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a cautionary tale •
Posted 03-29-2017, 12:48 PM |
Oberyn
Spirit
Male, 4.00
Meso-fighter
35 in, 130 lbs
1054 ep
© Julie
phoenix birthing wings
Restless from the days that tolled by without news of Vera, the scorpion of the sands breaks routine to emerge in the light of day. A torrid sun beats relentlessly across his back, igniting the sun-bleached strands into a fervent shade of burgundy. Muscles ripple beneath a finely sheared coat that has acclimated him to desert life and his deboiner jaw wears a confident grin, accompanying him as he sets out for the heart of the barren waste. Chartreuse eyes dance across the sea of golden sands before he comes to a halt, urged by a sense to channel this anxious worry into something of merit and worth. Tiers of Akako's magic had been untouched by him in practice, and determined in his strength to achieve them, he readied himself for the task ahead. Steady breathing precede the quickening of his heart that signals the ascent of his core temperature, rising and coursing throughout his body. His flesh is pricked by the warmth that is generated from within, a warning for the inexperienced to turn back before it was too late. But Oberyn is far from inexperienced on the rudimentary tiers of magic, and determined to achieve his goal, the soldier prince presses on. The warmth spreads like a spark that has caught fire, and with his concentration tuned to a familiar power, flames ignite amid the dry air, crawling across his skin to encase the beast in a supernova. Panting as his temperature ascends, Oberyn holds steady despite the weakening in his toes from bradycardia. He is not satisfied with a display he has already achieved, however, and as the moments eclipse, he pushed forward to expel the flames outward in a spiral explosion. The high of adrenaline rides within his body and he can feel nothing. Not the pain as flames begin to pick at his skin, nor the pain that is resonating in his heart, claiming a permanent residence. To burn this bright reminds him of the beacon he built for Vera, and he is reminded of the joy he felt when she returned that evening. But seasons have passed and that was the last time he saw her face, and without her by his side, he feels so lost. The memories rush his mind and cloud his concentration, and in that single moment of lapse, the flames betray him as the protective barrier erodes. Oberyn is eaten alive by his own flames and a terrible scream bursts from the center of the furnace. Blisters overtake the handsome features of the soldier as burnt flesh permeates the surrounding air with acridity. In the midst of a gruesome scene, Oberyn penned a cautionary tale of what can occur when wielding magic and acting like gods, and cursed by a harsh reminder on mortality, he fights a losing battle between life and death.










Posted 03-29-2017, 02:31 PM |
Earth
Theodosia
Earth Warrior
Female, 1.50
Endomorph
36" in, [116] 132 lbs
150 ep
© Violetta
image
     Theodosia panted, glancing around with a pitiful look. She was ridiculously bored, and the lack of activity wasn't helping. It was hot in the Torrid Desert, and Theo's was short and thin with shedding. She believed it to be unsightly, it kept her cool as possible however. Somewhere nearby she could hear the crackle of flames, and her head turned a bit. (Almost in a doggish head tilt -- not that Theodosia was aware.) The teen at first wasn't too concerned, hearing such things was normal in a pack where turning into a fireball wouldn't faze many. She squinted in the distance, letting out a gasp of amazement at such a display. It was almost like an elegant dance of flames and fire -- until it wasn't. The girl jerks backwards as an ear piercing scream sounds from the figure. And she's left staring with agony as the embers seem to go against their master, the leader becoming commonfolk. Merely fuel for the bomb. No... Her joints felt tight in that one moment, unable to move and just staring at the now carcass. The scent of burning flesh reached her nose, and premature muscles quickly begin moving. Theodosia could slightly smell Oberyn within the flames, but it couldn't be..? She came forward and crumbled rapidly as Theo could clearly see who it was. Legs buckled weakly, "Uncle Oberyn! How could you die like this?" Canines ground together, tears welling up in oceanic eyes. Her body lays shattered next to the still burning figure, cursing Akako for once in her life. "Get up! Get up please!"

""












Posted 03-30-2017, 04:53 AM |
Singer
Spirit
Female, 7.25
Mesomorph
29 in, 105 lbs
2016 ep
© singer

NO! The exclamation is loud in the raspy depths of the barely-used voice. She screams it, eyes dampening instantly as she watched Oberyn burn, as her aching body stretches to try and get to him. Her ears are flattened back, and she aches – fairly sobs with the pain as she reaches Oberyn and the death her nephew had taken upon himself. Flames, and Akako’s powers, were not to easily be trifled with. The scent of burning flesh is a common one to her – she wears many burns herself, from many a time with Akako’s gift, some of which offered to her by Oberyn himself. She’d stride to Theodosia, at once the warrior-woman she once was, and a woman again thrown wild by grief. Her nose would seek to press into her shoulder lightly before she speaks softly. He came as a gift from Akako to his mother, Theodosia. He has been called back, as he was too good for us. He burned too brightly. She spoke without hesitation of her nephew. He should have known his limits, should have known how to stop. If Vera ever returned, she would strip her adopted daughter’s pelt with well-deserved pain. She had caused this.

