Igraine Member
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- Old Guild Username: Igraine
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Late night greetings to all! I just got word from our beloved, beleaguered, cat-herding and extremely exhausted GM. He wants to extend his apologies for not getting back with everyone - and Dot in particular - but work did not cooperate today in the least. However, tomorrow evening should be infinitely better, and that's when he plans to do a good deal of catching up.
So sorry Hellis, that absolutely cannot be a good thing at all ><
That really was a lovely post Dot, and just like Tirg, I'm so excited to see whatever you and Heroes put together!
And I meant to get this put up earlier today, but I suppose later is all right too - I don't think I was holding anything up. :)
And I meant to get this put up earlier today, but I suppose later is all right too - I don't think I was holding anything up. :)
Rivers of magic buoyed her, became the life's blood she'd already spilled, loving kisses the breath she so desperately needed. She hadn't wanted to leave Aislinn, hadn't wanted to let her go. There was no rational thought that fed the despondent wish, what she wanted most of all in those seconds, wounded and bleeding as she was. She wanted Aislinn to hear her. She wanted Aislinn to know how sorry she was that she had not kept her safe. That there would never be a den circle...
Veti's head lolled against Thad's shoulder as he held her. She heard his words, his silly jokes - and she heard the fear in his voice. She ached for him, would have done anything she could in that moment to reassure him, but the darkness that had played at the edges of her vision swallowed her whole, pitching her into a strangely radiant twilight.
The night sky wheeled overhead, the stars dusted against the velvet heavens in a dizzying profusion, a sight that can only be viewed far from modern urban lights. Not even the twinkling lights of the tiny village of Ardgroom could be seen from where she crouched. Her gaze fell like the moonlight that bathed the entire countryside in a silver fae glow. She was the crimson wolf once more, beside the stone circle Atticus had summoned them to only the day before, and she wasn't alone.
No, Veti wasn't alone, but none of her friends, companions or co-workers were gathered here either. A bonfire was burning in the center of the ring of stones, lithe, graceful figures of various sizes standing or reclining about the blaze. The werewolf crept closer, just to the border of the flickering firelight, as a great, fang-filled smile grew across her maw.
Wolves. There were werewolves of all the colors of the earth, deep coal and woodsy browns, moss greys and sandy creams. The firelight reflected from a several bronze torques, intricately detailed armbands wrapped serpentine about thickly-muscled arms, and rings obviously crafted for the size of the werewolf's claws. A few of the smaller wolves, only pups really, growled and yipped and play-wrestled at their parents' feet, only being pulled back when it seemed a little one might singe his fur. Some of the older wolves were eating great hunks of meat with their claws, or kept one watchful eye on the pups. Still others reclined on the soft grasses, or leaned against the standing stones, those ancient monoliths not swayed in the least by the weight of a wolf.
But to the last, their eyes were riveted to one figure. A great black wolf with a deep grey mane was speaking. Veti could not understand his language, but she was pleased to realize she understood his pantomime, gesticulating wildly or oh-so-subtly to punctuate his words, first of trekking over a great mountain, and then the fording of a river... A story!
He was telling his pack a story, a fairy tale or a harrowing true story Veti could not tell. No matter, she was thoroughly intrigued, creeping inches closer to the very edges of the firelight now. None of the werewolves seemed to take notice of her, young or old, and she was content to remain just without the circle, mesmerized by the whole of the sight unfolding before her.
And in the way of dreams, Veti's attentions were entirely for the sight before her, no thought or care for how she came to be here, utterly immersed in this moment as she listened and watched. It was a movement at the corner of her vision that caught Veti's attention though, when she realized she was not nearly so unnoticed as she might have thought.
One of the wolves closest lifted her elegant head to the skies, as if she were testing the wind. Various shades of grey played over her pelt in mesmerizing patterns, every least movement a dance of fur and muscle. And when she turned to peer over her shoulder, Veti caught her breath. She had never seen a more beautiful creature in all her life, the exquisite line of gracefully curved ear and shining amber eye curved to the subtly tapered muzzle, some master artisan's rendition of lupine perfection.
It was not until the werewolf smiled that Veti finally understood. She knew this sweet fanged grin, the kindly light that animated the other wolf's eyes. She turned toward the large grey wolf beside her, tapping him softly on the shoulder, whispering something to him before returning her attention to the edges of the fire behind her.
