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vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-05-2018

i pulled off your wings

Winter's grasp loosened, faded in slow torrent over the earth that it had cradled in chilling eventide for far too long. Trees shook the ice and laden blankets from their exhausted limbs, exchanging instead for the beginning buds of vegetation - of invigorated life and generation shivering to being. Since arrival, he had learned little, but observed much of this land and its people. They were a province consumed with the bitter illness of strife; a sickness he knew not how to cure and eliminate though his clan may have tried. Disagreements would always transcend the same keen edge, a disruption of flesh erupting into gluttonous bedlam and madness. The moon had silenced all, even stilling the birth of a new spring as it dripped emaciated arctic frost upon sanguine thicket. Poking, emerging from what seemed ingrained permafrost, grass felt sharp, honed 'neath his weight as he would pause, coming to a halt at the curling edges of territorial limitations.

Szara fell into uneasy stillness at his side, an uncommon silence embedded upon her tongue that he had yet to witness in protracted era as they had traversed together. Never did she allow dull moment; no heavy and burdened quiet that enraptured them as this had. It was smothering, consuming.

"I've never known you could be so quiet." The tired murmur bled from his lips on a tethered sigh as silver, opaque optics would drift to her in piercing scrutiny. "Something about this place just seems odd, that's all." She would return in short curtness, another ideal that beckoned his unease. The way she behaved was seemingly born of stress, of discomfort, though he doubted he would ever fish it from her private musings if she truly wished to never part with it. "I see. Is it the smell?"  Of course he would entice the hindrance of another species, one differing entirely from the blood that rushed through his own mortal shackle with each vagrant pulse. They were teetering upon something akin to crocodile teeth - serrated knives eagerly pursuing notions of devouring them in bloodied rivulets. Many packs here fought amongst each other, and apparently many racial discrepancy still toiled here to further divide the masses.

Were you birthed of Lune? Of Soleil? Or perhaps a disgraceful mix of the two? To be such a thing was to be graced with the calling of a travesty.  

"I just don't want any trouble, Gawain." She would assimilate her apprehensions for him in defeated finality. Her own harrowed gaze holding onto the dregs of enervation as she peered at him in solemness. "Everything will be fine, you worry too much. We mean no harm..." He would finally rumble, his voice echoing in volumed strength, the encroaching feeling of eyes upon them stealing the length of his spine.





"Gawain speaks" "Szara speaks"

-and i laughed


@Constance, I got caught up on posties and such. So I figured I would go ahead and throw up our thread if you were still interested? :'D


RE: vermillion;; constance - Constance - 02-05-2018

constance
Blankets of white were beginning to ever so slowly begin to fade, melting away as the temperatures warmed. Winter nights were growing shorter as the start of Springtime days stretched. Such travesties forced to take advantage of the timeline of the evening hour for the young spider maiden. She would savor these hours, never wasting the millisecond of time that passed so quickly. Scarlet painted over the strokes of artist canvas of the thicket. Winter frost pooled and dripped from ice to liquid into the earth and the signs of new life was beginning to bud through the spruce, maple and willow. Time moved onward regardless like a million working bees. Should one pass, another to take its place. Within the moment and so on, eager to appease their Queen within their hive. “You are rather quiet tonight.” mused lowly baritone tenors of Panther beast. Thick muscles rolled in shoulders and hips as the large raven painted wildcat moved along side lithe, slender curvature of the much smaller canine. Rounded ears cusped forward to listen, his own deep carmine eyes glanced to the woman in their slowing stead. “Oh?” came a soft purring hum in reply. Svelte cheek turned, evening chilled air combed through feathered ears as one turned in direction towards her companion. “Je n’avais pas remarqué.” (I had not noticed)

She kept her attention forward, impishly brushing against the larger feline in ploy as if to tease him before pressing onward. I just don’t want any trouble Gawain. an unfamiliar voice chuffed in the distance. Montague had begun to speak in protest of his maiden’s lie in her lacking notice. Yet she cut him off with a hush, attention drawn like a fish caught upon a hook. Everything will be fine, you worry too much. We mean no harm.. Oh, well that is certainly boring. Theatrical forlorn sigh hummed from her ebony lips, and brow rose upon Panther face. With no time to spare, the spider witch dissipated in black veil of smoke intermixed of seether and ghosting magic. Shadows were her guidance as she hunted down the noise, soon to approach feline and winged wolf. The irony. “Il est dangereux to be linger, so late.” she spoke before she would reappear, right before the duo in hopes to deter their path. “Tout seul, où les monstres rôdent.” (All alone, where monsters roam)

