ardent

The Scarred and The Royal

Nox Nightingale Come Meet Your Hunted.



Yautja

Loner

Beginner Fighter (0)
Beginner Intellectual (0)
age
5 Years
gender
Male
gems
33
size
Large
build
Medium
posts
6
player
Yautja

1K
01-13-2021, 02:29 AM
The world moves while the heavens standstill.

All the clouds stood their ground while the rays of sun blew past them almost like an unstoppable storm. The beams of light shredding past defenseless, slamming into the white powder upon the soil. So many new scenes unfolded before a single turquoise orb, brows furrowing in curiosity it studied the terrain set before it. A lone being among the silence. He sat there letting his skull rock from side to side softly, flexing his cheek in a small grimace as several sounds pierced his one-half ear. There wasn't much in these lands now was there, nothing but silence and the occasional limp snapping under the pressure snow. How weak. What a shameful show put on by the wooden titans. In fact, the time had passed by so quickly he almost didn't notice that nightfall was close.

A dual gaze of white and light green shifted to the sky, watching the grey clouds lingering above, spilling out the white flakes in a furious In terms of fun... this had to rate a high negative. There was absolutely jackshit to do here, scoffing audibly at the number of events laid out before him. It stirred something inside. Muscles beneath black fur flexed as he pulled himself up off the cold dirt, glancing only briefly at the dying grass below. This was indeed a time of death of mourning, but as far as mourning went.. He would do no such thing. "Enjoy thy slumber." Baritones echoed out of his throat with less feeling than the dead, shaking his head softly at the pathetic excuse of nature around him. The brute began a journey through the woodlands, keeping to the outskirts of this clearing, slipping between sharp and gnarled branches.

While his normal instincts were to keep quiet and to go unnoticed. There was no one else around so there was no need for such actions. Heavily scarred lips rose slightly in a sly manner as they twitched with anticipation; but why would the need for anticipation rise up? A birdie has wandered too close. A strong drive struck every chord within each fiber of his being, though...there was still no sign of emotion crawling across his maw. Nope, this was strictly business. Business required neither emotion nor exaggeration to execute. The scent of this Birdie crawled its way into his nose as a deep inhale, now unlike him, this creature wore its emotions on its sleeve.

Depression,Agony,Longing,Pity.

Though despite all these emotions there was one particular feeling that stood above all the rest. This smell made the blood within his vein bubble and boil over, but it was kept in check. Heart-ache. This Bitch had clearly suffered something truly lethal. All the threads of fate had been cut except one, waiting to break free of the soul they were bound to. A decision to fall silent was made and where he had been making noise. The crunching of snow ceased to no limbs cracked from running into, directions changed and he went downwind. It was almost as if he'd been a ghost wandering around the land of the living. There are two rules that are absolute in the lands of carnivores. Hunt...Or Be Hunted. There was no need for honor or laws. No, it was take what you can take and leave the scraps for the poor. Powerful forelegs pushed forward as toes splayed outwards to muffle the noise made, slipping out of the foliage the hunter crept out behind this birdie. A face of nothing but cold features as the scars upon his skull, following with a rather blank expression and with no sense of care or compassion he spoke. "You look lost. Little Dove."
Yautja has an Arabian Accent. He is prone to Violence and Cussing.



Nox Nightingale

Loner

Beginner Navigator (0)
Beginner Intellectual (0)
age
3 Years
gender
Female
gems
182
size
Large
build
Light
posts
25
player
Scarlet

1K
01-13-2021, 08:15 PM
Question me? All of your doubt feeds my desire.

Grief is love's unwillingness to let go.


Once upon a time winter brought ceaseless joys. It was a time of life and death. A brief moment of calm before the beauty of rebirth or at-least that was what she used to think. Nowadays if someone asked her what she thought of winter she would have responded very differently. Winter was a time of loneliness and remembrance which she spent grieving a life that no longer existed. A time when she had everything she could have desired and more. It was not much, not for a woman of ambition, but for a woman in love? Well, being in love was more filling than anything she ever knew. Often, she had company to divert her mind from sinking to such depths but today she felt hopelessly alone. Nox grieved as any mother who knew loss did, but a hundred times over for each child. These wounds were slow to heal and sometimes she wondered if they ever would. Or maybe she did not desire for them to heal completely because she feared forgetting those she lost in the first place.


Whatever future these new lands held, she hoped it was kinder than the past. On pale, colorless days like this one, she sought solitude. The last thing Nox wanted was to worry those that cared about her. Lupa had tolerated enough and she would not risk picking at his wounds by showcasing her own. Instead, she looked for things that reminded her of her children. There was little that she had to remember her eldest by. He strayed from a young age, and few moments with him were truly precious. At the very least she had those first few glimpses of true innocence when he was still very small. Back when he would cling to her for reassurance as any young child did when first discovering the world.