She had cost Singer another family member. Pain and anger warred inside her, lifting her from the depression she’d felt for the past few weeks. She’d offer a low, cajoling howl to the skies above her, asking that Akako grant them some sign that Oberyn had reached him safely. She called to the children of Oberyn that remained, to his friends and his family. They needed to know that he had passed; that Akako’s flames had taken hold of his flesh and eaten him up with all the violence and fury that Singer didn’t often work with. She knew better than to give in to such things, even in the midst of the terror she still felt, bubbling up from inside her and locked inside the nightmares that woke her up screaming and sobbing into the darkness. She could force past her grief over her dead mate to remember Oberyn’s first meeting with her; when he had flirted with her, full of the life that had held him. They had grown to be connected; to work well together. She knew his ambitions were great, and now… now he would be a passing remnant in the world, a brightness gone.



speak and be heard










Posted 03-30-2017, 09:55 PM |
Fire
Nasiro
Fire Wolf
Female, 2.50
Meso-fighter
30 in, 120 lbs
78 ep
© 2.50
image
     Water licks, and tickles, the yearling's toes. Washing over the dainty paws and caressing the front pasterns. Craning her neck the slender woman drinks from the oasis. Savoring the cool waters as they wash down her throat. Relaxing by the oasis during a particularly scorching day is something that Nas enjoys. It allows her to deal with her inner demons. How she feels guilt over how she has treated Valfreid. Remorse over not being able to help Singer deal with her grief. Something distracts her. Forcing her to emerge from her world. Over the nearly smooth illumination flickers bright. Reflecting off of the cool water, and catching those vivid eyes. Look up from the oasis she focuses wholly on the dancing flames. Right as soon as she gets to notice the powerful display of Akako's gift it vanishes entirely, and a horrid sickening scream erupts the day's peace. Ears swivel back against her head, and she starts quickly in the direction of the cries. Singer's voice follows soon after. Judging by the strain, the pain, in her voice. Nasiro knows that the summons isn't for her, but whatever happened it happened to a comrade. A family member.
     Lithe limbs carry her swiftly across the dunes. It has been over three months since Singer accepted the young woman into her home. Running over the sands is a lot easier now. Toes splay into the loose particles, and she pushes herself harder. Faster. Inside her chest her heart hammers wildly. The closer she gets the more the putrid stench of burnt flesh and hair filter into her nostrils. Choking on a breath the yearling approaches. Slumped on the sand is the burnt frame of what once Oberyn. She is unable to tell who he once was. Had she ever met him? Either way it does not quell the pain in her heart. A heavy feeling crashes down upon the yearling. Vivid green eyes sting from the tears that gather. Silently she steps over to Theodosia, and Singer, to offer her support.


""











Posted 03-30-2017, 10:57 PM | This post was last modified: 03-30-2017, 11:21 PM by Verona
Rebel
Verona
Rebel Wolf
Female, 2.00
Mesomorph
33 in, 115 lbs
oo8 ep
© tam
The sands feel less alien and her heart more full. She'd never told her father how she hadn't been far, those months that had engulfed her. She'd only been hiding in the Serene, playing the role of a girl bold enough to make it on her own. She wasn't bold enough. She'd missed him and mother. She'd missed the comfort of sleeping next to them and hearing the whistle of breath between their teeth. She'd missed the way the stars seemed to shine the brightest over her grandfather's former kingdom and the welcoming warmth of the desert. She'd missed it all, and, now, standing there in the light of the rising sun, Verona felt as though there were months taken away from her. Stolen by her own greed. There's a purse of her lips as the utter disappointment, the nakedness of her sins, pools through her like ink. It stains everything it touches, leaving wicked tattoos of her transgressions etched deep into her heart. The peppered hairs sway as she shifts her weight, trying to escape from her own discomfort. Her mother hadn't returned. It was an absence her farther wore like his own guilt. Verona had noticed the sag in his shoulders. He bore too great a burden for a man who'd once been prince of these sands. "I never should have left you, Daddy," she murmurs to herself, watching his distant figure as he crosses into the heart of the desert. There's a skip in her step as she pushes herself forward, half-skidding and half-sailing, down the side of the dune. Sand clings to her in red-gold pellets, speckling the peppered hairs and baptizing her again in the element she'd been born to.

She means to join him on his venture, to be his earnest little girl once more, but fate takes a dark turn. Her father bursts into flames far more destructive than the ones he's tamed before. Frozen with horror, mouth agape with silent screams, Verona stands there and watches what is left fall away in a broken, charred heap.