Her head lifthed upward slightly, deep scarlet eyes narrowed, wry grin stretched upon her delicate slender muzzle as she looked first to the man, wings resting upon his back. Silver harmonized with vermillion so fondly – it could come to a surprise. The air around the duo was foreign – unfamiliar and different. She had never seen them wandering Victus. Montague was not far behind as he trailed from behind them before slinking by, brushing his side against her ever oddly. Gentle evening breeze softly tussled against ebony tresses in smooth comb following the brief silence as she looked to either being. Montague kept his eyes averted but his thick square body tensed, ready to spring if need be.

“Speech”
Coding © Hart | Art © Namasté


@Gawain


RE: vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-06-2018

i pulled off your wings

The presence of another could not escape him, the feeling of unease that accompanied unfamiliarity consuming the camaraderie he normally shared with Szara. Shadows danced, inertia carrying quickly, silently unknown existence that caught his sight, ensnaring it as darkness dripping femme fatale materialized from encroaching arms of night. Gently, intimately, she drew herself from the tragic nightfall and into the soft cadence of the moon's harmonious calling. “Il est dangereux to be linger, so late.” Her dialect was foreign, the heavy accent exotic and inviting as the chilling words elicited from her. “Tout seul, où les monstres rôdent.” The next seemed entirely coded within her nativity, only one word recognizable to his attentive ear. It was one he knew well, even more so than the mountain he hailed from and named as home. Monster. Further footfalls called his attention, vaguely, his sharpened, molten gaze would tick to where the cumbersome bodice of felinal hunter sauntered. The two were relaxed, wholly confident in the affairs they so easily delved into.

These were to be their lands, if not close to them.

At his side, his own familiar would shift, anxious in her own skin. She moved closer, protective of him as she nearly came to stand in betwixt the other party of two. However, he would brush past her, undaunted by this maiden of enigma - instead, intrigue ambled within cerebral musings. He was no interloper to danger, it was not anonymous to him and more times than not he met it with flirtatious excitement. "Monsters are wise to stay clear of me." He would rumble in proud sufferance. "Do you seek them?" He would inquire, his stare shifting in subtle regard to the immense structure of that cat at her own side. What astonishing coincidence, he would deem. It was not often that he happened across another that looked to be the same size as Za. Perhaps on improved terms, she could expend some nuance of time and her overly abundant energies wrestling. Her boisterous, cheerful nature would enjoy that. He missed the more carefree days for her, their era in the winter fortress seeming to be so far away from them now, slipping through his grasp as if grains of sand. He could only pray this land would hold better odds for them, a mercy that he was yet to see from strange inhabitants.

"Maybe she means herself...." Szara would whisper hurriedly into the flicking of his auds. She still acted somewhat sheepish, unnerved and nervous about other wolves. He had no reason to blame her after seeing what his own brother did to his own kin. Perhaps that's what all of them were. All of us are monsters. His biggest question, however, lingered still. How does one charm a beauty who does not even speak in the same tongue?



"Gawain speaks" "Szara speaks"

-and i laughed


@Constance


RE: vermillion;; constance - Constance - 02-06-2018

constance
She cherished these moment when her sight was with her. The moon danced high above navy canvas, accompanied by the million glittering specks. Her scarlet eyes reflected this light as she soaked within lunes ecstasy while she memorized every detail from ear to wing and whisker to stripe as the tiger made a motherly gesture to intervene. Rounded ears of her own companion rolled forward with a curt nod to the fellow feline. He had never encountered another wildcat. Wry grin tugged the corners of his lips with a single brush of his tail against loamy soil. Monsters are wise to stay clear of me. a proud roll came from his tenors, devious smirk tugged the corner of the maiden’s lips with a rise of a single brow of lesser impression – false amusement. Do you see them? His question came, long tail uncurled and brushed against her shadow companion. Shoulder rolled tucked into her neck to imply a playful bashful gesture. “Perhaps.” Lashes batted, long tail coiled around her as if to hide from him. Her accent was still thick.

