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#1
(This post was last modified: March 21, 2019, 06:32:24 PM by Halla.)

“Sometimes the one who is running from the Life, Death, Life nature insists on thinking of love as a boon only. Yet love in its fullest form is a series of deaths and rebirths. We let go of one phase, one aspect of love, and enter another. Passion dies and is brought back. Pain is chased away and surfaces another time. To love means to embrace and at the same time to withstand many endings, and many many beginnings- all in the same relationship.”


-- two days after arriving in Gemini --

Halla groaned, scratching and rubbing at her functioning eye until it opened and squinted against harsh morning light filtering through her tent. She held up her hand to shield her face, her nose wrinkling in loathing. Oh, how she detested mornings. But at least she wasn't receiving a bucket full of ice water to the face as a morning wake-up call. She certainly didn't miss that. Rolling over, she pulled her blanket of bear fur taught over her face and sighed, her hands falling to rest gently between her knees as a soft but bitter breeze snuck its way under her shelter. It was strange how tired she still felt from her journey here. She had strictly been sleeping for two whole days. She left intermittently to relieve herself, say hello to Gaven groggily, and eat whatever food he had left for her. Then it was back to bed. Gaven was doubtlessly concerned for Halla, but she was glad to have space to recover and find the energy to get up when she felt like it.

Today was that day, unfortunately. Her eye opened once more and she sat up, releasing a deep rattling groan. She frowned as she simply stared at the flapping walls of the tent, eyes narrowing. She was still fairly spent, but she was sure she was more tired of laying in bed than anything else. In swift motions, she hoisted herself up and gathered her belongings, quickly threw on her bear fur, and exited the tent. Her vision blurred instantly, and she murmured and complained even more at the sun for making the world so bright. Urgh, maybe I should lay back down until after dark...

But she forced herself to have a seat by the fire and sit in the snow for a bit before deciding if she wished to retire back to the tent again. It was a decent day, surprisingly. A bit chilly, but not as bitter cold as the night she had arrived on Gemini's borders. Gaven wasn't around right now. She supposed he must be off hunting or doing ordinary weird elf man duties. Perhaps she should find him and ask to introduce her to the wolves. She shook her head, sighing. No, she wouldn't bother him, especially over something so silly. She was annoying enough as it is just being here. She had to prove she was at least useful. 

However, according to Halla's track record, she'd never fail to find a way to distract herself from that. She wandered away from camp, picking up loose twigs and long fallen branches. She figured gathering wood for the fire and to make a spear was a great way to stretch her legs, do something worthwhile and productive, while also surveying the territory. Her legs swung and her arms swayed the firewood to and fro as she strolled, humming a familiar tune. She wasn't quite sure where she was. The land looked different in the morning light, and much more pleasant to the eye. The sky was glowing a muted peach and lavender, and it cast a blanket of glittering beauty over the now melting snow. It wouldn't be long before it would become cold yet again and freeze the water into ice, making the ground less easier to walk on. Halla was known to slip up majorly at least a few times every winter. She smirked as she pranced down a slope to take rest at a little bubbling creek. She'd say this year would be different (like last year), but she already tripped on her way in so that boat has sailed yet again.

The red haired girl carefully, not carelessly, lowered the sticks and branches against a large stone so they would not roll into the water that gingerly rolled through the woods and gracefully took a seat above them. The soles of her feet climbed up and planted flat on the boulder and she knelt, practically perching, and sighed in a placid manner as she looked about. Moments like this came rare for the young one. It took a great deal of effort to bring herself this far, and that required constant diligence and awareness of her surroundings. But to simply perch and absorb the beauty of this place, all so new and waiting to be discovered-- it filled her heart with confidence and excitement. Now, she could finally--

snap.

Red hair sweeped around as her neck twisted at the sound, her one eye wide and darting from side to side. Her fingers instantly twitched and hovered over her knife that she kept tucked in its sheath on her hip. She lingered, weary to pull it out. Something told her that having it out would put her more at risk than just keeping still and holding her breath. Were there threats here that the elf never warned her of?

"Gaven? ... Is that you?" No answer. Only the whispering sounds of wind, and utter silence. 


ooc; will make this pretty later, please wait for me to post with ivaylo before posting
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Ivaylo she/they
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#2
(This post was last modified: March 25, 2019, 07:34:29 PM by Ivaylo.)

"Wild Woman will hold us while we grieve. She is the instinctual Self. She can bear
our screaming, our wailing, our wishing to die without dying. She will put the best
medicine in the worst places. She will whisper and murmur in our ears. She will feel pain
for our pain. She will bear it. She will not run away. Although there will be scars and
plenty of them, it is good to remember that in tensile strength and ability to absorb
pressure, a scar is stronger than skin."

The delicate and sometimes vicious art of secrecy-- no one was truly a master of it. And the scar-eyed warrior was unquestionably below novice level. Yet, she grew accustomed to being alone once again as a consequence for her actions. It was time she took her distance from Gemini and her friends, her new family, and contemplate what it was that kept her here. Why she felt such a strong need to stay, why she knew so adamantly that this was her new place of belonging and existing. A couple days had passed since shouting at her dear friend, her adoptive brother, Angus. It wasn't quite formal yet, but how was she to make it so? There was no proper way to go about it, and so, she decided maybe some space was necessary (not that she had any say in the matter). She knew how much Angus meant to her. She just wasn't so sure anymore if she had made a positive impact... or, quite possibly, irreversibly ruined his life.

