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+--- Thread: Greatwater Lake petite fleur (/showthread.php?tid=37051)
petite fleur - Marmion - October 09, 2019
@Nirali this is so clunky idk who this boy is help
October wasn't known for being so chilling, but the wind that blew through the valley from further north was exactly that, and he fled from it as if it might become corporeal; perhaps it had already, and the boy was running from ghosts. Frigid winter ghosts which had no place here—not yet anyway—at least not until the last of the leaves shed from the trees. But what did he know, right? Marmion wasn't well-versed on the seasons outside of the Hold and he certainly had no memory of his last visit to this place, this beautiful, vibrant, place.
Something strange is taking place, though. As he's running he's becoming aware of his heartbeat, the sound of his paws crunching through a thin layer of snow—but there is nothing else. No birds taking flight from his nearness, no songs. Where he'd imagine frogs to sing along the bank of the lake, there is silence. Not even the bugs betray their location—perhaps it is too cold for them, but that cannot be the case for everything else. The boy slows his fleet-footed progress and listens, intently. There is something moving around him—and suddenly the beauty is shattered, for the lakeside becomes something else entirely.
At first he isn't sure what he's feeling, but the sensation rumbles towards the mountains and he stumbles where he's poised, stares, so utterly perplexed by it all. The dying embers of sunlight are lending an apocalyptic glow to everything, and where it catches on the leaves over his head, he thinks he sees fire, and does a double-take. The shaking ebbs away to stillness soon enough but Marmion cannot help but feel utterly unsettled, as neutralized by the emptiness as every other creature calling the lake home.
RE: petite fleur - Old One - October 09, 2019
pping @Aldric with permission <3
So strange...She murmurs to her mate as she surveys the water, walking alongside the lake at a far more leisurely pace than is typical of her — mostly so she doesn't leave Aldric behind. Her gaze returns to him after a moment, questioning and full of concern.
Do you see any fish?
If he answers her question, she doesn't hear it. Razikale starts to grumble fiercely from below before she can even finish the last word, forcing her to halt abruptly. She sways slightly, but manages to remain steady, turning her gaze first toward the mountain range, then the lake, as if searching for some semblance of sanity in the chaos around them. There is none to be had, though — at least, not until Razikale's fit calms, no doubt soothed by Zazikel's sheepish retreat. She sucks in a breath, glancing back to Aldric.
I wonder what trick Zazikel has pulled this time,She comments to him, trying not to sound as shaken as she feels. Thankfully, something in the distance distracts her: a bright splash of pale against the warm autumn evening — a wolf, she realizes.
Look, Aldric —And then she takes off running toward the stranger, far too eager for the change of focus to wait for her mate's response.
RE: petite fleur - Aldric - October 10, 2019
The overflow of the banks has the once prince on edge from the start. Although the lake is, undeniably, a decent spot to rest their weary heads, his concerns flow similar to Nirali’s. What is Razikale planning? Do these quakes—as Black Hat had called them—reach the edges of Minrathous? Despite all the traitorous kingdom has done to them, he worries for his family, for his sibling.
»No, prey has been scarce in general,« he whispers, aware that Nirali isn’t truly paying much attention to his words—yet giving a response nonetheless. His leisure pace making the firebolt impatient. He is used to following, however, and content enough to keep his mate in view. Golden eyes half-lidded with sleep. His muzzle cracks in a wide yawn, enough that said eyes tear slightly.
Alas, he spots the straggler before Nirali does, his attention shifting towards the pale form—sticking out akin to a sore thumb amongst the vibrant reds and oranges, even with snow still dusting the grounds from the recent storm. Moments later, Nirali shoots off, an arrow released and Aldric exhales a soft, amused sigh.
His pace quickens to a jog, long limbs carrying him fluidly over the terrain without issue. Nirali is already investigating the stranger; “Hello. Are you alright?” Her voice carries what appears to be genuine concern, that is, to anyone who doesn’t know her. Aldric slows at her side, giving a nod in greeting.
It is odd to hear the common language spoken by her once more, yet he is pleased at the opportunity to stay silent for now.
»No, prey has been scarce in general,« he whispers, aware that Nirali isn’t truly paying much attention to his words—yet giving a response nonetheless. His leisure pace making the firebolt impatient. He is used to following, however, and content enough to keep his mate in view. Golden eyes half-lidded with sleep. His muzzle cracks in a wide yawn, enough that said eyes tear slightly.
Alas, he spots the straggler before Nirali does, his attention shifting towards the pale form—sticking out akin to a sore thumb amongst the vibrant reds and oranges, even with snow still dusting the grounds from the recent storm. Moments later, Nirali shoots off, an arrow released and Aldric exhales a soft, amused sigh.