Maybe she means herself... the tiger purred with anxious whisper. She stood with a musing chuckle at the tigers words; “Paranoid, mm?” she cooed, only to turn her back to them, feathered hips swayed left and right with three steps forward. “Vous n’êtes pas d’ici, vous êtes?” (You’re not from here, are you?) her question rolled like warm honey from her dark lips, vexed with malevolence. Montague adjusted his weight, clearing his throat. “Are either of you from here?” he reiterated her question, hinting he would translate if need be. Though she could understand their words: it was she that held the language barrier with broken native tongue. She could speak it, just not well and she hated her efforts to try. The panther would often tease her later when she did.

“Speech”
Coding © Hart | Art © Namasté


@Gawain


RE: vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-06-2018

i pulled off your wings

"Perhaps." She was coy, tempting, yet venomous. There was a poison to her that he could not hope to pinpoint. Be it her delicate, fragile, aspiring beauty cloaked in silvern webs as he inspected her further - closer - or perhaps her very air of enigma that enshrouded her, he could not decide. She was traced, bathed in glissading moonlight that feathered over her svelte, supple frame. Invigorating strands of harrowed ivorian further illuminated the silken empress of arachnid temptation. Their companions seemed estranged of one another, cautious, yet he could feel the roiling curiosity from Szara as the other nodded to her in curt greeting. His attention was diverted, riveted instead to the elongated, wispy lashes would flutter in demure enthrallment, lengthy tail coiling about her like the serpentine coils of a cobra in feigned abashment. He could nearly hear the coquettish malady of laughter ring through cerebral prison - he yearned for it to follow such motion, but alas he was denied. With Szara's counsel of guidance, she would rise, another softly edged taunt drifting through the reborn empathy of spring night still fresh upon the grave of winter. “Paranoid, mm?”

She would pace, her movements just as fluent as she had been as shadow, dancing among the thorns of the thicket. The frivolous sashay of wanton hips was followed by the length of luxurious appendage of raven black. His gaze was drawn to the carmine upon her own coating, matching that sculpted so lovingly under the mesmerizing scarlet hue of her stare, infamous widow-maker. Again, that beguiling language would loll upon his hearing, “Vous n’êtes pas d’ici, vous êtes?” Her intonation deceived the interlacing melody as a question desiring rebuttal. Presumably, the darkened lips of her own feline would reconcile in understanding and mirrored her askance. “Are either of you from here?” Spirits riled from where she had shrunk in embarrassment, Za would once again unfurl, the answer leaping from her throat in tentative excitement. "No, we come from the north!" More slowly, readily, he would nod. "From the Dovrejfellein Mountains."

"Gawain speaks" "Szara speaks"

-and i laughed


@Constance


RE: vermillion;; constance - Constance - 02-07-2018

constance
We come from the north! hesitant excitement came from the tiger. Constance tilted her head up ward with a rise of her brow, scarlet flashed to milk-silver as the male followed; From the Dovreifellein Mountains. Lithe ear flicked with curiosity turning away from them contemplating the name of this mountain. She herself was not from Victus either, but she had been here for over a decade now: she may as well be a regular. “Dovrei...fellein.” She cooed, allowing the name to roll upon her tongue. Evening wind brushed through, teasing ebony tendrils, combing through satin and velvet. Montague rolled his rounded ears forward, his own scarlet eyes painted the navy skies and nose sought the air, pondering how much longer they would have before the sun would come and steal her sight. She never did fester on the time, only sulk when the sun was out lest she found herself napping within the trees. “Must be far.” she mused, her attention still lingering on this man and this beasts home. Large panther stretched into a stand clearing his throat – “Mind the time.” he purred only to be given a response with a lackluster sigh. “Cela fait si longtemps que j’ai discuté avec un autre.” (It has been so long since I have conferenced with another.) she protested to him. Deviant smirk tugged the corners of his own raven lips with a roll of his eyes, though he would admit, he was intrigued. He could not recall the last time he had encountered another wild cat such a he.

“Combien de temps avez-vous été en Victus, monsieur?” (How long have you been in Victus?) Her question directed toward the winged man. Her jaw tightened ever so slightly with a light sting – a frivolous reminder that Isilzheha was gone. Good. she would try to tell herself. But it left herself empty and bored. Whiskers flitted. “How long ave you been within these lands?” he translated once more, glancing at the spider woman, twisting his hear forward, clearly ignoring him.

