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28 days ago
sick puppy, gimme a bit
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1 mo ago
commencing catch up
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1 mo ago
work deadline cleared, now to defeat a fever
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2 mos ago
trying to crawl back into existence
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5 mos ago
online spottily
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Most Recent Posts

Ah, darn, looks like I was a bit too late; was also gunning for the son of Ares! I suppose being a son of Nike wouldn't fly? She would actually fit the character idea I had a little better, even.

Edit: actually, so might Zeus! So might go for that instead, if allowed.
(One of) our dragon(s) has pewsted!

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Fellwing wasn't sure whether Runa's enthusiasm put her at ease or on edge, the clear difference in their ability and confidence to navigate the mines a little jarring to someone like her. She had never liked not knowing things, particularly when they were pertinent to a task she was currently undertaking. Especially when that task was underground.

Case in point, what in the moons had made that tunnel?! An animal? It must've been massive!

Fellwing caught herself hesitating, trying to rack her brain for a memory, a hint, a guess if nothing else as to what could have made the tunnel and how they ought to proceed, but nothing came to mind. This was not her specialty, and not quite worth it to consult the Darkness about. Not yet, anyhow.

A little embarrassed by her ignorance, the Seer couldn't help but offer quite a vague answer to Runa's very straightforward question. "Not as used as you, certainly, so don't mind if I do."

As she scurried after Runa to indeed stay close to her, Fellwing wondered, with increasing dread, whether she'd just unlocked a new fear; being stuck underground, far from the skies that made her feel the most at ease. Lost, wandering, and possibly never found by another drake, ever again.

To keep that thought at bay, she looked up to Runa and whispered, as if afraid something might overhear: "Do you happen to know what might've made this burrow? And if, ah, we should be worried about them... returning?"

Finally got that post up, man am excited to finally be part of this properly! It was getting a bit long, so gonna have him arrive at school in my next one, probably in the typical anime fashion of literally running into someone, if anyone's up for that! Can be an NPC, otherwise. Also no he didn't actually run all the way, def took transportation in the middle, ha.


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It'd rained last night.

It hadn't been a light drizzle either, nor the kind of short downpour that was so common on summer evenings — it was a few months too early for that, anyway. There'd been no thunder or lightning as was normal for an evening shower either, just... rain. Endless damn sheets of it.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if Ryuu could've just holed himself up inside the house, played a game or two and raided Grandma's tea-cabinet for something warm. But no, the moment he'd realized how intense the rain would get, he'd been out the door and busy until early hours of the morning. The garden setup wasn't made to withstand a downpour like that, and Marumochi and Dangoshiri were scared shitless of the rain, so it wasn't like he could just leave them to their own devices for an entire night. Trouble was, finding the two dumbass cats in the middle of the night when they were trying to hide away in fear had been a little difficult. Getting them to trust him enough to carry them out of their steadily flooding hidey-holes even more so. And then, and then—

When Ryuu'd finally gotten back home, the horizon already alight with the promise of a soon-rising sun, he'd been soaked to the bone, and apparently coughing and sloshing so loudly in his shoes that he'd woken one of his neighbours, who'd nearly called the police on him for sneaking around at night (again). And yet, as he'd finally shed himself of his soaked clothes and collapsed into a bath, he couldn't have been happier, knowing the damn cats were alright now. Fed, sheltered, and dumb, as they should be. Man, what a life that must've been...

He nearly fell asleep in the tub, only startling awake when he inhaled a noseful of water.

It was morning now, and his good mood was all but gone.

Ryuu was stomping around with all the grace of a monkey scorned, cursing to himself as he stuck his face in every bush and trashcan he happened upon, looked around with ever increasing desperation, and moved on. Shit. Shit, shit, he knew he shouldn't have taken his cellphone with him last night! He swore, from now on he'd invest in one of those old-timey flashlights if he needed light during his nightly escapades. They were more difficult to lose, and much easier — and cheaper — to replace. Cause honestly? Even if he hadn't lost his damn phone, the rain might've done irreparable damage to it anyway, and he really didn't have the funds to get a new one anytime soon. He was still trying to get used to taking care of Grandma's house, her chores, garden, the cats, and— well, just figuring out what was what this side of the island. He hadn't been back here since he was a wee little shit. A time he'd... honestly rather not remember.