When she wished to remember Eclipsie, she looked for the waning moon surrounded by a sky full of stars. There was nothing else that could subdue those final moments in which she watched her daughter turn away for what she hoped was not the last time. Astraea was by far the easiest to find mementos of. Rarely did she stray as a child, preferring much to root in the dirt or make crowns out of wildflowers. When she wanted to remember her kind-hearted little girl, she simply needed to look around and admire the things that already there. It was a little more difficult in the winter when the beauty of nature faded, but even still she found a way. When she could not think of Diaval without becoming depressed or find a sky full of beautiful stars, there was always a piece of Astraea hidden somewhere.


Today she found a little slice of home far into the past. The place was not tucked out of sight or very far from where she settled. It was a strange place outside the castle walls and slightly northeast from the shore. It was surrounded by a stone barricade that time and mother-nature worked effortlessly to tear down. What remained was nothing more than a temporary diversion which she crossed in a single stride. Inside was what appeared to be nothing more than a patch of overgrown weeds and frost-bitten tubers. Ice crystals and snow clung to every leaf and stem, but it could not subdue the mini-ecosystem within. A keen nose would be able to find its hidden potential without ever setting eyes on the grounds. There were many scents she was too inexperienced to describe or pinpoint a specific source to. However, she did recognize that of thyme, lemon balm, and mint. Upon closer inspection, the true nature of the space was revealed. A once cultivated set of plots turned wild, threatening to escape its stone encampment and likely already had. Any stranger with a vague knowledge of herbalism could guess it was likely used to grow herbs and maybe even other bounties. It was not at its full potential in the winter, but she could only imagine how magnificent it looked in spring.


Astraea would have been utterly fascinated. Nox could just imagine the look of awe in her beautiful golden eyes. She entertained for a moment that Astraea might have even passed through such a place in her tour of the world. There was so much wonder and love for life in that child… Well… As much as it pained her to think about it, none of her offspring were ‘children’ anymore. She had likely already missed that important transition from adolescent to adult. That very thought made a pain wedge between her ribcage. A sensation that she would describe as a sharp thorn being slowly pushed between two ribs, right where her heart was. Growing up was an inevitable part of having children but never did she imagine them enduring it alone.


The ground gave with every step as she entered the stone-garden. Eventually, her paws found something solid beneath the snow, bits of pathway swallowed up by vegetation. Amber eyes tarnished with melancholy swept across the ruins. She was not sure what she hoped to find there. A sign, maybe, that her daughter had been there before. And she did indeed find a sign, but not what she hoped for. There sprouted in the cracks of a split paver, was a flower. Frost adorned each of its white petals and even with clouds ahead, it sparkled brilliantly. Nox stepped forward but instead of plucking the flower, she reached down and tenderly caressed its petals. She knew little about flowers but that flower, in particular, was special or rather what it represented was. It was a snowdrop, a symbol of purity, sympathy, and hope. Snowdrops usually did not appear so early in the season, but that one blossomed on its own accord… much like her Astraea.


Nox felt a brief moment of happiness and then, something attuned to a rock wedged in her throat. Nox did her best to swallow, eyes stinging harshly as she tried to force her emotions down. A soft strained whimper managed to slip past tightened lips. She stood there, weakened as grief welled up in a desperate escape from within. Where there was weakness to be found, there was a predator lying in wait not far. "You look lost. Little Dove." Nox inhaled sharply, liquid forcibly sucked into the back of her throat. She did not turn around and instead cast a furious glare over her shoulder. Trouble had a way of showing up when one least expected it.


“If doves had sharp-teeth and a tendency to bite unwelcome visitors” Nox retorted bitterly, voice heated by the flames of irritation despite the cold. “-then yes, I am a dove.” She observed him from a distance with distrust and scrutiny. There was not much she could make out from the corner of her eye. He was around the same size as she, maybe slightly bigger. Other than that, he was a blurry dark-mess and she dared not turn with tears in her eyes. After a few seconds, she forced her voice to soften. “Is there something you need, stranger?” What else could a man want other than a piece of ass or something smaller than himself to snuff the light out of to feel strong. He would not find pleasure nor an easy target there. Cornered animals tended to bare their teeth, but she was no beast. No, he would find an equal amount of danger in a woman's wit, as well as her bite.



I'm gonna make my own empire.

Thanks to Bird for the table help!
Lupa is Nox's bodyguard and second-in-command. While she clearly does her own thing, he's usually not far behind unless instructed otherwise.

