Fireweed Rise Godless

<blockquote>The iniquitous man was basking in the sun a short distance from his home, still reluctant to return after the thrashing the tawny lady had given him. The last thing he needed was for Silver or Elettra to take note of his torn hide and talk down to him while poking and prodding at him with herbs and other terrible smelling and tasting concoctions. Given time he would heal just fine, he was certain. Now the snows were finally melting and the first shoots poking their way through the sodden earth, he was content that winter was well and truly over.

Flipping to his back, favouring his uninjured side he allowed his tongue to loll from his mouth comically as he wriggled from side to side, loosening his rapidly shedding coat. If only it would lose its comical fluffiness with the coming of the spring, but alas, he would not be so fortunate. Rolling back over onto his stomach he raised his hulking frame with a wince and shook to loosen the fur further, sending small silvery tufts wafting on the wind. He knew he should return, but couldn't bring himself to do so just yet. Content to flop back down in the fresh fireweed shoots. Yes, he <i>was</i> content.</blockquote>

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>A WILD KICHE APPEARS –pokémusic –
Short and bad. Just wanted to get something up.</li></ul></span>
An irresistible itch had begun to creep up his paws and into his heart. His soul was cracked, dry, and broken in several places, and it longed for things that Kiche could not understand. He was so <i>thirsty</i> though he could not understand what it was he was thirsty for. <i>Wanderlust</i>. If the saint had known the word, he probably would have renounced this unsettling desire that went to his very core as something sinful. Lately, Kiche had tried to be better. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was rebuilding himself and his faith. But as he rose from the ashes he discovered he was incomplete, fractured, and empty. He felt as though he was a stranger to himself. Confused and distrustful, Kiche had taken to wandering, hoping with equal parts of his damaged, split soul, that he would escape himself and find himself at the same time. The itch didn’t feel so bad when he was walking.

A wisp of silver whirling and dancing in the gentle breeze suddenly caught his attention as it floated only inches from his face. The Hollow wolf was struck with surprise when suddenly another tendril drifted closer, only to land on his muzzle. Sniffing and tossing his head, he tried to rid himself of this strange, soft clump of silver. When he whirled around, though, he noticed it was <i>everywhere</i>, carried softly in the tender arms of the wind. <i>Why… it’s.. it’s fur,</i> he realized suddenly. Curiosity overcame him in an instant as he trotted upwind, searching for the source of these gray wisps, the itch returning to his feet as he climbed upwards.

The saint found the fellow at the crest of the hill, rolling and writhing contently like a child among vibrant bulbs of promised flowers. He withheld a snort, realizing that he had seen this wolf before at the meeting. “<b>Enjoying yourself, I hope?</b>” he said with a warm smile. This friendliness was another thing that the saint had found in the ruins of his former self. It was weird and unfamiliar, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it… but he wished to test it out anyway.
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<blockquote>A mildly familiar scent wafted on the breeze but he chose to ignore it as he was far too content to raise himself in greeting. <i>'Enjoying yourself I hope?'</i> The tone was friendly, but not a wolf he had close acquaintance with. He smelled of pack, so he raised himself with a wince as the wounds on his side pulled. <i>The teacher...</i> His face went from a grimace of pain to a small uncertain greeting. From memory the wolf had been in fairly close cahoots with Borden, so he would remain cautious for now. <b>"Very much so. Nothing like getting rid of a loose winter coat to make you feel as good as new..."</b> he joked, tongue lolling from his mouth at the completion of his little spiel.

He couldn't decide what to do from here. Surely to return home in this state was to attract attention from Silver and Elettra, two wolves he wanted to avoid until healing was unnecessary, he was sure he could do just fine without it. <b>"No chance the healer and her student have vanished from pack lands is there?"</b> he questioned jokingly, well aware the chances were slim to none. Perhaps he had imagined it, but it seemed as though there was no love lost between the teacher and the second. He looked around, wondering where he would go from here if his company decided to continue on his way. He had no solid plans until they happened.</blockquote>

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Small talk —was that what this was? Kiche lacked the experience to say with any conviction. But it was weird, somehow, to start a conversation out of thin air, out of a meaningless string of words that had no purpose but to fill the silence. Usually, the saint never opened his mouth without good cause to do so. But today he found himself smiling shyly at this heathen with a simple shrug, "<b>Yes, I suppose it is.</b>" Why, he was nearly a social butterfly! However, the ginger man felt as if he was having a harder time with easy conversation than the other heathens. They made it look positively easy. A small frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, as he wondered at his social inadequacies.

