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#Post#: 353876--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Hayley Date: November 17, 2013, 3:50 pm
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“If you prefer for me to call you White Fox over Rujin, then I
shall do so.” She remembered his clear distaste for names when
he first introduced himself, and she would respect his wishes.
It would be better for her to be on his good side rather than
his bad side. She may not know what exactly White Fox was, but
he was strong nonetheless. Better to have him as an ally than an
enemy. And just with that thought she felt pity for the White
Shadow Marked – the people he was destined to hunt and kill. He
said he was the worst of his brothers; so powerful he was only
considered as a weapon to them and nothing more. At that
thought, Chiara felt pity for White Fox. That was all he had
ever known; hunt, kill, destroy.
“How does being White Fox differ than being Rujin?” She mused to
herself, eyes focusing on the lumpy shape of the stew in the
pot, bubbling more and more as it got hotter. A growing bubble
caught her eye; the biggest by far, and when it popped and
splashed some of the hot stew out of the pot and on to her arm.
Instead of feeling a hot burn, Chiara felt subtle warmth, but as
she looked at her arm she was surprised to see her skin glowing
red where it was burned. A finger rubbed the tiny spot of stew
off her arm, popping it into her mouth as a tester. It tasted
good, and the small amount didn’t seem to be affecting her, so
perhaps she could have a bigger serving.
Chiara’s eyes found the sharp lines of his face, glancing,
taking everything in as he spoke, including his subtle loss of
color. “Do you think that maybe I wander because I am in search
of that path?” Her eyes lowered and she looked unseeingly onto
the fire. “Or maybe my wandering is my path.” Pale lids closed
over blue orbs; the darkness behind the curtain of her eyelids
lit up by the fire. It was hard not to wander when people didn’t
want her to stay; when they chased her away, when they didn’t
let her stay. What was there to recreate when she had nothing?
In order to create something new you need tools. Chiara doesn’t
have the tools to recreate herself.
Her hands robotically took the plate from him, head nodding in
understanding at his warning. “I’m sure it wouldn’t burn me…”
She mumbled beneath her breath, taking up one of the forks in
her free hand Chiara stabbed a piece of meat, bringing it up to
her lips. She touched it to her lips first, seeing if it would
in fact burn her. Not knowing exactly what she was Chiara found
out that she didn’t need to eat to sustain her life, or whatever
it could be called. Without a reason to eat, she never did; she
never found out how eating something would affect her. Bracing
herself for any possible reaction, Chiara put the chunk of meat
into her mouth, finding it cooled down immensely from the
contact with her icy skin.
The woman chewed it slowly; cautiously, and swallowed once it
was grinded down enough. After a few moments with nothing
happening, she smiled at White Fox. “I wasn’t necessarily
worried, but I am glad you offered. Whatever you have would be
okay enough for me to wear. You can show me after I’m done
eating.” It wasn’t difficult for her to notice that he hadn’t
touched his food, and she wondered what happened to his
appetite. She didn’t have time to ask though, as he left back to
his room.
When he emerged she looked up from her barely-eaten plate of the
stew. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” She said absentmindedly,
placing one last forkful into her mouth before setting her fork
on the plate and setting the plate next to his untouched one.
“I’m done; we can go now if you like.” But instead of getting
up, Chiara looked through the changes of clothes he offered her,
setting aside the pants and shirt she thought would be too big
and grabbed the towels, clutching the bundle to her chest before
finally getting up.
#Post#: 353893--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: November 17, 2013, 10:43 pm
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His head tilted slightly at her question, wondering just how
intelligent this icy beauty was. Perhaps it was just luck...
"Rujin is... this. White Fox is that. Rujin doesn't have the
world on his shoulders like White Fox does. He is... free.
Within these walls, at least." He rolled his shoulders in a
non-consequential shrug. Here, he could be himself, what was
left, without having to worry about responsibilities, duty.
Everything White Fox was, Rujin wasn't. He wasn't. However, his
voice came again, though it was distant, small. "White Fox
killed the woman who birthed him and those in the same room when
he came into the world. He, I, was left in that room for days.
Partly because they were scared, but also because they couldn't
get in. It happens, often, that infants kill their mothers as
they can't control their gift. If it manifests itself that early
on. Some don't get it until they are a few months to a few
years, some never get their gift. Six people died bringing me
into this world: husbands, brothers, uncles, fathers, sisters,
mothers, aunts. Their families made sure I knew that I was a
monster, a beast of burden. A useless clown meant for nothing.
"I didn't feel sorrow, how could I when I didn't even know them?
Didn't understand what death even was? I hated myself for it,
the lack of sympathy, of understanding. Of not caring. I was
born as you see me: bereft of emotion, or a severe detachment
of. I do not expect any kind of emotion towards myself as I do
not feel any, but they were so angry, all the time. This is
where White Fox and Rujin come together perfectly. Rujin creates
while White Fox destroys."
He sighed softly, dragging himself to his feet as she finished,
having used the ensuing silence to ponder her questions about
herself. "While most wander all their days looking for their
purpose of life, their calling, some never find it. I believe
that is a lost cause. Simply take life by the short hairs and
cut yourself something new. It is never as easy as it sounds, or
looks, but once you start, there isn't anything greater.
Protecting this village is a way of making up for the lives I've
taken. Instead of taking them for the sake of the war, I do it
to protect lives. Not that I hadn't before, but this is more...
personal, I suppose. I've taken a liking to this place and would
hate to see it fall around me. Now, enough of this heavy talk.
