Vindico

Full Version: You should know what you're falling for
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open maybe? kinda just some development stuff
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He stood on the cliffs edge, peering down at the waters that crashed ruthlessly against the rocks. His thoughts drifted, changing as the ocean tide. He had forged his pack from nothing, but it was small, sadly so. And his only members could be considered his harem rather than a pack. Irritation drifted across his features. His witch was practicing her studies, as he promised, with her companions. Nymeria was still blissfully unaware of her duties as a mistress. His mother was intent on eradicating Evike, and he was torn between appeasing the ivory tyrant and assuring his pack that his word actually meant something when he promised protection. 
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Impatience and irritation seeped from his pours. The wolves on this god forsaken land were too few, and those that did reside were nearly all unworthy. He had yet to stumble upon a male that he could recruit, much less any men at all. It was disappointing really. The wind tugged at his pelt, the smell of ocean salt clearing his mind, filling his nostrils. Eyes drifted shut. Muscles bunched beneath his pelt, twin tails curling at his hocks, toes curled over the edge of the cliff. He stood on the edge of danger, such as he liked it. But the only danger in his life was possibly drowning in estrogen. He had his mother, an unruly slave, a loyal and emotionless witch, a blissful unaware girl, a peculiar adolescent and a worthy warrior who despised him. Quite the pack. Lips curled into a sneer, a humorless bark of laughter spilling from ebony lips.
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He longed for the chaos he had once enjoyed. Pillaging and doing as he pleased without being questioned for it. He knew what he needed to do. Within the dark confines of his mind he began to pack. He sifted through his thoughts and emotions, placing each in a box, locking them all away. He flipped a switch. He shoved relationships to the back of his mind, refused to see anyone for anything more than what they were. Artemis was his lady and he would treat her as such. Evike was his slave, <i>his</i> plaything, no one else, nor would she be released from such status unlike he saw fit to do so. He also had Lux, his precious little trespasser, his witches newest toy to play with. 
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But he needed <i>more</i>, something to occupy his time with, to consume him. Saliva pooled his in mouth, his snapping open with a renewed hunger. His steely gaze rested on the horizon, the endless expanse of blue that met the sky. His expression was carefully detached, expressing nothing but darkness and the twisted desires that lurked beneath the surface. He would turn away from the ocean, pivoting on hind legs as he propelled himself back inland. He was on the opposite coast of his forest, he had a long trip back home, but there was plenty of time to go hunting. But he had no intentions of hunting in his usual sense. He was looking for a toy.
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Legs stretched as they carried him effortlessly across the plains, grass caressing his legs. Head remained elevated just above his shoulders, a smirk toying with his lips. Leaving his emotions at the cliffs edge, he sought to head back towards his domain with the intentions to make sure that everyone knew just what was going to happen. 
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                       <center><div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #fae58f ; border-top: 2px solid #fae58f ; padding-top: 8px;"><font style="font-family:Ruthie; font-size: 80px; font-style: none; text-transform: none; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #000000, 0px 0px 30px #ffffff; line-height: 100px; float: bottom; ">Citlali Deerheart</font></div>
                                           </center>          <div style="text-align: justify; font-variant: small-caps; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; line-height:8px; word-spacing:3px; letter-spacing:2px; color: #ffffff; text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000000; word-spacing: 5px;">                                                </center>         <font style="text-align: justify; font-variant: small-caps; font-family: georgia; font-size: 12px; line-height:12px; word-spacing:4px; letter-spacing:2px; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000000; word-spacing: 5px;"><DIV style="text-align: CENTER; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #ffffff; letter-spacing: 7px; line-height: 13px;">Time to fly, time to touch the sky
One voice alone
A haunting cry</DIV>


<font style=" font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: none; text-transform: none; text-shadow: 0px 0px 9px #000000;">Funny how a cliff</font> seemed to get higher the closer you got to the edge. Dry-mouthed, Citlali peeked over the edge, then immediately regretted doing so. The ocean roiled and churned below, whitecaps breaking over the jagged rocks. She could feel the winds tugging at her half-spread wings, filling her sails, but somehow she couldn't convince herself that the wind would keep her from dashing herself to bits if she jumped. She looked up at the sound of distant squawking, watching gulls wheel in the sky. They moved effortlessly, banking and soaring with only a few occasional flaps. Citlali could glide, but she hadn't yet reclaimed the muscle mass required for flight. She was eating more, which helped, but she still needed practice and training.

That was why she was up on the cliffs today. But perhaps she had overestimated her abilities. It certainly felt that way, facing the ocean so far below. She took another hesitant step forward, swallowing. Did she dare? A few months ago, she might have hurled herself off the cliffs to simply end it all, rather than take flight. Now, she was starting to find meaning in her life again, however small that meaning was. She had a job, as well as a way to honor her herbalist mother's memory. She was learning to fly, however slowly. And perhaps she had even made a few friends. Despite the constant shadow of Cruxer and Lucia, life didn't seem quite as dark as it had before.

She furrowed her brow determinedly, staring down the ocean. She would jump, and she would fly! Taking a deep breath and spreading her wings wide, she pushed off, intending to leap majestically from the edge and soar into the sky. What happened instead was a piece of rocky cliff gave out beneath her feet before she was ready, and Citlali had a brief sensation of free-fall. Reacting without thinking, she pumped her wings down, not to gain lift, but to stop herself in her tracks and throw herself backwards, away from the edge. She twisted towards the safety of land, legs flailing madly, heart hammering at manic speed. As soon as she felt solid ground beneath her paws again, she was off, scampering away from the abyss with her tail between her legs. She threw herself to the ground and huddled there, shaking. Stupid! she berated herself. Had she really assumed it would be that easy? 'Oh, I'm going to fly this time because I really really want to!'  Idiot. Citlali sighed and pulled her wings over herself, waiting for her heart rate to go back to normal. Concealed from her by the salty sea breeze, however, was the scent of an Avelorn drawing near.
 