<i>"No chance the healer and her student have vanished from pack lands is there?</i>

These words ripped him suddenly from his sober reverie, giving him cause to laugh. So this fellow found them just as charming as he did? Although Kiche knew that Borden shared his contempt of Elettra... sometimes he got the feeling that Borden had become an outsider. Lately, he feared that he and Borden were the only ones that didn't care for Elettra, and that put them <i>both</i> on the outside. To hear those words come out of his packmate's mouth was a rush of relief and camaraderie all at once —an enemy of an enemy was a friend of his. The smile came easier to his face now, though his words were fraught with exasperation, "<b>I'm afraid that bitch holds on tight as ever. Why... are you,</b>" abruptly Kiche stopped, his eyes flicking up and down the length of the silver male, noting several barely healed wounds, "<b>Are you alright?</b>"
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<blockquote>A long stretch and a nonchalant grin crossed the battered mans face, masking the small wince as the wounds on his flank stretched. <b>"I'll be right..."</b> he said casually. While a bit of pain relief wouldn't go astray, he wasn't about to go crawling on his stomach to the women healers at the Hollow. He'd rather face that Swift River bitch again, even if Rhysis was there to back her up. It would appear he had a slight phobia of healers.

<b>"Just not a fan of healers you know? You never know if what they're giving you is going to make you better or kill you..."</b> He avoided females associated with healing too for that very reason. He normally wasn't fussy when it came to the fairer sex, Hawke with all her drama was a testament to that, but he couldn't bare the thought of being witched into staying, or potentially poisoned in his sleep.

The fellow before him was odd to say the least, but he was a pro when it came to dealing with quirks. He could handle Rhysis's no touchy deal, Hawke's fits, and his silver tongue had gotten him through many a drama before. There was something... He couldn't place it, but he wasn't one to readily judge. Everyone had a past.</blockquote>

<blockquote><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'><ul>oh my god I'm SO sorry for the tremendous wait. I've been so incredibly busy, and graduating high school —regretably— takes a priority :C

<i><font style='margin-left:20px;'>so without further ado...</font></i></li></ul></span>
Sure, he <i>claimed</i> that he would be alright, but Kiche had his doubts. That flank wound — that looked pretty bad. But these empathetic trappings of vicarious pain might have just been magnified by his own personal fear of boo-boos. Having come from a far more pampered background than many of these woodland beasts, Kiche had never really developed a healthy tolerance for pain. He whined and coddled the slightest of bruises and scratches —which had been numerous. That wasn't to say he overreacted <i>all</i> the time, though. When Elettra —<i>or had it been Vlar?</i>— had nearly ripped his tail off, he had been understandably apoplectic and frightened. None of this, however, contributed to the development of a medical capacity wherein he could judge the severity of a wound. For all he knew —and surely worried— this new friend he had made might very well be on his deathbed. Raising his eyebrows with obvious incredulity, Kiche refrained from saying anything further, not wanting to be there bearer of bad news or the unwelcomed worry-wort.

"<b>Seems barbaric, to me,</b>" He responded quietly, reclining to a sit, "<b>And I think Elettra would poison me in a heartbeat.</b>" The red man hadn't given it much thought, before, but now that it had been brought up, this fellow made a damn good point: <i>healers couldn't be trusted.</i> It was dangerous to trust knowledge that came from anything beyond an individual's own experience. And besides, <i>plants</i>? How positively <i>simple</i>. "<b>I just can't believe a smear of chewed leaves does anyone any good. </b>" <i>Faith</i> was the healing element. <i>Prayer</i> saved lives. It saved more than lives, actually: it saved <i>souls</i>. Suddenly, Kiche was in his element. The words, although perhaps hypocritical given his agliophobia and worries of but a moment ago, came easily to his lips, spoken with a patient benevolence, "<b>Tribulations of the flesh are merely small obstacles and distractions, at any rate.</b>"
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(This post was last modified: Apr 10, 2012, 10:51 PM by Corinna.)

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oh god I’m terrible D: So sorry for the wait but yes, graduating should take priority!

<blockquote>Concern was painted clearly on the ginger mans face and it began to make him mildly uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to anyone being concerned fr him, even his pack mates. He was grateful the Hollow wolves were so lax on where their members came and went. It really was time to be checking in again soon but he wasn’t ready yet, and it probably had something to do with the season and his sudden <span class='word'>xenophilia</span>. He had an itch that needed to be scratched yet and he had the feeling he was going to have to leave the lands of lore to scratch it.

