Vindico

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<center><div style="background: url('http://i.imgur.com/nd51mH7.png') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 410px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #f1d8c5">It was easy to forget, to wander in a meaningless fashion, escaping falling seconds like daggers on the breeze. Here, in this hall of unknown place and time, he could think clearly, dream sweeter, and contemplate his dominion upon the spirit. He had left Silvis, perhaps not forever, but the need to travel had grown to strong, its call to loud in his ears, until at last, it was a thunder that drowned out all else. From the haunting shadows he stepped, a wraith long lost to this world, wincing in the bright light, a crimson lord pale in the blurred edges of his body. It was here, in Quernus, that it had all begun, the towering pines sentinels to the foolishness of his youth. They too, had seen the barbed words shared by kin, and the abandonment that brought upon his steps the restlessness of the unknown. Back than, he swore never to return here, never to pass the lakes edge, and delve in the golden light. It was a place where bones lay buried, a place where ghosts lived and breathed, screaming in the ears and boil the blood until all that was left was a helpless cooked carrion.
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Yet he knew he could not run from it forever. Perhaps they had fled, but to that he doubted. His father was a jealous man, clinging to his subterranean kingdom, a man of royal birth believing himself more than a hostage of love. He was born from the greed of another man, a man who wanted nothing else that to claim the most precious of gems. Andurïl, the western flame was born from neither passion nor lust, more so a duty that bore into it the unwanted kiss of differences. It cut through him like the hot blade before, blood knives rising from his back, clustered in an elegant sprawl over broad shoulders, and trailing out in a river at heel. Hideous, disfigured, a concoction of the unknown lineage his grandsire held in his veins, a forgotten piece of history buried in the dirt. Yet, it sprung forth from the pages of his being, falling into place as a howling scion, desiring to sully good family honour. It was this that caused the first rift, a distance that had yet to be healed. A distance that probably never would.
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Sighing, his paws set into the damp sands lining the waters edge, Andurïl looked out over the still pitch mirror, watching the flies and minuscule creatures dance along its surface. He had spent many a day down here by the pond, a pittance of time clinging still to primordial mould. It was silent, and still, such was the name dressed upon it. Upon his back, the fireflies tangled into his fur, bringing forth the fire that brewed in the ashes, his stripes burning with the heat of a midday sun, though no solis was to be found. It was dark, it was cool. A thief sneaking back into the creed upon which he was raised. Looking up, he traced the path the fly would take, ears cocked forward, silver spheres rippling in the light cast by the water. Dare he venture into the dark, and face the things that haunted him most?
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<font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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The two headed albino would weave silently and lazily through the trees. For once it would seem Garstig had chosen to remain silent. He was either out of complaints or for a rare moment at peace instead of on the edge like usual. Kilian enjoyed this little bit of silence, it was a rare treasure that he seldom got to experience. Today was proving to be one of the good days. He would smile to himself as he wandered in silence with his attached twin.
Stopping the male would take a moment to claw at a tree with his big lynx paws, sharpening them against the rough park of the tree. While he did so Garstig seemed to have picked up a scent of another nearby. Kilian could tell before he picked up the scent himself for the second head of his gave a small growl and seemed to be waking from his peaceful trance like state.


 Kilian would let himself fall from the tree and sniff at the air, whoever it was they weren’t horribly far away. He was curious to see who it would be, but at the same time was afraid of what Garstig would do. He was never nice to others, oven on a day like today when he seemed to be significantly less hostile than usual. His ears would shift slightly trying to see if he could hear this stranger in the wood, but not hearing anything above the bird songs and the soft growls of his second head Kilian let out a soft sigh.


 “Garstig if we go and check out this stranger, will you promise not to be so rude?” He would whisper.
“No promises. If you wont have a backbone, I have to. Let him be afraid of us, it’ll give us the upper hand.” Garstig would snap back but also sounding excited all at the same time.


 Kilian was a social wolf, he loved to converse. His second head loved it too, but only for the opportunities to be rotten to someone other than Kilian. So after another moment of hesitation the albino decided to follow the scent and take at least a peek on who might be the stranger. It wasn’t long until the trees cleared some and he was lead to the water. His pink eyes would look around and see the stranger. Another male, with crimsoned fur and feathers. He seemed to be lost in his own mind and thoughts.


