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[ AW ] Will I Ever Care
#1
I think my feelings are gone forever
I don't think I'll ever get it together
I don't even miss you anymore
I can't find anything worth living for

can i ever even care?



A soft breeze ruffled his charcoal coat as he stood on the edge of a large boulder. He could smell the scent of other wolves carried on the wind... but he didn't care.

They could do nothing to him that hadn't already been done. He'd been broken more ways than one and every time he lost a little more of himself. Amaranth eyes peered out at nothing in particular as his twisted mind worked behind them, guiding him down only the darkest paths. Pink tongue slipped out and brushed over his lips as he crouched to leap off the boulder and carry on into the wood.

If anything, he might be able to find something easy to eat here. As he walked, his paws flattened new fronds of grass and budding flowers alike. Crushing them to dust without so much as a second thought. The world around him was beautiful, bright and full of new life... but he was a shadow of death descending upon it, destroying anything and everything in his path.
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#2

Winter had gone but the darkness still remained. It tainted the Fairfolk like an ever present rain cloud. Nimue had died. Many of their numbers had seemingly vanished out of thin air. Both of her brothers along with them. Yet, even in such darkness; where they turned to the stars for guidance, Caella found pleasure in the havoc and dismay. Was she not the Seer? The one that sensed the darkness? Shadows gave her power and in which chaos she thrived.

Yet, it was not the heathens that had been effected, but her own flesh and blood. It worried her so. The future of the Seven depended on whoever was left. If needs be, she would have to produce future Heirs.

As she wandered the familiar paths of the broken Forest, the rush of the Falls became white noise. Her brain was working, cogs churning against the wishes of her body. She did not desire love, not in the traditional sense; she did not want to produce offspring, she had obtained her part of the deal. Her legacy would live on as The Crone. Yet how would her story be told if there was no one left to tell it? But who would be worthy enough? Who's seed must be sown within her womb worthy of the Fairchild title? No. She would leave the production of children to Galiene. The Mother. Fitting name for the task at hand.

Slender paws made quick and easy work of the rugged terrain, ears flickered as blazing orange eyes happened upon a dark figure, a dark purple-yet vacant gaze. Drawing in the scent; he was not familiar. No stars blessed his dark pelt. "And what, pray tell, brings you to the Fairfolk?" Her tone was inquisitive, yet cold. Head slightly tilted to the side as she neared the stranger; then paused. Her burning gaze quickly examined him, then rested upon his gaze. He was either stupid, or asking for death.

"let us sit back and watch the world burn"
table ▶▶claerie. manip ▶▶ raven

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#3
I think my feelings are gone forever
I don't think I'll ever get it together
I don't even miss you anymore
I can't find anything worth living for

can i ever even care?



He almost lazily turned his head to look at the woman who'd confronted him. She smelled of the other scents nearby. It was likely she was a part of whatever group lived in this area. His gaze was piercing, yet strangely empty. "Fairfolk?" he echoed, his tone quite obviously bored and unimpressed. He knew nothing of them.

The coldness in her tone led him to believe she was not happy about his presence here, but why would she be? He was a trespasser and in her place he would probably be a thousand times less inviting.

A small hum escaped him and he shrugged his shoulders loosely. "Nothing brings me anywhere. I'm just here," he murmured. Where he had once followed her, nothing was left now and so he was aimless. Lost alone and without reason. There were children out there, somewhere... but he cared little for them. They had never been his purpose. She had been. Now she was gone and he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He figured he would walk until he had some semblance of an idea. Nothing had sparked his interests yet. It had been so long he thought nothing would.

He let the silence linger between them before speaking again. "I don't care about your rules or these Fairfolk... so you might as well leave me be," he said listlessly.
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#4

The inner workings of her mind begged to be recognised. She had more important business to attend and discuss, than waste her time with trespassers. But with little to no Fairfolk left, it would be wrong of her to simply neglect the simple duties... As a leading member of her Clan, she had to take some responsibility for the upkeep. Yet her body craved the clarity and coolness of the dark, for the shadows to guide her. The sun felt awkwardly warm and hot upon her back, highlighting the whites and greys of speckled stars upon her ebon' pelt. How wolves enjoyed the sunlight was beyond her- it was ugly and bright. Nothing compared to the mysteries that lingered within the dark.