His pace quickens to a jog, long limbs carrying him fluidly over the terrain without issue. Nirali is already investigating the stranger; “Hello. Are you alright?” Her voice carries what appears to be genuine concern, that is, to anyone who doesn’t know her. Aldric slows at her side, giving a nod in greeting.
It is odd to hear the common language spoken by her once more, yet he is pleased at the opportunity to stay silent for now.
RE: petite fleur - Marmion - October 10, 2019
I shouldn't be awake omg what is this.
The boy's attention remains fixated upon the trembling leaves, watching as a flurry come loose and tumble to the lake's edge; some catching the wind just enough to skate across the surface, landing without a sound, and drifting. These he follows with eyes wide, bright, doing his best not to lose track of them in the dark. He turns and looms over a small patch of loam where the reeds are thin, but try as he might Marmion cannot discern much more—the water is so dark already, it swallows up the drifting leaves in shadow in much the same was as a candle's wick peters out. He is still watching the water's edge when he hears the shifting of the wind between the reeds—or that is what he thinks, and worries, presuming that the shuddering earth is alive with motion again.
With a half-step back he smoothly extricates himself from the reeds. He has lowered himself in to a diminutive posture and feels the pressure of nervous energy collect between his shoulders, but in moments the sounds are practically upon him; if the air wasn't so still and quiet he probably would have never heard the oncoming wolves at all. As the first makes their appearance known, Marmion doesn't realize what he's looking at. They have a mottled coat of darker tones, mostly grays, reminding him vaguely of the clear-water river that he once visited nearer to the Hold; he saw a flash of a memory, his face reflected in the cool water and his attention briefly fixed on the smooth stones along the bottom. Yes, she—she? he thinks—she looks very much like that! A mess of colors but not a bad mess.
Hello. Are you alright?The stranger queries, her voice flowing smoothly, lacking warmth but still more appealing than what Marmion has had to put up with; between the silence of the present and the condemnations of the past, this is much preferred. He cannot help but smile, even though the expression doesn't really suit the rest of his features. His eyes are too big, too bold; whatever aristocratic bearing he may have inherited by his bloodline has been worked out of him by hunger, terror, and menial labour, leaving only a sense of need, a suble mania possesses him that gilds his tired eyes.
Did -- did you feel it?He stammers while his ears fidget, still hunting for sound and any signs of life beyond the dripping of the lake water. He sees the second wolf approaching at this point, a burly creature—no, thin, young, but haggard in places. Their face is bone-white, the rest shrouded with haze, almost like shadows but not quite strong enough. This one reminds Marmion of his master's son, and he pulls back another step, jostled by the brief, but negative, mental connection.
Absently he rambles to the girl:
The -- the ground, it was moving more than -- more than it should've, and there's no sound here, do you hear that? Or -- or I suppose you don't, but, what I mean is -- it's so quiet now, it wasn't before. You felt it, right?He implores her, his one breath fueling the full extent of this brief foray through nervous vocal vomit, and when he stops he's panting softly inward, gathering his wits with each bit of oxygen.
RE: petite fleur - Old One - October 13, 2019
The stranger is fidgety, youthful of face in a way that doesn't quite match the rest of him, and she finds she can't quite decide whether she's looking at a teenager or a seasoned adult. The only thing apparent about the man is an air of suffering, easily recognizable from a childhood of watching it fester in the slaves of Minrathous. He is pretty, though, in his own way, and that trivial thought is enough to dismiss her more judgmental tendencies.
She watches him carefully as he responds to her without quite answering her question, noting the twitch of his ears, the way he startles slightly as his gaze settles on Aldric, then turns his attention fully to her. He's clearly rather shaken up, so she keeps her voice soft as she speaks again, returning his smile faintly.
She watches him carefully as he responds to her without quite answering her question, noting the twitch of his ears, the way he startles slightly as his gaze settles on Aldric, then turns his attention fully to her. He's clearly rather shaken up, so she keeps her voice soft as she speaks again, returning his smile faintly.
Yes, we felt it. It's been happening for weeks, and most other creatures have fled by now,She glances to Aldric briefly before she continues, focusing once again on the stranger. He seems soft, perhaps pliant if she can get him to calm down — perhaps useful.
It's safer out here than in the trees or mountains, though.
RE: petite fleur - Aldric - October 25, 2019
AAaa I apologize for the wait and how terrible this is. Please feel free to skip Aldric in the future if I take forever
Ghostly and stricken with panic, this boy must be new to these lands, just as Nirali and the rest of them are. The ex-prince remains a looming guardian, stoney in expression, at his mate’s side—the rushed, rambled words unfamiliar, and spoken as they were left Aldric missing bits of what he was trying so desperately to explain.
Fortunately, Nirali is familiar with the common tongue, much more than he is, and handles the situation with ease.
It seems worse northeast of here,he adds at Nirali’s glance, and shifts his golden gaze towards the boy.