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and he cried
Posted 10-31-2017, 12:04 PM |
Rebel
Roswell
Rebel Wolf
Male, 2.50
Endomorph
37 in, 140 lbs
149 ep
© Apax

Ruslan Cathair has rose from the dead.
Charlotte + anyone I'm forgetting Ruslan would have know that is still in the ridge.

he remembers it, the women, the booze that was fermented on his breath. the glossy eyes as he was a man waiting for death in an abandoned pit of the styx. something cowardly, a smile taken on dark wet lips. the beckoning, the swollen stitching on the back of his neck from his chiseled gladiators teeth. I am sorry, you piece of shitthe drag of his tongue, the heavy exhale as those shots felt heavy in the back of his skull. he'd fall away

unfamiliar, unwarranted of his eyes that race upside and down the walls that are nothing but evidence of war-time crime. the heat that is evident at his footing, the way his toes expand and dig as if desperate to feel to feel the heat of the autumn sun scorching his back, to feel the ache in his skull of the headaches his battle with Venae had left him so long ago. (exactly how long?)(like a hand gliding down the walls, encasing creatures alive in statues of the past,)unwhole, a cheater in the mark of life. his wife? where? his children? the desert sands that are so truly in her bleeding heart, he fears the unknown of her. he fears the unknown of his brothers heart and the day he spent weak and frail over him. ruslan cathair is afraid, the way his lifeless chest squeezes and he keeps himself steady as he finds himself near the bubbling brew of a god filled rage. throaty, an historys declaration of demand. lifeless and struck with question, the tilt back of his head beckons all that he knows to the rebel air;venae, finch, charlotte, vim, to come to him at once.


"



[ Reply ]






Posted 10-31-2017, 03:55 PM | This post was last modified: 10-31-2017, 03:55 PM by Charlotte
Rebel
Charlotte
Rebel Alpha
Female, 5.25
Ectomorph
40 in, 100 lbs
399 ep
© Lou

Just another day, like all the rest, except she couldn't shake that utterly creepy sensation that kept making her skin crawl. She never got visitors from the dead, though she wished her sister would pop up sometime, she supposed the woman wouldn't know where to find her having never reached Doutaini. She picks along the beaten track in the early hours, feeling each bulging muscle in her legs protest in an achy fashion, but soon enough they loosened enough for her to run. Was this old age? An unwillingness to get out of bed in the morning and a tiresome attitude for bullshit? No, it was just experience and history. That of which she dare not repeat itself. It's as the sun soars that a howl rises from the very inside of the ridge, deathrow as she liked to call it, a horrible place left behind by Akako's fury. Twists and turns, she makes her way to the vale of shadows, head lowered and ears perked as stealth conceals her adventure. Roswell was calling her, though if she could admit it to herself it sounded more like his father, but that was ridiculous. Thoughts of the day escape her mind as she winds forwards into a graveyard of lava covered bodies, their fear still sits so heavily in the air, she didn't mind it at all. Across from her, a wolf she thinks is similar to Rykerri, though she knows the auburn woman fell far from here, her body would have been eaten away to nothing. But there beside it, is Ruslan.

Shock sends a wave of adrenaline through her veins and she pauses midstep, those chartreuse eyes widening not in terror, but in surprise. "Ruslan," she whispers, her tail lowering behind her hips from dominance to a more relaxed composure. "It's been years, darling, where do we start..." A smirk curves those tattered lips, she hopes there is shock in his own eyes, a reaction to her appearance, she had been completely normal when he was around, a yearling fresh out of high-school. She finishes her step, moving that one foot closer to him, though for now she waits for his reaction- he had always been a morbid beast and though she was in the mood for his mockery, she wasn't sure how aggressive he would be. He was Roswell's father, after all.
"."

Roswell

Charlotte is riddled with scars from head to toe, the right side of her face is bare of fur, and both her ears are in tatters at the tips.



[ Reply ]






Posted 10-31-2017, 04:24 PM |
Rebel
Roswell
Rebel Wolf
Male, 2.50
Endomorph
37 in, 140 lbs
149 ep
© Apax

Ruslan Cathair has rose from the dead.
Charlotte

a falter in his shoulder, something departed him in that moment where his emerald, bloodshot eyes found the face of a woman familiar. the crows feet, the placed where her skin had lost the skin tight snag of her youth. the scars, those fresh and those not. there something of a laugh from the exhale (disappointment, a sense of familiarity, he is swelling with a swarm of emotions) there is a familiar drag of his tongue across those blackened lips, something of a temporary smile focuses down;cut eyes that devour the caverns and mountains of her face. the smell of the ridge, it was like walking in the front door of his old shitty two story home "you look like shit." but there is no distraction of his eye, swollen with the intensity of his eye he drifts slowly to her. a moment where he would have rose and wrapped his gnarled teeth around the curve of her throat in something of an embrace. a familiarness, the touch he had learned from venae and their summers together. but still he stands, quiet, watching before he humors her words. "finch, my children, my wife." it's a starting point, a feverish grunt as if he'd clear his throat but there was little that needed. eyes disassociate, lingering to the walls and the dead creatures that have been embedded within them as if in question.