He stood nonchalantly. The same expression lingered upon him, within him. His pricing gaze held all the mysteries that his blank expression tried to hide. "NOTHING BRINGS ME ANYWHERE. I'M JUST HERE," A thoughtful hum passed through her navy maw. Looking within his gaze, she could see his constellation. The Shadow. The Crone's gift was knowlege and now the reason this male's... strange attitude became a little more clear. "Every choice made has a purpose," Caella reprimanded. "The Shadow guides you." Even if he was one of those outsiders. At least he was blessed with one of The Seven.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR RULES OR THESE FAIRFOLK... Oh his voice was dry. He clearly was trying to make a point. Yet it would not stop Caella's eyes from rolling. "Obviously," Now her tone was as bored as his own. Ah, her sarcastic nature had a way of creeping upon her when she least expected. Tsk, tsk.

"I wonder, are you foolishly stupid, or stupidly foolish?" She added, wondering what his reaction would be. Another thoughtful hum and pause."For not caring... and respecting pack boundaries." Death wish it was, then. Oh, if Oberon were here the male's head would already be on a spike.

"let us sit back and watch the world burn"
table ▶▶claerie. manip ▶▶ raven

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#5

The scent of a stranger was thick in the air, pulling the Mother from her musings and into the stark reality of trespass. She moved quickly across the forest she knew well, the rushing of the falls in her ears. Silently she slipped across the terrain, each step growing faster until she was loping, her gait steady and sure. The beat of her paws was a funeral drum, because she had tasted the scent and it was foreign -- foreign in that it did not smell of the pines, or the shore, or of any part of Cyrileth that she knew. What a glorious day this was. The gods had given her a gift. This was how she saw the black male as she appeared, suddenly materializing in the small clearing where they had gathered. A gift, placed here by the stars.

"for not caring... and respecting pack boundaries." Galiene's burning amber gaze locked on the man's face, unblinking. "Outsider." Her voice was its usual baritone, but the notes were sharp and quick, the word an accusation fueled with an inner adrenaline that she kept quietly in check. He seemed weak, though more in body or in mind, she could not tell. His eyes were purple, his expression disinterested. There were no stars on his pelt, though this she had expected. The Crone was there as well, standing facing the stranger. It comforted her to know that Caella was still amongst them, her little spy in the ranks. She should speak with the girl soon on her mission -- but now was not the time. The Mother did not even look to the Crone; her focus was solely on this stranger, a poisoned barb in her side. He stank of treachery, and it seeped into the soil where he stood. He looked arrogant in a disheartened way, as if he was not caring much what Caella said.

The Mother stood a half-step forward from the Crone, and her posture was relaxed but regal, her handsome face impassive, but her eyes bright. She was comfortable here, and it showed in the looseness of her shoulders, the dominance in her gaze. But the excitement... It twisted her heart, burning up her veins with fire. How else could she take this but a sign? The gods approved of her plan. They had placed an outsider in her midst, thrown a fly into the spider's web, callously given her a lamb for the slaughter. The Crone was the first to catch him...an omen, if she had ever seen one. Her orange eyes danced with flames, though a stranger would be unable to tell if it was of anger or victory. Perhaps it was both. "You have wandered far beyond your limits," she continued, her voice a low, beating drum of noise that cut through the din of the nearby falls. She looked into his amethyst eyes and saw the Shadow, but this would not save him now. "What say you to the Mother of the Seven?" she queried. Her eyes were that of a predatory bird, and her heart pumped with the fire of victory.



@Oberon

Please wait till Oberon replies to post any more!
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#6



Oberon

Darkness cannot drive out darkness
A foul perfume pervaded the Maiden, a noisome stench both foul and feral. Ripped from the reverie of his waking, Oberon adjusted his course to coincide with that of the unwelcome interloper. For someone to taint the sanctity of the Tears, to pierce the veil of sacred claimency, spoke either to inherent ignorance or deliberate defiance. Indeed, the Father's path was well-worn, sacred and saccharine - to break from its bounds was a grave offense. To do it for the sake of the unclean...Oberon's lip curled, a dangerous distinction of displeasure. He neared, and the signature of the Seven was incorporated into the scent of the walking dead; the familiar vocals of Caella and Galiene sought succor in the Father's ear.

He stepped up beside the Seven's Mother, earth and ink brushing against fire and sunshine. The addition of his superior bulk created a wall of flesh between the interloper and the rest of the family's lauded landscape, a wall of adamant strength interposed between heaven and hell. His chill topaz gaze pinned the loner in place, empty of mercy, redolent of condemnation. "Indeed - what excuse would you offer its Father?" he spoke, echoing Galiene's prior inquiry. His words were quiet, lethal, heavy with the weight of implicit threat. To taint their sacred site, to tarnish the sanctity of their seat of Power...No, there was no hope of a happy ending for this sad simpleton.