[Image: g1hkYWI.png]

Laying down my past I scream.

This is not the end of me.

Time to bury it or me.

I can't take back who I've been but this is where I'll start again.




Yautja

Loner

Beginner Fighter (0)
Beginner Intellectual (0)
age
5 Years
gender
Male
gems
33
size
Large
build
Medium
posts
6
player
Yautja

1K
01-13-2021, 11:40 PM (This post was last modified: 01-13-2021, 11:46 PM by Yautja.)
"If doves had sharp-teeth and a tendency to bite unwelcome visitors”

That's no dove.

The ebony and rust laced brute would gaze upon the fae before him, intently looking at the flower was being caressed by her black paw. It was a SnowDrop. Even as this woman's emotions were worn upon her sleeve, she sat there and gave visual signals to the crack in her heart. “Is there something you need, stranger?” Something. The half an ear he had left twitched at the word spat from her lips in a soft manner. A drawn-out exhale lingered out of his throat, sighing in a contemplating manner as he thought about her question. Maybe in a past life. No, there was really nothing she could do for him. Heavy shoulders flexed to support the weight bearing down upon them, the light green orb that was the only window to his soul looked onward. "You've got nothing I want."

The tones within his throat were cold and mono-toned. He felt nothing at this very moment and would continue to feel nothing. The wind blew at his side causing the long-set scars upon his foreleg to sting. "If you wish to sit there and wallow in self-pity." A pause as harsh words poured into the air off his tongue. "Like a pissed off pup throwing a tantrum, then so be it." A natural-born hunter always called things like they were, and that's exactly what he would continue to do. His cold attention would fall upon a stone sitting up as if had been sat there by another. A slow approach was taken as he walked up next to her and pushed the stone onto the flower she had been caressing. "That flower is better off dead than to sit there and take in the aura of your sorrow."

This was the way things were and how things would continue to be, stepping now past her he would turn his back on her. It would appear that the moon was going to grace the heavens with its presence. "Whatever you lost. Whatever slipped out of your grasp, cast you into the dark that you now sit in and cry over." Toxic tones leaped from his mouth and spilled into the air like blood from a kill. That old past isn't coming back. Grievance is the soul being unable to let go." There was another sigh echoed out of his lungs. This was neither dull nor fascinating. "You're selfish." The only good eye in his skull looked up at the stars, before glancing back into her direction. "I take it. You lost your family."

"Boo-Fuckin who."

There was a moment of thought that crawled its way into his twisted skull, causing his eyes to narrow as the white eye disappeared beneath his eyelids. "No." His eyes snapped open and slowly he would turn to face this bitch, muscles, and tendons shifting beneath black fur. You didn't just lose your family. I'm willing to bet... You lost everything. Trust, Love. For fucks sake, you were petting a symbol of hope." This act had gone on long enough. "Let it die. You aren't the woman you used to be, whatever you were, you're nothing but a little girl crying out for mommy now." A single orb of color locked onto her own orange eyes. "A selfish Bitch."
Yautja has an Arabian Accent. He is prone to Violence and Cussing.



Nox Nightingale

Loner

Beginner Navigator (0)
Beginner Intellectual (0)
age
3 Years
gender
Female
gems
182
size
Large
build
Light
posts
25
player
Scarlet

1K
01-14-2021, 03:02 PM
Question me? All of your doubt feeds my desire.

Why did men always feel the need to stick their nose in her business? No matter where she went, big stupid brutes like him appeared, barking and howling like she gave a damn. It was beyond her what possessed him to come there and shatter the calm. He spoke to her as if he knew who she was, and one thing for certain, she sure as hell didn’t know him. "You've got nothing I want." The fallen empress continued to glare at him from over her shoulder. Sparks danced in the inner rim of her irises, the flesh around them irritated by tears and friction. He continued to stand there and gawk despite what he said. If he truly wanted nothing, then why did he continue to stand there? Did he take enjoyment in what he saw? He certainly was not there to admire the scenery or pick herbs. She could gather that much about him just from a glance. “If that is the case, why bother talking to me at all?” Nothing about the situation suggested his motives were pure. He was either a liar or there was something stuck in his throat.