There was one thing Ivaylo was a master of, and it was overthinking. One could tell her a hundred million times to get out of her own head, and she would agree, but she simply could not. This was in her nature. She wandered aimlessly now, kicking up dirty half-melted snow and grumbling to herself. Why did you have to tell him those things? Why couldn't you have kept your stupid, filthy mouth shut? It isn't his fault that your family is dead... But... it isn't my fault that he's lost either. The pale woman slowed her pace, her gaze solemn as she heaved a deep sigh of frustration. Something inside her was so lost, forever lost. She could not bring Seva back from the void, her Father from her shitlist, nor her Mother from the dead. She could not force Angus to see reason and ease his confusion. Some vital thing has escaped her heart, and it is what made her brutally admit to her friend that her story was a farce and she was nothing more than his equal; a stray child, endlessly searching for family and home. No doubt, it had hurt Angus. It was selfish of Ivaylo to tell him that she was hurt twice as much by it, more than he, because she had lived through more trauma than he could ever imagine. And she wanted nothing more than to protect him from it at all costs. Still, it seemed all she had done was perpetuate it and make him feel unimportant.

So then, what was to be done about this? Was it better for Ivaylo to find Angus' family and bring him back home? It just didn't seem at all possible. What then? How could she make it better? How? How?

A swift breeze wafted her way, bringing forth a strange and unknown scent... It wasn't wolf. It wasn't Iaera, or Harriette, or Angus. What in the world? Instinctively, the muscles along her shoulders and spine rippled as she lowered her body and stalked forward. There was something ahead, something resting by the creek. It was... a girl.

snap. (shit!)

Ivaylo's eyes darted from the stick she had just stepped on to the girl who was now alert and glancing about, calling out for someone. She was frozen in place, her gaze glued to her target. She had never seen her here before. An intruder, maybe? It was so hard not to gape in awe. So, this was a human... Perhaps a harmless one, judging by her scarred eye. The wolf swallowed, hesitating to lightly touch her own with her paw. But she would take absolutely no risks. This was her home, Angus' home, and she would defend it with her last breath. She allowed another gust of wind to pass between them before creeping her way around, and...

she attacked her from her blindside.


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If I was my heart, I'd rather be restless.
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Halla she/her
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#3

"Tears are a river that take you somewhere. Weeping creates a river around the boat
that carries your soul-life. Tears lift your boat off the rocks, off dry ground, carrying it
downriver to someplace new, someplace better.
There are oceans of tears women have never cried, for they have been trained to carry
mother’s and father’s secrets, men’s secrets, society’s secrets, and their own secrets, to
the grave. A woman’s crying has been considered quite dangerous, for it loosens the locks
and bolts on the secrets she bears. But in truth, for the sake of a woman’s wild soul, it is
better to cry. For women, tears are the beginning of initiation into the Scar Clan, that
timeless tribe of women of all colors, all nations, all languages, who down through the
ages have lived through a great something, and yet who stood proud, still stand proud.
All women have personal stories as vast in scope and as powerful as the numen in
fairy tales. But there is one kind of story in particular, which has to do with a woman’s
secrets, especially those associated with shame; these contain some of the most important
stories a woman can give her time to unraveling. For most women, these secret stories
are her own personal ones, embedded, not like jewels in a crown, but like black gravel
under the skin of the soul."


A blood-curdling shriek could just barely escape Halla as she heard bounding paws approach her, and she had absolutely no time at all to veer away as a giant paw smacked her across the head and sent her barreling into the creek. She huffed and sputtered, attempting to lift herself form the water and clear it from her eye. But she was too slow. Another blow hit her in the side of her ribs, rendering her breathless and writhing in pain. She couldn't even shift her face to glance at her assailant. The shock and agony from being attacked again was overwhelming.

Using every last bit of strength and adrenaline she had left, the girl took a long gasp of air and rolled towards her attacker the second she heard it lunge at her once more. Her hands gripped dead grass and earth as she scrambled to pick herself up, half-crawling and half-running back towards camp. She would not waste time wondering who or what was coming after her. She didn't care, she didn't care. All she knew was she needed to get the fuck out. She should have stayed in the tent. She should have hid. She should have awaited further instructions. How naive of her to wander these unfamiliar lands, and to trust a stranger inviting her here. She had to go, had to go, had to go, had to--

"AhhhHHHAHAHHHHH!!!!" she screamed a second time, on the brink of crying, as she felt teeth clamp around her calf and jerk her backwards. Her chest hit the ground with a heavy THUD, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Her fingers dug into the ground and scraped at it desperately, but it was too frozen and cold. Halla couldn't hold back her terror-stricken yelps. She hoped and prayed to the stars that someone could hear her. Anyone. But her faith quickly diminished, her entire body being heaved back down the slope and under the shadow of this violent creature. Was this it? After finally coming closer to reaching her freedom, would it just end here? She couldn't even scream for help anymore. She was so horrified, she could only choke on her sobs and whisper, "Please... please!" The fangs tightened its grip on her with no mercy. She could feel blood running down her leg. It wouldn't be long before it would be ripped from her body. The dread forced her to give up. She couldn't move anymore. Her arms wrapped over her head, Halla could only do the one thing she knew how to do when she knew how hopeless she was; cry. Cry and hope that sooner or later, it would be over.

But... it stopped. She wasn't being dragged across the forest floor anymore. The animal's jaws still lingered on her leg, and she could feel its hot breath fuming against her as it panted. This was her chance. Kicking back her free leg, she felt her heel connect full-force into the monster's cheekbone, causing it to release its hold and cower back. It yipped and whined in pain, heavy paws pattering on the cold ground as it tried to scrape at its new wound. While it recoiled and tried to regain its footing, the girl was already up the slope and sprinting away, tearing through bushes and and trees. She didn't dare look back.
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