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Post by Storeh on Jul 17, 2011 18:24:14 GMT -5
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Picking the path of least resistance through the parting of the trees, the brute sauntered without whim or the particularity of way. The rustling of the canopy did not bring him to cast his gaze skyward as some equines would tend, instead the yellow pools focused without stray before his stride. A patchwork coloring braced against his coat, drastically shifting at the shadows that already lay, the two battling for the tone as another stilt was brought forth. Sheltered by the conscious of mind, Call Me Jack continued to pace through the ruined forests of Terra Scure, heeding little warning of the larks or other beasts, wondering to himself of other souls yet not bringing himself to care. Humming in low to himself, he smiled at the thought of a picturesque stroll rather than the grotesque bearings he was passing through, undaunted by the images planning on the screens on his head. The gentle thrashing of his hooves against the baked underbrush like the scraping of teeth against skin. Ah, what a thing to waste. Neither a blessing nor a curse as he turned at the fork in the made road, thinking the broken branches quaint. Dismissing the thinkings of his homeland with an eager dismissal of hand, ears flickered for a moment with the drawing of audios to a standstill. Not playing the part of the fool, the stallion pulled himself into an easy halt, nostrils flaring at the soundlessness. Jack checked time for a second, then another, before tilting his head and narrowing his eyes into the shade. The forest came alive once more around him.
The strands of his tail brushed the ground for a moment, his thin slits of eyes continuing to survey the expectant surroundings. Knowing, the keeness of a sharpened mind. Without pausing to inspect more, least something be then drawn out of hiding, the young mixed blood moved forth once more, measuring each moment down to the tiniest grain of sand. Pace. One. Two. The flicker of eyes to a leaf, to the sky, the flutter of wings against a tree. He checked himself, gathering the strength in his muscles, nostrils seeking scent once more. His teeth pressed slowly together, firmly, locking away the words that wished to flow. Jack had passed through this place many a time in the whimiscal journeys he took while his father was away, but this was the first that a possible complication had been presented. The nagging against his normal wave of thought was tangible, unmistakably familiar, and at once he knew what it was, where it was, and what he should do. A projection as though a flickering image on a screen.
A small smile graced his lips, turning fleetingly up the corner of his maw with the catching. It was not a portrayal of the now, or the then, but the what of and the soon. His whipcord once more grazed across his back leg to slash across the ground, anticipation spreading across his tongue. The delinquent choked back the feeling and checked the surroundings, gathering himself into a confident stride, edging away any other pose. Just a sense of knowing, for he did know as he continued on without pressure, picking up the tone where he had let it drop, stance and expression otherwise neutral. He tossed the strands of his long measured forelock out of his eyes, trying to farther suppress the smirk edging towards the corner of his maw. Smug was a word breathed through confidence, that clearly and cleanly cut.
Who was he to save today?
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[/color] Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: .... [/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by sibber-chow on Jul 30, 2011 13:58:54 GMT -5
It had felt like such a long while since Des had seen her lover - lover, the word left a foul taste in her mouth. She wasn't certain why, but she decided that that was not the correct coinage for the Saint. Jimmy had a special place in her heart, he had the only place in her heart, but she wasn't sure what could correctly name such a feeling without curtling her gut with discomfort.
Distraction soon came to relieve the mare's burdened mind, and just in time, she was becoming quite fed up with being trapped so entirely inside of her mind. The mind could only muse so much enjoyment; she needed some sort of action, some sort of companionship even if only temporary. The rustle of leaves and crackling of branches from a footfall was heard ahead. Past encounters, told in the scar across her muzzle, taught her to take more cautious steps as she approached the figure. She could scent that it was a stallion, which often proved all the more fun to toy with, though all the more dangerous to encounter.