Most normal folk would have turned around and minded their own business. He, clearly, was not normal in the slightest. He had the audacity to start chiding her like he had the right to it! Then he did something that she did not-at-all expect. Before her very eyes, the beautiful white-petaled flower upright and unbeknownst to the danger was crushed under the weight of a nearby stone. Nox barely pulled her paw out of the way in time. She jerked back in surprise, each muscle in her body jolting. What could she do but stare? Where the flower used to be now sat an ugly slab of stone. The memento of her daughter which she had only moments ago discovered, gone. Nox felt her jaw loosen and hang for a moment as she tried to process what happened. When the shock wore off, she felt her heart swell with grief, gradually replaced with outrage. It took an immense amount of self-control not to lash out. Nox reminded herself that it was just a flower and not worth getting into it with a stranger. And indeed it was ‘just a flower’, but what gave him the right to judge her, especially in grief? “Is a mother not allowed to grieve the loss of her children?” Those words came out harshly, each syllable like a sharpened blade.

Slowly she managed to tame the flames that threatened to consume her. She inhaled deeply and trapped the air inside her chest before releasing it as a plume of condensation in the frigid air. All the while he continued to judge her as though he knew what she’d been through. He came quite close, and it was rather impressive to see just how accurate his assumptions were. Either he was a talented medium with a knack for reading others, or he knew exactly what he was talking about because he had been there himself. “Oh, and you just know everything about me, don’t you?” Her tone was less-intense now but steeped in mockery. Nox lifted a paw and tenderly soaked up the tears that clung to her eyelashes. “You want to know what I think?” It was a rhetorical question of course; he had no choice but to listen.

By then he turned away, either to leave or simply because had a taste for dramatics. Finally, she could get a good look at the fool. He had a coat much like her own, but it was as if each of his limbs had been submerged in blood? A closer look revealed that those marks were not pure-red but rusty in color. While she could not see his face, she was able to examine the back of his ears and the gnarled scars on one of his legs. All in all, not the sort you would expect to see prancing through a garden, but the exact type to insult some random woman he didn’t know. In her travels, she had determined most brutes like him had no filter and shit for manners. It almost made sense now. “I think you speak as though you have experience.” She moved forward, weaving in front of him to look him in the eyes. “Did you find yourself broken at some point? What happened to you I wonder? Did you lose someone? Certainly would explain the bitterness in your voice. Perhaps…” She locked eyes with him. He looked like he had certainly gone through something. His muzzle was scarred beyond belief and each eye had its own set too. One scar so deep that it took root over his eye, likely an injury that blinded to took away some of his sight.

He would have been quite handsome if not for that nasty attitude. She took in every corner of that scarred up mug. “Perhaps, you shut emotions out in order to survive, or because you found them an inconvenience. Those eyes certainly don’t belong to a man who knows happiness, trust, or love, and if you had experienced them… You would be crying too.” Most creatures held some sort of life in their eyes. After all, the eyes were known as a window to the soul but in his, she found nothing. Pale turquoise orbs peered back at her alert but spiritless. There were few instances where she felt truly uneasy but looking into his eyes roused discomfort. “I might look pitiful, but you look dead, inside and out and that alone is something to pity." She scoffed coldly,  "I can shed a tear or two for you if you like.” Nox doubted he cared much for what she had to say, but truthfully, she didn’t care either. It was a simple joy to serve his own dish back to him and smile as she did it. “Oh, and yes, I am very selfish, among other things. But you, my dear, have no room to talk.” She turned away then but kept a careful eye on him as she returned to her initial spot. “-And if you had better knowledge of snowdrops, you would know that the snowdrop is also a symbol of consolation and sympathy. Which are both traits you very much seem to lack.” Nox slowly nudged the stone with her paw, undoubtedly smearing the flower's remains beneath it. If nothing else, perhaps something would grow in its place. As she worked to move the stone, she could not help but think about what he said. He had spoken some truths and it especially stung to hear them said out loud. She was not the same woman and she never would be. No, that Nox had died a long time ago. Despite knowing that, she still wasn't sure if she was ready to let go...

I'm gonna make my own empire.

Thanks to Bird for the table help!
Lupa is Nox's bodyguard and second-in-command. While she clearly does her own thing, he's usually not far behind unless instructed otherwise.

[Image: g1hkYWI.png]

Laying down my past I scream.

This is not the end of me.

Time to bury it or me.

I can't take back who I've been but this is where I'll start again.




Yautja

Loner

Beginner Fighter (0)
Beginner Intellectual (0)
age
5 Years
gender
Male
gems
33
size
Large
build
Medium
posts
6
player
Yautja

1K
01-14-2021, 08:34 PM (This post was last modified: 01-14-2021, 09:17 PM by Yautja.)
The first of her words vibrated within his ears and a choice to ignore them was made. They were filler words in this conversation at most, most likely meant to comfort her in these depressing times. A meager attempt given the circumstances as a sea-green eye glanced down at her paw. "Is a mother not allowed to grieve the loss of her children?” So. That's what she was doing and a heavy breath slithered its way out of his mouth, white fog pouring into the air around him. "Why cry over what you can make more of." A harsh statement to a mother mourning... unless she wasn't mourning at all; but simply that her children were gone from her presence. In that case, it was neither grieving nor mourning. "What you call grieving isn't grieving at all."