“Speech”
Coding © Hart | Art © Namasté


@Gawain


RE: vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-07-2018


Wear Your Tragedies as Armor, Not Shackles


“Dovrei...fellein.” Her aria made the name of their home land sound wonderful, immaculate. Upon her articulation of sonance, he could nearly taste the harmonious chill of the mountain air, the crisp, crystalline waters that flow with utmost freedom and vindication. They carved through the heart of the range, delving tributaries and searching fingers into the throes of Victus. It was what lead them here, the path taken along the river's shore. The world seemed to have split asunder, opening wide in limitless possibility that seemed endless beyond the small territory that his clan had confined themselves to. “Must be far.” "It is.... And it is beautiful..." He would murmur, a darkened rumble of remembrance. His memories were tainted however, marred as the snow that buried his brother. An all consuming, seething rage still burned within him, a solemn, silent vow of cliche vengeance that seared him with such vehemence. It was beautiful once. Again, the felinal translator would convey, his deep vocals reverberating softly on a lethargic purr, a recollection. “Mind the time.” "Do you have to go so soon? We've only just met!" To his surprise, the tiger would pipe up again, her own ears pressed forward as she lowered her head tenderly in abashment, seeming daunted that she had even dared to speak up. Gently, consolingly, he would ensnare her playfully in the breadth of vermilion wing, veiling her away with adoring notion.

"Cela fait si longtemps que j’ai discuté avec un autre.” No transcript was readied for this hymn, he concluded as the panther merely ushered forth a teasing simper as eyes rolled leisurely. A shame, truly, he did not comprehend her words in full. The intonation seemed vaguely familiar, but entirely strange within the same breath. She left no duration for contemplation, however as once again fluer-de-lis symphony caught his attention in velvet web. “Combien de temps avez-vous été en Victus, monsieur?” Languid shadow at her side would once more graciously continue his efforts, however. “How long ave you been within these lands?” Keeping Szara near, comforting her in ginger silence, he would shift marginally. How much time had passed indeed? He had traversed a great deal of this acreage already as well. He had witnessed the slow molting shed of winter embroidery to a cloak of silken spring just beginning to dulcetly bud. "Several months now." He would concede alas.


"Gawain" "Szara"



@Constance


RE: vermillion;; constance - Constance - 02-07-2018

constance
Mind adrift in the hapless memories of once upon a time, her own homeland nameless within the Jungles in uncharted lands. Now lay waste, burned to ash where the remnants of its history remained unknown and disclosed. Fables memories of never after. Exiled from her home, stolen from a lover whose face only returned once in brief with confessions and broken promises in her short arrival to Victus before her delicate form had been tarnished with the acrid venom of hungering blood lust of a monster many loathed and feared only to soon fancy and hunger. That too soon faded into only memories, once again leaving her alone again. All to familiar darkness that rested upon the spider witch shoulders. She mused the distance of the mountains in supple honeysuckle hum. It is… and its beautiful Wry grin tugged the corners of her lips with soft chuckle slipping from her lips – only to come to the realization the introductions may have slipped from either party. It was not long before Montague would interject to the painful reminder that the moon would not claim the skies forever: soon the sun would rise and steal away her sight until night to fall once more.

Do you have to go so soon? We've only just met! The tigress chimed unabashedly with eager excitement. She seemed to regret it instantly shying beneath the feathered wings of vermillion ushered by her own canine companion. Montague flicked his tail against the earth, bemused by her bashful nature. It was … adorable. More questions would rise just as the timespan spent by these strangers in Victus, as the man breathed just a few months. Slender feathered ears flitted forward with a dip of her nose. “Well ‘den.” she cleared her throat with the slightest hint of struggle speaking the native tongue here as opposed to her own. “’s been in a lull.” her accent was thick, glancing briefly to her Panther beast before turning to circle the winged man as if to look him up and down. Hips playfully aimed to brush against his own in light tease just before coming back around into a leisured sit. “ ‘ave ‘ou settled –….?” she paused for moment just then realizing she hadn’t caught his name. “What do I call ‘ou monsieur?” she cooed with a courteous tilt of her skull with calm demeanor.