She held Veti's gaze easily, reaching toward the crimson wolf with one great talon, beckoning her closer, inviting her without a word to come join their gathering. Veti blinked, the strangest thrill of bliss darting through her chest. She took a single deep, fortifying breath -
And it hurt like hell, that breath - but it was good. A true breath, deep and life-affirming as Veti's eyes opened wide, as if surprised to find herself still alive. And when all the sounds and colors of the world began to come back into focus once more, the smallest smile on her face as she realized Thad was cradling her. She reached to his face, soft fingers trying to pull his attention to hers. Somehow it was him, who had brought her back. Somehow it was Thad who saved her this time, though she had no idea how this could be. Brilliant, so brilliant her dearest man.
"I'm here love," she whispered, "I'm here." Almost she said that Aislinn was as well, but Veti felt suddenly sure, Thad already knew that. "You can set me down, I'll be all right. You're my strength after all - how could I not be? But where is Siya? Daisy - or Artie or... "
Veti grimaced, swallowing her pain. "Or Mr. Hoyle? Where is Mr. Hoyle?"
Veti's head lolled against Thad's shoulder as he held her. She heard his words, his silly jokes - and she heard the fear in his voice. She ached for him, would have done anything she could in that moment to reassure him, but the darkness that had played at the edges of her vision swallowed her whole, pitching her into a strangely radiant twilight.
The night sky wheeled overhead, the stars dusted against the velvet heavens in a dizzying profusion, a sight that can only be viewed far from modern urban lights. Not even the twinkling lights of the tiny village of Ardgroom could be seen from where she crouched. Her gaze fell like the moonlight that bathed the entire countryside in a silver fae glow. She was the crimson wolf once more, beside the stone circle Atticus had summoned them to only the day before, and she wasn't alone.
No, Veti wasn't alone, but none of her friends, companions or co-workers were gathered here either. A bonfire was burning in the center of the ring of stones, lithe, graceful figures of various sizes standing or reclining about the blaze. The werewolf crept closer, just to the border of the flickering firelight, as a great, fang-filled smile grew across her maw.
Wolves. There were werewolves of all the colors of the earth, deep coal and woodsy browns, moss greys and sandy creams. The firelight reflected from a several bronze torques, intricately detailed armbands wrapped serpentine about thickly-muscled arms, and rings obviously crafted for the size of the werewolf's claws. A few of the smaller wolves, only pups really, growled and yipped and play-wrestled at their parents' feet, only being pulled back when it seemed a little one might singe his fur. Some of the older wolves were eating great hunks of meat with their claws, or kept one watchful eye on the pups. Still others reclined on the soft grasses, or leaned against the standing stones, those ancient monoliths not swayed in the least by the weight of a wolf.
But to the last, their eyes were riveted to one figure. A great black wolf with a deep grey mane was speaking. Veti could not understand his language, but she was pleased to realize she understood his pantomime, gesticulating wildly or oh-so-subtly to punctuate his words, first of trekking over a great mountain, and then the fording of a river... A story!
He was telling his pack a story, a fairy tale or a harrowing true story Veti could not tell. No matter, she was thoroughly intrigued, creeping inches closer to the very edges of the firelight now. None of the werewolves seemed to take notice of her, young or old, and she was content to remain just without the circle, mesmerized by the whole of the sight unfolding before her.
And in the way of dreams, Veti's attentions were entirely for the sight before her, no thought or care for how she came to be here, utterly immersed in this moment as she listened and watched. It was a movement at the corner of her vision that caught Veti's attention though, when she realized she was not nearly so unnoticed as she might have thought.
One of the wolves closest lifted her elegant head to the skies, as if she were testing the wind. Various shades of grey played over her pelt in mesmerizing patterns, every least movement a dance of fur and muscle. And when she turned to peer over her shoulder, Veti caught her breath. She had never seen a more beautiful creature in all her life, the exquisite line of gracefully curved ear and shining amber eye curved to the subtly tapered muzzle, some master artisan's rendition of lupine perfection.
It was not until the werewolf smiled that Veti finally understood. She knew this sweet fanged grin, the kindly light that animated the other wolf's eyes. She turned toward the large grey wolf beside her, tapping him softly on the shoulder, whispering something to him before returning her attention to the edges of the fire behind her.
She held Veti's gaze easily, reaching toward the crimson wolf with one great talon, beckoning her closer, inviting her without a word to come join their gathering. Veti blinked, the strangest thrill of bliss darting through her chest. She took a single deep, fortifying breath -
And it hurt like hell, that breath - but it was good. A true breath, deep and life-affirming as Veti's eyes opened wide, as if surprised to find herself still alive. And when all the sounds and colors of the world began to come back into focus once more, the smallest smile on her face as she realized Thad was cradling her. She reached to his face, soft fingers trying to pull his attention to hers. Somehow it was him, who had brought her back. Somehow it was Thad who saved her this time, though she had no idea how this could be. Brilliant, so brilliant her dearest man.