Unlike the Mother, who regarded the stranger with a Queen's dignified grace, Oberon was all hard edges and uncompromising severity. His muscles were firm, primed for movement, his tail and crown raised high with inherent superiority. Balanced on a razor's edge, the shadow of a threat dripped viciously down the jagged edge of his control; blood glinted at the edges of crown and pooled at the foot of his throne, a promise of things to come. The stranger was clad in shadow and strife, a sinner who donned a devil's cloak. There was no excuse he could offer that would salvage the possibility of redemption, but Oberon was all too willing to indulge the Mother's curiosity in the moments before the loner's defiance dealt its hand.

only starlight can
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#7
I think my feelings are gone forever
I don't think I'll ever get it together
I don't even miss you anymore
I can't find anything worth living for

can i ever even care?



He watched the dark woman with mirrored disinterest and wondered what kept her here. "every choice made has a purpose, a pause, "the shadow guides you." "Shadow, huh?" he huffed. He had no idea what she meant, but it sounded accurate. Though... she didn't know him.

A single tooth slipped out as a half-cocked smile appeared on his face. "Both, maybe." He had never made any objections to his stupidity.

In all honesty, he figured he'd just leave her then since their conversation wasn't likely to evolve into anything good. However, he was interrupted from thoughts of retreating when two more wolves showed up. They stank all the same and he figured these must be wolves from that pack she'd been talking about. They introduced themselves as the Mother and Father (and he thought he was creepy) then fell silent.

He could see the difference between the pair. The woman was charged, ready for something while the male was steeled with a decision he'd already made.

Sinclair knew he was outnumbered badly, and his smile vanished as he stared at them. When he was younger, he might have pressed them to see what they would do but now... what was the point? "Excuses?" he said, then clicked his tongue. "Can't say I have one prepared."

His black whiskers quivered as he ran his tongue across his lips and his eyes fell on the earthen female, then the black-coated one and finally the tri-colored beast.

One on one, he could probably take them but there was no way he'd survive an all-out fight with three wolves. His head dropped a fraction and he displayed no signs of aggression, other than perhaps a dark look in his eye as his gaze passed over them. "Look, I don't know anything about this place. I'm just trying to get my bearings. I'll leave," he conceded. He couldn't believe how... apologetic his own voice sounded.
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#8

Intrigued, Caella watched as the stranger seemed impassive. "SHADOW, HUH?" His voice held an air of rasp as he spoke. "The stars bless you with the devine. I wonder whether you are worthy?" By first impression, he was not. He had not been blessed by the stars, he knew nothing of the religion her clan clung too so dearly. Heathen. He would not be welcome an inch further into the precious sanctum. Not a single paw would dare taint there blessed halls.
"BOTH, MAYBE." His response was not what she had expected. The crooked smile held a multitude of sins beneath. A single, ebon' brow quirked at his response. How interesting.

Perked ears flickered at the sounds of paw-steps and soon enough the auburn figure of The Mother came into view. "Outsider." the regal Queen now took the reins and Caella was so happy to oblige. Though she noted that Galiene did not aknowlege her-now was not the time for idle, polite chit-chat. Not when something threatened to invade their sacred home. "What say you to the Mother of the Seven?" Ah, always knowing what to say and when; Caella's gaze never left that of the imposing male's. She was thankful for the Mother's appearance. Now the tables had turned.

And yet-

"Indeed - what excuse would you offer its Father?" Oberon's voice crackled like thunder from the godly skies. He took his rightful place beside the Mother and together, the two stood imposing. It was a proud moment to watch; Caella happily stayed at the flank, a coy smirk gracing her dark features; her head lowered ever so slightly; burning orange eyes scorching the stranger in silence.

Oh how wonderful! this would be.

"EXCUSES?" There, the arrogance showed again. "CAN'T SAY I HAVE ONE PREPARED.""Watch your tone." Her voice was cool and as soft as the shadows that embraced her."It is the Mother and Father of the Fairfolk that you are so carelessly addressing." he sparked the volcano that swarmed within her eyes. Lips curled into a sinister grin. Her temper had often got the best of her-perhaps now was another occasion. Yet she liked to add fuel the to the flames and be reprimanded later. Oberon and Galiene were enough to impose their judgement upon him; she could not help but get one word into the fray.

"LOOK, I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THIS PLACE. I'M JUST TRYING TO GET MY BEARINGS. I'LL LEAVE," That was quite disappointing. She had expected him to put up more of a fight... yes, execute a heathen near their pearly gates. Surely the gods would bless them for that.