"DADDY!" she shrieks. Her panic burns her throat and speeds her heart until she's certain it will collapse. Her eyes flash green-gold when they widen st the corners, bloodshot and wild. No. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. Oberyn Verien was a master of flame and a Prince of the sands. He was their prince. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" It's the same wild shriek, filled with a pain so visceral it makes her throat bleed at the touch. She wants to lash out at them, these damned onlookers who do nothing but sob for a man they couldn't have known as well as she. She was his Verona. His. And he was the hero at the epicenter of all her dreams, all the stories flickering through her mind. He'd vanquished nightmares with a kiss and tucked her in at night. He wasn't supposed to die. Heroes didn't die. They fought and lived and conquered. He couldn't be gone. He just couldn't be.

Staring down at what is left of her unconquerable father, Verona begins to cry. Her body shakes with the force of each sob, her eyes burning with tears that show no sign of stopping. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never. The sands give beneath her weight as Verona falls beside what is left of that once handsome face. "I'm here, Daddy," she whispers to him. Each word is choked, rubbed raw by grief. "It'll be okay, I-I-I'll fix this." She tries to pat his cheek, recoiling at the way pieces of it crumble. Frantically, Verona tries to put the pieces back; she tries to make him whole again. Tears leave slick trails through her fur, turning the feathery hairs to gunsmoke. Sand clings to the blood on her toes and it's not until she notices the way it cakes around her nails and mats the pale hairs that she stops, chin quivering. "Oh, Daddy, what have I done." Her head hangs heavy with despair, the sand underfoot muddy with a grieving girl's crying. "What have I done?"

(finished! Vaax)










Posted 03-31-2017, 12:30 AM |
Vaax
Rogue Wolf
Male, 2.00
Endomorph
37 in, 138 lbs
ep
© 2.00
vaax verien ve valentine
He makes his way through the dessert, sand getting caught in his fur, falling with each step he took and then collecting once more. Something pains his heart, but he glad that his sister is back, but still no mum. The smell of burning flesh catches his nose, and the clumsy walk turns into a run as he gets the feeling that something isn't quite right. What a sight to see...

"DAD!" He cries out as his father's body burns, flames dancing upon his dying body. He stands in shock as he watches as his sister yells at the onlookers. He pushed his way past the other to join her next to her father, collapsing beside what used to be his father's body. "Dad, why?"Tears roll down, falling onto the sand and slicking back his fur. He looks up and sideways to his sister, "Ve-Verona? What do we do now?" He croaked out, their father had always been there for them, watching over them. He had thought his father was so strong, he didn't notice how things had been affecting him, but he was wrong. Now both his mother and father have left, and only his sister was left. "Ve-Verona, it's not your fault." He tells his sister, stuttering slightly from the shock of the death.

Fewer tears were coming out, and he could now see a bit more clearly. He sat upright, moving closer to his sister before lowering his head. He looks back towards the others, a hero of a man was gone and they had done nothing. His eyes narrow and his ears pin back, but he knew it wasn't worth it now, he was gone. Vaax closed his eyes tightly, hoping, just hoping that this was all this just a horrible nightmare. "Daddy, I love you." He whispers, no one able to hear besides the dead body and his sister, but he knows it's too late and tears start spilling once more. The wolf that caused this tragedy was his mother, the wolf that the boy no longer wished to have relations to. All he hoped was that his father's spirit was still with them, the closest he will ever be from this moment.

"Theres no SMOKE without FIRE"

(I feel so sad now)










Posted 04-08-2017, 06:40 AM | This post was last modified: 04-08-2017, 06:40 AM by Aaron
Fire (Site Helper)
Aaron
Fire Scion
Male, 4.50
Endomorph
38 in, 128 lbs
72 ep
© tig
quietly, that straying foot finds purchase upon sand, collecting his stumbling body into a stern outline that strides so easily to its destination. red-rimmed eyes of such haunting blue trace the collapsed form -- the facsimile of body that soon drags away with the wind. the dunes are sooted, a bed laid with dusky sheets for the final sleep of a prince.

unlike his brother in all aspects -- he is his father, cool and collecting and bearing such burdens -- who resembled aegon with passion and ambition and the cutting edges of such a charismatic smile. he sighs a breath that tastes of flesh and singed hair, inhales the matter of his brother with a roll of tongue and a half-close of eyes even as he comes upon them. there is no hesitance to approach, to settle his goliath form into the sand and bow his head above the man.

'dokhtar-e barâdar, pesar-e barâdar.' ( niece, nephew ) he regards Vaax and Verona with soft eyes, with a tightening of sinew in his brow like the strum of worry upon his mind. he wonders if they shall recognize the calling -- if vera's militant ways took precedence upon the traitor queen's ancestry. 'roohash shaad.' ( be at peace ) such sad ceremony tangs each word. he swallows a bitter pill of reality -- so many have left them, and many more depart. i will see you again, brother, but only when i am ready.