Ryuu stopped, dead in his tracks, straight in the middle of the road. ... Huh. Wait, what was he doing ag—

A loud honk from behind startled the wits out of him. He stumbled aside as a motorcycle sped past him, way too close for comfort. "The damn youth nowadays!" the man riding it shouted as he passed, not even bothering to glance back at him. "Get back to school, stop standing on the road!"

"Huh?! You wanna fight, old man?! I'm—" Ryuu began, taking a reflexive step after the vehicle, when the old man's words properly settled in his brain. ... School? Wasn't it spring break? Huh? Was the guy senile enough not to know that? Or...

... Or—?!

Ryuu felt around his pockets with the fury of a hungry tanuki, trying to find his phone to check the date, only to remember with painful clarity that his phone was still very much gone. Just like spring break, apparently?! Panic struck him open-palmed, leaving his cheeks ablaze.

With his mind reeling to try and make sense out of the situation, the vague image of Grandma's cat calendar sprung to mind. He remembered it hanging on the kitchen wall, the three large circles drawn around April 1st, a very important date, as she'd reminded him time and time again. The date school started, the date he was supposed to finally re-attempt the first year of high school despite being seven-damn-teen. The date he was supposed to restart his life and do better and he'd just— he'd forgotten, amidst all the busywork. Grandma would be so damn disappointed! No, scratch that; heartbroken.

... Could he still make it? His school uniform was back home, and so was his bag, books and everything else, but he was a long way from home and a round-trip would cost him even more precious time. He had his wallet for bus money. He had... had some clothes, on (of course?!) and he had... himself? Shouldn't-- could that just be enough for today? For him to at least show up? That had to be better than just being a no-show right?! Right?!

Before he'd realized it, Ryuu had kicked himself into a run, fumbling to unfurl a bus timetable from his wallet. Would it be faster to run? The school was super far away, right? But he was a pretty damn fast runner. And he was already running, so technically, all he had to do was keep going, right?! That was, if he was going in the right direction.

...

He had no idea if he was going in the right direction!

But that didn't mean he stopped running.
Yuh, like said, I'm also fine with y'all moving along! Hoping to hop in tomorrow morning, at last 🙃


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For a hunter, every moment spent waiting was both a heartbeat and a lifetime, any attempt to distinguish between the two futile and unfounded. So when the smoke of the skies parted and an enormous avian descended upon them, she could not tell how much time had passed since it had first made itself known — though she could tell exactly how many wingbeats it had been, could still feel each one linger. They'd tugged at her tense form like irksome cubs, looking to get a rise out of her, to lure her into action before it was time.

She had resisted. Continued to resist now, as the creature threw itself at the barrier that had engulfed them; wind, having once again bent to a humoid's will. A peculiarity.

Peculiar, too, was the substance that dripped from the bird's feathers, and the odour that soon filled the air. She was no stranger to foul smells, had not been since the humoids came — came where, whence, and why? — but this was not anything she recognized. Even so, it sparked something within her. Not quite a memory, but a feeling that a memory should've been right there, in that very corner of her mind. It was an afterimage of something lost, a memory forgotten, or maybe one never formed in the first place. A smell so foul it was an insult, to her nose and to all she knew to be right — to Mother; the gravest insult of all.

Her fur stood on end, claws digging upon her perch.

Then feathers sprouted where they ought not; from carcasses — corpses, the humoids called them, a deliberate distinction — that had yet to begin reeking of death.

The humoids inside the barrier stirred, some spurred to action, some to preparation, while others chose inaction; rabbits standing still, breathless, waiting for the fox to pass. They were the smart ones, she thought, prey who knew their place.

The same could not be said of all of them. One tried to welcome the peculiar substance to her body, another to thwart her efforts, another to collect that very same not-quite-liquid. How drawn they were to this foul thing. How driven by curiosity, even in the face of death.

When her gaze returned to the skies, she noticed it; the barrier, if ever so slightly, had started to come undone. Were it to break, there would be no quarter given to her and hers. ... That thought gave her pause. Hers these humoids were not, yet she felt as though something may have connected them, a feeble thread, an idea, or some other abstract thing she couldn't describe. An unnatural thought, that. Unpleasant, yet persistent.

She lowered herself further, eyes on the wind that swept above them. One humoid had thrown a rock and a humoid made stick at it, yet only one had made it through.

Fist or timber.