He listened closely to the other wolfs words. A small smirk crossed his face at the mention that Elettra may poison the wolf in front of him in a heartbeat. He had yet to actually meet the lady second, but was clearly in no rush to do so. Whether it was the way she held herself or the disdaining look she gave the other pack members, current company included. His last statement however left the fluffy fool truly perplexed and it was clearly painted on his face as his head began to inch to the left. Covering his confusion quickly he turned his confused look into a smile. <b>”Not sure about any of that mate.”</b> he said with a small chuckle. <b>Not exactly the smartest you know? But I manage to get by...”</b></blockquote>

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>oh my god, i'm horrible. if you can't tell, i'm sort of losing muse for kiche xD. but only this round + the next until we can finish it?</span></li></ul>
It appeared that his mini-sermon had flown right over this fellow's head, something Kiche was blissfully unaware of as he stared up at a cluster of windswept cirrus clouds miles away from this silly, earthly conversation. The saint was hardly a man of the world. He was a man of heaven, of spiritual concerns and often given to spiritual distraction. Part of the reason he paid so little attention to the rapidly changing facial landscape of his comrades was maybe a little more than carelessness — he was still afraid to make any eye contact at all, and that often meant he preferred to keep his gaze pressed against the ground when his soul was heavy and skyward when his soul was light. At any rate, the red man needed the oral cue to realize he was perhaps overreaching himself with this attempt at conversation. "<b>Oh,</b>" he said awkwardly, his eyes flicking quickly to the silver face and then resting somewhere, anywhere else —like the patch of blue beyond his shoulder. "<b>Oh... I only meant.</b>" He struggled to find the words to revise his previous statement. "<b>That this world isn't the one that matters. This body of yours,</b>" tenderly, he stretched out a paw and ran it along the Hollow wolf's grey foreleg although it made his skin prickle uncertainly for reasons he could not explain with any conviction, "<b>It's not what matters.</b>"

Realizing he probably overstepped himself by engaging in a gesture so intimate with someone he hardly knew made himself feel strange. Strange because he was a heathen? Because heathens were dirty and satanic? <i>No</i>. That didn't appear to be it. Something stirred in him, but he shoved it aside, remembering to finish his sentence. "<b>Your soul. It's uh.. your soul that matters...</b>" Shuffling backwards, he stared rather pointedly at the vast azure ceiling that stretched out above them, "<b>You... you do ... I mean. Do you... believe in souls?</b>" So many of the heathens hardly even knew what a soul was that it was probably stupid to start with that assumption.
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<a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39YUXIKrOFk&ob=av3e' target='_blank'>Mood Music ;)</a>

<blockquote> He listened closely to the other man, one ear flicking back in confusion as the conversation turned to souls and the other choosing to join it as the slightly unhinged man reached out to stroke him. It was quite an unusual way to reinforce pack scent to be sure... His brows drew together in confusion as he attempted to process the information. His body didn’t matter? The world didn’t matter? But if he didn’t have the world, where would he wander? Where would he rest and drink and eat? He came to the conclusion the wolf before him was crazy. Harmless, but crazy.

The confused expression melted from his face with the realisation. There was nothing he could do to change it so why try? A silly grin replaced it instead. Sure he was sore, but from what this guy was saying it didn’t matter, it never would... And this had something to do with... what was it <i>Sawls?</i> <b>”Never heard of it, but it sounds pretty interesting. I’ve always hated the thought of growing old... whats a sawl?”</b> He rose himself to a sitting position to await the other mans answer before he would go in search of something to eat. His stomach grumbled in response. Yes. It was almost time for dinner.</blockquote>

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'><a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOl4oeHZnBk&feature=related' target='_blank'>SEXY TIEMS? ♪</a> you can just post and then archive it to make then ten<3</span></li></ul>Flustered, and rather embarrassed for his behavior, his ears lay flat on his head as the red man sought for a way to savage the sinking ship that had was their conversation. Although the other Hollow wolf didn't shy away or snap at him, his confusion was evident and it hurt him just as much. Kiche didn't want anyone to think of him as a <i>weirdo</i> — somehow the fact that just about <i>everyone</i> from the Ghastly woods to Fireweed Rise thought he was completely <i>mental</i> had thus escaped his attention — and yet here he was, <i>being a weirdo</i> for reasons he couldn't even understand. He continued to evade his comrade's eye contact, especially afraid of the weird stirrings that this particular fluffy fellow elicited from him.

His friend here, though, had enough social grace to move past the awkward groping and continue to flounder around in their hopeless attempt at conversation. But Kiche was too distracted by his own confusion. Stifled by his woeful bizarreness, he wanted nothing more than to escape this handso— this grey packmate and go bang his head repeatedly against a tree in solitude. Besides. He was pronouncing "soul" all wrong. This was too complicated. The man got to his feet, tripping over his words with equal adroitness, "<b>I... well. It's.. it's complicated. Can I... can't I explain some other time?</b>" He began to back away with halting, quick steps.

"<b>I mean, oh Pangur! Look at the time, my, my, my. Would you excuse me? I wouldn't want to miss... my phone call.</b>" And with one last <i>stupid, stupid, stupid</i>, Kiche abruptly wheeled about and bolted.
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(This post was last modified: May 13, 2012, 05:23 PM by Kiche.)

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