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All Welcome kill the myth.
Posted 12-31-2017, 04:34 PM |
Storm
Seacca
Storm Alpha
Female, 6.25
Ectomorph
35 in, 83 lbs
532 ep
© sea
I'M SLIPPING FROM MY FAITH,
I'M FALLING WITH MY FEAR.
the harsh north winds give way to the majesty of the sun. the lower tracts of soil along the valleys are brazen in the mud of melting ice and snow. the thick black paste sticks to her legs like an armor she can never shed. as she climbs -- still acutely in touch with balance for her age -- dust accumulates in a thin visage at her fur. she's collecting a coating of loose sediments, and they grow warmer as she rises and they are exposed to more light. she avoids the path of the other packs as best she can, winding along the slopes of the valleys as they rise and ferment into the great volcano. the lake of cooled magma pulls her in. her pads gingerly rest over the volcanic formation, feeling the folds and the cracks of the once liquid. the shaded areas are largely cool to the touch, with the tops of the ridges warming up to the sun's emergence. after only moments of standing still, the rays begin to warm her dark fur as well. the breeze trifles around her neck and surfs across her features. she lays down over a smoother area of rock, folding back to stretch out on her side. her gaze turns upward, to the cloud that dares trudge alone. a soft breath is offered to the unforgiving blue. movement strikes her vision like a curse, and she's prompted to flick to the bird that begins to swoop over head. in a swing of pure adrenaline, her necklace glows and she holds her breath. her eyes widen as the bird begins to slow down its trajectory. and then, in a moment of sheer awe, the feathered shape literally pauses in midair. it is but seconds where all motion has ceased, where the sounds have faded away around her, where she sits up in wonder, before it all comes flooding back. the effects are immediate as she is swelled with a tide of light-headedness, and an unceasing exhaustion. she pants some, trying to regain her focus as a distinct ache overtakes her chest and body. she lays back down to absorb the effects and feel their bracing toll.

[ muse ]

open for anyone.




[ Reply ]






Posted 01-06-2018, 09:57 AM | This post was last modified: 01-06-2018, 09:59 AM by Gorgon
Rebel
Gorgon
Rebel Wolf
Male, 4.50
Meso-fighter
30 in, 130 lbs
0 ep
© sorceror
Seacca
The seasons were changing around him. He ignored them as a rule, but lately it was starting to feel like each changing tree was reminding him that he wasn't in the spring anymore, so to speak. He therefore left the idyllic scenery of the lakeshore and traveled to somewhere that was more like what he was used to, or, at least, more like what he wanted. The volcano loomed in the distance and he squatted in it's shadow like a member of a dead nomadic tribe.
Yep, this was the kind of thing he wanted to look at. Not green trees and nice flowers. The dust was caking into his hair, making him look gray instead of red. Nobody bothered him. He ate small things and spent his days pretending he was some kind of lonely poet.
Like he'd ever written a word in his life that he hadn't been forced to.
Even if he was inclined to act like an artist, he was without any traditional materials, so, really, what he was doing was sitting in the dirt and sulking.
After a week or so of feeling sorry for himself, he was interrupted.
The culprit was definitely another person, which was new to him. The last one he'd seen had been that so-called rebel with the offer of a fancy new uniform for him to wear. Why had he turned it down in the end? He wasn't sure. The memory was a bit fuzzy. He'd probably just decided not to report for duty, in the end. He was a free man. He was allowed to do that.
He stared at the show she (definitely a she) was putting on, dark eyes lethargic, shrugged his shoulders when she stopped, and continued lounging around in the sunlight. His camp was, for better or for worse, hard to spot. The stranger probably hadn't even seen the little hole in the ground and the stockpile of this and that food items. He supposed it kept people away. He supposed it probably made him look even more ragged and homeless than he really was.
Maybe being banished and left to rot in the boonies was affecting him more than he pretended it did.
But, as he'd said to himself a half dozen times a day for a half dozen months, they dont give a fuck about me and i aint give a fuck about them..
The ragged soldier raised his head, eyeballed the stranger, some twenty yards off, and announced hoarsely, "Always was a fan of the circus."



[ Reply ]






Posted 01-11-2018, 01:26 PM |
Storm
Seacca
Storm Alpha
Female, 6.25
Ectomorph
35 in, 83 lbs
532 ep
© sea
I'M SLIPPING FROM MY FAITH,
I'M FALLING WITH MY FEAR.
her skull rises to the summons of another, propping her head up to face him. she is at ease just as soon as she can see him. the exhaustion still plagues her limbs and soul, but she does let it show. he's a strange thing, scruffy beyond mere assembly and on the knife's edge of lost and found. his eyes play darkly in the sheer sunlight, as though they were hollowed out entirely. she stares him down evenly, not a hint of fear or aggression echoed in those tempest bound orbs. she tilts her head, making quick note of his lack of aggression. how often it is that she forgets these lands are inhabited by lone wolves, that no part of these places belong to her. WHICH PART DID YOU LIKE? she props herself up again, arms slowly pushing until her hind legs gather to allow her to sit up. she traces the dirt that ravenously devours his body and the criss crossing lines of battles untold.THE AMAZING ACTS, THE ODDITIES, THE PRETTY WOMEN? amusement skirts about her expression, softening it into the slightest of grins. THE NAME'S SEA. WHAT'S YOURS?

Gorgon - short, sorry




[ Reply ]






Posted 01-11-2018, 09:51 PM |
Rebel
Gorgon
Rebel Wolf
Male, 4.50
Meso-fighter
30 in, 130 lbs
0 ep
© sorceror
Seacca
He tried not to stare at her but, if he was honest, she was the first person to talk to him in long enough that it felt strange. He stood for a minute and cracked a smile.
"Oh, definitely the women."
The yellow rock around her neck drew his eye for a moment. He hadn't seen one like it yet, but he was starting to think that there were all kinds of things around that he didn't know anything about. This one, if he was any judge, made people fly like birds. Or something. He hesitated, decided that, all in all, it was safest to act polite, and indicated his barren campsite with a noble sweep.
"Name's Gorgon. My castle is your, uh, well, you get it."
His turn of manners couldn't possibly have had anything to do with the fact that the first person to talk to him in so long happened to be a woman who wasn't so hard on the eyes, or, at least, so he told himself.
"Unluckily I don't have much to offer in the way of refreshment. Or seating. Or anything else. Sorry."
He shrugged and lounged back against the rocks, eyeballing the stranger curiously. Was it appropriate to ask about the yellow necklace? What else were they going to talk about? Him? He had nothing to say about himself anymore, if, in fact, he ever had.
"You come far? Where do the yellow necklace wolves live? I heard a thing or two about a thing or two, but not about those. If it ain't too forward to speak of such things, I guess."
Secrets being what they were.
At least, if he wore such a rock, he wouldn't be telling any ragged old stranger about what it did or where it came from, but he was a suspicious type.
Normally he would have a joke to tell or a pun to make, but lately he'd been having trouble thinking of those. The landscape was too dusty for him to find it amusing. The ash held no room for jokes.



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