"



[ Reply ]






Posted 10-31-2017, 06:31 PM |
Rebel
Charlotte
Rebel Alpha
Female, 5.25
Ectomorph
40 in, 100 lbs
399 ep
© Lou

There is a yearning for touch and violence, the meaning of togetherness behind a veil of teeth and claw. She regards him like an old friend she hadn't seen in years but here, he is almost a stranger. Bearing the face of someone she knew and someone she knows well. He approaches her, and that same smirk only widens in degree, ears saluting him with the soft curve to her skull. "I agree," she says, the ghost of a chuckle on those ashen lips as she looks down at the new scars displayed across her front right leg, "these are from your son, Roswell. He is magnificent," she raises her eyes to him once more, starting with the good news, only to slide downwards rather quick paced. "Catori is around, an Ice wolf the last I saw of her here at the ridge. I'm not sure where she belongs now. Venae was thrown from alpha by the Gods, and Finch... Vitalia took his life, and he took hers." the spar had been gruesome, terrible in a fated fashion, she wouldn't tell Ruslan about it. we are all mere mortals.

She could call for Roswell, even for Catori though she assumed Ruslan would go find her on this day, but there is one question that swarms her mind and suddenly it fits to the curve of her tongue; "did you do what they accused?" and her smirk melts from those scarred features, not for fear, but for anticipation.
"."

Roswell

Charlotte is riddled with scars from head to toe, the right side of her face is bare of fur, and both her ears are in tatters at the tips.



[ Reply ]






Posted 10-31-2017, 07:40 PM |
Rebel
Roswell
Rebel Wolf
Male, 2.50
Endomorph
37 in, 140 lbs
149 ep
© Apax

Ruslan Cathair has rose from the dead.
Charlotte

there is a draw, something of a hum as his laughter, what little there is is kept to the base of his throat. the push of his toes to the dry, hardened fixtures beneath his teeth as the cup of his ears cradled forward. words lifted of a sonand there is a moment of excitement that lingers true, it takes him to the thought of his older daughter. his swee ruet and her burgundy hair. so many things, wholesome and desperate for reconnection and a brow to kiss. bedtime stories to read to the spitfire girl, he wonders how Catori had settled with the freshness of a son. "roswell" she displays her war wounds and there is a moment that he takes it in, devouring the gnarled scars that are displayed pristine and new along her leg. a smile, a murmur, his lips press together in a moment as her words express him in a fated regard. "and who taught him?" venae, perhaps. liberated hopes and dreams that the woman could hvae assisted such a thing. finch, brother of his arm and heart perhaps but there was the looseness of relation. of heart and punishment, swear the day he sees the chiseled brood again. it may be the very day his heart stops in his death.


"i'll take to the mountains next." it's a soft murmur, mostly to himself as his eyes take a rise as if in an effort to find direction. but for the depths of death they settle, there is nothing but the dull autumn sky before their heads. distractions swore him from hearing her words about venae, perhaps for all better good as his hope could leave him there. the dead could still hurt, their hearts could still break and there is a silence that swallows him whole. the wicked bitch he had caused war of had stolen him true, heart, death. there is a pit that brings his snout to the air, black lined lips to be greeted by the pink flesh of his tongue. "that stupid bastard." a hiss, crooned at the sky as his throat hums something of a growl. irritation, swear by it. he dispels his hopes to see, to breathe in his cigar scoured, drink filled man. (FUCKING FIGHT BACK!)

her question draws him back, the tilt of his head that drives his ears back in a moment where his emotions scream. a pity of thrashing, he wants to swarm her and throw her into the cooled lava behind her. "yes" it's flat, the tone, the pitch of his voice that wants to swallow and push down any emotions that is flickering of the death of his late sea-bed lover. the riddle of his heart, the anchor of his sins bestowed onto the bed of the desert.


"



[ Reply ]






Posted 10-31-2017, 10:07 PM |
Rebel
Charlotte
Rebel Alpha
Female, 5.25
Ectomorph
40 in, 100 lbs
399 ep
© Lou

She can see his storm of emotions raging on, like a journey, they would each take a part of his soul and pull it one way or another. She experienced the same turmoil everyday. There is a hum of laughter, deep in his throat, and she doesn't mind the fact that is at her expense. Roswell had been clever to go for her skinny legs, though he wouldn't have remembered just how hard a rebels' bones could get. "I'd like to think I did in someway or another," she admits, ears perking to cup forwards against the crown of her large skull. "Life has taught him well, and Rykerri, a fallen Alpha." She remembers that training day at the ruins' and it reminds her that it has been some time since Rebels had had spar training, she would have to take note of it for another day.