As she caught visage of the oddly marked stallion curiousity peaked her momentarily. She knew enough to tell he was of elemental making, not that it truly meant much to her. It was enough to say that he would likely be a more interesting encounter than the typical horse of the island. The mare elongated her route to come from behind his figure, her nose twitching with the painful memory of her father's bloody bay minion. "For such a dark place, you seem to be in quite the mood," she cooed, taking a casual halt a few paces from his flank. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the stallion with as much interest as you could expect from her, one that dwindled quickly with every still passing moment. She could only hope this brute could captivate her interest long enough to suffice until her next moments with Jimmy and deeply enough to distract her mind from thoughts of that very manner.
Her left haunch twitched as she took an impatient breath. The hot air that filled her lungs tickled the white fuzz growing atop her aforementioned scar as it trickled back out her nares. "Why so chipper then, when everyone else seems so fucking plagued?" This, she was truly curious about. There were so few who had what she considered true enjoyment - they were all too damn afraid, too controlled for fun to be allowed. Was he one of the puppet masters? Was that why he seemed to hold his head with such pride? Or, perhaps he was a more kindred brethren? Or, much more likely of the island inhabitants, was he just too dumb to realize his misery? |
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Post by Storeh on Jul 30, 2011 14:25:52 GMT -5
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It was the shiver of presence that called for the brute to stop, the little cushioning of hooves against the forest floor, farther alerting the Elemental to what he already knew. Amazing how life could be trivial at best, the smile curving at the edge of his maw, bringing it higher as he digested the words with a tinge of wonder. In a mood indeed when he was setting out to end another's misery, tie the knot of salvation in the most amazing of ways. The edge of his eye cast back to peer at the mare, her scent something untraceable and nearly uncatchable at the wind, something to hint farther at her breeding. What was the point, really? He already knew, right? Ha. His bright eyes tracked her for the moment, the station she had taken beside his pelting, reaching for something, hinting at the need for a conversation. Smile broadening, he did not bother to turn to her fully, inspecting her frame for but another lingering moment before turning back to his own devices as though to shrug, his stance mirrored in the usual essence without complication. An encounter of the sheerest of kinds, the lingering scent of a stag on her bodice. So much to think over, yet so little it meant to Call Me Jack. Yet by the words she uttered, giving grace to meaning, it drew him closer to what he was seeking. A will to lead to the end. An ending to draw him closer to the close. Her pelting, her breeding, her marking, her way, her personality meant nothing to him. The nagging of need without speculation, the thinking of words without contemplation. All he had learned again brought to the world with the pose of arrogance on his lips with a smile. A service, then, for those who wished it so? Neither what or where.
'Because I am the bearer of salvation,' The speaking in low, without a rehearsed line, the bringing of the bait on the line. Was there a hook, then? Or just another to be cast so aimlessly. The inhale and exhale he felt at his side was something without contemplation. There was no dire need on his expression, no falling of idleness in his complexion, the wind taking claim of his forelock and goatee, his eyes looking back for a moment to seek hers through the mask. A masked vigilante with the justness of a cause? Yet what would she see, her with her blood and scars. Call Me Jack measured the time, the passing of moments, the encounter faltering without her interest. Time was never of essence, but he was counting the grains, each one slipping by and keeping a claim. Again it faltered with the showing of his smile, him wondering why she was in such a foul aura. Did her lover leave her to chase for a whore? Did her father beat her or neglect her or keep her on a short chain? Yet Jack had the nagging feeling again, the knowing of knowledge as was his custom. Her name was on his tongue, though he did not utter it, just taking a step to swing his flank around with the bow of his head. Manners are short.
'Call Me Jack, my lady, without penance or cause.' He added a wink for the raucousness of hysteria, the smirking wildly to show, it was a game now for the pieces where in place. Where would she go? Deny him of this? 'What may I do for you today?' The wonders of the world to be laid out before her, yet there was nothing to be chosen or done. The bearer of sorrows, yet he shrugged at the misery with a service or a smile. Grinning was something one might take lightly. Another smaller smile graced the edges of his lips, turning fleetingly up the corner of his maw with the catching. She was unknowing, but would be knowing soon, shall she wish it. He tossed his forelock from his eyes and took a step backward as though to give her more room, though the gesture might have not been needed. The delinquent said nothing more but continued his gaze, though the inspection had passed with the mentioning of name. Not mention, but known without the breath of a doubt, the honing of skills without the mention of defiance. His eyes were sparking with anticipation, the shadows playing figures off his pelt. Continue, my love. Speak now, or forever find yourself wondering.
