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Ulvar
He/Him
Cold Hearted
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Moons had passed since he felt the crunch of snow beneath his heavy paws, the familiar chill that found its way to his black hide even under his layers of white fur. For a time he felt as though the warmth would drive him mad, but there would be no turning back now. He'd come too far from his birthplace at the top of the world, suffered too much to simply give up. Doing so would be to forfeit his life.
The huge male leaves the shadows of a quiet forest and emerges at the grassy edge of a still lake. In the early morning dim, a thin fog swirled just over the mirror like surface. Ulvar stops just at the edge of the water, toes sinking into the soft soil, and he allows himself to sit and gazes at his reflection. His coat, once as white as the snows of his homeland, has become dingy. His eyes, still sharp, have a tired stare to them and perhaps a little droop beneath. The worst of his scars, a split in his upper lip that reveals his fang, gives him a permanent grimace that adds to his fearsome appearance. Life had certainly dealt him a cruel hand. But he's alive and strong, and there isn't much more he can ask than that. He considers slipping into the lake, to cool off and rid his pelt of the filth he'd gathered on his travels, but he simply continues to sit. |
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Lyrium
She/Her
The Wayward Daughter
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December 08, 2017, 11:06:41 AM
(This post was last modified: December 10, 2017, 12:39:21 PM by Lyrium.)
「M i k e r r a 」
My gaze shifted as I made my way through the forest. It was so weird to be traveling along forest lands when one was so used to the wasteland of the desert. My family had us living in a place I did not think one was meant to live; but we managed to survive all those years together. Now I am not even sure there was a pack left anymore. I can imagine everyone probably scattered to do their own thing. Family of course probably stuck together; but I could not tell you that as I left a long time ago. I could not tell you if it was the best decision of my life or the worse decision of my life. I lost track of my life long ago and sometimes I had no idea how I felt on the matter.
I stopped for a moment to study the forest around me. It was a beautiful morning as the sun was just starting to rise. It made what little of the sky I could see flash in purple and red. Then the sight was quickly gone from my view as I turned away. I felt like I could lose myself in the vast scenery as the forest was an endless void; but it was a good void for once. There were not any lurking nightmares around every corner, just silence. It was a beautiful silence that was interrupted occasionally by the chirps of the wild life that resided there. Yet even those tiny sounds still made the forest so mesmerizing and so...safe? It felt comforting to me. I pulled myself out of the trance that the forest snared me in and pushed forward. My paws crept further and further down the path until I was ripped away from the forest. It was only then I stopped, turning my gaze to stare out at what was in front of me. A lake that was engulfed by a stray of mist. It looked almost eery, ghostly. I felt like something was going to jump out at me. I shuddered and went to step forward before a saw a big ghostly figure sitting by the lake. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent that the wind had offered me. He was big, but not quite as big as my great aunt Bloodspill; but he was one of us. I think. I cautiously crept closer, an unease feeling creeping along my spine at the stranger. I was thirsty, but he was there. I stepped closer, avoiding eye contact as I dipped my muzzle towards the lake, half glancing at the dire. The water felt good going down my throat as I tried to keep the nervousness out of my expression. I turned my orange eyes to stare at my own reflection as I finished quenching my thirst. I was a sight, but I stopped caring a long time ago. At least I did not have chicken feet. I rolled my eyes and turned my gaze to the ghostly male. "You're like me," Sort of, "well kind of." I motioned slightly with my muzzle, trying to make conversation. He looked lonely, distant, and tired? I took a moment to study him. He was a dirty white color, rigged with scars; and those eyes...blue eyes. Why do I keep running into blue eyed males? I silently rolled my eyes.
ooc: I don't know why but I write her in first person because I find it easier to post her that way. Also I love your male, I had to have Mikerra meet him ^.^ |
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Ulvar
He/Him
Cold Hearted
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It felt like he'd been staring at himself for an eternity, unwilling to sleep but becoming lost in a sort of trance. Though his body was at rest beside the lake, his thoughts had wandered far, guessing at what his future holds for him.
