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All Welcome still alive
Posted 11-09-2017, 12:32 AM |
Earth Healer
Male, 6.50
30 in, 115 lbs
186 ep
© Xechi

It was time to accept the fact that he was dying. For the lesser half of the year, Tristan had searched the land tirelessly for some cure, some golden elixir that would rid him of the poison taking over his very cells. He'd noticed it one morning, staring down his reflection in a still pond- the swelling. As a doctor, he was quick to diagnose and treat it, and he banished the niggle of worry the first time, the second time, even the third. By the fourth, Tristan grew concerned. His commitment to Kaede was, once again, cast aside as he dove into research, seeking above and below for something, anything to change the outcome.

He was dying. Lymphatic cancer had been blessedly held back with a diet of healthy foods, and his new best friends, turmerics. At first, he'd been near to a madman in his seeking; he was Tristan Volos-Scorn, herbologist extraordinaire; there had to be a cure. But all he managed to find was a way to turn weeks into months, and ways to manage the nausea, the fatigue, the swelling and vomiting. Some time during his searching, the green gem at his throat shattered; whether by his own paw, or the paw of the Alpha, he didn't know. It was better this way. He'd be dead, useless weight, otherwise. Too busy searching a way to save his mortal life, and the thought of this failure to his Patron makes him hate himself all the more.

He knew where his tired paws were finally leading him- home. Tristan had always been a foolish man, and again, he realizes far too late what he'd done. Wasted time. Time with his family, each darkling one. Once upon a time, perhaps, he was Kaede's son, but darkness has a way of stripping a man bare, of finding a hollow spot and staying there. His wife's disappointment made sense now, and Tristan adds another strike against his mortal coil. 'Selfish, foolish man,' he thought, 'No more of this malarky. I must go home. While I can.' Home to Enigma. To his daughters, son and grandchildren. To his wife's resting place, so that, when he lost the battle, he could be lain to rest beside her. "Ramona..." he whispers as he crosses the border from the Crystalline and into Enigma, without even realizing his mistake. Since that fateful, stardusted night, it'd always been Ramona. Every night he felt the ache of her loss, knowing that he'd never... ever touch her again. Smell her. Taste her. Her anger remained like a deep, open wound, and he hates himself for hurting her so.

But he could do better. He could be home.

He wanders towards the Monument to Ramona, unaware that he could be deemed a stranger by even knowing eyes. He smelled, bluntly, of rogue, and his once richly colored fur seemed dimmed, graying and whitening. (The life of a worrier written clearly on his face.) Nearly all the weight he'd once had (which was minimal to begin with) had sloughed off as his appetite grew thinner and thinner. He was certainly not the Tristan Scorn anyone would recognize- unless, of course, they looked at his eyes. It didn't matter, his only focus was to come home and see his family once again.

"With you, I'm never jaded. I'm captivated."

Ianthe Yvaine
OOC:: I'll bring Rue here eventually, but for now, anyones welcome!

 photo tristansig.jpg

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Posted 11-09-2017, 01:09 AM |
Enigma Hunter
Female, 3.75
39.5 in, 96 lbs
8 ep
© Amber
Post coming!!!

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Posted 11-10-2017, 08:39 PM | This post was last modified: 11-10-2017, 08:39 PM by Yvaine
Enigma Hunter
Female, 3.75
39.5 in, 96 lbs
8 ep
© Amber

Like a white wisp she floated through the mazes, seemingly without direction when indeed she had one. Her soft paws made little sound as they touched the cold floor, her pure, clean fur swished mildly in her go. Her sky-blue eyes reflected her newly-gained inner peace, and were clear of any worry or fear.
She liked to visit her mother from time to time, and now she had even picked some flowers to lay at the foot of her monument. Just being near the obsidian-opal stalagmite made her feel calm, maybe even somewhat happy. She didn't have many memories with her, but the little she had was enough to comfort her.
A couple of corridors before the monument her nose caught a scent. And it wasn't the usual smell of the wolves that lived and slept in the Caverns like her: this was the scent of a rogue. Winds, grasses, the mark of the seasons passed without a settlement; it wasn't normal for someone like that to come down into the Enigma. But still, what worried Yvaine more was the reek of sickness. Should she halt and call others? The whitefur went around a couple more corners and stopped at the view of her mother's gravestone. She had halted away, enough distance separating her from the intruder that he wouldn't see her if he wasn't used enough to darkness. Whoever he was, he looked old. Gray. Sick! Gently, she brushed his mind with her thoughts in hope to find the poor creature's identity... and she felt his fear, his present and past worry, all the sadness... of Tristan Scorn. For a second she stood still, not daring to trust her own eyes and senses.
"Dad?" she whispered, her quiet voice filled with a mixture of surprise, worry and sadness. At some point she knew he had left, and she was sad, but she never assumed he would let something like this happen to him... In one leap she was by his side, tall like a snow mountain beside her graying father. If he would let her she would press her head at the side of his swollen cheek, a tear spilling down her white muzzle and onto his shoulder. "Papa, what happened to you? Where have you been, I-" she rushed on, her voice even rising to the actual volume of someone worried, the words collided inside her and she trailed off... He was obviously sick. VERY sick. She recalled Rue's meeting in which her sister had assigned a girl named Dax to healer. There were many more things she wanted to tell him, but for now she just needed to recollect her thoughts and get herself together.
"I'm glad you came back." she put it all into six words, a single, simple sentence that held all her emotions.


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Posted 11-14-2017, 05:00 AM |
Enigma Heir
Female, 2.50
27 in, 100 lbs
108 ep
© Lou
If it wasn't for Yvaine she wouldn't have recognized him, if it wasn't for her surety she would have proclaimed this wolf a stranger, a trespasser, an intruder. She'd thought as much as she'd come waltzing around the corner, catching a glimpse of a father she'd hardly had the time for, and one who had hardly had the time for her. "You think you can just walk in here?" comes her high-pitched voice, accusing and bashful all at once, "after all this time!" There is an emerald pendant swinging by his throat as she rounds on him, sea-foam orbs dip to take it in, the very color of it is blasphemous to her and she wrinkles her muzzle to show her obvious distaste.

"They all left, mama DIED, and you just... disappear?" Her voice rises in anger and she flicks a gaze towards Yvaine that tells her sister to keep out of it, if she knew what was best for her. For even though it was anger that shows on the outside, it is hurt and disappointment that breaks Ianthe on the inside. A family that continuously leaves her, if by death or choice it didn't matter. "Szymon is dead," she tells him nonchalantly, as if it were old news, something she had trained herself into doing so it wouldn't sting her heart to talk about past siblings.

"We needed you papa..." and finally does her anger fade into youthful hurt, like a child scorned she looks up at him through wide eyes that plead with him to save her soul. Even though she knows quite well, that nothing could.

tags; Tristan <3

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