His reaction is as she expected, she hated to be the one to break the news to him, she had seen it eat Singer alive, from the inside out. She supposed the only difference here was that Ruslan was already dead, the news couldn't possibly make him worse. Or well, she hoped anyway. that stupid bastard. and Charlotte remains silent there by the edges of his vision, her hands clasped to fight off whatever anger he rained down on her. It perhaps wasn't the best thing to end with, her impulsive question, but she hadn't been able to stop it from escaping. His answer comes in the form of one word, flat and sharp it lashes at her like barbed wire, she takes it with a soft nod. "We tried to spare your life, and his," she rolls her shoulder in a shrug, it was obvious enough that they had failed. She herself had remembered championing for him, but Nox had swept them all away and Charlotte had no choice but to submit. The allegations had shaken even the raven commander, she remembers Nox's apologies even now, to those who demanded a life for them. She had no judgement for him, only the tilt of her head as her hind end lowers towards the ground, she had one more question before he tore off to find his family. "Roswell," she says, swinging the conversation back around to his children, "any advice on how to manage him?" She left it vague, kept it coy, there was no note in her voice that told of troubles, only the scars that he'd left her with, and the scars she'd left him with. He was a handful, Ruslan would have at least expected that.
"."

Roswell XD can't wait to see how he reacts to that question

Charlotte is riddled with scars from head to toe, the right side of her face is bare of fur, and both her ears are in tatters at the tips.



[ Reply ]






Posted 10-31-2017, 10:41 PM |
Rebel
Roswell
Rebel Wolf
Male, 2.50
Endomorph
37 in, 140 lbs
149 ep
© Apax

Ruslan Cathair has rose from the dead.
Charlotte

there is claim to his magnificence, and there is that dry smile, timid, on lips that dare not to upturn far to much. it had been reserved, for the round cold cheek of the woman he loved who had seemed to fallen from her fiery court and fallen into three foot of snow. he cannot help but distance himself there, his eyes that seem to find another place to settle. beyond her, beyond her shoulder that is thin and agile. replicated, his lips murmur a regard of strength. "keep him fit then." a dragging desire to see, to learn, to see if he had his mothers eyes or the mint green shots that started at charlottes now. but he is silent, he is quiet in the conversation that followed. the screaming of his heart, how it echoed and bounced along the inside of his empty skull. he is silent as charlotte tries to defend herself and how she did him. it'd be a toss of his head, (the throw of a hand in the air as if to tell her to move on, that he did not care)

but there is truth, in the sound that leaves his jaw. the jaw that is paired with eyes that are filled with sorrow and sadness, a laugh that racks through his teeth as she questions him for parenting advice. it drives him back to the days where he was thrown to the ground by his fathers teeth, the silent screaming of his mother and the watching of his very own sister behind the koi shoulder. his feverish eyes drift down to Charlotte's leg, the scars she had so proudly displayed just moments prior. "i'd say break his legs a few times but it looks like he's already got yours." something of a grin, just barely, the upturns of one corner of cheek as his eyes float from the twisted face of the woman before him and back to the warm stone before them. "you cant conquer those who have the strength to conquer " its another murmur, eyes taken to the sky above him in a quiet wonder. as if trying to figure out a complicated puzzle which in truth was just directions to the snowy mountain he used to watch from a distance. "my father tossed me into the jungle soil until I was a graduated boy, and we never bested each other for a reason." had he the chance, the possibilities, there would have been a cigar drug to his lips in that moment and the patting of his hands searching for a light in his worn clothing. he wouldnt wait for her to speak, "where is he now?" it was more of a demand, then a question, the same tone that kited her here in the first place. eager, needed, demanding.


"



[ Reply ]






Posted 11-13-2017, 08:05 PM |
Rebel
Charlotte
Rebel Alpha
Female, 5.25
Ectomorph
40 in, 100 lbs
399 ep
© Lou

"Of course," she drawls, keeping all of them fit was at the top of her priority list, even in her current state of stupor. Ruslan was actually here, in front of her, she still couldn't quite grasp the concept of it. Unreal. Charlotte shifts her weight uncomfortably as Ruslan stares down her damaged legs, scars and scabs from both Akako and Roswell and she wears them with pride. Her paw scuffles some dirt before her eyes drift back to his own, so similar to his sons' that she finds herself lost in there. Troubled boys, the pair of them, still they had a soft spot in Charlotte's heart. "He did not break my legs, and I will not break his, I do not want to weaken him, but help him become strong for Rebel..." she perhaps is dreaming, but she knows what Ruslan means, in order for the boy to respect her, she first must best him at everything, until that day arrives where she cannot. Probably the time when Roswell takes over the ridge himself, but Charlotte would just have to wait and find out. where is he now? the question strikes her by surprise, had he not the vision to see all? For really she had no idea what gifts the spirits were cradling, only that they were not of physical being. "around," she says nonchalantly, slowly getting to her feet in front of him, as if they were about to move but really she was just gesturing behind her, "you'll no doubt know him when you see him," she jests, a chuckle coarse on her dry throat. But there, there is that same smirk that so devilishly tucks to her lips, as she lets him be on his way.
"."

Roswell

Charlotte is riddled with scars from head to toe, the right side of her face is bare of fur, and both her ears are in tatters at the tips.



[ Reply ]