He'd heard the stranger approaching, but only acknowledged her with the flick of an ear. That is, until she spoke to him. Finally, Ulvar's gaze shifts to the female and his heavy brow knits together. Had she said they're alike, somehow? Or had that been his wandering head toying with him? He certainly didn't see anything they had in common. In fact, this stranger has quite the exotic appearance compared to him. Purple markings, long tendrils hanging from her snout, slinky figure... Ulvar must appear quite plain aside from his scars and hulking size. Rather than respond, he blinks once, then decides to also have a drink. His dark tongue draws up big laps, though some of the liquid escapes through the large gap in his upper lip. @"Mikerra" |
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Lyrium
She/Her
The Wayward Daughter
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「M i k e r r a 」
He had that baffled look on his face when I had told him we were a like. He also had that same look everyone had when they laid eyes upon something they did not understand. Yet, he did not stare long, but he was awfully quiet. Here I was trying to socialize again after who knows how long and he does not even bother to acknowledge me. Maybe I was bad at this socializing thing? Or maybe he just did not want to talk. Or he can't talk. I was a little confused. Should I continue to talk to him? Should I just shut my damn mouth and ignore him? I was trying to dig into that inner voice of mine that always screamed at me when things were going wrong. What should I do?
I shuffled my paws not in nervousness but annoyance. I had no idea how to do this whole 'hey wanna be friends?' ordeal. I decided to watch him for a brief moment longer as he drank his fill of the lake. It still illuminated off a ghostly feeling, an eery sight; but it seemed safe for now. I was still mauling over what I should say or do next. The white colored brute did not at all seem interested in holding a conversation. Hell, he only looked at me for a brief second before seemingly to ignore me. Wait, he did not gaunt like the others. He did not seem all that bothered by my appearance. He had no disgust in his eyes as if he had just seen a freak of nature. I suppose it was a comforting thought even though I had shoved all of that aside long ago. "You are a Fringe," I paused, trying to make another attempt at a conversation. I really sucked at this socializing business. Maybe I should just tuck tail and run back into the forest. "At least I think you are," Nevermind, "I have not really seen any wolves as big as my kin; but I have not really met any as big as my great aunt. She's a monster." I chuckled lightly. Bloodspill would have probably sat on me upon hearing me call her a monster; but that was wishful thinking. I tilted my head slightly as I tried to muster a sincere smile. I swished my tail slightly from side to side. It was longer than most wolves and fluffy, oh so fluffy. It dragged annoyingly on the ground, but there was not much I could do aside from using all my muscles to keep it a float. That was just too much work and tiring. I was a sight, but I was not that entirely different. Take away my long fluffy tail, my long whiskers, and my big rounded ears; and I was like any other wolf. I was tall like my Fringe kin and I may not be completely built for strength, but I had speed on my side. I was also cursed. I was just like the kin I grew up with it. I was not different and I wished they would stop treating me as such.
ooc: Once Lexi posts Robin I'll be probably shoving Mikerra to Utopia. Hopefully she can befriend your boy and convince him to come xD |
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Ulvar
He/Him
Cold Hearted
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"Can't say I've ever been called a Fringe, before," his voice rasps over the wind, and he ruffles his thick fur. Actually, things like "monster" and "beast" and "yeti" were the most common titles he'd been given. But the way she said it, it didn't sound like an insult. More like a breed or something.
He looks to her again, sensing she had some sort of interest in him. Perhaps she'd also been alone for a long time, and even talking to an ugly brute like him seemed better than another moment in solitude. "I'm Ulvar," he adds, unsure of what to say next. Socializing is also not a strong point of his. He'd rather face a blizzard or mob of angry bobcats. @"Mikerra" |
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Lyrium
She/Her
The Wayward Daughter
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「M i k e r r a 」
Oh my god, he actually spoke to me! He was actually acknowledging the fact that I existed. I was kind of shocked, but I did not let it show. It was an odd kind of excitement that I was kind of unsure how to react too. I guess he did not seem to want to ignore me as much as I was feeling awkward at this whole socializing thing. He was baffled at my use of the word 'Fringe'. Didn't all of those of my blood know what they were? I had always thought every Fringe Dire came from the pack in the desert. I guess this big white fluff was proving my knowledge wrong. That was a first. I guess there was always room to be wrong every once in awhile.
