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+---- Thread: Lost Lake Poets of the Fall (/showthread.php?tid=18493)
Poets of the Fall - Elias - Oct 07, 2018
Elias is at the northern shore of the lake.
Oh his head, it ached so much Elias could barely think. The past few days had been nothing but a blur of grey and red, he must have taken a fall at some point but the where and when was a complete mystery to him. All he knew was that he hurt , and it wasn't just confined to one part of his body like he was used to. Nope, it was pretty much everywhere, from his head-which was particularly sore- all the way to the tips of his toes. And back, just for good measure. Beneath his blonde coat he was covered with bumps and bruises, ugly purple things that made every limpy step feel like torture.
He stumbled along, dazed and confused. How far away was....he couldn't remember it's name but there was a lot of water. Bright and shimmering with...wolves he cared about? He squinted, desperately trying to remember their faces. He just didn't- he couldn't... he was reaching out but when he pulled back his grasp was empty, like he'd been trying to capture fog between his teeth. Elias shook his head only to wince, hard. Owwww.
He kept on limping, on and on till the crunching of stones reached his bloodied ears. There was water ahead, a massive body of it and yet, he felt no spark of familiarity. There was nothing, he felt nothing. His cold gaze flitted down to the water's surface and he froze rigid. He was a mess. His face was marred with thick, ugly cuts, like jagged fault lines, and the fur that had once been pretty and blonde was now brown and icky, glued together by congealed blood. He was...not quite hideous but- Elias couldn't help but think of pale unblinking eyes, tongues lolling over the side of opened mouths that would never speak again.
"Oh." Was all he said.
RE: Poets of the Fall - Birtie - Oct 07, 2018
[dohtml]
She roamed without concern. It probably seemed to foolish after the recent rank shuffle but she did not care. She still had an obligation to look at the area beyond the borders. She would not be a dull, idle leader.
There was stale blood on the breeze with a hint of life. It could not be ignored and she moved closer. A large figure of blonde coloration stood on the edge of the water. Her nostrils flared as her good eye squinted. He was the carrier of both scents. That's when she spotted it. His face a mucked maroon with what she could only assume to be the stale blood.
For once in a long time, she felt something akin to pity. Her own face had been close to that not long ago. Was the loner back? Were the coyotes?
A soft whuff escaped her as she moved closer but stopped just a few yards away.
RE: Poets of the Fall - Elias - Oct 08, 2018
Elias was tempted to just collapse where he stood, to lay down and let the water take him. To say that he was exhausted was a massive understatement, heck he didn't even know how he remained standing. Maybe it was out of habit? His legs felt stiff, like they were locked into place as they turned to unfeeling stone. Wouldn't it be so much easier, if he just couldn't feel? Numbness would be better than this, anything would. Of that he was pretty sure.
Slowly his gaze moved from the water to a pale figure who stood a short distance away, a dozen or so footfalls from the shore. He felt nothing when he looked upon her, not a spark of familiarity or even a fuzzy sense of affection. It was almost like looking at a rock, something cold and inanimate. She woofed at him then and his ear flicked again. Days ago he would have been overly eager to respond, to build a rapport between them but now he simply stood, dazed and confused. His tongue felt dry and heavy in his mouth, he wanted to speak to say something, anything but the words just didn't come.
Instead he whined, his voice sore and raspy as though he'd been gargling gravel for the past few days.
RE: Poets of the Fall - Birtie - Oct 18, 2018
[dohtml]
Ah shit, he wasn't going to talk much was he? The graveling whine was like nails on stone to her. She couldn't stand it and the look on her scarred face portrayed that. While she usually appreciated silence, well, for once it would have been nice to have someone talk. Just so she knew what the fuck was going on with that face.
Drink up. She ordered softly as she motioned to the lake's surface. They were right here and it would be a waste to chase him off thirsty and bloody. At least she assumed he was thirsty by the hoarseness of his tones. Perhaps he naturally sounded like that.
RE: Poets of the Fall - Elias - Oct 18, 2018
Elias did as he was told, with a sigh he limped forward and bowed his neck. For a moment his mind drew a blank, how was this supposed to go? Shoving his nose into the water didn't seem like a good idea, so what? He stood there, awkward and still then in a eureka moment he remembered and quickly flinched as he scolded himself. How could he have forgotten? Was he stupid, damaged in the head? Perhaps, or maybe he was just very very very tired. Or a mixture of all three options? He would never know and trying to figure it out seemed like too much effort.
His tongue flicked out from between his lips and the first taste of water was heavenly, like paradise upon his scotched tongue. He drank and drank till he felt sloshy and full, it was only when he could take no more did he raise his head and shakily look at the stranger. Whoever and whatever she was he supposed she had helped him, even if reluctantly.
It didn't even occur to him that he ought to wash the muck from his face. The water had done wonders to soothe the ache in his throat but everything else, his mind and body, was still a mess.
"Yeah." Came his delayed and dumbfounded response, better late than never right?
RE: Poets of the Fall - Birtie - Nov 28, 2018
[dohtml]
She watched him and for a brief moment, she worried she would have to pry open his mouth and shove him into the water. Granted it seemed he wasn't a complete lost cause. Birtie wasted no time in taking a few slow steps towards the beefy male. She wasn't scared of him even if there were questions to be had about the mess on his face. She'd been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
Your face. She said as if that wasn't an abundantly clear point of discussion. What did you do to it? The Cove wolf asked with one squinted eye, there was nothing to be seen in the scarred up side of her face besides a tattered pinched brow. Truth be told, she couldn't figure out what exactly had even happened - where wounds began and finished. She was hoping she wouldn't have to call a healer for him but even the most bitter creatures were prepared to have to have a heart sometimes.
RE: Poets of the Fall - Elias - Dec 14, 2018
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Elias blinked slowly, the words not immediately registering in his mind. What had happened to him? He shook his head, as though that would help shake the memories loose. The past few days were still a blurred mess, grey, foggy and yet painted red. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he'd gotten hurt, not too badly but enough to damage his memory. His pebbles had spilled all over the floor, rolled off in dozens of different directions. He didn't even know where to start looking, or whether it was even worth the effort.
"I don't..." He trailed off with a sigh, he was so so very tired. "I'm not sure. I woke up like this and...that's it."
That's all he could think of anyway, talking was hard and stringing together sentences that made sense was even more difficult. His icy gaze wandered, roaming the tree line before landing upon the white lady again. Oh, her face was all messed up too. Maybe they matched.