                                            <center><font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"May I speak?"</font></div>

<DIV style="text-align: CENTER; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #ffffff; letter-spacing: 7px; line-height: 12px;">One song, one star burning bright
Let it carry me
Through darkest night</DIV>


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<center>CODE BY CHIP | ART BY FENNECFYRE
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It the the sudden stench of panic that his movements halting, crown lifting his and rotating, eyes hungrily seeking the source. It was not hard to pick out the woman as she huddled amongst the grasses. Her wings curled around her body as though she had just experienced something terrifying. Lips curled into a sneer, his legs pulling him closer. He towered over her, as he did most. She was a petite thing, with wings composed of feathers and leathery skin, chocolate accented with ivory. Nostrils flared, inhaling her pack scent. Damn, it was a shame. With such small numbers, he was not interested in making enemies of the neighboring pack without knowing how strong their numbers were. Still he approached, each paw carefully placed, his movements as predatory as his gaze. She would be the perfect toy.
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But her absence would be noticed by her pack undoubtedly. <b>"Something wrong, darling?"</b> He drawled, seeking to come to a halt only a few feet from her huddled figure, peering down at her with a dark interest. Would she be the worth risk? To steal her from her pack and make an enemy of the winged man? All for the sake of a game. Perhaps, though he would not make a rash decision and just drag her home by one of her wings. No, he still had Lux and Evike at home, both could make his game all the more interesting. Twin tails curled at his hocks, waiting her with detached interest, steely eyes soaking in the finer details with his desired proximity. 
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<center><table align="center" background="http://orig07.deviantart.net/21e3/f/2015/091/8/6/citlalimythsummershrunk3_by_fennecfyre-d8o0obm.png" style="width: 600px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #050a09;">







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<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Ruthie' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>               
      <div style="padding: 30px 35px 20px 35px; padding-top: 450px;"> 
          <div style=" padding: 30px 35px 10px 35px; background-color: rgba(12, 26, 17, .4);">
                       <center><div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #fae58f ; border-top: 2px solid #fae58f ; padding-top: 8px;"><font style="font-family:Ruthie; font-size: 80px; font-style: none; text-transform: none; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #000000, 0px 0px 30px #ffffff; line-height: 100px; float: bottom; ">Citlali Deerheart</font></div>
                                           </center>          <div style="text-align: justify; font-variant: small-caps; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; line-height:8px; word-spacing:3px; letter-spacing:2px; color: #ffffff; text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000000; word-spacing: 5px;">                                                </center>         <font style="text-align: justify; font-variant: small-caps; font-family: georgia; font-size: 12px; line-height:12px; word-spacing:4px; letter-spacing:2px; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000000; word-spacing: 5px;"><DIV style="text-align: CENTER; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #ffffff; letter-spacing: 7px; line-height: 13px;">Time to fly, time to touch the sky
One voice alone
A haunting cry</DIV>


<font style=" font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: none; text-transform: none; text-shadow: 0px 0px 9px #000000;">Even wrapped up </font>in her own miseries, Citlali was rarely unaware of her surroundings. Like a deer, she was always wary, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. The wind may have been working against her, but when the shade cast by her wings was suddenly magnified, suggesting something was blocking out the sunlight, that was significantly harder to overlook. Pulling back her wings, she looked up. Standing before her was a huge black wolf with curved fangs, sporting an unpleasant grin. His proximity was now close enough for her to catch his scent, wind or not, and make his breed glaringly obvious.

If she had encountered this wolf earlier, when she had only recently escaped her home, it was quite likely that Citlali would have run away from him without a single word. As it was, she now had at least some measure of self-control, particularly after meeting the gruff but nevertheless-friendly Talon, also an Avelorn. This wolf bore a passing resemblance to him, having the same black pelt and long fangs, but it was mostly certainly not Talon. Rather than flee, Citlali froze, eyes taking on a deer-in-the-headlights look. Her hackles began to rise, though once she realized what was happening, she quickly flattened them again. No sense in appearing aggressive. He spoke, asking her if something was wrong. The words were kind, but the tone...wasn't. There was a poisonous glint to his gaze that Citlali was all too familiar with, having seen it in the eyes of Lucia, Cruxer, and her former masters.<font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;"> "I-I just overestimated myself, was all,"</font> she replied, sitting up carefully. Rather than tucking her wings back, they remained slightly extended, curling around her body as if to shield her. She looked over her shoulder at the cliff. <font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"I've been trying to fly for some time now. I thought the wind currents coming off the ocean would help me stay aloft, but..."</font> She rolled her shoulders in a sort of helpless shrug. <font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"I guess I'm just not ready to make the leap."</font>

Among the Avelorn scent was something else. Citlali's nose twitched once as she turned to look back at him. <font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"You're from a pack?"</font> Half statement, half question. She supposed there would be other packs forming, though she hadn't yet had many run-ins with wolves from other groups. The only one she could think of was...she gave another quick sniff of the air, catching a familiar scent on him. Was that Evike?
 
 

                                            <center><font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"May I speak?"</font></div>

<DIV style="text-align: CENTER; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #fae58f; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #ffffff; letter-spacing: 7px; line-height: 12px;">One song, one star burning bright
Let it carry me
Through darkest night</DIV>


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<center>CODE BY CHIP | ART BY FENNECFYRE
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