I shifted my weight as I settled to a sitting position, wrapping my tail around my paws. I met fiery colored eyes to the depths of his blue colored ones. "I can tell you are not from the desert," I paused for a brief moment, edgy on going further, "Fringe is what we are, what was bred," My mind fumbled over memories, recollections of what was told to us. "My father was one and my mother was a partial," I motioned to myself, "My mother is the reason I look like this." The mention of my mother was like a stab in the heart. I had not thought about her in so long. It was hard to feel for someone you never even got to meet, but the pain was still there regardless. I was snapped back to attention when his name spilled from his muzzle. He actually gave me his name? I think we were starting to make some kind of progress. Though, it seemed he was still reluctant in socializing with me. It seemed like he was just a bitter wolf who just wanted to keep to himself. Why was he so hard around the edges? He was a mystery that I was actually quite interested in finding out. Did something happen to him, like me, that caused him to just want to shrink from the world? Loneliness was such a hard life for a wolf. We weren't meant to be like that. I cleared my throat, "You can call me Mikerra."
ooc: |
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Ulvar
He/Him
Cold Hearted
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He stifles a chuckle at her mention of the desert, and a small snort escapes his nose. Certainly, that must’ve been a joke. ”Actually, I’m from the frozen wastes, far to the north. I guess you could call it a frozen desert..” One had to be extremely hardy to survive in a land such as that. Let your guard slip, even in sleep, and you could be ice-bound by morning.
He listens to her talk of her bloodline, and recalls his own: a pack of huge, white wolves like him. All long gone, now. For all Ulvar knew, he is the last of his kind. There were no stories passed down from his family about having once come from a desert, but who really knows for sure.. He wouldn’t bother blabbing all this to her. It’d make him sound like a pitiful whiner. Instead, he nods to her and allows her to finish. ”Well, Mikerra, it would seem you’re out here all alone.” he certainly didn’t smell any others on her. ”Are you a wanderer as well?” @"Mikerra" |
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Lyrium
She/Her
The Wayward Daughter
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「M i k e r r a 」
I was actually kind of thrilled I was getting more out of this brute besides silence. He actually chuckled and began speaking to me. A frozen desert, huh? I do not think I have ever been anywhere north that cause me great discomfort. My body was so used to the heat of the desert that I think the mere thought of being cold might make me freeze to death. No one really told me stories of the North in the desert. They just told me stories of our family's tradition that was passed down long before they had been banished from the forest. I was kind of shocked and confused at why they even bothered continuing a tradition that was created for another life; but I suppose it was the tradition of it that meant something to us.
I mauled over words, "A frozen desert? Sounds far more painful than the heat of the actual desert," I mused softly to him, mind looming over the idea of a frozen wasteland. I knew that the desert was not the only place that could be inhabited by strange creatures. I had after all traveled quite a distance only to wind up in the village of man. The memory striking fear and mourning in my heart at even the slither of mentioning. I still had a permanent reminder of them on my face. I was not ashamed, I was proud of the markings by my eyes. "I kind of prefer the warmth," I paused briefly, "I have fur but I do not think I am quite cut out to be almost frozen to death." I chuckled at the thought, shifting my weight. I froze for a moment, forcing the fear from coming to the surface. Shit, he knew I was alone. The big white brute seemed harmless, but it was always the unsuspecting ones that threw you off guard. I mean I was the one who decided to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger..and all because he was blood of my kin. Damn, I was stupid. A smile slipped along my muzzle as my ears perked up. "Well, technically, I am not really alone," I motioned to him with a flick of my muzzle, "Yea, I am a wanderer." I paused for a moment, mauling over my next choice of words. "Not really sure what I am wanderin' too, just putting one paw in front of the other," I grinned real wide.
ooc: |
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Ulvar
He/Him
Cold Hearted
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December 13, 2017, 03:31:01 PM
(This post was last modified: December 13, 2017, 03:32:28 PM by Ulvar.)