"I'm here love," she whispered, "I'm here." Almost she said that Aislinn was as well, but Veti felt suddenly sure, Thad already knew that. "You can set me down, I'll be all right. You're my strength after all - how could I not be? But where is Siya? Daisy - or Artie or... "
Veti grimaced, swallowing her pain. "Or Mr. Hoyle? Where is Mr. Hoyle?"
Have a fantastic weekend yourself LP - thank you for the heads up, and enjoy the festivities!
Doing just wonderfully Heroes, thank you. Thinking about going into DC this weekend, to see the memorials and possibly some smart of the Smithsonian, if I can kick this cold. If not? Probably a lot of sleep I imagine.
Doing just wonderfully Heroes, thank you. Thinking about going into DC this weekend, to see the memorials and possibly some smart of the Smithsonian, if I can kick this cold. If not? Probably a lot of sleep I imagine.
Nicely done Lil. Was there ever a more satisfying word, indeed ;)
The lady's agile fingers glided gracefully over the harpsichord keys, the notes of Couperin's Passacaille in C major dancing from the graceful instrument, alternately playful and laughing in a way that its composer had never imagined nor intended. The Admiral Sir Greene might very well be the only man in this grand parlor to understand the strangely light, lilting air to what should otherwise be a more sober, serious tune.
But, as always, the blind man sat quietly in the high-back walnut chair, both hands wrapped over the top of his cane perched between his legs, one gnarled finger swaying to the strangely lively beat with that ever-present enigmatic smile.
Yes, it was Miss Antoinette Greene who sat primly on that sumptuously upholstered bench, changed from her verdant morning silks to a rose pink gown that hung fetchingly off her bronzed shoulders, the dusted lightly with a pearlescent powder. The crown of her ebony hair was pulled back and plaited with precious strings of alternating pink and ivory pearls, while the long shining curls cascaded down her back, undulating serpent coils, a mesmerizing sight as the gentlewoman played.
But it was Antonia who danced in the music she played. It was the rogue's wide smile that lit the room near as bright as the sunlight streaming into through the tall windows of the elegant, rosewood paneled parlor. And if that smile fell upon Commander Robert Murray, it was all for the better of course. After all, if she must leave the true source of her bliss, veiled in a joy that made her near giddy as a virginal naif? Then let both truth and artifice serve the duties she performed during landfall, unheralded and unknown to the last - even to the captain she served and loved.
They had decided at the very last moment, to bring the entirety of the officers' contingent, their wives and companions and children to Nathaniel's estate rather than try to crowd all into Robert Murray's officer's quarters. And in truth it became a surprisingly merry affair, carriages and horses alike streaming toward the Greene estate in a parade of smiling faces, men stealing moments from their duties for this unexpected, unscheduled outing away from the teaming Port Royal.
The officers' children played on the vast manicured lawns, screams of laughter and shrill shrieks punctuating various games of blind man's bluff and tag and hide-and-seek. The servants of the Greene estate bustled as they hadn't in many a year - though gladly, swiftly preparing food and drink, setting tables and chairs for their unexpected guests, enjoying to the last the sweetly contented smile of the kind, decent elderly man they all loved dearly, to a man.
At least two separate games of cribbage had begun, and a small, intent crowd had gathered about the two lieutenants deeply invested in a game of chess beside the grand marble fireplace.
The rogue's smile widened as she caught Robert's dark-eyed gaze, all rapt attention for the lovely young gentlewoman as she played. Yes, if these men were here? Then they could not be at the docks, curious about the unprecedented preparations of the Skate's crew. Here, they could not be too troublingly vigilant concerning any 'shortcuts' her crew might deem necessary in their haste, nor concern themselves with rumors of debt shares and exorbitant credit extended to the privateer captain Lightfoot, or complaints on a run of certain valuable supplies.
And there would only be one more evening to devote to distractions, to keep the erstwhile, dutiful eyes of the Fort Charles garrison riveted elsewhere - anywhere really - but toward the berth of the Dusk Skate. An evening, and a day -
Antonia blinked, the smile faltering on her wide lips as her fingers seemed to trip over the strangest chord - though she recovered in an instant. She had forgotten. Forgotten utterly in the high emotion of discovering Thomas embracing the First Mate, his pursuit and his declaration to her - and then Cooper's unspeakable treachery. Forgotten to speak with Thomas or Mademoiselle Beauchamp, or even warn off the helmsman herself from treating that mischievous invitation as anything like 'genuine.'
