+- 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: Wheeling Gull Isle your whole life is in the hands of God (/showthread.php?tid=56613)
your whole life is in the hands of God - Everett - June 27, 2023
He tended to the pups, alongside Heda and Caracal, and all the residents of Sweetharbour. The children became their focus of living. Even Caracal’s mother had come to help in these first and vital days. Helped sustain them, nurture them, and he was grateful beyond words. She had raised a fine son in Caracal; she knew of motherhood more than any of them. Even Heda.
He prayed for the children one by one — Heda’s by name, and the rest, by appearance and face. You choose their names, Heda had said, and he had spent the better half of the week watching them, seeing them, singing over them, and pondering in heart what name would suit each one.
Weary paws roamed the sands today. Caracal had come to take up his time with the kids, and Everett had gone to hunt — yet his teeth were unfruitful, for one child still rested heavy on his heart: Everett had noticed little @Dinah slip away.
He’d found her scent leading down through the lavender fields. Alone — and he sought her out there, upon the shoreline.
RE: your whole life is in the hands of God - Dinah - June 27, 2023
Stupid demon children. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
So much commotion and so many faces — even Gramma Towhee had made an appearance! And usually, Dinah would be all over her, whining up a little storm and showering her in hugs and kisses, but not today. Today, she felt like a ghost! It was as if Dinah no longer existed! Everything was about the stupid new, ugly children!
And she could not, for the life of her, understand why her brothers were so content with accepting these vampires into their home. What they had before was perfect on its own.
Why did it have to change? Was God angry with her?
And that was the question she asked herself today, with her little knees buckled and one forepaw drawing tiny shapes in the clouded sand. Had she done something to make Him angry? Why else would He be punishing her like this?
Was she supposed to love them as if they were her siblings? But they weren't! They were — she didn't even know what they were, but they were not her family. This was clearly not her family anymore.
And she was so caught up in her inner turmoil that she hadn't even noticed the shadow of Everett that loomed nearby.
RE: your whole life is in the hands of God - Everett - June 28, 2023
She didn’t seem to notice him. Her paw traced lines in the sand, while the rest of her buckled in a tiny heap, so unlike the Dinah he knew. She was misery where she once was laughter. He had seen the way she drifted from the rest.
He tried to put himself in her paws, tried to imagine what she must be feeling — but his childhood had happened so long ago, and so different than the one the children of Sweetharbour shared. He wished his parents had trained their eyes in more than himself and Evander, but they hadn’t. They had been holy, after all. Chosen. Set apart from the world. Isolated. Alone.
Maybe that is why he noticed Dinah.
Hello, Dinah,he said, so as to not scare her. The waves struck the shoreline in a gentle cadence, and gulls wheeled overhead,
are you looking for shells to bring back to your brothers?
RE: your whole life is in the hands of God - Dinah - June 28, 2023
A voice.
Her little head swivels around in every which way in search of it, until her eyes land upon the sleepless figure: Uncle Ev.
She shuffles, straightening up her back and hiding her sniffle behind a swipe of her paw over her nose. She tries to ignore the sand particles she could now smell and taste at the same time.
Normally, that would have made her laugh. But today was not a day for laughter.
He asks her whether she is searching for gifts for her brothers. Wearily, she shakes her head no, and before she even realizes, she is in shambles. Her wails are quiet and steal all the air from her lungs, the gasping kind of sob where the only sounds are heaves. The kind of sob where she feels as if she is drowning.
Her little head swivels around in every which way in search of it, until her eyes land upon the sleepless figure: Uncle Ev.
She shuffles, straightening up her back and hiding her sniffle behind a swipe of her paw over her nose. She tries to ignore the sand particles she could now smell and taste at the same time.
Normally, that would have made her laugh. But today was not a day for laughter.
He asks her whether she is searching for gifts for her brothers. Wearily, she shakes her head no, and before she even realizes, she is in shambles. Her wails are quiet and steal all the air from her lungs, the gasping kind of sob where the only sounds are heaves. The kind of sob where she feels as if she is drowning.
Mama an' Daddy don't love me-e-e-e!And what she wanted to do was go on a tangent; the babies are demons, Uncle Ev, they're demons! They stole my parents! They stole you! They stole my brothers! Demons! Demons! Demons! But that is not what she does. She is pitiful, truly, merely a puddle that still held the russet stripe between her ears.
I miss the-e-em!