Drooping Willows you'll always get your way

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'><i>hey sybil
yeah, we're doing ok
i know it's zaney, but
i wouldn't change a thing

it's got to be a lovely world to sew
the likes of this girl I know
and may she,
may she sleep well tonight </i>

<b>this does not take place on WR territory. Very NEAR it though, if any of you want to be concerned.</b></span></li></ul>
He walked with the dignity of a hanged man.

Hanged because he was damned. Hanged because he loved and he doubted a God that rejected him and his people. Hanged because his <i>people</i> rejected his God. Hanged because he had left. Hanged because he had come back. Hanged because he had loved. Hanged because he had lost. Hanged because he deserved none of what he had been given. <i>Hanged because he was walking on the edge of a no-man's land that reeked of a banshee.</i>

He knew exactly what it meant, and yet his heart railed against it.

He had to know.

Along the border a giant stalked. His firebrand coat had been extinguished, reduced to a pile of auburn ashes. Maybe the fire had just been a trick of the light. His appearance was far more subdued than it had one been. The ugly crease of contempt on his muzzle had been eroded by some hard times, and it if it was possible... his massive frame looked shrunken. Maybe it had just been his pride that had made him look so towering and terrible. It had been smoke and mirrors, fire and brimstone. All that remained of the saint was a tired bag of bones longing to go home. <i>Wherever home was...</i>

He was sure that home was Grizzly Hollow.

Elettra had been sure that Grizzly Hollow was her home... <i>once</i>. But now she draped her carrion stench over willow trees and some bunch of wolves he had never met. The red man snorted, wondering vaguely if there was any danger in standing so near. Slowly, his great head turned, and he wondered at the irony of that banshee choosing such a place. The infamy rose like steam from the ground. Somewhere in this forest there was a broken willow tree and the shell he had left behind. Somewhere in this forest... maybe Aniu was lurking. He suddenly winced as if he had strained an old wound... then shook his head casually and continued his survey of the area in with the bravery and disinterested eyes of a hanged man.


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like my art? comission me!

http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j347/holdbacktherain/tables/sibyltab.png) bottom center no-repeat; background-color: #33353b;"> She was starting to doubt her mission. Quivering and shaking with her body hunched low against the ground she crawled like a soldier through no-man's land. She was trying to be brave, trying to face her own fears and show herself that there was nothing wrong with the place. Yet, at every moment and around every turn, she expected the snarling demon of a wolf to appear. She was trying to keep up her courage, but the scathing words of her sister echoed through her mind. "Wimpy little baby Sibyl, afraid of everything. Worthless." A small whimper rose from her throat, but she swallowed back the noise, not wanting to attract anything's attention to herself. Sibyl knew in her mind there was nothing to fear, but it was a different matter convincing her heart as such. It was light out, a gentle breeze ruffling her russet fur, the same breeze which pushed little white clouds across the sky. There was no raging storm or slick mud, like there had been that night. Even if the fiendish wolf did show itself in broad daylight, Sibyl would have plenty of time to turn tail and run away. At least, she hoped she could. She hadn't expected to encounter the scent of a strongly marked border, and she paused her crawl to uncertainly sniff at the air. On further inspection, she had found another surprise, of a vaguely recognizable scent. She couldn't quite place it, but she was sure it wasn't of her attacker. Curiosity gnawed at her, briefly overriding her trepidation. Just who was it, and why did she recognize them? The little wolf skittered after the scent, her eyes and ears searching through the hanging boughs of the willows for someone. It was when she saw the bit of rosy fur through the leaves that her memory clicked. The scent was definitely lacking from the one held in her recollection, but, it was him? Mostly she noticed that he didn't smell so strongly of urine, like the last time she had seen him, knocked out before a raging bear. Her golden brown eyes widened slightly in wonder. So he hadn't been eaten by the bear. She didn't even know his name, but she had wondered just what happened to him once she and Ice had stashed him away in a bush. She had never seen him again after that, and was only left to imagine the worst. <b style="color:#8a90a1">"Mister," She called out in her tiny voice. Slowly she moved towards him, no longer glued to the ground but still hunched over nervously. <b style="color:#8a90a1">"Mister? The... The bear didn't eat you?"

table by bryony

<blockquote>
A stupid courage began to swell in his chest, and Kiche thought of calling out, seeing who would come. Was it a death wish? He only wanted to talk... Although now that he thought about it, Elettra probably wouldn't see it that way. She was just as unforgiving as she was nasty. For a moment, the red saint wondered if he should pity the souls that dwelled among the willows. They probably lead a comfortless life with an unforgiving, impartially hard-assed bitch. Did they like it that way? Curiosity fluttered in his wakening heart. Who lived beyond the willows? The tall loner stood unashamed and exposed before the borders, his tail brushing lightly against the backs of his legs.