Where others born that way?
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[/color] Muse: Wondrous as Poison.
OOC: .....
Music: Viva La Gloria? :: Green Day [/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by sibber-chow on Jul 30, 2011 15:21:41 GMT -5
Her brow quirked slightly as the stallion made no initial attempt to truly face her. She wasn't offended as most would be, rather left wondering more about the brute and his diversion from the social norm. She, like him, cared little for the breeding, or even his name, but what he stood for and what he thought, those were always interest peakers for the little rebel. His overdignified response as the bringer of salvation cause a humored snort to escape the mare. "And, who the hell do you think you can save? We're as damned as it gets, everyone of us."
She paid little mind to his eyes as he studied her form, it was nothing to take alarm at. She'd done the very same to him upon approach, and she wasn't one of those bubbling twits of a mare that automatically assumed the most lecherous of nature from the gesture. Her stature didn't truly change until he finally moved to actually face her - she became a slight more rigid by instinctive reaction, but eased back into a loose stance before an eye could be blinked. She made no attempt to return the cordial nature of the bow, although she did comply with her own name. "Desdemona," curtly slipped from her lips, although she couldn't help but smile at his wit. She, too, thought little of names aside from the overwhelming societal need to label everything as something. It was a necessity, she supposed. Upon query, the mare cocked her head slightly. What did he think this was? She didn't need anything of him... or maybe she had. It hadn't really occurred to her, she had sought him out for something - to relieve her boredom. He'd at least done enough to keep the gears in her mind reeling. Today wasn't entirely wasted.
The wind whistled past the mare with a slight unease, as if warning her that her time might be better spent elsewhere; it was always a force that tried to stifle and contain her. She had learned little from her past encounters that some warnings were best heeded.
"You know, I hadn't thought much about what I needed," and in truth she hadn't. A quirky smile flashed her maw as she eyed the brute, "but, your the great savior, so why don't you tell me? What have I that you can save me from?" Sarcasm was thickly layered upon each word, and the oddly marked mare gave a toss of her head, amused with her own jest regardless of whether he might find offense or not. |
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Post by Storeh on Jul 30, 2011 15:43:19 GMT -5
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Sarcasm or wit where either wasted or plagued, a burden to those who did not understand when someone was making fun of them. The tinge of her voice, the volleying of her banter, the wishing to increase the rise and warrant a reaction was a humor in itself, the edging of a smile spreading as a laugh vibrated from his vocal chords, edging into the painful spanning of silence like butter thinly spread on toast. Was he to be insulted by her gestures? Her mockery of his title, his nature or way? Yet it was with all complication that others sought to make fun of something their neither believed in and understood. Thought was a thing uncommon and bringing together the tides. Yet the edge of his mind had caught the tense moment of form when she turned around, leaning to the jumping of conclusion that lead to be true. Straight the mark, like a pin to the heart, almost as though something of the sort where warranted for reactions. Time was a spanning of chance, a spinner of circumstance, and he was knowledgable. Hell, he was a child of wisdom, and time itself! What did the mare expect of him? Nothing, which meant that he would give her something to taste, try, and turn over. A shiver passed through his pelt as he detected the shivering of the wind, a click in his mind, a path leading forward. He pushed against the wind himself, feeling it twist and respond under his will. So this is what his sire had been speaking about. His eyes inspected her for another moment with a grin. Then her Elemental breed was Era, full or part was yet to be decided. Her name was dismissed easily, for it was information he had already heeded and tested past. Even if he could aid her nothing, she had given him something in return. Yet could she tell that a secret had been spanned between them? Time would aid, tell, and present, like a gift packaged directly to him from him. A gift to himself then? Idly, he pushed the wind about some more, just to test it for a moment while he thought of an answer.