“Speech”
Coding © Hart | Art © Namasté


@Gawain


RE: vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-08-2018


Wear Your Tragedies as Armor, Not Shackles


He recognized the sadness within her eyes, the vague glaze of remembrance and recollections that left her dazed, misty. What was it that could possibly instigate such morose cloying within her? All creatures harbored the un-assuaged weight of regret and numerous imaginations of what could have been. Surely the arachnid maiden was no different in that regard.  She was sharp, wickedly so, however as the memoirs within her cerebral musings seemed to dissipate on a whim, caressed away by the softened breeze that bared sickeningly sweet scent of far off blossom and leaf upon it. A cracked, nearly eerie and oddly charming simper would grace her delectable lips. Pitch coat glistened within the moonlight, entranced with the Lune and a kaleidoscope of feathered webs that hung on her frame almost as if gossamer veil. She truly was mesmerizing to him, an other worldly beauty he had yet to see even in the possession of spirits so wild and distraught with bedlam seduction. It was in the way she carried herself, the very way she moved that seemed to weave her bewitchment upon him. Were there many other akin to her?

There could not be.

“Well ‘den.” Though she seemed to find it vaguely difficult, a vain effort to speak the tongue most commonly devout within this land - and his own, her accent shone through with ambrosial clarity. His ears flickered forward, moths to her exquisite flame. “’s been in a lull.” Almost as if seeking absolution from her companion, the two seemed utterly upon the same wavelength. A mere glance between them whispered echoes of a thousand hymns. .It was admirable, to be so close to another. Perhaps he should have been more fond of camaraderie between he and Szara to isolate and strengthen such miraculous bonds. Femme fatale would circle once more, allowing the most delicate, dulcet of touches to press upon his own virile strength of sinew, and he would acquiesce himself to indulge the notion with full luxury as the wisp of silvern tail would seek to coil with the wedding train of her own, a myriad clash of lumanance and deepened nightshade intertwined if but for a moment should she allow it before, like a phantom dream, she was gone again - warmth withdrawn in tempting leisure. He found himself wanting more. “ ‘ave ‘ou settled –….?” She would address once more, brief hiatus given before she would vocalize the very sentiment of forgetful introduction - and hers was one he hoped not to miss. “What do I call ‘ou monsieur?” "I-I'm Szara..." came the sheepish answer from the hooded cowell of his wing, matching molten optics peering out from the velvet plumage quilting to abashedly lay gaze once again on the feline she seemed so curious of. "Gawain." He would rumble softly in darkened baritone, declining his noble crown in cordial greeting. "And the two of you? To who do we owe the pleasure of this meeting?" His stare would linger, drifting off to peer in almost relaxed lethargy at the tiny illumination of stars overhead. The canvas was beginning to hold the dim beginnings of light. There was no doubt within him that soon the etchings of dawn would begin to feather throughout the clouds with gleaming silver lining. "As for settling.... The pack life really isn't for us. We're mainly wanderers."


"Gawain" "Szara"




@Constance


RE: vermillion;; constance - Constance - 02-09-2018

constance
Rounded ears of the feline rolled forward as scarlet eyes lifted to gaze upon the horizon. There was the trembling sensation of time ever so slowly beginning to shift and change once again. Soon the light would begin to peer from the heavens as the sun would come creeping through the trees to claim its heaven-bound throne once more, pushing away the moon and stealing the sight of the spider-witch maiden. Whiskers shook with anticipation following a hard swallow whilst the woman continued on about her numbing conversation. Timing was forever a limitation for she: while the sun did not tarnish her skin, it simply made the travels a little less enjoyable in her stead. Searching for guidance support of the feline as he would be her eyes until rest came to her. I-I’m Szara. innocent, bashful chime came from the tiger maiden, causing his own brow to rise as he glanced towards her with small smile curving along his feline lips. Names were being exchanged with delayed introduction. Montague dipped his head according with curt nod towards the wildcat woman in greet nevertheless. Gawain. Came the man Constance lifted her own brow as she soaked in either form, placing a face with a title. “Szara.” she hummed coolly, glancing to the woman first before fixing gaze back onto the winged man. “Gawain...” his name rolled playfully upon her tongue. “Easy on the tongue.” she cooed appraisingly, following a soft tilt of her skull.

