Vindico

Full Version: face the consequences [andraste]
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He could honestly say he hated this blasted marsh, even upon entering it he immediately regretted the decision to come here and leave his new home in the glacier. Eyes squinted against the feeling of discomfort due to the bright lights and the harsh colors here as he trudged along. Nose was lowered to the point where it almost dragged along the ground, not bothering to really look into the distance. Eyes focused on the ground directly before his talons, every so often slipping to an occasional tree that blocked his immediate path so he could redirect himself and avoid collision. But other then that he would simply walk straight in an attempt to go straight through this terra and avoid everything in it. 

Every so often he could hear something move in the distance, sometimes a bird fluttering to the safety of higher ground and sometimes it was a small rodent but by sound alone he had a sneaking suspicion that he was the only one here in his immediate area. Ears began to droop and fold, lowering against his neck as he continued to walk, moving at a rolling steady pace. Each talon was lifted with care to not drag elongated nails through the dirt before they were planted into the soft soil and pressed heavily into it to leave a clear imprint of each talon. Shoulders rolled to absorb the impact of each paw fall to make his passage as silent as possible, he didn’t want to be disturbed yet, didn’t want anyone to slow his transition from this territory to the next. The least amount of time he could spend here the better… 

He wasn't quite sure why he was here, he wasn't a fan of the swamps and yet here he was. He would move slowly, the massive oceanic man allowing his wings to spread slightly, arching and tipping to allow him to balance better as he walked. Every so often he would hop from one land mass to another without slipping and falling into the muck. He didn't want to get dirty, last thing he wanted was to get stuck in the mud or to face plant into it. He wasn't sure why he was here or where he was going but he didn't want to stop walking, didn't want to stop moving. There was nothing to do here but walk, to move...

