|
|
Post by ayrazar on May 31, 2011 10:55:58 GMT -8
Well this is a depressing sight. Felkin stepped cautiously through the ashen ground, his footfalls so silenced by the powder that no sound was made from his treads at all. He swung his eyes left and right, scenting the air, reddish eyes wide and ears alert and upright. No recognisable scent pattern reached his brain as he stared across the fiery abyss. Why did I come here? Sometimes, Felkin, your curiosity gets the better of you. He was exploring his new home, and had left the martyr boundaries to poke around the neighbouring lands. He had given the Canopus boundary a wide birth, and now found himself in a land of smoke and rubble, a place where every molecule in the air spoke of loss and death. Some great tragedy had taken the very life from the ground beneath him, he felt.
Felkin lowered his haunches to the ground, curling his extremely fluffy silver tail around his front feet. His head hung level with his shoulders, a look of discomfort on his face. The bubbly, optimistic wolf was not cut out for such a place of despair. If I could find a wolf who could make grass grow. he thought to himself, his eyes sparkling in their usual glint for a second. I could bring them here, and together we could restore life to this barren wasteland. We could fill the dead places of the world with light and life and love. An uncharacteristic snarl escaped from his mouth, barely two seconds in length. Why did he have to be so reliant on others? This weak, thin, powerless body could do nothing for the world if he could not find the right wolves. What was the point?
His thoughts surprised him, and he shook his crown to clean them. What was it about this place that made him feel so negative? Perhaps he was sensing the spirits of the land. He grinned at the thought, thinking about the stories he had loved as a pup about guardian angels and the spirit gods which controlled the world. Just stories, he now realized. There was no wolf in the world who could speak to those who had left their physical world.
[/size] |
|
|
|
Post by Glaciers are Cold on Jun 7, 2011 19:51:34 GMT -8
caustic is a meanie, you take too long can i kill you now? [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,520,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/a2vuas.png); padding: 5px; text-align: justify; color: #202020; text-transform: lowercase;]
Picture this: a scarlet-rose desert, sliced into sections, dry dust fumbling through a heavy atmosphere. Crumbled earth spread unevenly over the thick, drab surface. Heat radiating from it, nearly enough to melt if not scorch. Bristling pebbles scattered among the ashes, the air thick with the scents of smog and smoke. The sky was but a rotten length of silk, gray and fine, but torn to shreds. Puffs of clouds roamed the high skies; a starch sun wrinkled it. And below were the ruins of a disaster, and picking her way among those ruins was an ermine-white she-wolf, her mane fluffed out, and her tail dragging. Her paws slapped the earth, and her claws sliced flames into the crevices.
Fire was everywhere, gathering up in little columns and shooting outwards. It sparked anywhere and everywhere, produced by the heat of her anger. And why was she angry? No reason really. Just life in general could do that to her. She was by nature a little flame of a wolf. She had a temper like a not-yet-doused candle wick, its tongues of fire dwindling upon the thin, dirty-ash rope, and its wax rolling at a snail's pace down to its metal base. And which could suddenly burst into a phoenix of fire with just a little crystalline drop of thick oil. And apparently today that spark had at last ignited. Literally.
Earlier that day, Caustic had spent the majority of her time gazing somewhat nonchalantly as tender-sweet grass melted away in wisps of smoke. Various pebbles, rodents, and even the cobalt lakes suffered her torment, all with varying degrees of success as far as burning things went. Pretty much anything her chilly-hot eyes landed on was subject to be her next pyre. But now her flaming paws danced over a true bed of coals – the lands of the Ember Realm, the oil to her flames. They erupted in bursts of tulip-oranges and if she was up to it, ivory-blue tongues. She swam swiftly through this sea of fire, her unburnt fur unaffected as she weaved among the charred ruins.
Her eyes were focused on the ground, on each step she took as if she had to be cautious not to place one mis-step. In fact, she didn't even notice the silver-touched, hunched figure until she was within glaring distance. She suddenly swept her glance up, eying the placid, pale fur of the male wolf warily. He seemed somewhat depressed, despondent, as he lay there curled up, his magnificent tail drooping before his paws. What's with him? she thought gloomily. What's he got to be all sad about? He an orphan, his parents' lives taken away quite suddenly, senselessly? His beautiful and adored sister left to starve and fend for herself? His life torn because he knows no one cares and no one ever will?
Because no one did care about Caustic, and she knew no one ever would. Compassion and sympathy were foreign tongues to her, something she didn't have, and would refuse from others. Maybe once in her lifetime, her parents cared—and they were dead—and maybe her sister cared—but she too was dead. Or maybe, to care was to sign your death sentence, giving your life up to those you loved. And if you wanted to live—whether or not you loved your life—you lived. Without love. But was a life without love really a life? Or just another way of dying?
But Caustic didn't want to think about this, she just wanted to live—whether or not it was a death in and of itself. She kicked such thoughts away and stormed up to the male. "Who are you to be so sad and oh so depressed to just sit there and silently complain about the world? Maybe the world is just the world the way it always will be, you can't change anything about it. Maybe you got to catch up to the world, and realize the way it is. Maybe—" Ranting to a total stranger seemed to refuel her irritation. Yes, life without love was one thing, but a life without anger was another. Truth be told, she much preferred the latter.
|
[/size][/td][/tr][/table] words 700 tags Felkin notes Hmm I was going to say something super important here but I forgot what. credits rinne [/center] |
|
|
|
Post by ayrazar on Jun 8, 2011 9:28:50 GMT -8
Felkin smiled lightly as he thought of the spirit world. What if it were possible to communicate with those souls who had passed on, the caretakers of the world? Perhaps then it would be possible to find a solution for all the problems int he world, to return this magnificent Earth to its former grandeur before steel and fire scarred it. Perhaps they would be able to guide him into making a real, lasting difference in this world. Perhaps they were already there, around him, guiding him. He smiled att he thought, and suddenly did not feel so lonely. He was not a religious or overly spiritual wolf, but he still liked the idea of guiding spirits.
So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he did not here the crackle of charring carbon behind him. He did not hear the fireworn footfalls as they approached him, the sound of the she-wolfs tail sliding over the ruined ground. He did not even hear the heavy sounds of her stomping up to him. No, it was not until she began to let loose a string of epithets in his general direction that he noticed her at all. Notice may not be the correct word, as when the first ‘who’ sputtered from her lips, Felkin nearly leapt out of his silvery pelt, skittering a few feet away before wheeling to come face-to-face with a mottled white she wolf, lithe and a great deal smaller than him. He blinked a few times at her, the demon of his imagination turning out to be a great deal less huge. Sad? Depressed? He smiled in spite of himself, shaking his head lightly as she continued on. He had been feeling down, it was true. But Felkin was Felkin, through and through. He could see the good in anything.
“I am begging your pardon, m’lady.” He said in his usual cheerful but formal air. “But I was feeling neither sad nor depressed. Nor was a complaining about the world, although I can understand why it may have looked as such.” His red eyes danced as he remembered his thoughts of the spirit world, amused with the feisty wolfess in front of him. “Our world is beautiful. Even areas like this one have promise.” He swept his gaze out and around them, taking a large breath to taste the scents on the air. “This was not always such a desolate wasteland, I would wager.” He said, his voice suddenly deep with emotion. “Nor does it have to continue to be like this.” He smiled into her face, his look profiling one thing: hope. He suddenly noticed the heat emanate off of the other wolf, and took a second to realize it was not just the aura of her personality. This wolf radiated heat.
[/size] |
|