Jax's visage loomed in her mind's eye, and it was all the rogue could do to keep the groan of frustration trapped right behind that lovely smile. No amount of gratitude for Thomas' life could make her glad to see the helmsman's grinning face this evening, at the party at Fort Charles.
No.
No. He would not dare...
But, as always, the blind man sat quietly in the high-back walnut chair, both hands wrapped over the top of his cane perched between his legs, one gnarled finger swaying to the strangely lively beat with that ever-present enigmatic smile.
Yes, it was Miss Antoinette Greene who sat primly on that sumptuously upholstered bench, changed from her verdant morning silks to a rose pink gown that hung fetchingly off her bronzed shoulders, the dusted lightly with a pearlescent powder. The crown of her ebony hair was pulled back and plaited with precious strings of alternating pink and ivory pearls, while the long shining curls cascaded down her back, undulating serpent coils, a mesmerizing sight as the gentlewoman played.
But it was Antonia who danced in the music she played. It was the rogue's wide smile that lit the room near as bright as the sunlight streaming into through the tall windows of the elegant, rosewood paneled parlor. And if that smile fell upon Commander Robert Murray, it was all for the better of course. After all, if she must leave the true source of her bliss, veiled in a joy that made her near giddy as a virginal naif? Then let both truth and artifice serve the duties she performed during landfall, unheralded and unknown to the last - even to the captain she served and loved.
They had decided at the very last moment, to bring the entirety of the officers' contingent, their wives and companions and children to Nathaniel's estate rather than try to crowd all into Robert Murray's officer's quarters. And in truth it became a surprisingly merry affair, carriages and horses alike streaming toward the Greene estate in a parade of smiling faces, men stealing moments from their duties for this unexpected, unscheduled outing away from the teaming Port Royal.
The officers' children played on the vast manicured lawns, screams of laughter and shrill shrieks punctuating various games of blind man's bluff and tag and hide-and-seek. The servants of the Greene estate bustled as they hadn't in many a year - though gladly, swiftly preparing food and drink, setting tables and chairs for their unexpected guests, enjoying to the last the sweetly contented smile of the kind, decent elderly man they all loved dearly, to a man.
At least two separate games of cribbage had begun, and a small, intent crowd had gathered about the two lieutenants deeply invested in a game of chess beside the grand marble fireplace.
The rogue's smile widened as she caught Robert's dark-eyed gaze, all rapt attention for the lovely young gentlewoman as she played. Yes, if these men were here? Then they could not be at the docks, curious about the unprecedented preparations of the Skate's crew. Here, they could not be too troublingly vigilant concerning any 'shortcuts' her crew might deem necessary in their haste, nor concern themselves with rumors of debt shares and exorbitant credit extended to the privateer captain Lightfoot, or complaints on a run of certain valuable supplies.
And there would only be one more evening to devote to distractions, to keep the erstwhile, dutiful eyes of the Fort Charles garrison riveted elsewhere - anywhere really - but toward the berth of the Dusk Skate. An evening, and a day -
Antonia blinked, the smile faltering on her wide lips as her fingers seemed to trip over the strangest chord - though she recovered in an instant. She had forgotten. Forgotten utterly in the high emotion of discovering Thomas embracing the First Mate, his pursuit and his declaration to her - and then Cooper's unspeakable treachery. Forgotten to speak with Thomas or Mademoiselle Beauchamp, or even warn off the helmsman herself from treating that mischievous invitation as anything like 'genuine.'
Jax's visage loomed in her mind's eye, and it was all the rogue could do to keep the groan of frustration trapped right behind that lovely smile. No amount of gratitude for Thomas' life could make her glad to see the helmsman's grinning face this evening, at the party at Fort Charles.
No.
No. He would not dare...
Oh wow damn >< I'm so sorry Dot, I didn't know all of that was going on too. So sorry to come off like an insensitive jerk! *hugs you where you lay on the carpet*
HA! XD Oh yes yes, drowning the feels in chilled wine and shorts...
Hellfire filled her lungs, but she took that breath anyway. She took him in, her amber eyes wide with a noxious mix of horror and agony and hatred - hatred most of all. Though her breaths came only in tortuous gasps, she took in the white wolf in as he growled his curse in her ear: the scent of a murderer, the musk of the assassin who stole the only wolf packmate she had ever known from her very arms.
In the space of an instant, watching helplessly as the white wolf disappeared into the shade gate, Veti knew. If Luna's kiss did not steal the days of her life today, if his blade had not done its work well enough, she was going to kill him. She would hunt the white wolf to the ends of the Earth, to the very end of her days if need be, for the unmatched, perfect pleasure of watching that arrogant, triumphant light dim from his eyes. It was a visceral need now, as vital to her as a heartbeat or breath, to feel the gristly crunch of his fur and flesh in her jaws, to taste the coppery sweetness of his lifeblood and meat over her tongue as she ripped his throat out.