And the two of you? To who do we owe the pleasure of this meeting? Dark ear turned as her nose pointed towards the stroke of light starting to ebb through navy skies, slowly flushing into rich pastels. Bitter sigh slipped from dark lips, her sigh slowly beginning to fade. Colors and contours meshing together and her world dimming while everything else brightened. “Constance.” she hummed acridly cool. Montague cleared his throat; with a courteous dip of his head; “Montague.” as for settling.... came a trail the pack life really isn't for us. we're mainly wanderers. Wry grin tugged damsel lips, devilish and impish. Long tail just barely brazened by the duo before it brushed against her companion. “A wise man.” she mused, accent thick on her tongue. It was evident she had a disdain towards the overall concept of a pack life. It was too constricted and littered with rules Kings and Queens were just mere fancy titles for an individual or two to feel special in her perceptive when in reality all were the same. Though perhaps there was a bitterness upon the thought given her history. After the excommunication so long ago, she’d vow’d to never seek the ranks within a pack. “They can be so...cumbersome hm?”

“Speech”
Coding © Hart | Art © Namasté


@Gawain


RE: vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-10-2018


Wear Your Tragedies as Armor, Not Shackles


He would listen to the sweetened luxury of his calling rolling from the tip of her forked tongue. Szara would beam, a look of excitement and cheer evident within her exuberant demeanor as she prowled playfully from under the shroud of his protective wing. Her tail flickered, skittering idly over the gentle hush of biting grass emitting a lilting ticking noise as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the briers and thorns to land in spotted pools of illumination upon the earth around them. There was a growing discomfort that seemed to grip her svelte, supple frame. The way she moved, the way she and her companion had continuously exchanged looks and passing glances since their initial meeting. Something was odd. The thought was ignited, burned away by the hearken of her own name. It was softened, dulcet. "Constance." "Constance..." He would repeat, just as she had. He tasted the designation given unto her at birth, feeling fully satisfied with the way it pronounced, with the image that went along with such a sound. Elongated appendage would brush, a solitary sweep across the brambles of the dirt under him, coiling about his feet as honed shoulders rolled forth in shifting weight.

His mind was far from the felines at his side and before him, his keen, predatorial gaze fixated on her. "Montague" Szara would daintily prance as she inched closer to the older wildcat, her empennage dancing avidly as she sank low to the ground. "Hello, Montague!" Her earnest efforts of pronunciation seemed to give trouble still to his compellation. It brought a small simper to grace Gawain's visage, a boyish smirk that was followed by the arch of a brow as he tilted his head at her. "Forgive her, she doesn't see many like herself." “A wise man.” This he found discerning, a befuddlement as she spoke. Fluer-des-lis vocals a singing aria of resplendent beauty to behold. Many he had come across had asked him to join their parties of various ethics and morals. Many had chided him for denying the call of social hierarchies and the need for all consuming order that fulfilled the petty, weak and mundane. He relished in the freedom of loneliness in some manners. He was untethered, liberated from the loyalties that most had to succumb to even in the countenance of unfettered disdain.  “They can be so...cumbersome hm?” She seemed a woman after his own heart. "Aye. And chaining as well." Demanding, cruel and visceral to the desolate whims of an individual until naught but a hapless drone remains.


"Gawain" "Szara"




@Constance HI POOP POST IS POOP


RE: vermillion;; constance - Constance - 02-12-2018

constance
Never could she witness cerulean canvas of daytime skies or enriched evergreen glistening with dewdrops in morning sunrise, only painted in the shadow of night. There was a soft curse to breathe from her lips as the sun peered through the horizon line. Montague flicked his long tail against the woman to usher his place. Her ear turned and flatted horizontally, her vision dark with just the smallest vague traces of infrared. Lulling murmur hummed from the man, calling himself Gawain as he spoke her name just as she did his. Small, impish grin tugged the corners of her lips. Her head was just tilted where her gaze was downcast, though still shadowed her succubi grin with a simple sweep of her own tail to coil around her once more as she came to a sit. Her own long tail brushed against svelte cheeks in bashful play. She held her tongue to yield the want to admit the liking to how he spoke her name. It’d been so long since s he’d heard her name in such a way. She mused lost in thought, soon drawn back as Montague introduced himself curtly so. Carmine gaze danced towards the striped feline, watching the sheer fascination paint her own visage. Hello Montague! girlish chime sweetened the atmosphere for a moment like a flutist solo trilling the halls of a symphony.