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<center><div style="background: url('http://oi57.tinypic.com/qoc1hu.jpg') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 425px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #372e57">She could smell the rich, pungent scent of these lands, the moist feel of nurtured earth, and the light cast forth by the sun, leaving everything an intense emerald in place of the dull hues of the inland. Though by far the least beautiful landscape, the marsh was truly a world lost to the hold of greed and ambition. A simple place, having little in the way of prey, and those that were here were hard to capture, given the awkward foot holds one could find if they were so unlucky to be a creature of the ground. Yet, for Andrastë, such a thing was not of her concern, given the strength of her body, and the spanning leathers upon which she was hung within the sky. It left her feeling… sorry for the poor beasts left to wade through the sludge, wary of the death traps just beneath their steps, the risk of broken bones and hungry predators keeping the woman quite content in her perch of gnarled trees. Few as they were, the Stark had been lucky to come upon the maple, its scarred bark dark with the minerals of the earth, and the roots huge coiling serpents rising from the muck. As she was, hidden within the bright canopy, there was little to draw her attention amongst the roots than the still form of her brother.
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Abbadon had been sleeping since she had dragged him to this isolated realm, his heavy bulk sheltered by a nest of roots and torn branches, removed from the canopy above. She could see his vibrant feathers, peeking out from behind the leaves, the awkward bend of his right wing reaching out from his side, caressing the side of the trunk. She’d frown, her pale face twisting at the ever daunting picture he put forth. Her brother, her comfort… was weak. He had taken the fall, and the gods of the sea had consumed him, leaving him lesser than what he once was. Ever the survivalist, her conscious had immediately fallen to the need to leave him, to drop the weight that fastened her to this land, and move on. Couldn’t stay in one spot, least their pack caught up. Yet, as much as it made sense, in the perspective of continuity of the soul, Andrastë found herself disgusted with such thoughts, and had banished them from her mind, looking instead for a way to get him off the shore, and into cover.
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That had been three days ago, and while she had set his wing, and found the herbs familiar to her as a antibacterial, Abbadon had yet to awaken, and thus, the dragon had to keep watch, awaiting his revival. She’d contented herself with the nourishment offered by the slight bodies of snakes and birds, yet, even as the hunger brought from their flight had fled, she found herself continuing along the path of unrest. She didn’t like this open terrain, this silent earth with the deep mists of morning, and the distracting scents of mid day. Flicking her tail, the woman dropped from the thick branch notched with her talons, landing with a subtle thump, turning to assess her brother. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”I suppose it is only expected… that one of us would be injured from our hair-brained attempt dear brother."</b></font> Cocking her head, she’d nose his heel, sighing as she settled back, staring at him from amidst his bed of green, the long, agile cord of her tail weaving a path behind him, whispy feathers fluttering from the faint wind.
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It was the sound of a heavy weight striking the earth that drew her body taunt, ears rolling forward along the curve of her elegant horns. Whipping around, harsh jewelled eyes sweeping the ground, even as her wings fanned forth, the claws along each long finger tugging along the earth surface. A serpent seeking its prey, her jaws slide open, the pink muscle within ivory cage rising, capturing the faintest of scents. Someone was close… far to close. Abbadon would be hidden beneath the scent of the rich foilage and freshly broken branches, his body immersed in their scent, yet, should the creature come to close, even such camouflage would do little to protect him in such a vulnerable state. Sighing, her draconic wings rose forward, beating once, twice, taking her body from beyond the reach of gravity.
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There was nothing like flying. Nothing like the feeling of freedom as the world fell away, and all the dangers of the ground gave way to the weightlessness of the sky. Her body shifted, each muscle moving to lightening the burden of her wings, the power of her shoulders taking her along the ground, keeping low. She didn’t want to be seen, she didn’t want to show where she came from, only coming into existence once her distraction came into play. Her long tail slithered behind her, acting as a rudder, allowing her to evade collision with the shrubbery, the weight of her horns pressed against her neck. A quick back draft deposited her upon the ground, talons griping the soft grass, and with it Andrastë reassessed the creatures position. She’d approached them along their right side, moving past them, only to swing around to face the direction of the sweet scent. She kept her wings out, down along the height of her back, yet, unfolded, in the events her visitor was not as friendly as some. She’d spot a flash of vibrant seafoam blue along the tops of the tall grass, and Andrastë moved forward, heading towards them. Like a subject rising from the mists, their scent would offer more to the being. A male… and a pack creature… given the number of scents along his fur. For the longest time, all she had been aware of was the smell of the sea upon Abbadons and her own bodice, given the days they had spent above the water, the churning of a storming night a distant, frequent memory. It drew a curious feeling from her, just as much as it did wariness. Pack animals could be much more dangerous than a loner after all.
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He was… huge. The dragon blood paused in her approach, taking a moment to take him in. he was feathered like her, possessing sprawling wings, born of similar plumage rather than ashen, weathered leather. Blue dominated his every motion, and… scaled gauntlets covered his legs, leaving slender stilts upon which his body moved. Licking her lips, she’d sniff, and continue to draw forward, lowering her crown, mimicking his own positioning, drawing forth a interested smile painted across her face. Better to look friendly; more likely to get what she desired. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>"Why hello there stranger,"</b></font> she hummed, falling to a stop mere feet from his front, the deep cobalt of her banner swaying along the peak of her hips.
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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He would move in silence, attempting to not be seen or heard though this was made near impossible by the oceanic tinge he held. It made him stick out like a giant blue target to anyone who wasn't simply looking at their feet. So really he didn't know why he was surprised when the sound of wings reached him and he sighed softly, immediately assuming it would be a sibling of some sort, probably Cara from the sounds of it. For this reason he would not stop walking, assuming that she would fall in step and tell him. The wind was gentle here, pushing at his face so he didn't smell her. He would hear her fall into step beside him, paws not talons. Talons made a different sound. Widow? He would frown for a moment before lifting his head slightly to look towards his sister. Only... It wasn't his sister... He would not stop walking even as he looked at her, expression blank though a bit confused, studying the purple winged beast beside him. Apparently he didn't get company often. 


Sultry words slipped from her lips and for a few moments he would say nothing, simply studying her. What madness was this? Did wolves often just fall into step with another and start a conversation? Had he really loved such a sheltered life that this was what he considered to be odd? <b>"Hello to you as well..."</b> He would say a moment later, words soft and airy as he finally stopped walking and rotated his hips a bit to get a better look at her, to face her more directly. Normally he would have just rotated his head but his sisters had told him that it creeped people out so he would put conscious effort in not doing that. <b>"What brings you to Palus?"</b> He would ask, looking around slowly as if trying to find a companion of some sort. Did women just wander on their own?


