sonder winter 1710

Knee Deep in Despair

Thread Closed 

Proponent

from Saora
age
1 years old
gender
Male
size
Large
scent
Pine and Aven
supporting
Jacobite
home
Freeman's Fortress
wanted for
Escaping Jail
threadlog
encounters
writer
Lunar


RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue
The dark hells of the underground took adapting to as moistened orbs blinked open, the rise of dust making already irritated eyes hurt more as he sucked in air, releasing it in a shudder of pain. He was hesitant to move, to allow the tears to consume his face, to breathe a little too heavy. The last thing he had seen was his mother being hurt, now he was in a world of static far from the lands he knew as home. He had never been in the Mainlands but he could only assume that was where he was now as his fur pricked, head slowly lifting to take in his surroundings, blinking anxiously to get his vision to focus. His nose would twitch for her scent, to see if he could detect the woman he was closest to but that familiar vanilla would not enter his nostrils. He could only hope she was okay, that she survived and his sacrifice wasn’t for nothing as tears started to well more and more, blurring his vision once again.

He would attempt to sit up and that had been a bad idea altogether as his fang grit tightly and tears started to fall, holding back a cry of pure anguish as he instead would growl past those ivories. The sheer pain that crept sharply into his leg would have him panting, fighting to still sit up but it was a pathetic display as he pulled up his upper half but his lower half didn’t want to respond. Glancing back toward his hinds, he would notice the one leg was in fact moving, he just couldn’t feel it listening to his brain but the other hung limp. He’d try to focus solely on moving that left leg, trying to make it listen but he would only be greeted with more agony as he pulled away with his working limbs till his shoulder pressed into the wall of the cell. Turning his head, he’d press it too into the wall, taking in heavy breaths to try to center himself.

This hurt far more than when his hip was simply acting up yet it seemed paralyzed. His heart raced in his chest at this revelation, already having had issues most his life with walking on it but for it to… no this had to just be it acting up again. Maybe it was just bruised from the smack into the earth before his world had turned dark. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream but he didn’t want to seem weak as he took in the bars that sanctioned his freedom from him. Bite it back, live with it like he did everything else. He needed to meditate but he couldn’t take his mind away from that throbbing and fear.

Breath. Breath. Don’t fall.

Taking in many deep breaths, he closed his eyes, pressing his face even more into the wall as he attempted to move his leg again with no success. A growl rolled from his throat as he noticed steps echoing in the background as someone was coming down into the dungeons' shelter. He didn’t know what to expect but he would try to tune it out, sink into a balanced mind and hope that was enough to get him back to equilibrium and endure.
code by claerie
08-03-2023, 10:08 AM
#1

Captain

from
age
5 years old
gender
Female
size
Medium
scent
supporting
Undecided
threadlog
encounters
writer
Kat
Ryker Verlice

She had no good reason to visit the dungeons, the last time she was here she found herself more enraged than before. She didn't find any answers, and she certainly didn't find any remorse for the woman that gave her up and was one of the filthy wolves that were tucked away deep in the dungeons. However, she felt as though she left herself hanging from her own words the last time she was here. She spoke of Luciel as if he had died, knowing it would spark a reaction from Merrin. But she didn't stick around to see her face. Or the faded cries out that she would make, grieving her dead lover. And to add to the satisfaction: Luciel was alive, perhaps not well, but alive. And that was why she was here: to shake away the detailed scenes of the battle she found herself hating the longer she let it linger in her head.

There was a boy, and another that fought just as hard as he, only the other one seemed to be fighting for the boy and the boy alone. She had attempted to drag him with her as she fled the battlefield, but a good few of her own had taken it upon themselves to prevent that. But, it was herself that would get him to that predicament in the first place. Perhaps it the nervousness she fought to hid3 while on the field, perhaps it was the overwhelming emotions she pented up from her visit with Merrin. Whatever it was, she fought the boy well enough to knock him out. And so, she was expecting him to be down here somewhere, but nowhere near Merrin's cell.

When she finally arrived to the cell, she searched through the dimly lit area before her. A smirk would trace along her lips, eager to hear the sobs of Merrin once more, a perfect distraction for her. Though, even with the scarse light in the cell, the figure was not Merrin. Blood and dirt and dust was matted into their fur, and they were far from Merrin's diminishing figure. Her brows furrowed, amethysts glancing through cells around her. Her heart beat would rise, her breathing was light but soon moved to a more almost paniced pace. "Damn it!" she cursed lightly. Her limbs would pivot, turning her to face the halls before her. "Merrin! Merrin! " she was trotting along side the cells, trying to locate her. "There must have been a mistake... she couldnt have escpaed." she almost shouted, until a whine that seemed to get more and more audible echoed from down the hall. Perhaps that was Merrin now, being dragged further into the dungeons. She would bolt in that direction, coming to a halt as she reached the cell that the noise was coming from. But when she located the sound, she would reel back a couple of steps. It was the boy, the one she was trying to shake from her mind but failed miserably at. He was here, because of her. And he was in pain. He was propped up against the wall now, still fighting off whatever he felt. "Im sorry.." was the only thing she could offer him .