The cold-blooded beast lifted his scarred paw and looked down upon it, studying the mangled flesh that lies before his very eye. There was nothing in this world more tragic than loss this was true, but what is gone from one is not lost to the world. "It's more like a pathetic attempt at self-loathing. Your children aren't dead. That would be too easy to assume." " Oh, and you just know everything about me, don’t you?” Another question by her followed and he looked back up to her sorrow-filled look, watching her breath out a steady fog in return. Signals of annoyance had begun to set and the flowers were blooming rather quickly. "I know nothing, nor care to know anything about you." The sentence spewed out of lips like venom from a snake, blinking once revealed that the muscles within his left eye had steadily failed. That eye wouldn't blink like the other, rather it looked as if his soul had been trapped in that rotten orb. His body shifted and his fur flexed to dissipate the weight that was it was forced to carry. "The true loss of a child in death, is held heavier to a mother than one that has simply left the nest. Not choosing to follow momma like a bitch any longer."

" You want to know what I think?”

"Not really, your words mean less than nothing to me.

A beam of silver light shined its way onto his back, lighting up his body and all the scars upon it for her. This wasn't something he had ever thought about nor cared to mention. His tail hung between his legs as his neck flexed, watching her examine him like a person rather than a chunk of meat. "You speak as though you have experience." There was a short pause between her words, giving his right eye time to blink again. " Did you find yourself broken at some point? What happened to you I wonder? Did you lose someone? Certainly would explain the bitterness in your voice. Perhaps…” Why would he ever feel the need to be broken. A bitterness in his voice? Inaccurate. There was zero reasons to be bitter to this bitch before him. The only need or point of this was to tell her like it was. "I am neither broken nor bitter. You don't exactly stir any feelings within me.. let alone the feeling of bitterness." A response to her question was followed by a voice colder than a frozen lake.

"“Perhaps, you shut emotions out in order to survive, or because you found them an inconvenience. Those eyes certainly don’t belong to a man who knows happiness, trust, or love, and if you had experienced them… You would be crying too.”

"Emotions are a weakness I was never born with, they are neither an inconvenience nor an advantage. You would be correct in that I know no happiness, trust, or love. This world is violent and to have all three of those.. means you're living a sweet little white lie."

You would be crying too.

Now that he thought about it.... no, no he wouldn't be crying. Nothing in his life had ever given him a reason to cry. There wasn't anything that was important enough to give him such thoughts. "Experiencing... crying. No, I do not believe I would cry. I could lose happiness, trust, and love all in one day. And just like the sun and moon never stopping, neither would my life. It goes on and I still breathe when I lie my head down to sleep. When I wake that would be a new day and a new chance to experience them again." The tones coming off his tongue were more like a careless whisper, looking upwards to the stars as his sea-colored orb narrowed. "You don't hear the stars cry when one of them dies."

“I might look pitiful, but you look dead, inside and out and that alone is something to pity."

There it was again. Another fucking pause in her words.

"I can shed a tear or two for you if you like.”

"I have never died nor lived, to begin with, I simply exist here and at this moment I stare down upon a fallen... whore... queen... daughter.... mother... Whatever you were, what you are now is pathetic. You sit here alone and cast your fucking pity onto a defenseless flower. Yet, when that flower is crushed and the symbol of hope is snuffed out before your eyes... You look to the one who killed the hope and cast your pity upon them." Flanks would rise and fall with each long and drawn out-breath as he stood there before her relocking eyes with her. Here was a woman searching for all the damn excuses in the world to continue her little groveling fest. "Oh, and yes, I am very selfish, among other things. But you, my dear, have no room to talk.” "Yet here I am. Talking." “-And if you had better knowledge of snowdrops, you would know that the snowdrop is also a symbol of consolation and sympathy. Which are both traits you very much seem to lack.”

The heavily scarred right paw snapped upwards in an attempt to slap the woman across the left side of her cheek, fed up with excuse after excuse to continue her pity. "Whatever symbol that flower stood for it ... is...dead. Stop looking to the past for the answers to your insulting way of life. You are here and breathing living a privileged life, most don't get that opportunity, for their past is the end.....snuffed out...... before they're.... even six months old." His voice trailed off in the end, thinking back to his own sins and the consequences that came from those actions. "Stop lying to yourself. Your precious fuckin children aren't coming back and you need to accept it already."
Yautja has an Arabian Accent. He is prone to Violence and Cussing.