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<center><div style="background: url('http://oi57.tinypic.com/qoc1hu.jpg') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 425px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #372e57">He was an interesting creature, a man made of the land and sky, similar to many of the exotic, rich birds she had seen in the deep forests of sprawling rainforests, a mere memory far beyond the sea. Colours of exquisite mixtures tantalized the senses, soothing depths of the sea, to the shallow sand bars that hugged the shores. Sea foam swelled up from his belly, writing cursive upon his cheeks and jaw, fading upon the shoulders, and vanishing behind the weight of his bulk. Yet, it was the taloned grasp of his legs, the the great spans of his impressive wingspan that truly made him an fabulous specimen. Andrastë would take the time to appreciate the gem she had unearthed, shifting silently upon the ground as he came to a stop, pleased with the result of her distraction. In the time it had taken to locate him, the stranger had placed a distance between their meeting and the slumbering giant hidden within his gilded cage, but all the same, one could never be to sure of the land. So easily the winds could change, a strong breeze to tear from frame the fronds she had woven upon his body, leaving scents capable of sweeping into the attentions of this man. And no matter how at ease, how... calm he seemed, she couldn't trust him as one who ignored the presence of weakness. The woman herself was uneasy with her brothers vulnerability, her instincts bulking against keeping him near, wanting to leave, just as much as the pack mentality of lupin blood demanded she stay near. Putting herself at risk was a foolish thing, one she found both amusing, and disconcerting. To face down a titan such as this; surely she had gone mad. The taste of holding this moment over her brothers head would only be oh so sweet when the moment came when the brute finally decided to grace the waking world.
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He'd speak, and her ears would roll forward, onyx clothe embraced by the ashen dials of their lids, capturing the deep, soft brush of sound, ruby spheres shifting to take in his face, the seemingly conscious motion of his body, to face her, to put her in the spotlight. Ah... a smart one than, keeping the unknown ever on the horizon. She could respect that, as well as take the moment to take him in from the front. The feathered kites lay furled, though, unpacked against his sides, seeming to prep for the need to reach forth should the actions be required. He seemed confused, which, only drew a smile to her lips, her chin tucked against the swell of her breast, greeting him as like words were given, hesitant, yet, clear all the same. The soft rustle of leather echoed in her ears as she settled on a more comfortable position. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>"For a change of scenery. Look for hidden treasures perhaps, should the mood take me."</b></font> Humming, she'd take the moment to gaze at him, tilting her head to the side, looking ever the curious bird, only to murmur a pleased sound. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>"It may seem that I have found one,"</b></font> she'd continue, taking a step forward, putting him to her left, ever so slowly circling, wings held high to avoid the soft muck and emerald grass as she trod. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>"And what about you? What brings you to Palus."</b></font> She tasted the word slowly, toying with it, deciding on whether it was a name she would keep to memory. Such a strange name, for a place like this. 
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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She was curious, a lot to take in at first but his mind decided to unconsciously break down her appearance into more manageable chunks. Golden gaze would start at her face; catching the twinkle in those reddish eyes that put him a little bit on edge. He never usually got those feelings from others, never usually picked up on intents but still he couldn’t help but feel… Off around her… Her horns curled from behind massive ears rather then from her brow and light face faded out into a dark violent. Feathers extended form behind her ears, shoulder and mingled within her tail though she was predominantly fur rather then feathers like himself. She had paws, thankfully he would take that as enough of an answer that he wasn’t related to her at least. Madar’s seemed to be everywhere lately…But it was the wings that interested him the most… They reminded him of another female he had run into recently though this woman’s were leathery all the way through rather then just in sections. Such a strange creature…
 
Her ears would roll forward to catch his words and he would take a step back, eyeing her warily. She gave off the same kind of vibe as he felt around venomous creatures but there was still a strange pull there… He couldn’t place it but something was beginning to stir inside of him. She was smiling; a venomous smile but he couldn’t help it. A slow smile would begin to curl up the edges of his lips to mirror her own though not as large and it wouldn’t reach his eyes. Such an odd feeling. She would say that she was here looking for a change of scenery or some hidden treasures. And that she had found some, immediately he would begin studying her closer, looking for said treasure. Was she carrying it or was she on her way to find it? He didn’t get a chance to ask before she would change the subject to him. <b>”I’m not sure. Boredom I suppose. Our pack has been… Lacking in leadership as of late…”</b> He would say, speaking slowly as if unsure if that was the phrasing he really wanted to use. 



