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+--- Thread: Phoenix Maplewood She says that I'm a high-end, lit cigar (/showthread.php?tid=33100)
She says that I'm a high-end, lit cigar - Síff - March 06, 2019
@Vangard sooo I have entirely too much time on my hands and was far too eager for them to meet - even if they won't be joining up again til later. Anyways, here's a novel XD (backdated to when Liri was still in the Taiga.)
Night had settled over the forest, smothering it in both peace and darkness. In the quiet, amidst the tangled limbs of the undergrowth that allowed admittance only to the smallest of lupines, a pale figure twisted and tossed restlessly.
The healer sat upwards silently, frustration creasing her brow and setting her jaws to clenching. The bedding of soft pine needles was warm and cocooned her in the sweet perfume of evergreen yet, Liri could find no escape to the realm of dreamers.
A prickling anxiety clawed against the prison of her flesh, demanding that the northron abandon her attempts at rest. The fae longed for the feel of the forest floor underneath her paws, to outpace this unnamed desire to be in motion.
With a twist of her slender shoulders, the scarred she-wolf pushed herself to her feet - leaves tangled in her wild pelt.
The Blackfoot managed to free herself of the brambles, stopping to pluck the tufts of pale fur from the thorns that had snagged on the sharp defenses of the plant when she had slipped past. Perhaps it was overly cautious to bury them in the tough, cold soil at her feet but then, hadn't she learned to be cautious by now?
As she erased the scant evidence of her previous occupation of the area, the sylph's dark optics flitted occasionally to the trees - small ears flickering as they strained to catch any sound amidst the press of silence.
Satisfied, the northron turned and prowled away with the grace of one who had been born with only three legs.
A last chunk of ivory fur, blown from her line of sight whilst preoccupied digging, was carried to a nearby tree only to catch against the rough bark of its new home at eye level, went unnoticed.
The weald no longer seemed cheerful without the golden aura of twilight or the cries of birdsong to bring it to life. It had been transformed by the night into a strange colorless land - home to moonlight, shadows, and ghosts. The tracker moved silently through the dark; if pressed she could not have explained why she practiced such stealth. She had no reason to suspect anything dangerous lurked within the forest, it appeared she was alone, but it seemed a crime to disturb the hush that had fallen.
Liri wandered without a destination in mind, content just to breathe the night air, but found herself halting amongst the void of dark as she neared the edge of a tiny clearing.
It was small, occupied only by a nearly perfect ring of the maple trees that had given the territory its namesake. Indigo dotted with diamonds peeked betwixt the branches of the trees as they swayed gently in response to a cold front of wind whistling through the wood.
Liri stepped forward hesitantly, sensing that the place held great power. The northlands had been where she first encountered magick, learned of it at Nagka's knee, but she had rarely come across it in Teekon. The healer could feel that these were no mere trees but ancients, just as she had felt it atop the Plateau amongst her trees.
How many packs, how many wolves had these elders seen pass through? What forces of nature, what stories had it known? Liri could barely begin to imagine as she brushed her freckled forehead gently against one of the trunks - a sign of respect.
The girl sank to her haunches, gaze lifting to the heavens with familiarity. How disorientating to think that it was the same sky she had studied as a child in the tribe of the moon; so much had happened since then that she often wondered if she was even the same wolf.
Argent light illuminated the pale canvas of her coat like a beacon and threw her scars into sharp relief. For once, the wintry femme did not seem so burdened by the mars upon her skin. Rather, she seemed to wear them with pride - the marks roped about the graceful curve of her neck were carried as a diamond pendant upon a wealthy's woman's throat, the scars clustered about her hips and ribs seemed badges of honor.
Something dangerous, something like hope, flickered to life as her coffee optics roamed the star-speckled sky.
She could do it. She could leave it all in the past - become stronger, braver, better.
But where to begin?
"If the spirits would tell, this woman would know why she has been kept alive, " Liri whispered, falling easily into her native tongue.
Eyes raised to the sky as colorless night clouds of spun sugar drifted by, she waited though she had long ago stopped hearing the voices of her people's ancestors.