"speech" "thoughts"

table by rae - image by FILLCREDIT
08-07-2023, 06:59 PM
#2

Proponent

from Saora
age
1 years old
gender
Male
size
Large
scent
Pine and Aven
supporting
Jacobite
home
Freeman's Fortress
wanted for
Escaping Jail
threadlog
encounters
writer
Lunar


RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue
He would suck in a breath, fighting off the pain that would seem to amplify his every fiber of being as his muscles tensed sharply for reprieve but only seemed to make it worse. Each breath he took was weighted, feeling like he just got done from running miles and miles when he hadn’t done any such thing, having barely moved at all. As the breath he drew in hit his sense of smell, his nose would twitch at the familiar scent he contributed to that of his very mother, that sweet vanilla scent and it would draw his focus from the pain as his face tore from the wall in a detached gaze that searched for her in the shadows. He would push forward, move to the cell bars. Leg dragging limply behind him, using the wall for balance the more he staggered and struggled until he could see outside of his cage, tears starting to stream a little against his will.

No mother, don’t be here. Don’t get caught.

As much comfort in seeing her would bring, he didn’t want her hurt because of her kind heart that father lacked, wishing her far from wherever he was being held prisoner. He’d give his other hip for her to keep safe if he could, though it wouldn’t be her that came to the gate to stare in at him. His fur immediately bristled at the sight of a dark figure, those haunting eyes of a spell caster about the only things that were illuminated by the dim lighting around the dungeon. A growl tried to take over the whine that equally wanted to escape as his nose flared to try to redirect the haggard noise from escaping, not wanting her to have the pleasure of hearing any sound of emotion she created within him.

"Cad a rinne tú le mo mháthair, tú-"(What did you do to my mother, you-) he would break off before an insult could form, eyes narrowing into a glare as he tried to shake the moisture from his cheeks. He couldn’t show the enemy he was weak, and her words just felt like pity. He didn’t want her pity, her apologies. As little common tongue as he knew, he could at least decipher that was what she was saying. A feeble attempt at an apology and it made him reel at other things she could be meaning by that.

Had she killed her? Did she kill his mother? Was that why she smelled of that same comforting vanilla?

A snarl contorted his muzzle, ready to snap his fangs past the steel but as he moved forward, he would forget his position and lose the traction he had, the pain shooting along his spine as he abruptly collapsed from the lack of movement in his leg. He cursed himself inwardly as his chin smacked into the ground, resulting in blood filling his mouth as his fang sliced his lip. Stifling a groan, he’d tried to push himself back up immediately only to fail as he only got back up to being seated which was the most painful of all. “Happy?” The word felt foreign on his tongue, looking down with his eyes closed to shield her from seeing the tears that bled down his muzzle, pattering to the cold ground.
code by claerie
08-08-2023, 03:27 PM
#3

Captain

from
age
5 years old
gender
Female
size
Medium
scent
supporting
Undecided
threadlog
encounters
writer
Kat
Ryker Verlice

How hypocritical she must have appeared- to quite literally break the boy, with no remorse as she did so, and then come here and take pity on him- or was she taking pity on herself, for causing such a traumatic event for the boy. Had it been someone else, someone older, she might feel different. She likely wouldn't have even given him the time to stop at the cell. But that was not the case. And his movements, how awful she felt just seeing him move. And now he was stuck in here, no less.

His foreign tongue would pull her from her own selfish thoughts, she let her face twisted and contort as she felt whatever it was she was truly feeling. Slate ears would fall forward, trying to make any sort of connection she could between his tongue and English. She would fail miserably, however, not able to give him any words in return, only watch him. Part of her wanted to turn and never come back to see the boy. The other part of her is what made her stay planted where she was, trying to feel everything he may feeling. When he attempted and approach, she only pulled her head back slowly a touch. Then, as he fell and met the solid ground beneath him, she too made subtle jerking movements as she felt her own muscles tense up, her jaws clenching as she winced at a sympathy pain she was feeling for him.

Happy? Her stomach, it did something. It dropped, or twisted. Or, something. She would scoff lightly, her amethysts following his crown that faced away from her. She would shake her head, lips dancing with themselves as she fought to find the right words-ones he could understand- to answer him, even though she knew he wouldnt accept whatever she had to say. The last time she was down here, she was pissed, furious, and on a mission to smash Merrin's self worth into the concrete she wasted away on. But now, she felt nothing of the sort.

"Not.. happy." she spoke just a little slower, not so much for him, but for herself, to make sure she said the right words. "Medic? Healer? " she attempted to ask, gesturing to his broken hip. "Water? Food?" she could atleast see to it that he was as comfortable as he could be in here, and kept after. She could assign a medic to him, with some sort supervision perhaps. Even if that meant she would have to around any of her superiors that would be against it.