She would relinquish that right to Reginald Hoyle alone. Yes, only Aislinn's brother could take this claim from her...
'Aislinn... '
What strength the silver-edged blade had not stolen, that one name resonating through her head undid utterly. Still clutching Aislinn's body, Veti fell to her knees, crumpling forward to lay her to the stone ground as gently as she could manage, her crimson maw finally falling over the elder wolf's shoulders. One tapering crimson ear rested against her wide chest, silent and still but for the rushing of the blood in her own head.
There would not be another breath. Not one more heartbeat, and there never would be again. The certain knowledge crashed over her, a tidal wave of misery that dwarfed the pain that wracked her like the sun's merciless blaze to the flame of a lit match. The werewolf whined deep in her throat, great tears welling up in her eyes, coursing down her jaws to seep into Aislinn's mottled grey fur. Ebony-tipped claws reached for the elder wolf's face, shaking as she lovingly traced the lines that had once shown such sweet expression: mischief and laughter and puppyish curiosity and wonder.
"I'm... Sorry... " she panted as her tongue lolled from her jaws, every breath, every word a fiery torment. "So sorry... Not fast... Enough... Mis'r Hoyle... Sorry... "
Veti relinquished the wolf within. In an instant, only the woman remained curled over Aislinn's body, her crimson hair blending hideously with the blood that covered them both. One sapphire eye turned sightlessly upward, toward the grey ceiling of the shade room. The edges of her vision began to darken and fade, only the faces of the ones she loved longest still bright in her mind's eye. Veti could not see if Siya had come, nor Daisy nor even Artie - but Thad had been there. Yes, he hurled the sorcerous fire that made the white wolf burn, and the hatred in her still stirred with a dark pleasure at the memory.
The claw turned hand that had caressed Aislinn's face reached toward where he might last have been, inching along the cold stone floor. "Thad... Can't... Can't breathe... "
In the space of an instant, watching helplessly as the white wolf disappeared into the shade gate, Veti knew. If Luna's kiss did not steal the days of her life today, if his blade had not done its work well enough, she was going to kill him. She would hunt the white wolf to the ends of the Earth, to the very end of her days if need be, for the unmatched, perfect pleasure of watching that arrogant, triumphant light dim from his eyes. It was a visceral need now, as vital to her as a heartbeat or breath, to feel the gristly crunch of his fur and flesh in her jaws, to taste the coppery sweetness of his lifeblood and meat over her tongue as she ripped his throat out.
She would relinquish that right to Reginald Hoyle alone. Yes, only Aislinn's brother could take this claim from her...
'Aislinn... '
What strength the silver-edged blade had not stolen, that one name resonating through her head undid utterly. Still clutching Aislinn's body, Veti fell to her knees, crumpling forward to lay her to the stone ground as gently as she could manage, her crimson maw finally falling over the elder wolf's shoulders. One tapering crimson ear rested against her wide chest, silent and still but for the rushing of the blood in her own head.
There would not be another breath. Not one more heartbeat, and there never would be again. The certain knowledge crashed over her, a tidal wave of misery that dwarfed the pain that wracked her like the sun's merciless blaze to the flame of a lit match. The werewolf whined deep in her throat, great tears welling up in her eyes, coursing down her jaws to seep into Aislinn's mottled grey fur. Ebony-tipped claws reached for the elder wolf's face, shaking as she lovingly traced the lines that had once shown such sweet expression: mischief and laughter and puppyish curiosity and wonder.
"I'm... Sorry... " she panted as her tongue lolled from her jaws, every breath, every word a fiery torment. "So sorry... Not fast... Enough... Mis'r Hoyle... Sorry... "
Veti relinquished the wolf within. In an instant, only the woman remained curled over Aislinn's body, her crimson hair blending hideously with the blood that covered them both. One sapphire eye turned sightlessly upward, toward the grey ceiling of the shade room. The edges of her vision began to darken and fade, only the faces of the ones she loved longest still bright in her mind's eye. Veti could not see if Siya had come, nor Daisy nor even Artie - but Thad had been there. Yes, he hurled the sorcerous fire that made the white wolf burn, and the hatred in her still stirred with a dark pleasure at the memory.
The claw turned hand that had caressed Aislinn's face reached toward where he might last have been, inching along the cold stone floor. "Thad... Can't... Can't breathe... "
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