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+--- Thread: Dragoncrest Cliffs The Moon Calls To Me (/showthread.php?tid=41845)
The Moon Calls To Me - Kynareth Deagon - June 03, 2020
Setting: Night — 22:00, 67 degrees, cloudy and drizzling.
@Hemlocke
Sleep escapes Donovan tonight. He finds himself wandering along the coast, in the corpse of trees just before a steep tumble to ones doom. He doesn’t see the cliff, rather he doesn’t even know it’s fucking there. Without knowledge of the cliff only a few meters out he walks at a languid stride. Going no where in particular, he grimaces as droplets of water cascade down and into his pelt. He’s completely soaked, for he’s been traveling for quite some time in the drizzling rain. It’s darker than hades out there, with the canopy of trees above to the clouds sheathing the moon from any and all sight, he can’t see for the life of him. The only luck he has seeing where he’s going is the basically nonexistent highlight of some objects — the cliff obviously not being one.
As he strides forth languidly, he doesn’t suspect the quickly appearing coast that reaches his eyes. The stark contrast of the sand stands out easily in the dark was. He’s not sure if it’s a trick in the eyes but the beach looks so far. At this time he squints his glistening canary eyes in the darkness, still taking some step ahead until he can’t.
All of a sudden his front paw isn’t connecting with anything and his body jerks in an attempt to right itself as he almost flies off the cliff itself. Hind paws dig vicious claws into dirt and scrabble for purchase. A tense second passes and he’s backing up onto the grass and dirt once more. His breath comes heavy and his brows furrow at the effort it just took to not fall to his death and he finds himself snarling as he peers carefully over the ledge.
“Fuck.” He growls to himself. He almost fucking died. The idea that he could die like that just pisses him off. So he shakes his head if disbelief.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Hemlocke - June 03, 2020
Lost, alone, confined to The Bracken Woods for far too long. Hemlocke was sure of himself that his small group was not returning, at least not anytime soon. Had they been injured, killed, anywhere near, by now after wandering this place for months on his own he was sure he would have found them. He was almost afraid to leave the large, spiny forest. Almost afraid to meet someone new. But there was a world out there, a whole world which he could live. Was he worthy even, to live?
Be it by the visit of Chai or Hemlocke's own sudden determination, a revolution happened. Though he cried as he did so, he would stalk out from the large woodland by the cloak of darkness and out into the stretch of open tundra. The night, his forever only constant partner, would accompany him as he moved into seemingly endless open, exposed land for the first time in months.
He aimlessly wandered south-west from his home which was at the very most corner of this world. In the open landscape, he was driven towards the salted smell on the breeze of sea. He had not seen an ocean in such a long time. He had not visited the ocean often, funny for having been born on a peninsula. It was too harsh, too open and yet held beauty in its danger. He wished to see it again, if only for a little while.
The black wolf strode, clinging to the shadows, moving within them. Though here in the open he felt vulnerable, uncomfortable. Though his body was hunched, long legs of a tall man prevented him from obtaining full cover even in the cloak of darkness. It began to gently rain and his bloodied eyes squinted to it in protest. When he neared the rocks and trees which lined the cliffside, he fluttered towards them as though they may offer him some sort of protection from far more then the rain.
Then, as he reaches the safety of the trees he hears scurrying over the rocks, scraping, scrambling and he comes lingering near just quickly enough to see the large wolf (wolf??) skitter back to his footing and curse at his own mistaken judgement. The black hound could not help but stare (as ever) at the man, just as tall as he yet easily two times his girth. Hemlocke hunches back behind the trees, red night-visoned eyes still seeking.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Kynareth Deagon - June 04, 2020
The sickly, hardly there blue haze the fleeting light of the moon gives isn’t really enough to do much. So when he gazes around his surroundings he squints yellow eyes, struggling to see. He has the feeling of eyes on his back that can’t quite seem to escape him. His hackles rise and his brows furrow. His muzzle only wrinkles a little, prepared to bare impressive fangs to any type of threat that reveals itself to him.
“Who and what are you? Come out.” He calls out in the dim lighting. The lurking black wolf’s raven coat helps keep him well condensed in the darkness. Donovan would only be able to see him if he came out into the open. Even then, he would probably have some trouble seeing.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Hemlocke - June 15, 2020
The other creatures turns about, wild yellow eyes squinting in the pitch darkness, even as the moon struggles to offer any comforting glow. Maybe the other wolf (far different then any wolf he had ever seen before, then again, so was Locke) had not spotted him after all. Wolves could see well in the dark, yes, but even some could only see so far especially when their target is under cover. Maybe even still the other wolf's eyes did not see as well as some. Even still, Hemlocke imagined his eyes to be better then most at night, granted he was strictly nocturnal and red eyes had adjusted to such nature far better then the sting of sunlight.
On edge, hackles raised, tense, and nose wrickled, he was not in the mood to play any games. The man's voice cut the silence and Hemlocke quivered, stilled in his place but a moment longer. If he ran now, would it be better? Would this man catch him? Should he have left the safety of the large forest after all? It was dangerous out here...
