Stone Circle the voice you're hearing in the hall
January 10, 2020, 05:05 AM
Saints Of The Dying Light
@Laurel was gone, pretty much. She told him to go play, she didn't protect him from his siblings anymore. She had loved him, once, he was sure of that. When he was little, he thought she loved him. He only had fuzzy memories of that. Of her doting over him, of her nuzzling his face, of her calling him all sorts of sweet names. But as he grew, she would be nice less often. She would not tell his brothers off as often if they would bother him. She would not care if he showed her something cool he found. It was as if he didn't matter anymore.

Was it because of how he looked different than the others? She had called him ugly once or twice when he tried to bother her to get her attention. She was still his mama, but she didn't want him anywhere near her.

One time, he had tried to snuggle up to her when she was sleeping and she woke up, eyes blazing, and shouted at him to stop touching her. He didn't understand. He knew he was pretty big now, but why did that make things different? Her eyes that day reminded him of something and for a week he had had nightmares about him attacking his mother and his mother tearing him apart. He didn't understand it, and it made him wake in tears every morning.

One time he asked her about puppies and how they were born, and she stared into the distance for minutes and told him to stop asking nosy questions. Charles didn't understand and kept asking and pushing until eventually she shouted at him to leave her the fuck alone.

So he stayed away, most of the time, now. It hurt him to have to, but if mama would be happiest without him in her life then maybe that's what he should do. He just wished that he could make her happy. He just wished that she loved him, like she used to, like he felt she used to, like he sometimes dreamt she used to, when he was little. Little and sweet and cute; not big, floppy and ugly like he was now.

Men are all the same, she said once, although not to him, but to aunt Indra.

Things had changed since aunt Indra died. Things had changed even more since that one wolf was banished from the pack. Charles wasn't sure if it was really those things that had changed her feelings or if it was because he was big and ugly now.

The coywolf had found a stick, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna let @Riley or @Louie get it this time. He loved his sticks, but his brothers would often steal his sticks from him. Charles proudly trotted towards the center of the territory, near the stones, where he could hopefully chew on it and play with it in peace. It was kinda more boring than playing with his brothers, but at least they wouldn't take it from him and tug on his ears.

tags for reference :) for @Kaito !
January 14, 2020, 10:41 PM
Approved Members

<3 Thanks for starting! Poor sweet Charles D: Have a clumsy boy lol <3

Kaito worked within the Circle. Woven strands of reeds and water grass lay about him, some the product of his lesson with Arlette, most the result of his own tedious work. One end of each reed dangled free, while the other clung to the stick he'd selected from the plethora he'd gathered, tacked on by tree sap and left to dry.

He circled the contraption once, eyeing every piece of the splint, before the medic settled down, ruffled out his shoulders, and stretched his hind leg into careful position against the stick, with brow set and tongue wedging through the corner of his lips. He still had very little clue as to whether or not this would actually work, but wasn't that the nature of an experiment?

Kaito observed the splint once more, repositioned himself, and reached down to grab the unattached end of one of the reeds. A deep breath. Then, with the gentleness one might use to carry an infant, he began to wrap. Careful to pull tight, but not too hard, lest he break any of the materials in mid gesture. Careful, and the going went slow, passing the reed over one side, flicking the end out the other, only to collect up the strand on the other side, to repeat the motion again... and again... until there was nothing left of the reed to pass along, his leg fixed against the bark, and the free end more or less back to where it began.

Kaito bent down to press his snout against the reed, while with his forepaw, he reached out sideways to collect a smear of sap to stick the end of the reed to the edge of the bark. To seal the first bind...

The sound of footfalls flagged his attention. A rush of heat blazed through his chest - a momentary swallow of panic - and he scuttled to attention - scuttled, in the best way he could. His leg was bound, after all, held straight and stiff by the wooden limb he'd just tied himself to. And the splint, though flimsy, still did its job. He kicked out, and bent, with all his legs, and everything happened perfectly well with everything else, except that stick-bound leg.

Kaito lurched; the imbalance sent him careening backward. His eyes widened, and he gasped a loud, "Woah!" And, with as much grace as a falling penguin, he toppled over. Back a thumping on the snow, hind legs kicking up in the air, and breath fleeing his lungs in a final wheeze.
January 21, 2020, 05:41 AM
Saints Of The Dying Light
Bits of wood sprang from the stick as Charles chewed on it. It was so quiet; almost too quiet. He totally expected Riley to pounce from the other side of the stones any moment now. Where was his brother hanging out? But it was also quiet. It was a bit as if you missed a nagging wound that had bothered you for so long that you didn't know how it felt to be without it.

On edge as he was, when he heard a sudden shout Charles' hackles rose and he jumped to his feet, away from the stick. As he looked over his shoulder he saw a familiar face -- Kaito from the hunt and the banishment -- who'd fallen to his back and had limbs flailing in the air. What was he doing? What was all this... stuff? Was it sticks to play with, or something else?

Large coyote-like ears pinned forward, Charles took a few steps towards the man and called out: What'cha doing?