Small smile graced the black panthers lips, whiskers quivered in motion with musing feature and polite nod of his head. Forgive her, came the winged man. Montague shifted his rounded ears forward with a curious gaze painted his face, his attention addressing the man. She doesn’t see many like herself. the feline beast grumbled a jesting chuckle with a shake of his head. “Nothing to forgive.” he hummed a lowly purr. “It has been some time since I have met many of my own.” His shoulders rolled before readjusting tightly. The most he spent his time was with an obnoxious frog and a haughty hyppogriff with a monster of canine he never favored – and she knew this. Though as the pages turned and new chapters started: he could see over time, the resentment begin to fester and the spell finally breaking. The conversation drifted their chastise towards the pack life. She called it cumbersome. Aye. And chaining as well. agreed Gawain. Soft breath exhaled from her lungs while she turned away from the winged man. “Chaining… taxing.” absent hum cooed gingerly from her dark lips. Long tail unfurling and exposing her lithe sculpture, back facing he. “Destructive..”

“Speech”
Coding © Hart | Art © Namasté


@Gawain


RE: vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-12-2018


Wear Your Tragedies as Armor, Not Shackles


There was an oddness to her demeanor, the way she reacted as the illumination seemed to caress and nearly burn her encompassing beauty. Was she sensitive to such a thing? Did she waver beneath the heat of Apollo's searing chariot? But of course she would, she was a shadow of umbra even'n tide, a picturesque resemblance to red-moon night when clouds clot the heavens and drown out even the traces of faltering starlight. The storms would be savage, relentless and cruel, but she would be beautiful to some. There would always be a fool to dance within the torrential downpours of her rains. Vague smile lit his features, boyish grin gentle upon his expression as he would demurely watch her, observe the shy playfulness of coquettish witch. How many times had she done this before? In how many recurrences would she find herself parted from shadow's womb to trespass in the presence of another's intended path? He wanted to see it. To see her.

“Nothing to forgive.” Montague's stern intonation would break through his thoughts in evident reminder that he was not alone with his whims and notions. “It has been some time since I have met many of my own.” Szara would shift in avid frolicsomeness towards the other cat, her paws dainty upon the earth as she practically danced to him in swaying waltz. "Do you catch birds? You look like you could have a good collection of feathers." She would question, seeming almost secretive in her inquiry. She seemed forgotten to her prior fears, ghosting inhibitions chased away by her ever livid curiosity and boundless energies.

“Chaining… taxing.” She would ease the words, her vocals relaxed and lethargic, though her gaze seemed downcast, distant from the prying lividry of the flare that finally rose in domination of passionately bleeding skies. Tips of searching red fingertips, emblazoned with fluorescent oranges and yellows bled into the horizon and out over the land kindred a heavy handed ink stroke to absorbent parchment. The few sparse, drifting high altitude fog served as wrinkles of years against aging paper. It was a masterpiece, each and every sunrise in this place seemed to be as such. “Destructive..” This one even more so. Was it because of her? It must be. Even with her slender, girlish back to him, he could peer through keen perception the downward tilt of her noble crown. His own tilted marginally upon its axis, his movements tentative, slow as he sought to idly slip to her side. The span of his right wing would open, seeking to cradle her in darkness from the contemptible stare of the sun, an offer of comfort. "As destructive as light to shade?" He would inquire delicately upon her attentive auds, should she allow him so close to her person.



"Gawain" "Szara"




@Constance


RE: vermillion;; constance - Constance - 02-13-2018

constance
Do you catch birds? Cherubic chime flitted with lyrical question from frolicking tigress. You look like you could have a good collection of feathers. Rounded ears rolled forward with a coy tilt of his square skull. His scarlet gaze softened with feline smile gracing his whiskers with humble muse. The end of his tail twitched playfully with relaxing shoulders. Shoulder brushed from the spider witch to tease though her gaze never did meet the panther beast. Montague cleared is throat searching for his words. It felt almost foreign – as he nearly forgotten how to act towards those who were similar to he after spending most of his life with the woman and for a short time, her now grown children. “Perhaps for an appetizer.” he chuckled. “But not as a hobby, unfortunately. Do you collect them?” He asked, hoping to continue the conversation.