'The way you inspect me aids me to believe you are in love with another, however spectacular that may be. By the way you inevitably tense when I move toward me aids the belief that you have been wronged by a stallion, a stranger at first glance, who gave you those scars on your maw. But since I already know what I can save you from, I suppose I can share. I can save you from the brute that is hunting you, for this time when he catches you there will be more than scars on his order. For it seems you are caught in his web, no?' Was this the hinting at a name? Call Me Jack could feel the bubbling of laughter at this knowledge, this little consquential knowing of just what this mare had wandered upon, gotten herself into. Orpheus? Yes, Greymarch had spoken the name before to himself, and here was one of the side-effects of such a brute, one to cast away from his herd. And now she was being hunted on a death-wise. Wonders. Yes, he could prove a distraction from such things. He could save her from something so simple. Yet her needs followed also a different path, one he could not aid against. St. Jimmy. He turned the name over in his mind, wishing so to meet this equine. There was a strength to the name that meant something more, but his mind would not will into existence the answer. Idly, he continued to play with his new found power, waiting for a reaction or warranted answer of some sort. Spider? Spyder. St. Jimmy and Spyder. Two beings he would rather like to meet.
He kicked very lazily at the ground drawing below his feet, thinking to himself across these tides, wishing to unlike farther explanations, the history of this mare as well as these beings. Yet the mare didn't interest him as much anymore with the opening of doors to these other beings. Spyder brought the notion of insanity. St. Jimmy brought the notion of rebellion. 'Hmm. Spyder and St. Jimmy...' He tasted the names across his tongue, turning over the thoughts that each name brought for with them, his tone low enough for him to be muttering straight to himself. His eyes sought the mare - Desdemona's - once again, curious to the fitting of the puzzle. St. Jimmy was her iconic lover, then? Though the word...didn't fit? It was interesting, like reading a book in another language, when you only knew a few of the words. Smiles still at the service to be done. Even if his task would be futile, it would be a venture to remember. He wondered for a moment and again.
What if curiosity didn't kill the cat?
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[/color] Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: St. Jimmy :: Green Day [/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by sibber-chow on Jul 30, 2011 16:28:42 GMT -5
Blue eyes dimmed as he spoke of love and betrayal - of the two beings that plagued every lone moment of her thoughts. And, now, even in the company of another, she was burdened with thoughts she wished not revisit. She sought not to think of her dependency of another or the hesitation that tried to wedge itself into every thought, every action from Spyder's attack. Both had been things, she'd never believed would exist within her - and both were things she denied the ability to overtake her. She could acknowledge their existence now, she had no choice, but neither would spoil her time. Snapping from her bogged state, the mare's crown bobbed slightly in recognition of the names.
She gave him a skeptical glance before allowing a snort to escape her nostrils. She didn't wonder for long about his knowledge, it was safe to assume the relation to be with whatever element flooded his veins. Offering a smile she mused, "so you can identify my demons, but vanquishing them," she paused, taking a casual step back, "doesn't seem so fucking easy. You might could rid him from my trail, but the demons are always going to be there." Shaking her head, her blue eyes livened back up as a smile crept upon her maw. "But, I'm not looking to be saved or any shit that." Then I would become the hopeless, cave in to the societal expectancy. "I'll just live with my demons and take what comes," she snorted, taking a few paces past his form. "But, I'm damn sure you'll find a nice selection among these lands to become a cult to the salvation you offer."
The stallion had given her something to mull over, whether it was something she wanted to cross her mind or not - but his offerings, his salvation, wasn't suited to Desdemona. She didn't expect anyone to save her; she just lived life to get by with what hedonistic joys she could manage. Denying things that were inevitable as if it made a difference if you lived your life as a drone or a free spirit. There was no more to it than that.