<i>"Mister? The... The bear didn't eat you?"</i>

Daring intentions were forgotten in an instant. The great red beast swung about wearily where he once might have whirled about with panic or passion. Instead, he found himself only vaguely confused. <i>Bear?</i> His eyes fell upon a diminutive girl of earth and ginger crawling towards him, and suddenly his heart lurched with interest. What once would have been an arduous process of translation came to him in an instant: <i>she was submissive, she was hesitant, and she smelled of the Hollow.</i> The saint wondered at the wilderness that had grown in his soul, still unsure if it was natural or deviant. "<b>Bear?</b>" he said out loud this time, his voice soft and dull, "<b>What.... bear..</b>"

And suddenly he knew to which bear she referred.

"<b>Oh, Pangur. <i>That</i> bear! I..hah.. I....</b>"Abruptly the fledgling smile that had begun to creep its way to his mouth began to falter. "<b>I didn't think anyone had been there... for that?</b>" Kiche hadn't remembered anyone being there... no one except the devil... Was this the devil that had been controlling the bear? His detached appraisal of the girl was uncharacteristic. She was too small, too sweet looking, too... <i>something</i> to be the devil. Abashed and confused, the red saint's ears swung backward.
</blockquote>

like my art? comission me!

http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j347/holdbacktherain/tables/sibyltab.png) bottom center no-repeat; background-color: #33353b;"> The unsure timbre of his voice caused the burn of embarrassment to creep up into her face. She began to doubt her decision to confront the man, and thought that she must have mistaken him for someone else. She considered just crawling backwards all the way home, or perhaps stuffing her head under some leaves for making the mistake. Yet, with a start, he did remember. It was him after all. Except now for a different reason Sibyl again regretted bringing up the incident, as it seemed to be an embarrassing memory for the male. She couldn't blame him. The wolf said something, a name, and Sibyl wondered if he had actually known the bear. She couldn't imagine anyone being friends with a bear. Apparently the wolf had been entirely unconscious throughout the whole ordeal. If only he knew how many had witnessed the debacle, and risked their own tails for it. <b style="color:#8a90a1">"Well, I... I suppose not. You were... I mean- It didn't... We..." The words died in her throat, unable to form some sort of response that wouldn't further damage his dignity. She wondered where he had gone to afterward, as her assumption at him becoming the bear's lunch was proven to be wrong. She had thought that he was also a member of the Hollow when she had first seen him, but she wasn't so sure of it anymore. He definitely wasn't now, but had he been? It wasn't something she could ask though, not wanting to overstep her bounds with the virtual stranger. <b style="color:#8a90a1">"Ah, well, it's good to see you're alive, in any case," she offered a small, nervous smile, her eyes still too wide for it to be really taken as any more than a polite gesture. She was poised as if the smallest surprise would cause her to dart off like a startled bird. The cerise male wasn't what she was afraid of, though he did make her nervous. But then again, everything made her nervous. <b style="color:#8a90a1">"Sorry," She apologized, for what even she wasn't sure. <b style="color:#8a90a1">"A-anyways, my name is Sibyl." Names were a better place to start than bears, she thought.

table by bryony

It was enough to rouse her from her slumber, far from the confines of her den yet still well within the safety of her home territory. It was enough to have her jump up from her placement suddenly, disturbing the grazing birds near in a fit of fear. It had her standing on end, the hairs along her spine raised and her head low and tucked back in a display of obvious defense. It was the scent of someone she both knew and hated. It was the smell of filth.
She moved as swiftly as her limps would carry her then. Though the very scent of the man screamed DANGER in her ears, she refrained from the time being to call her members, as she was certain he had yet to trudge through her home. Though as his scent grew nearer, mingled with anothers she would slow to a trot, her eyes searching before being certain that he still remained at the boarder. Though for what?
She remains behind enemy lines as she creeps forth, her head remaining aligned with her spine protectively but her tail high in obvious act of dominance. As the shadowy woman arrives, as scans them both: one a stranger and one the sunken form of Kiche's former self. Quickly, does her silvery pale gaze lock upon Sibyl, her eyes burning with an intensity, but otherwise showing no other aggression towards the woman. "Leave." She barks. "Followers of Borden are not welcome here." And although she meant to not bring down an enemy upon her pack, it should have been obvious to Borden that he, and his wolves, would not be welcomed so close to her territory - not after their fall out. Lastly then, did her attention turn fully to Kiche and it is here, where it remained. "As for you, I suggest you back off lest it be the end of you. Your treading dangerously close to my territory, Kiche." And, should he so much as take a step beyond her boundaries, she would reign down the hounds of hell upon him.