 Kilian would sit himself down just barely out of the shadows of the trees, surprisingly Garstig didn’t say anything at first. They both just watched the stranger for a moment, but probably out of boredom Garstig would choose to break the silence.
“Hey bird brain. Whats the matter with you?” He would snap harshly but also sounding a bit amused. Probably from his clever insult.
Kilian sighed; this was not the way he wanted to introduce himself to a stranger. His eyes would reflex his silent apology as he got up and moved a little closer. It was probably as odd a sight as he thought it felt. One head would be hostile and crude, the other trying to give off as friendly a vibe as possible.
“Pardon Garstig. He’s horrible at introductions.” Kilian would say softly.
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These aimless decisions would rule the slopes of his mind, a treacherous invader so reluctant to release hold upon the cages, to give free will once more to bound wings. the gilded bars of ancient throne was a pretentious one, filled with petty pleasures, an endless song on constant repeat. To lull the senses, and bring forth the harp of Morpheus. Each string would time to the tolling bell, the endless symphony that rippled through the consciousness of a man who wondered, who lost himself in the deep thoughts of a scarred mind. Yet, he endured, as he always had, little to do with the aids offered, and more to do with his own abilities that shifted with the turning tides. Perhaps though, it had to do with the warmth that came from the red string, the tie that drew his gaze to another, the faint presence continuing to prevail even as the distance thinned the emotion. Perhaps... she was the reason behind the growing need, the weakening bond between his own cowardice, and the great expanse of the divide beyond.
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He needed time, time to think, time to gather that thoughts that wouldn't go away. The feelings that commanded he set forth into the world and be more than a recluse who hid from the light. It had taken that one fundamental thing within his nature, the want to be alone, and shifted it upon its axis, leaving him... lonely. Andurïl was meant to be alone, meant to hide himself in the dark and care only for his own wellbeing. He was meant to be the one and only, all that mattered in his life when it came down to the hard decisions. He didn't like this questioning, the inability to follow those very beliefs he created from a long succession of failures. So even as he would leave, he would break that chains that kept to his cage, and yet, he would not go to the destination desired him. Instead, he would bring himself to this place, at this point in time, to witness the pool of ages, a captured glimpse of the heavens above painted into the silver ripples.
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Now it seemed, the fates would have him face yet another vision from their sacred text, a creature the likes of which he had never seen before. It came in the night, dressed in cloak of the lost soul, a man, and yet... men. Words, differing in tone and yet hailing from the same temple turned his gaze, solemn ice of ancient ore set upon his bodice. It was a strange thing, and yet, he supposed there were yet things stranger still amidst the halls and corridors of this world. When he spoke, it was a weird thing, this oddity sharing thoughts so blatantly, and the other, apologizing for the will of another. Strange. Waters churning over the armoured hide of calves, the man took to gazing upon the intruder, crimson train leaving gossamer path through the sands. One step, two, he'd fall upon the shore, and look upon the herald of the will, tilting his head to capture image upon mirror of his eye. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"One shouldn't be so quick to greet those in thought; strange things come from deep whimsy,"</b></font> he'd reply to the first, only to turn his crown the other way, to set his sphere upon the other dial. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"It is not your responsibility to pardon the actions of another."</b></font> Humming, a rumble of scrutiny, Andurïl reached forward, pressing careful touch to the ruffled feathers of his shoulder, distracting self as he found his mind wrapping itself upon this hydra. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"Do you each hold title, or is the name Garstig a shared calling?"</b></font>
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<font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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The red male would turn with the sounds of his voice. He would be silent as this other would tell him he shouldn’t have interrupted his thoughts. It was almost like a small threat of warning; he would then turn to his primary head saying it wasn’t his responsibility to pardon actions of another. Kilian found that statement true, however does it apply still to a creature such as he? It was a question to ponder over. He would ask a question his silver gaze was upon the albino. He wanted to know if his name was Garstig.

 In response Garstig would cackle away, Kilian would frown a little in annoyance, but he quickly brushed it aside as his red eyes would look the stranger over once more. He was of the handsome sort. Red fur with long feathers, it was interesting in the least. 


 “My name is Kilian Weiland. Garstig is the name I have chosen to give to my secondary head. We are two beings in one form. I control the body; he is the self-proclaimed king of insults and lack of sanity. You say I have no responsibility to be pardoning others. I would agree however with a second head like mine you may feel inclined to to avoid unnecessary violence. Would it be so out of line if I asked for your name now that you have mine?” Kilian would ask him in return his voice remaining as calm and polite as it always had when speaking to others.

Garstig would stop his laughter and grin at the red male before them. His eyes bore into the red male almost hungrily.

 “I think the question you should ask is if he is a male or a female. He sounds like a male, but his feathers give him too pretty a look.” Garstig would grin ear to ear clearly proud of himself.