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Post by Storeh on Jul 30, 2011 16:56:20 GMT -5
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Wasted for the moment was time either misplaced or spent anything other than how it was, standing in the presence of a mare who needed something which he refused to take for granted, even when she slapped such an offering from his hand as though it were a poison. He was not new to the game, the dismissal of needing something, thinking ranging over the mountains of doubt or regret, the idle submission of thinking to stoop to the assistance of another, however better suited they could be to such a task. His ears pricked themselves forward at the offering of her consigned profanities, something which he himself as never resorted to, though it was said to relief stresses, or bring the other to a low in the mind. His head tilted slightly, wondering if this was such an eager dismissal as it was, or something more, such as a neglected wondering, or if she was so easily to be blamed for her own problems. Most where eager to shoulder the problems, be rid of their own demons, yet he was willing to accept almost anything. If she would not allow him to bring her a salvation so easily brought, then maybe a new type of such could be counted upon. Like it or not, the mare was receiving his help in the most subtle of ways, for the actions and encounters of one help shape their own personality. Neutral, dark, or light, sometimes edging the borders. Yet the encounter was leaving an impression, however small, workings its way into the fractured cogs of her mind. That much he was no fool to, he could see such things on his own. Ignorance and arrogance aside, he chose not to either interrupt nor correct her, for the words could not work their way into pain, for they just settled on the surface of his mind. Perhaps she was correct, in a way, but one was never abused for trying, even if she couldn't keep a civil tongue about her.
The experiences of an equine molded them into what they where, and Call Me Jack could accept that much as a fact. His head continued to tilt, his eyes narrowing slightly, though he did not lash out in any work of fashioning. He needed not a cult following, for once someone had been said he then must leave them to their own devices, he was not a babysitter nor was he a saint or a preacher. He was the bearer of light, burdening the lifted and lifting the burdened. A simple business, to occupy the selection of his time. She didn't understand. He twirled the wind idly, twisting it into his will as he thought straight for the moment of time. Wondering was another selection in itself, though it was something that went unvoiced by himself. Why speak of things when the equine opposite only wants to then listen to what you have to offer besides. There was no need for general harping or questions, for her past was unraveling at the seams, presenting itself before him without his need asking. Conversation was entirely optional, and he was the sponge soaking up the information whether she liked it or not. There were several things in her future he could prevent with a word or two, or several in fact. He tossed his forelock from his eyes with the closure of her steps and her word. Was she frightened of what he could do? Nay, she was wishing for an escape, as though he would prevent her from doing such. He would never try to alter the fates. Or would he? His father had done so, had he not? Wasn't he meant to die just a babe, yet life had funny ways of altering itself. He gave another small smile, feeling the wind against his skin.
'The which plagues you is easily dismissed. I am sure you have the key to it yourself. Since you seem to wish to warrant a leave, I shall allow you to dismiss yourself. Don't go south, don't go through the waters, or you will run right into the arms of fate. There are four more hours left in this day, and the last hour marks the passing of your life if you do not heed this advice. Don't go forward, go backward. There are more than illusions and demons after your trail.' He cast his gaze over his shoulder, in the direction he was heading just in case. He was twisting fate himself, and soon it would matter little if she followed his advice or not. Shifting silently to another foot, he raised his head a fraction, not allowing the smile that haunted his lips to reach the surface and lay claim. 'Fate has an odd way of finding us, even in these times.' A saying that his father had always used was on the breath of his tongue, but he did not utter it, laughing under his breath for a moment before turning himself to the south, starting to wander forth with the idleness of a swagger, a sway in his step. Below his breath the brute hummed, wondering what her next move would be. His gait was slow enough if she wished to catch him. If note, then destiny was rather slow in catching today. Yet either way Call Me Jack had gotten what he wanted from Desdemona. He had saved her, in his own way, even if he was just saving her from himself. He had gotten a power from her, taken from her own book of poems. He had also gotten a mission, to seek a equine named Spyder and another sort named St. Jimmy. The merriness was still on his body.
How can you fight with one who knows all?
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[/color] Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: St. Jimmy :: Green Day [/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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