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+--- Thread: Duskfire Glacier infinity (/showthread.php?tid=7354)
infinity - Tuwawi RIP - February 06, 2015
For my bebe @Maera :3
Though the group's hunt had withered, Tuwawi had managed to track down game on a solo hunt. An ignorant fishercat found itself prey to the she-wolf's jaws, though it had not gone down without a good scrap. Small bite marks seeped on Tuwawi's already afflicted maw, red droplets beading where the marten had managed to land a hit. However, the wounds were inconsequential — this catch was a good, fat meal and there was only one other who would be allowed to sup with her.
Tuwawi loosed a howl into the air, summoning her daughter to the scene. The mother was not too far from their old den, though she had skirted its entrance for some time. Certain inhibitions prevented her from entering... still wounded by the time spent there.
RE: infinity - Maera - February 12, 2015
momma <3
"lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones"
[size=small] Though over the months following her mother's disappereance she had not dared to slip through the dark entrance of what used to be her home, she too, tended to linger around the old Sveijarn settlement in times of solitude, the memories of the place were hurtful yet appreciated by the young girl -- who had decided that it was better to feel pain than nothing at all.
Still, despite the lonely nights inside, where she had to lull herself to sleep with her own soft sobs, the place still held her laughter from when her siblings had still been there to fill the empty spaces.
It was not picture perfect, but it was what she had.
One of the few things she could still call out as hers in the Glacier, and perhaps the entire universe.
The other, more important than the whole collection of rocks, pebbles, and feathers, was her mother. The, repetitive, departure of either of her parental figures had never allowed the child (or young lady rather) to understand the need of consistency -- she had never known the term, so naturally her actions were foreign to it. As one of her parents came, the other left, almost as if inside their heart there were a magnet of opposite poles, repelling them from one another while on the inside Maera could tell they had wanted to merge into one another's arms.
Had the fiery core of her mother's heart not managed to melt the frigid exterior of her father's armor? The one he had built after the lynx, after the fall, after the death of their hope? Or had his silver coating repelled the heat in an act of self-defence, self-preservation?
But from what did he need to be preseved from?
Their love?
All of these questions, and a million more swam through her head in that cold afternoon as she settled nearby the dreaded/loved place to pick on the knots covering her chest. In a leisurely motion she swept her tongue over the wild tufts of fur that stuck from her body, pulling on them softly until the sound of her name echoed through the air.
Immediately she pulled her tongue back in her mouth as she stood, not giving much thought on the 'why' she obidiently attended her mother's call.
As she arrived, the critter's body became apparent, as it did the small punctures covering her mother's muzzle.
"Fu--rry little pest she barked, biting the tip of her tongue as she almost ripped the f-bomb on her mother --again. Then with her slip up quickly hidden under a small smile she stretched her neck to press her nose against her mother's cheek and smear a good lick on her wounds before pulling away and letting her weight fall onto her rump.
[/SIZE]
Still, despite the lonely nights inside, where she had to lull herself to sleep with her own soft sobs, the place still held her laughter from when her siblings had still been there to fill the empty spaces.
It was not picture perfect, but it was what she had.
One of the few things she could still call out as hers in the Glacier, and perhaps the entire universe.
The other, more important than the whole collection of rocks, pebbles, and feathers, was her mother. The, repetitive, departure of either of her parental figures had never allowed the child (or young lady rather) to understand the need of consistency -- she had never known the term, so naturally her actions were foreign to it. As one of her parents came, the other left, almost as if inside their heart there were a magnet of opposite poles, repelling them from one another while on the inside Maera could tell they had wanted to merge into one another's arms.
Had the fiery core of her mother's heart not managed to melt the frigid exterior of her father's armor? The one he had built after the lynx, after the fall, after the death of their hope? Or had his silver coating repelled the heat in an act of self-defence, self-preservation?
But from what did he need to be preseved from?
Their love?
All of these questions, and a million more swam through her head in that cold afternoon as she settled nearby the dreaded/loved place to pick on the knots covering her chest. In a leisurely motion she swept her tongue over the wild tufts of fur that stuck from her body, pulling on them softly until the sound of her name echoed through the air.
Immediately she pulled her tongue back in her mouth as she stood, not giving much thought on the 'why' she obidiently attended her mother's call.
As she arrived, the critter's body became apparent, as it did the small punctures covering her mother's muzzle.
"Fu--rry little pest she barked, biting the tip of her tongue as she almost ripped the f-bomb on her mother --again. Then with her slip up quickly hidden under a small smile she stretched her neck to press her nose against her mother's cheek and smear a good lick on her wounds before pulling away and letting her weight fall onto her rump.
[/SIZE]