Kilian wouldn’t respond to Garstig’s comment he chose to ignore his twin once more his attention fully on the stranger before him. Perhaps this one would also ignore his second head, or if he chose not to hopefully he wouldn’t become too offended by whatever words that would spill from his twin’s mouth. Just because he was a monster, didn’t mean both sides of him had to behave in such a fashion. Kilian chose to seat himself before the male; perhaps he can make himself look even less aggressive in this fashion? All he wanted was a decent conversation for once.




@Andurïl
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A creature born from the old ways, one neither here nor there, something that merely existed due to a pull in the delicate translation of genes. It stood before him, a living myth brought to life, and Andurïl would be slow in his assessment of its creation. Such an odd thing, not one for disgust, but more, due to the strange simplicity of added design. The shoulders were wider, to accommodate second crown, yet, for the most part, he was rather... plain. Perhaps it was the vanity speaking, the experience of endless flora of vibrancy in feather and scale, the markings exotic upon the creatures he yet remembered in passing. A ghost yet, he had never seen, colours without pigment, a sheet to stand stark contrast to the world around him.
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The one with words toned in careful obscurity would voice his law, and Andurïl, silver eyes of mercury would turn to him, brow shifting ever so slightly, to quit his stance yet different. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"Names... usually hold individuality amongst their ranks. They mark the boundary between one soul, and the next. To say titles hold uniqueness is to place line between ones actions. You say you give pardon for one who is not you, merely exists close to you? A trait of apology lies in the sincerity of plead. Should I find offence so great from the passing of lips, it would not be your apology I would desire... but his."</b></font> He'd recline his crown towards Garstig, even as eyes remained set upon Killian. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"Your apology for his actions are meaningless, by the very thing that sets you apart."</b></font>
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He'd circle around upon himself than leaving a long trail in the sands, his train whisping with the softest of touch with each step. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"I am Andurïl, scion of the Varda line."</b></font> Monotonous, fleeting, he passed over the sharing of title with a flippant hand, finding little in its occurrence anymore. It had become a regular beseeching, the desire to know ones name, the desire to put title to the endless faces that paraded past gaze. Habit perhaps, an expected etiquette in the passing of days, so expected it had become. His perchance was not set to the art of conversing, even as he found curiosity in this creature. Garstig would speak, and the man would find amusement in such hypocrisy. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"I am male; anatomy would dictate such. Though... what of you, second head? You hold no grasp upon the body you share, so what would define you as male or female... or merely an it?"</b></font> It held no offence within tone, a mere observation that came forth from the his own tongue. He cared not for such trivial childish insults; such answers were obvious if one took but a moment to gaze upon him. Besides, he had seen the birds amidst the canopy. Always, consistently, were the males vibrant in hue, whereas the females seemed to lack such pigment. Though... not all females were bland...
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<font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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Kilian listen intently to the male before him. He would continue to say his apologies were useless and something he shouldn’t do. It was almost like receiving a scolding. He would slip into a silence as his red eyes watched the brightly feather male before him. He would introduce himself and respond to Garstig’s question, even to throw it back in Garstig’s face. Kilian’s face showed surprise. The way this other male talked to his second head was not out of irritation, he didn’t make it sound like an insult but with the way he spoke it was a different form of interaction with him. Kilian felt slightly ignored, the attention was clearly drawn to Garstig, even if the male before him glances back at him. The albino male would remain in a silence state curious to how Garstig would respond to this male.

Garstig would laugh loudly. It came from him almost like a roar; his red eyes would twinkle in his amusement. His very question was almost immediately fired back at him, and another thing he noticed was the feathered male didn’t take any offence with his observations. He seemed to have a higher patience or a mild curiosity.

“Anduril was it? I am male simply because Kilian is more woman than I even if this body is mostly his. We both feel with the same body, our thoughts might be separate but injure his frame I will feel it just the same. Pain and pleasure both are mine as well as his. I cannot control its actions, but I speak more freely while Kilian cowers in fear and speaks of peace like a woman.” Garstig would sneer at the male before him.

Kilian would shift the weight of his paws and even slid slightly backward in his discomfort. His red eyes would frown just slightly at the mild insult Garstig would freely place on him as he spoke to the crimsoned male. He would look back to Anduril with unease, almost timidly. It was almost like the words Garstig spoke rang more true as Kilian remained docile and as unthreateningly as possible, even his shifts of his discomfort would reflect his words. Kilian would shake his head, just because he was a keeper of peace and tranquility doesn’t make him less of a man. He would smooth his features once again.

“Violence is not a proof of manliness Garstig. There is no point in fighting if there is no purpose behind it.” Kilian would almost whisper his words as he spoke calmly and softly. His twin would only snort in disgust at Kilian’s words.
“There is plenty in a fight. The thrill of spilling blood, the adrenaline. Only the manliest of men would understand the appeal. What say you Anduril? Do you enjoy the deadly dances of a fight? Do you gain the thrill from the spilled blood of others?” Garstig would grin from ear to ear as he as would speak. Clearly growing more excited with the mere mention of a brawl.
      