"speech" "thoughts"

table by rae - image by FILLCREDIT
09-10-2023, 01:59 PM
#4

Proponent

from Saora
age
1 years old
gender
Male
size
Large
scent
Pine and Aven
supporting
Jacobite
home
Freeman's Fortress
wanted for
Escaping Jail
threadlog
encounters
writer
Lunar


RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue

He expected her to be hostile toward him, to usher out a rage in him he had never felt before but there wasn’t much going on in her head it seemed or maybe it was the other way around. Too much might have had traction there, making her unable to do much of anything as she only watched him, those ghastly royalist hues only feeling like a mockery for what crimes she held in his own boiling crimsons that wept for release within his frame. That taunting wasn’t real, it was only in his head but it felt more real than most things he felt in here, having an odd numbness to the cell that encased him. Fangs grunted as he pushed back up from the cold stone he could barely feel for his focus was far from the cobble that he rested upon. He wanted to see her squirm, to feel everything he was feeling right now and the way she reeled at his fall, he couldn’t tell if it was that or if it was her holding in a laugh to seem remotely civil.

If he could actually spit, he would have at her feet as she claimed this didn’t make her happy, understanding that enough to not have to search far into his head for a translation. All he could do was scoff at her, not believing a word she said. Not believing anything those that hunted his family down did was right, the Highlanders were hardly the primitive ones that needed culling. It was these swine that shoved them in cages and poked them with sticks, shoved them into slavery, slaughtered his kin; they were the true monsters and as much as he wanted to enunciate that truth, he couldn’t even form any words that would have made sense to this woman. So many Highlanders had learned both tongues but the Mainlanders seemed too stuck up to try to learn theirs.

The purple eyed devil’s empathy was lost on him, ignoring her attempts to put a bridge between them. Her apologies, her fake sorrow, they were all trivial attempts to probably get something out of him. A reaction to get him a death sentence or information he would never give him so long as he was alive.

“Am…pet?” he glared, starting to think maybe she was scouting out the bodies to drag away and become her new toy to push around and blurt commands at. “Mother killer…?” he growled, asking again as much as he could, in her own tongue this time.
code by claerie
09-25-2023, 10:22 PM
#5

Captain

from
age
5 years old
gender
Female
size
Medium
scent
supporting
Undecided
threadlog
encounters
writer
Kat
Ryker Verlice
The boy would rise, a struggle it would seem to be but also something to conquer for him. She would take a brief moment to peer around him, her eyes fixated on the other body that shared the cell with him- was this one also injured to such an extent? They shared the same hues across their pelts, perhaps similar ebough to share the same blood? A brow would twitch to arch, but when she heard a scoff from the boy her face was drawn back to him.

Am.. pet? he asked. Her head shook, to answer him without the verbal answer. She barley got her answer across as he asked his next question: Mother Killer...? a growl from the boy was also met with a rumble from her own chest. Her mind would instantly make a direct line to Merrin, her paws flexing against the stone beneath her, claws scraping at the surface. With that, she was lost to the synoathy that was slowly beginning to pick away at her hardened exterior. Her hues would flicker to the cells around them, to the cells along side this boy. She wasn't here- she either perished in here, and they disposed of her body- or she managed to escape.

"No.. someday." she wasn't even looking at the boy when she spoke, not even piecing together what he might be insinuating. Someday, she would be the mother killer he was accusing her of being- she would be the one to ser Merrin out the door of life. She had already pivoted, searching more of the cells, wandering further from the boy and giving their small conversation an end.

Exit ryker


"speech" "thoughts"

table by rae - image by FILLCREDIT
10-10-2023, 05:33 PM
#6

Proponent

from Saora
age
1 years old
gender
Male
size
Large
scent
Pine and Aven
supporting
Jacobite
home
Freeman's Fortress
wanted for
Escaping Jail
threadlog
encounters
writer
Lunar


RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue

He watched her with a silent curiosity, his lip twitching with agitation that he couldn't do anything behind these bars unless there was a gimmick to them that he simply didn't know about. To be declined as a slave only made him cant his head, finding that hard believe. If she wasn't here to kill him or enslave him, he didn't get why she was here in the first place, but she seemed distracted at his accusation. It was almost like she couldn't see him. She saw everything but him and it twisted his gut in a way that couldn't be vocalized, not in his current state of mind. Was he worth even less than a servant? It made a self-deprecating snort flare his nostrils, mixed with a laugh that felt so foreign.

His head would lift, understanding no but not someday. Before he could even think for her to try and explain the second word in perhaps a word he might know, she was already turning her back to him and it sent a shiver down his spine. He almost yelped for her to comeback, to let him free off a challenge, though he knew she wouldn't understand a word he would say. He wasn't sure what to make of her but abruptly that didn't seem that important when he finally turned his head toward where the woman had been looking.

Searla!? He swallowed, feeling a sense of joy and horror. How did she get caught too? She was so much stronger than he was in so many ways and it made tears want to brim. How many of his blood were caught? The questions stockpiled until all he decided what mattered was to make sure she was okay and not dead.

[End Thread]

code by claerie
(This post was last modified: 10-20-2023, 10:44 PM by Raith.)
10-20-2023, 10:43 PM
#7
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