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<center><div style="background: url('http://oi57.tinypic.com/qoc1hu.jpg') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 425px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #372e57">The expression painted upon his face rose from the lines slowly, almost as if he was refuting its existence, yet, unable to deny the reflex. It was a handsome look, one that overtook blankness of his previous barren expression, the muscles of his face lax and without substance. It was strange, how simple it was, the change of emotion that put life into a figure. She watched the taunt of his jaw as she circled, a brewing fire stirring in the embers of her chest. Such an interesting looking creature. She’d never seen something quite like him. The feathers of his wings were long, painted strands intermingling with one another, creating a silhouette around his already impressive form. In her continued examination, Andrastë noted the rich plethora of feathers, a cascade of iridescent textures encasing the mans strength, the long feathers making up his tail, the whisping turquoise badges upon their stalks, fluttering ever so slightly in the faint air. He shadowed her, the mans shoulder rising above her own, peaking below a swarm of dark showers upon his back. Coming back around, she fell within the shadow of his frame, tilting her head back, gazing at him.
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He was foreign for sure, an artifact from the shores of lands far away. Or perhaps, a creation of this islands, born and breed within the tapestries spanning back through the ages. Whatever it may be, he was an divine, a jewel she found herself without end to her intrigue. Smiling, humming deep in her chest, more a beginnings of a roar than a growl, she pivoted around, coming to fall before him once more. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”An inattentive leader. Such... a pity,"</b></font> she’d whisper in her rasping voice, the predator inside her snarling at the prospect of an unworthy ruler. The right to rule should fall upon only those blessed with the touch of power, of ambition; those who truly deserved it. Her father may have been a callous bastard, but he was a true ruler, a lord of the land, demanding what was his, taking what he thought owed. She respected him for that, if nothing else. Sweeping her tail along the span of her right wing, the feathers vibrant against the muted flesh, she looked back at him, her jaw tilted down, seeming to contemplate. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”Hopefully your people are not suffering for such transgressions."</b></font>
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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Smiling... How odd, it was an expression that he honestly didn't know if he had ever worn. It felt foreign and rather fake to him but still a smile would slowly slither across her lips to mirror his own. She would circle him for a moment, smiling attentively as she commented on inattentive leaders and slowly a brow would raise in question as he followed her with his eyes. <b>"Inactive leaders mean inactive packs..."</b> He would murmur in agreement, head nodding slowly as he pondered this. Her next comment made his brows knit together curiously, she thought that he was possibly the leader? <b>"The pack is not my own..."</b> He would say slowly, frowning slightly as he studied her. Why would she think that the pack was his own?
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<center><div style="background: url('http://oi57.tinypic.com/qoc1hu.jpg') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 425px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #372e57">He was a strange man, yet, sincere. It drew the keen gaze of jewelled blades upon him, seeping deep into his flesh and bones, watching the slight change of expression. Calm, cool in a way that was hard to read, and harder still to place true intent. Ever the cautious one, Andrastë would hum, stepping back, giving him his space, and she, she would brew on the information given to her. A pack ruled in these lands, a pack… that seemed to have grown weak in leadership, due to either an easy life, or false superiority. It was pleasant news, for the flippant were hardly true threats in the end, as they lacked that fire needed to cause fear in the lone population. Swift they were, both in the lessening of needs, and the passing of lands. She’d disregard them, moving instead to examine this fellow come down from his perch.
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”It is only to be expected I’m afraid. Leaders offer guide to their disciples,"</b></font> she’d murmur, cocking her head, glancing out into the swamps. She exhibited a sense of concern, a wariness for the dangers of her helpless brother, yet, she knew, the more she kept this one on her, the less likely he was to find Abbadon. Besides, he was interesting, and he offered valuable knowledge on this land. Yet, it was confusing, with this sudden proclamation. They… weren’t his. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”If they are not your own… than why do you risk suffering for them?" </b></font>
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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She allowed a hum to vibrate up her lips before stepping back and giving him a bit of space. He felt the distance between them to the point where it was almost like he missed the heat of her form. Part of him wanted her to shorten the distance again but he would remain rooted to the spot where she had left him, slowly pulling his wings into his body so he was in a less threatening stance. He would nod slowly as she agreed with him, saying that leaders were there to guide their followers. He had no disagreements there, a strong alpha was needed to keep their pack safe… <b>”I do not suffer for them… I suffer with them more so. My family is there…”</b> He would offer, glancing away slightly before looking back to her. Maybe that would clear some things up.

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<center><div style="background: url('http://oi57.tinypic.com/qoc1hu.jpg') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 425px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #372e57">Each movement of his body drew a steady gaze, her own scrutiny inspecting him, having never seen another of the divine race possessing wings such as her family did. It was a sign of the gods, a sign of a blessing according to her father. Only those with the right to rule could hold any sway of the heavens above, their strength born from both land and sea. It made him a particular artifact, something that immediately drew her gaze, such as the endless spans of his wings. She watched them, their easy movements, each muscle hidden beneath the feathers rippling with an eased might, a man of the sky. He knew its beauty, and he understood its ways. For that, she listened to his words more than she would a common stranger, fleeting creatures that crossed her path, only to fade into oblivion.
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From a distance, she was keenly aware of the musk he emitted, a fresh, airy scent of the lands above the clouds. Intoxicating it was, made more exquisite due to the rotting stench of the marshes. He held a proper view of the world, the need of the leading forces, those who guided, who ruled the lesser ranks, giving them purpose and strength where alone they would have been helpless. Perhaps it could be seen as arrogant, thinking others needed them, yet, she had yet to ever see anything to prove otherwise. He’d speak, and Andrastë would return her gaze to his, and allowed herself to fall into a lounge, the backs of her thighs touching the ground, her mauve wings stretching out, spreading out along the emerald grass, casting a pale reflection along the edge. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>"If you suffer due to these worries.... why not take your family. Find somewhere better?"</b></font> Looking away, she'd glance a look around the area they had found, the frail flora, the heavy mists. Hardly a place to evacuate his family to. Though, she herself had settled her in an attempt to vanish from sight. Perhaps he was looking to do the same.
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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