Kilian would want to groan inwardly, leave it to Garstig to try to coax others into a fight. He would keep his face calm and as smooth as stone as his eyes shifted back to the male before them. Would he share Garstigs thoughts of fights or would he think them to be pointless and useless like himself? Curiosity would hold him in place and keep him silent as he waited for an answer.

@Andurïl
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The interaction of the old ways held a lingering existence in his blood. The act of politics, the sideways means of communication that held endless understandings and truths, half and whole as they may be. Few of his life before spoke straight and narrow, with one true purpose to his desires. The court, the regal standing of those who held blue blood was a treacherous place, one that was tread with careful steps, least the individual find themselves trap among snakes. Even now, after abandoning that wandering path, the possession of his kin lingered, seeping into his words, his thoughts, and his mind. He seen another as what they could offer him, rarely seeing more than what he wished most. An unfortunate curse. Yet, it was... refreshing, to speak with this strange creature, the man who was one body, though... was two separate entities. It was... enough to keep him from lingering in this meet, both existing and yet, paying little heed to what it truly meant. It was an act that was common in the first son, one of but many of the scion who grappled for the stage of favoured.
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Of course, he had never been a favoured son, a curse as he was, undesired in appearance and traits of their marred lineage. All the same, he would listen to what the other would say, ears curled forward, the hues of sound rippling past his attentions. With one moment, Garstigs thoughts would become plausible, they would be something for him to capture, absorb, and own. A low rumble, his head tilting to the side, the crimson lord said little in response. For gender rarely resulted from personality. A woman was just as likely to be gentle as she was treacherous, a foul creature, to a great strength, brash and demanding. The opinion of what masculinity and femininity was something that varied from one culture to the next, something that arose from beliefs lay down by thy forefathers. War, peace, they rose into existence the necessities of what their world needed, and thus, what a woman, and what a man should be. Rarely was anything made needlessly, rarely was an action, or a behaviour arose from mere whim.
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<font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"The opinions of gender is something that is oft debated across cultures. One thing may mean something very different to another from across the seas."</b></font> His eyes slowly slide over to the first head, Killian the soft spoken, the one that seemed to possess a preservation that arose from one who would rather gift the power of the word over that of shield and spear. Admirable, particularly in this world, in this day and age. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"Bloodshed... is a necessity at times. To wage war against those who oppose my ideals is to find not some fleeing child under night fall. I would fight... and I would take grand pleasure in taking the lives of those who would take mine. Yet... I would not do so to the innocent, nor those beyond my concern."</b></font> He would chose neither side in this strange confliction the two shared. Both sides held merit, both sides held promise in a world gone mad. He would not abandon one for another. A darkness existed in Andurïl, one that could be found in the cruelest of individuals, though... it lay hidden behind a mask of indifference and solemn observation. Turning, glancing out into the shadows of the golden wood, Andurïl would hum, only to turn back to the duo. <font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>"What is it that you seek here?"</b></font>
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<font style="color:#d01d49;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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The albino would slip back into the embrace of silence as he would listen to the male’s voice. Both heads would listen to him. Anduril would speak slowly, and his presence remained pretty calm and peaceful. Kilian was almost relieved that it would seem as if coaxing a fight from this male seemed a difficult task. He proved to be neither violent or peace loving. He seemed to be a slight mix of the two. A small pause of silence would fall before the male would question him. Garstig seemed to be thinking over what the male was saying just as he was. His red eyes would look over the feathered male. What was he seeking?

“Your words ring true, there can be times when bloodshed must be spilt. I am glad to hear however you are not the blood thirsty type.” Kilian would speak softly.

“As for what I’m seeking… well overall companionship, but out of you… nothing in particular comes to mind.” He would speak to the male calmly and under the banner of peace.
Garstig would let out a sigh with a roll of his eyes. The red male surprised him by his answer, but when his better half would have to respond so calm and humble it had the effect of boredom. He would shake his head almost to argue his twin’s statement.

Spilling blood is invigorating. There is some joy in the slaughtering of the weak and innocent. It gives you power.” Garstig would grin at Anduril, his red eyes had a slight mad shine to them.
At the sound of Garstig’s voice, Kilian’s ears would flick back in disapproval and slight aggravation. The words he spoke weren’t true, but on the other hand you just never know with Garstig. He was almost positive that he was simply saying things to push this male’s buttons if he could.

@Andurïl