<blockquote>
Her quivering, stumbling speech gave him pause. Was she afraid of him? He balked, feeling as though he had brushed up against a kindred soul and could see his own fear reflected in her eyes. He knew what it was like to be afraid of others... Wolves were frightening beasts... His red eyes flickered down to his broad paws and drifted up his legs to his barrel-chest, wondering it was a beast she saw in him rather than a man. Often, he denied it, but part of him knew it must be there, the beast. There were beasts in everyone, perhaps. But Kiche could sense this darkness in him, and sensed that there was much more of this darkness in him than in others... "<b>We?</b>" he quipped softly, suddenly torn from his reverie. "<b>We who?</b>" Now that he thought of it, it had been rather strange to wake up in the belly of a bush when his last thoughts had been of collapsing in a clearing.

And then the air trembled.

His nose quivered. His ears swung about. <i>Elettra was near.</i>

Kiche had known she would have shown up sooner or later. He wasn't sure if the emotion that churned in his gut was fear or a perverse excitement. Did he crave the danger? He looked inside himself and found no answer. Suddenly, though, he remembered the presence of the little trembling woman — <i>Sybil</i>. Immediately he was ashamed of himself and his carelessness. She would have no part in what would happen... "<b>Please, whatever is about to happen... can you please stay with me?,</b>" he whispered, moving to stand in front of her just as the shadow-heathen emerged from the grasses. "<b>I think you saved my life once before already... and I'm not asking you to do it again...</b>" Elettra was getting closer. "<b>But can you just tell Jaysyek what's happened to me if it goes badly?</b>"

He was running out of time.

"<b>And tell her Arlette is — </b>"

"<i>Leave.</i>"

Her command sent an icy shiver down his spine... and yet... he found he <i>liked it</i>. Her presence was large — larger than his, anyways — and it was as if she drew her power from ley lines in <i>her</i> realm of willow boughs. Each word she uttered was a slap in the face. And yet... it was <i>thrilling... and he needed more.</i> In an instant he lay prostrate on the ground, fire kindling in his eyes. "<b>Elettra,</b>" he said softly, though perhaps the excitement made him stutter, "<b>It's... it's been awhile.</b>" There was no greeting that could adequately capture their relationship or their history, and his voice trailed off... But he didn't want to be sent away. He wanted another beating.

"<b>I see you've laid claim to these parts...</b>" he said offhandedly, his tail sweeping in an arching gesture that was meant to stand for the willow forest, "<b>It's a nice place you have.</b>"
</blockquote>

like my art? comission me!

http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j347/holdbacktherain/tables/sibyltab.png) bottom center no-repeat; background-color: #33353b;"> A scent was weaving its way through the willow forest, a perfume more suited to the scents of the willows than that of the two foreigners within its domain. Sibyl had noticed it, and it seemed the male had caught it as well. Her head wiggled in a quick nod of compliance at his whispered request. As he moved before her, like some sort of shield, she wondered just what he was protecting her from. She crouched down behind him, her beady eyes peeking around his tawny limbs. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to see what would soon appear through the hanging willow branches. She liked Miss Jaysyek, felt her life was owed to the matriarch for having taken her in. If it was important for her to know what had happened to this man, Sibyl could only oblige in his request to stick near him. It was when he mentioned Arlette that her breath caught in her throat. She remembered Arlette. She was a sweet girl and Sibyl had hoped to see more of her, but she had simply disappeared. Arlette's disappearance was something that Sibyl was interested in herself, not just for the sake of her leader. She wanted to look up into the male's face, to see the words from his own mouth, but her vision was locked onto the trees, waiting for whatever was to appear. Like a shadow a dark wolf emerged, and Sibyl further sank behind Kiche, becoming his shadow herself. Too quickly, the woman's monochrome eyes found Sibyl's own, and Sibyl quailed under their weight. As much as Sibyl wished to dart away, she could not follow her command. She didn't understand why she would be condemned for simply being under Borden. She could see nothing wrong with the man, and even if Borden was guilty of something, Sibyl hadn't done anything besides exist. Perhaps simply existing was enough. She shifted down further, her ears and tail pinned so closely to her body she was nothing more than a quivering ball of fur. Not able to meet the eyes, or even the form of the dark woman, she stared at the earth between Kiche's paws. Their words swirled past, and over, Sibyl's head. She didn't understand the context, but understood enough that this was not a friendly reunion of any sort. Still, her muscles were coiled for retreat, should it soon be required.