Slowly, hesitantly, Hemlocke steps out from the foliage, shifting a single paw loudly over the earth to make his placement known. He didnt speak yet, only looked back at stranger with those dark eyes.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Kynareth Deagon - June 15, 2020
Donovan continues searching throughout the darkness, canary eyes squint as they shoot in every direction hoping to settle on whatever is creeping in the darkness. Then a creek that sounds louder than it really is sounds out a little to the left of where he was already looking. An outline can be seen now, the figure still dark, but tangible with the eyes. It’s a tall dark figure and he can see the reflection of light dancing into their eyes. Donovan furrows his brows further. What the fuck is that? He wonders. The outline is not enough to go by so he takes a gamble.
His heavy, wet paws drawl him closer to the other. “Who are you?” The brindled male asks lowly, but not maliciously. “If you don’t try and kill me, I’ll do the same. Just come out slowly.” He says it in a regular tone of voice, the mowhawk along his back is still slightly raised, but only in caution.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Hemlocke - July 01, 2020
At the sight of Hemlocke, the man bristled even further. It was true, Hemlocke was a tall wolf and could be imposing in that aspect. Though he was a thin creature- long legged, with a quite sloping waistline. On the regular he could not have been more then one hundred pounds flat and right now, certainly even less so living all to his sorrowful lonesome.
It wasnt that he was some fearful powerhouse, some impressive warlord or screamed dominance and respect - no, that might be the man before him now. It was that Hemlocke tend to give others the creeps, mostly, with the solid black coat, those bloodied eyes watchful eyes and quiet demeanor. He could look like Death himself, but he wasnt the Devil. Well, despite everyone Hemlocke having grown with believing his mother was a witch and had made a deal with the Devil which created this creepy guy here.
The man is still yet curious, but a curiosity which would not kill.
I wont...He whispers lowly, taking a few hesitant, long strides into the brindled wolf's direction.
I'm...A grim expression turns on his features. He was no one. Nothing, by the eyes of the Gods who shunned his existence.
I'm Hemlocke.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Kynareth Deagon - July 01, 2020
When the shady stranger comes forth Donovan does little to hide the astonishment caused by Hemlocke’s appearance. He’s nothing like Donovan has ever seen. For a moment he believes he has to be part dog, just like him, yet he’s not sure. He’s met plenty of odd characters here so far, this one might take the cake though.
So as his eyes slide along the others form taking in all of his odd features. From his tall, pointy ears and eyes as red as blood, to the barrel chest narrowed down to a lankier form and long, deer like legs. This man is easily as tall as him but Donovan has at least two to three times the girth. Probably in weight too.
So Donovan stops risky gawking over his interesting looks and nods once when he hears a name being muttered. Hemlocke. What an unusual name to pair with such an unusual wolf.
“Donovan.” He hums. “What brings you here, Hemlocke. And what are you?” He says the last part questionably. If he sounds rude he didn’t mean for it to, for he’s genuinely curious.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Hemlocke - July 06, 2020
Donovan was his name and a quite nice name at that. His name is given to him after a moment of looking him up and down, which Hemlocke couldnt help but do the same to him - a powerhouse that he was. A large, imposing wolf, if a thing he was, though stripped? That didnt seem right, but perhaps his family line was known to have quite unique markings.
'What are you?' Well, Hemlocke could not say he had never heard that before. In fact, he had heard it too many times that he had lost track. His long ears fell then, disappearing against his skull.
...A wolf?He answered, question in his tone. If he was anything else, he was not certain nor was he exactly willing to share what others, including himself, had suspected. A spawn of satan himself - a corrupt creation which the Gods spat upon in disgust.
Shifting his paws, he tried to come quick with an answer to the man's other question, if only to try and change the subject- he didnt know if he was sly enough to do so. He wasnt really sly at all.
I havent seen the ocean in a long time...Not since he had left home, if one would bother calling it such.
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Kynareth Deagon - July 07, 2020
Donovan can see the way his ears fall and his face tries not to, but betrays his rawer feelings about the matter. The abrupt change in subject after his low statement of his heritage cause Donovan to shake his head with an easy smile.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m half dog after all, I can’t really say anything.” Only now does the striped male allow himself to look down at the ocean and change the subject. “It’s beautiful, no?” He hums pleasantly.
Then he turns back to him. “Are you wandering?”
RE: The Moon Calls To Me - Hemlocke - July 21, 2020
The other man smiles, shaking his skull and apologizes. Despite how imposing, despite the eerie glow in those yellow eyes and the way his smile made him look more creepy sinister then anything, Hemlocke, somehow, believed him.
Half dog?He questions, obvious curiosity being shown by the way his large ears once again popped up on his skull.
I have heard of dogs, not seen one.At least not until now. But he was only half. The thin man guessed this is how he had his stripes.
Hemlocke's muzzle lifts, dark eyes peering over the ledge to see the crashing waves below. He nods. Closer would have been nice, but he guessed he didnt need to be close. He couldn't imagine having good footing on the sand and would feel horrible out on an open beach.
I am.He spoke and then, head turned behind himself.
There is a large forest that way, where I stay.Alone, however.