"I would not suggest anyone try to explore my old home, unless your goal is to never be seen again," he nods slowly. Even his own pack had slowly died out, brought down one by one by the cold and harsh lifestyle.
But at her comment about the actual desert, he frowns, "I would perish in the heat far quicker than in the cold. If we are somehow similar in breed, we are far different in make." Even the thought of winding up in such a hot place made his head swim. Surely he would lose his mind, then his only escape would be to bash his head against a rock. He banishes the thought with another cool drink of water. Blue eyes cast up and across the surrounding terrain, and the white male considers his next move. So many different directions to go, and each of them carrying him farther and farther from his birthplace. The thought of leaving the lands of his youth was a bitter one, darkened by the memories of his family fading away and being replaced by violent strangers. Each scar is a permanent reminder of a different attack, a battle for his life where the prize was a title for some power hungry whelp. He had no help, no family, no one to tend to his wounds as he bled in a den alone. Leaving was his only choice. Perishing under their claws, the last of his kind, would carry no honor for him. At least this way, he had a chance to keep his pack's memory and blood from disappearing forever.. That is, if he ever found a home and someone willing to have him. Feeling as though he'd been sitting here long enough, Ulvar rises from his spot by the water and gives his fur one last good shake before returning his gaze to the other. "I suppose I'd better move on. Like you, I am just going wherever my paws will take me." And he already assumed the female would be interested in following. It would be a nice change not to travel alone, but she would soon learn that he is no babysitter. @"Mikerra" |
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Lyrium
She/Her
The Wayward Daughter
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「M i k e r r a 」
I tilted my head slightly at his remark, mauling over the possibility of one just vanishing into thin air. It was a considerable thought, one that I put heavy pondering too. If I had vanished without a moment's hesitation, would it be any better than me living now? I would not have to suffer the curse of my blood. Many lives would be safe from the grips of death. I would not have to live in constant fear, constant dread of the things I had done while the darkness consumed me. It was definitely one hell of a thought; but was it really the right thing to do? Was I really that insane to consider disappearing in the frozen wastelands? Even if I hated what I was, I still had the will to keep living. I have yet to explore the depths of life. I could not allow myself to rob myself of all the things life still dared to offer me.
I pushed myself out of my thoughts as the white brute continued to speak. This must have been a record for him. He seemed to rub off as the silent brooding type that gives off the 'leave me the hell alone' attitude. Stop judging Mikerra. "If you were born to the deserts, you would have adapted; but instead you adapted to your frozen wastelands as you so put it," I paused, a smile sliding along my muzzle. "It's not so bad. It's really warm and comforting, and it's not really a complete desert. Though it kinds of feels like one," I chuckled, shifting my weight as I watched him take another drink of water. I could not lie. I really missed my desert homeland, but there was not anything left there anymore. At least nothing left for me. If I traveled to the snowlands, would I really like it there? Yet, another blue eyed male asked me to go to his desert wasteland of a home. Did I really want to go? Did I really want to belong somewhere again? I was afraid to actually be in a vast company of creatures. I was afraid what might happen if I stayed too long. I was afraid to say yes, but I was too ashamed to say no. So, I told him I would think about it. He was kind, but I was not an idiot. I was not about to give another hope into something that may or may not happen. Was I really destined to travel alone, away from those that I could cause harm too? No, I was a wolf. Wolves weren't meant to be alone. Yet, I still had hellion blood in me and I felt like that was the blood that was driving me to this life. Do hellions socialize in packs? Do true hellions even bother to run with another? I was so confused. My mind began to kick back into reality as Ulvar began to rise from the position he seemed so comfortable in. He was leaving, but in a way that seethed expectation. Was I suppose to follow him? Did he want me to follow? Did I want to follow the ghostly beast? I am not sure if I hated being alone or I was just stupid; but I turned to follow him. I did not need someone looking out for me and I am sure he did not either; but the company seemed too comforting to pass up. "Onward to the next adventure my friend," I chuckled, musing to myself as I tried to make myself comfortable. I slid along side him, my long strides making it easy to keep pace. I was not massive, but I was still fast.
ooc: Mikerra encountered a Bacchus before this, she is still deciding where she wants to go. |
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