Caella remained silent, now. Her gaze slowly flickered to both Mother and Father and eagerly awaited their judgement.




"let us sit back and watch the world burn"
table ▶▶claerie. manip ▶▶ raven

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#9

Moments later, Oberon materialized out of the brush, and while Galiene was muted fire, he was cold steel, and his demeanor was that of a frigid blade. Galiene's eyes moved briefly to his face in acknowledgment as he came to stand beside her, before her amber gaze returned to the wolf at their feet. "Indeed - what excuse would you offer its Father?" They both saw potential in this black male before them, that much was clear. Galiene felt another thrill of excitement trill up her body. The Father saw something here, too. Perhaps he felt more anger than vindication, but any emotion was positive. Here the three stood, forming an effective wall between this stranger and the remaining Fairfolk territory. They were a formidable barrier, to be sure, and it was clear that the stranger felt the pressure.

"EXCUSES? CAN'T SAY I HAVE ONE PREPARED." He clicked his tongue then. It was a dismissive, rude sound, and it seemed to echo around them like a gunshot. Galiene exhaled a small breath, invisible to the others. It was of exaltation. "watch your tone." The Crone snapped back at this stranger, defending her leaders. "it is the mother and father of the fairfolk that you are so carelessly addressing." Galiene continued to stare at this dark male, and strangely, a small, twisting smile snared her lips. "Ah, but to let him speak..." she mused, her voice tipped now with something pleased and hard and poisoned and almost cruel. "With every word he digs his grave deeper." His face looked shadowed then, as if he had just judged his odds and found them lacking. The Mother's fire-dancing gaze stayed trained on his face.

"LOOK, I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THIS PLACE. I'M JUST TRYING TO GET MY BEARINGS. I'LL LEAVE." Galiene took a languid, half-step forward. She appeared now not so much wolf as cat, her pinpoint-pupilled gaze unwavering. She would not let the gods gift get away so easily. Here was a sign that her methods were pure, that the motives in her madness were blessed. With the Crone at her back and the Father at her side, she saw little other meaning for this outsider's sudden appearance in their midst. The pack boundaries were clearly marked. He would know he was in the wrong, and yet he came... When had another wolf been foolish enough to do so? They weren't. Such an unusual occasion... "You come up with excuses easily enough, Shadow," she said. Her eyes saw the truth of him, but it did nothing to sweeten his flavor. "But your sins are laid plain before us." Trespass. Disrespect. She felt the gods' hands on her shoulders: are you pleased?



@Oberon
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#10



Oberon

Darkness cannot drive out darkness
Galiene's grace unfurled in the presence of the stranger's corruption, and the Mother's sanguine regard blossoming in lieu of pervasive welcome. Like a deadly flower that bore fruit only under cover of darkness, her visceral beauty concealed the deadly thorns that twisted and tangled beneath her fair auburn skin, Oberon, on the other hand, was clad all in cold steel and frozen fire, his crown flashing with the reflection of divine conviction. Neither pretty poison nor decadent doubt marred the iron resolve that steeled his mortal frame; his intentions - and his disapproval - were laid bare on the cold, cruel earth. Like a holy blade, his ire shone bright and burning against the shadow of the trespasser's slight.

The loner spoke, his voice grating upon the Father's ear. Oberon's lip curled, a soundless snarl marring his tricolor mask, ears flicking back to touch the top of his skull. Caella warned the brute against his tone, but Galiene purred an allowance of the heathen's diatribe. Poised to prosecute the penitent, Oberon stalled his hand for the Mother's interest. Perhaps, after all, she had a point; with every syllable, every breath, the male only served to further profane the sanctity of the Maiden's Tears. Closer and closer he inched to death, a daredevil fancy that signed his death warrant as surely as any blood brokered in vain.

After a moment, the stranger bowed his head, and the apology he offered - if it was that - fell from frigid lips. Oberon snarled, but his temper was not wholly enough to drown out the Mother's words. 'You come up with excuses easily enough, Shadow, But your sins are laid plain before us.' Galien's voice was a final warning - but where the Mother would offer mercy, the Father was the ultimate judge. Ignorance could not salvage the ruin the loner had wrought. "May the stars forgive you - for we will not," he growled - and launched himself forward with the full-force of righteous divinity on his side.

His head held low, his jaws gaping wide, his fangs flashed with lethal intent. Oberon aimed for the nape of the loner's proffered neck, to sink his fangs deep into the extra flesh that sheathed spine and skull. With his weight fully committed, his intent was to bear the male down onto the floor and pin him to the earth his unclean paws had so profaned.

only starlight can
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