She could lay claim to neither, but if she knew anything of wind, it would not rebut fang or claw either.

She poised, low, watching, intending to strike first, to draw first blood. All the while, that something within her, a foreign thing, stirred and thrashed about, threatened to drive her to thoughtlessness. She fought it, much like soon she'd fight the monster.

And so if, when, the avian dove for another strike at the barrier, it would not be met with wind, but her roar and claw and fang as she pounced for its back, and went for its throat.
Plus we still need a Ryuu post and I don't want to jump TOO far ahead without him.

Ahh, no need to wait for me! I can always catch up if I fall behind in general. I'd rather the rp keeps flowing than make people wait. Fortunately, things are finally starting to calm down IRL so can start on a post again, but yeah, absolutely do feel free to keep going.

On that note, looks like life's eaten Fey as well, hope they'll also be able to return soon!


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mentions: some ppl but only briefly so no tags, just catchin' up to y'all

As was her lot, she watched.

She did not remember who had taught her to watch, exactly. A parent? Of sorts, anyhow, that much she knew. A mother. The Mother, though she could not picture her face now, could not recall if she ever had.

She could not picture herself, either, but that seemed to matter little. She was aware of her body enough to move it, to press a soundless paw upon the soil, to carry the mass that was her body forth, shaky at first, and then gradually less so. She felt, vaguely, as though something was missing — a step she ought to have taken, yet could not. The rhythm of her stride felt different, and the weight of her body wrong. She was lighter now, and yet she was not; less weight, perhaps, but so too less strength.

The more her focus shifted to what was and what should have been, the more uncertain her steps became. She feared, for a moment, that she might fall, but she did not. She never had. They had always fallen first.

She adapted.

Soon, she was a silent shape in the shadows, skulking just beyond the veil of dust and smoke, always gone by the time anyone turned their head. The two battered humoids with their sharp sticks and suspicious glances had been none the wiser of her presence, even as she'd passed them by; even as she'd measured the distance to their throats. A habit, an instinct.

She had not pounced.

When the others had awoken, a mostly humoid lot, though peculiarly so, some missing bits and pieces, some carrying too many, she had likewise remained a watcher. She had watched them do what humoids did: asking, pondering, exploring, stealing even from the dead when they thought it suited them, their curiosity a bane and a boon both.

She had realized, then, as she'd watched, that she'd also listened. It should not have felt so strange, listening, when her ears were so sharp and the world so full of sound, the crackling of embers a constant in the background, yet it did. The sounds the humoids made were curious, conveying so much, and yet so little. Less and more, somehow, than the snarl of a beast or the song of a bird. She was used to hearing intent; warnings, invitations, threats and appeasements, short and clear, a matter of life and death.

Though she understood what she heard, could connect each individual sound to a concept, an idea, an abstract thing she had not known existed or could be conveyed so with sound at all, she still found herself unsure of the humoids' intent. So did they, it seemed, with all their questions and quarreling.

When the Shaman — a word that might have carried meaning to some, yet not to her — had arrived, she had focused on observing it most of all; even when the Large Scaled One had appeared and disappeared, even when weapons were raised and magic spun and strange offers flung about, she had not taken her eyes off the old humoid, for one could only be old if they were of note. Mother was the oldest, and she was the most of note.

She wanted to get closer — yet before she could hazard a step, a humoid took wing somewhere a little distance away, and she nearly pounced. Something in her stirred, spilling from one side of her chest to the other, heavy. Claws out and eyes aglow, she watched, aghast, as the Winged One soared where birds alone could go.

The heavens screeched, and upon its return, the Winged One brought fire. It rained from the sky, and that something in her stirred once more, ran along her back, inside her spine.

“An enemy is on its way. Decide now: run, hide, or prepare yourselves.”

She could run, but only to chase. She could hide, but only to stalk. And so, she prepared herself, prowled forth, trying to keep a watchful eye over all; the fire, the Old One one with its magic, the humoids, one of whom consumed fire, and then — at last, someone of Nature. One who Spins Web, scurrying about. She followed it with her eyes, noted where she was and where she would go, then turned her gaze back towards the sky. Soon, she thought, something would descend upon them.

Until then, she watched.
No worries! Glad to have you back. No time to actually post yet and owe a few other posts first anyhow, but did the roll and got a 4, oof. At least I can mark exp as Fellwing gets ambushed by something.
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