It was entertaining to hear the light hearted tenors roll from her shadow companion. Sun star heathen stretched out yearning rays with wanting embrace. Unable to fight its restraints she was forced to endure it. Ears flitted listening to the sound of easing footfalls draw near. Whimsical scent of ash held a soft festering tinge of lavender. Skin crawled Flutter of feathers sounded as if teased by tussling wind, with the slightest difference of shadow and sunlight. The sun would need to be put out in order for her sight to return entirely. She welcomed him; as destructive as light to shade? devious smirk tugged the corners of her lips, bemused by this newness. How long has it been since she could thoroughly enjoy herself? No longer trapped by the confines of manipulative magics whilst blindly insulted and abused?

Senses stretched, dark nose reached to feel the soft tickle of stretched appendage – feathers teased upon her nose. “History can be rather unkind, monsieur.” she cooed, velvet lips parted with soft hum, her downcast gaze just barely lifted towards his direction, unusually long tail aimed to brush and coil against his own.

“Speech”
Coding © Hart | Art © Namasté


@Gawain


RE: vermillion;; constance - Gawain - 02-13-2018

i watched you change into a fly i watched you change into a fly
I Looked Away You're on Fire
I watched a change in you, it's like you never had wings
and you feel so alive i have watched you change i have watched you change
I Took You Home Set You on the Glass. I Pulled off Your Wings Then I laughed

“Perhaps for an appetizer.”Seemingly enticed by the notion of dinner, Szara would shift in hastened fashion, tail flickering in avid energy upon the frost-bitten earth. Her eclipsing pupils would dilate as she peered further at the jaguar. “But not as a hobby, unfortunately. Do you collect them?” She would nod, prancing over at once to canine companion, uninterested in any interruptions she may pose as she plucked from his wing the spare feathers she stored within his own regal plumage. Rapidly, she would race back over, her breath emitting in a puff of downy goodness to drape upon the ground in slow drift. Severing talons would catch her cherished possessions as the breeze would tease them with the temptation of stealing them away. There was an unfettered excitement to her in the solitary action, her inhalation hastening if but just slightly before she would pass her gaze back to him expectantly. "this is my collection! i used to have a lot more, snowy ones before--" She would cut herself off, her head once more lowering as her sight cast tentatively towards Gawain. His only reaction remained the infraction of elongated appendage, despite the remorse that wormed its way within his mind in darkened ease. Seeing she was not to be in trouble, she would press on. "This un's my favorite! I caught it from a strange bird demon in the mushroom forest!" she would proclaim proudly, her chest puffing out as she recalled her skirmish against the large cockatrice while her wolf brother had been attending his own agenda. The cretin had put up quite a battle, but she had downed it successfully and even without much of an injury!

Before my brother lost himself. He would finish her previous sentiment in the entrapment of cerebral prison over and over in maddening echoes. It seemed to roar within his ears, pouring through him kindred drops of water slipping through leaking crevices in the rock wall of his defense. The acrid acidity of the memories still brought a horrid taste to roll upon his tongue, a fury to reverberate through him unlike any he had ever known before. He would not entertain the speculation of losing himself to the heated remembrances, however. Instead, he would further indulge, delve deeper into this precious moment of peace stumbled upon by pure accident. She hesitated, the fleeting thought to withdraw evident upon her, but she chose to allow his presence, his offer of some shield for the delicate umbra woman.

With her glissading, slight contingence, he fought the hint of chill racing down his spine remaining statuesque, composed as her muzzle tenderly caressed through each quill and plume. “History can be rather unkind, monsieur.” He knew not the details of her malignant past. He could fathom no atrocities committed by or against she. He only reasoned one concept from this. He wished to safe keep her from any sorrows happening again to the fragile arachnid. "That's why you need to seek a future. You can't dwell on the past forever." He would suggest cautiously, obscured baritone low on intoxicated murmur. It wasn't until she would turn her scarlet optics upon him that he would see the fatal design through sunlight's touch. Though she looked to him, she seemed to look through him in sightless haze, her pupils unfocused in their allure. It was her endearment of contact that pulled his attention. Adept empennage brushing furtively over his own, and he would permit it, coiling silver and red with umbral shadow.






"Gawain" "Szara"


@Constance