a fall. if the fall into the rough waters didn't break bones or kill upon impact ...slamming against the cliff wall would.
a shiver runs down his spine but he ignores it as he realizes that he's crossed scents and for a moment ponders whether he's wandered into pack territory. no, he thinks. he'd have scented borders much further back than this. there is a shadowed form in the distance and always a gentleman ( even if his words hide knives ) the gangster lets out a chuff to announce his presence, just in case his footfalls hadn't alerted them to begin with.
316 words
RE: and when you wanted love, i bled myself again - Caiaphas - November 27, 2018
she had been thinking of the strange fragility of fate (ironic, considering the bludgeoning way it hit you) when a chuff sounded over the miserable squall. her ears slid back and she pulled her gaze from the distant stars, her hawk yellow eyes scouring the darkness for the noise's author.
between films of monotonous grey and dark navy the shadowed figure of a man stood, his posture non-threatening far as the sylph could tell. for a brief instant she wondered if she was trespassing, and he was the polite guard to tell the interloper to kindly fuck off -- but the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that was impossible. she hadn't detected the overbearing presence of a pack, and she had become damn good at spotting them.
many things lied to her -- but her nose was never one.
the siren queen sized him up in a hungry sort of way, making no show to hide it. he was no more wolf than her, it appeared - something that somewhere kindled a sense of strange affinity. she had grown to hate the contemptuous arrogance of wolves - gods, were they stupid. kierkegaard and svalinn being the exception, of course.
in her mind if every wolf had a bit of coyote blood -- a bit of caiaphas, if you will -- why, things would be so much better.. but then.. she might have some peers in terms of superior intellect and that thought caused her blood to run cold.
she supposed she would have to address him -- gone were the days where two kindred spirits could share a passing glance, and all could be said between them. she suspected this male, whoever he was, was a creature somehow displaced as she. leveling a severe look his way (one that gave no indication that the following words were incredibly flippant), the sylph spoke: "you look like someone's stepped on your balls." a crude comment, for a crude creature. "something eating you?"