table by bryony

Frozen the small woman had become, so sunken to the very earth below her that she could have easily thought herself to meld into the lands around her. Elettra's eyes burned with a scowl, but said nothing to the woman for the moment in time. She cared nothing of the woman - both nothing good, and nothing poorly towards her. Politics were politics and Borden was no friend of hers and thus, his followers did not belong here: at her doorstep. However, the full length of her attention extended to Kiche, whom immediately through himself to the ground before her dusted paws. His first word comes as a shock to her, for it is her very own name which crosses his lips. Never before had he bothered to use such a title, or at least not spoken in such a way worthy of remembering. Heathen was most benefiting of a term he had offered to the extent of his very own kind and Elettra had been to him, the very Queen of the monsters whom lived within this realm of what was seemingly to the preaching man, Hell itself.
And yet for some reason here he groveled before her, attempting a play at re-acquainting himself with the woman, which Elettra merely snorted towards, offering a baring of her teeth there after. "Is it ignorance or arrogance which defies my demand?' She speaks, the air of the enigmatic woman's tones everything of a cold spat. Aggressive she remained without fault and much reason, her hackles and tail high, her ears and head tucked back. The silver hue of her gaze was slitted in loathe before the fiery timbered wolf. "Lest you have business with the pack, I said LEAVE!" And with that her body jerks forward, her jaws opening for a snap at Kiche's face/muzzle before reaching back quickly from which it came. Her attack would surely make it's mark, less he move to avoid it. Consider it her most gracious final warning.

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'><i>I cry, "Babel, Babel look at me now," but the walls of my town they come crumbling down</i></span></li></ul><font style='margin-left:20px;'>i swear i started this post 5 different times.</font>

She gave two options, but he agreed with neither. Instead he offered a third, his voice a trembling whisper, "<b>Penance.</b>" He did not look up to see how this word might offend the black lady — not at first. He was busy inside of himself, searching for an explanation but finding none, knowing only that he felt so terribly dirty. But his filth did not make him humble. It swelled within his breast and carried him off through warring tempest in his brain to an island of self-indulgence. Kiche coddled his ego so sinfully and so naturally that his own soul struggled with the weight of the secret. Inside of the Saint there was a quiet war between his heart that longed to love himself, and his faith that rejected his secret pride. He knew he did not deserve to be happy, and he didn't ask to be. But silently, he had asked to love himself — and this would be his answer. He could punish himself by submitting himself to this woman he had thought to below him and thus rise again a godly man or he could indulge himself, he could force others to hurt him and learn to love himself through pity. But of this, Kiche knew nothing, only the electric current of speech that scorched his arteries and shocked his heart. He found the courage to look up.

And suddenly the pain was real. The red man couldn't find it in him to move — he didn't <i>want</i> to move. Ivory fangs snatched at his face and came away with fur and blood. Nothing had ever felt so good. Shame and confusion welled up from the cracks in his heart as his eyes closed in something that could have been ecstasy or agony. "<b>Let,</b>" his voice cracked from the tension in his body, "<b>Let me stay!</b>" His eyes of fire and brimstone flew open suddenly, and they clung to the silhouette of Elettra looming above him. Suddenly he longed to look her in the eye, to kindle her anger with a challenge... But she would drive him away then, and then this... this would all end, all the excitement would be over. His lids fell back over his eyes. "<b>Let me right every wrong I have ever done you. Let me prove my worth...</b>" But he had no wroth to prove. The statement sounded hollow and trite. He amended, "<b>Let me create my worth.</b>"
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like my art? comission me!

http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j347/holdbacktherain/tables/sibyltab.png) bottom center no-repeat; background-color: #33353b;"> There was a strange, yet quiet, disembodied whooshing and squeaking that Sibyl couldn't quite place. She didn't realize that it was her own whimpering voice and panicked breath that trembled within her body. She had seemingly been ignored by the woman, but that didn't necessarily make her feel any safer. Her would-be protector was pressed against the ground nearly as much as herself. Sibyl wasn't watching Elettra as she couldn't bring herself to even look at the dust that clung to the wolf's black paws. She nearly hoped that by not looking at the woman, Sibyl might become invisible and avoid any sort of confrontation. A childish whim, perhaps, and she nearly thought it had worked. Her mind had closed off to the flow of conversation, trying to focus on how important it must be for her to stay, to find out what happened to Kiche, and Arlette... If not for herself, at least for Miss Jaysyek. So wrapped in her terrified thoughts, she wasn't prepared for the sudden lunge by the she-wolf. Sibyl didn't know that the strike was only meant for Kiche, and with a yelp she was on her feet and running before she could make sense of what had happened. She had made it a good few yards into the trees before she slowed down to a trot, remembering her duty. She couldn't leave, not yet, at least. But there was no way in hell she was going back there, especially as the tinge of fresh drawn blood carried on the air towards her. She stopped to listen, worry creased across her brow. There were no sounds of fighting, yet Kiche hadn't ran either. She didn't consider that she had already run far enough as to not hear the man's words. Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened as realization hit her. Blood and silence followed death. Kiche had been killed. She could stay no longer, and like a wild wind she tore off through the forest as if being chased.

table by bryony