Let us soak our worries away, shall we?"
He walked to the east side of the room, sliding the door open to
reveal a rather long, narrow hallway. Walking into its depths,
he emptied his mind as he was wont to do, pushing aside his
worries for the most part, the dark thoughts that crept subtly
upon him. His expression became a blank mask instead of the
hard, stone-like visage he usually kept up.
Sliding open the door at the end of the hallway, steam rolled
out, bathing him with its warmth, though it did leave specks of
water along the visible flesh, the white clothes absorbing most
of the water and clung to his body tightly; he continued on
inside the room, which was lit up by candelabrum and smaller
candles set into the wet stones that decorated the outside of
the spring. He walked over to the other side, stripping himself
of his clothing, slowly to keep it from ripping. Naked, again,
his legs carried him into the water, the heat searing as it
reddened his flesh though he paid it little heed. In other a few
steps, the water carried itself past his waist. He rested
against one of the larger stones, allowing his upper body to
submerge as well, leaving only his head as he watched the woman.
Then he remembered he had forgotten his own towel, but let the
thought pass, closing his eyes as he let the water sooth his
muscles and bones.
#Post#: 354681--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Hayley Date: November 24, 2013, 12:10 pm
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Due to the lack of light, Chiara followed close behind White Fox
so she would know where to go, not close enough to touch him,
but close enough that he would be able to feel her coldness
crawling up his arm and shoulder. It didn’t take long for White
Fox to stop, and when he did Chiara’s arm just barely skimmed
his in her awkward attempt to stop beside him. The light from
the candles was enough for her to see most of the otherwise dark
room. But it was the warmth of the bathhouse she wasn’t
expected. The humid air made her clothes stick to her body.
Steam rose up from her skin as the coldness of her flesh battled
with the warmth of the room. She wondered just what would happen
when she went into the hot water. Maybe she would melt? Become
one with the rest of the water? That didn’t seem likely so she
pushed the very childish idea from her head. She wouldn’t melt,
she knew that. Nothing was hot enough to.
White Fox immediately took to disrobing once they were in the
bathhouse. The cold woman forced herself to look at the steaming
water, though every now and then her eyes would act on their own
and look at him. She had never met someone as… open at he was.
In town he dressed so no one could see him, but now he was
baring his whole to her. It made her wonder if he was doing it
on purpose – doing it because he knew she was watching – or
doing it simply because he didn’t care whether she saw or not.
Either way, Chiara’s eyes didn’t stray lower than his waist.
When his body was fully submerged, save for his head, Chiara
finally met his eyes. He kept looking at her. She wondered if he
was expecting to disrobe in front of him like he had to her,
without any concerns. The woman once thought the naked body was
something only seen by a lover, but the time of lovers was long
gone in her life. So, without further adieu, Chiara slowly began
to peel off the clothing as though it were a second skin,
clinging to her ice cold body. She dared not look up when she
was taking her clothes off lest she have to face his
scrutinizing gaze, devouring the newly revealed skin, analyzing
the parts of her he found exemplary and those he did not. But if
he were to look up, he would see the palest of skin staring back
at him; smooth and icy cold to the touch. Her body was shapely,
completely hairless save for the brown tresses falling from her
head in glossy waves, reaching down to the gentle curve of her
lower back. Despite being ‘dead’, Chiara had the body of any
other woman. But hers was more deceiving. It looked warm and
alive, but her skin was cold and a deadly white.
Once her clothes were removed Chiara began to step into the
water. The heat was excruciating at first, but given time for
her body to adjust it felt almost pleasant. All throughout the
experience her face would remain stoic; however her body gained
a light pink color and began to appear livelier – more human.
The woman picked the furthest spot away from White Fox to
occupy, and unlike him the water would lap gently at her lips
when she sat due to being several inches shorter than the man.
“What about your father, Rujin?” The name still sounded foreign
to her; an awkward feeling overwhelmed her as the word was said
with slight hesitation. Rujin was the name given to him at
birth, but it didn’t feel right to call him that. True she liked
it better than White Fox – it was warmer, welcoming – but White
Fox is the name she knew him by.
Her nose wrinkled bitterly at a thought that crossed her mind.
“Never mind. You don’t have to talk about it. You’ve told me
more than enough; I will try to reign in my curiosity.” Already
Chiara had asked so much of him, and she hadn’t divulged a
single detail about herself other than her name. Her pale blue
eyes looked away from White Fox’s dead ones and gazed lazily at
the water in front of her. Her hair fanned out about her body,
protecting the luscious skin from being seen by anyone. After a
moment Chiara dove her head under the water, thoroughly wetting
her thick hair and her smooth face in attempts to clean herself.
Minutes ticked by before she finally reemerged with a slight
gasp, hands rubbing the water from her eyes. This all felt… too
human to her. The water managed to thaw out her skin, coloring
it just slightly, but it didn’t get deep enough to warm her
bones.
#Post#: 354808--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: November 27, 2013, 2:22 am
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He felt the soft ripples as she stepped into the water, felt her
pause to let her body get accustomed to the heat and then felt
her moving again. Even as he opened as his eyes, he saw her sit
down and watched as the water rocked against the soft pink lips.
While he knew this wouldn't be a permanent cure for the cold
that plagued her body, it was good to see some life return to
her. A good soak in a hot spring did wonders for the body and
soul.
At her question, his head turned towards her more; the alertness
of his expression making him seem much like his namesake, had he
the ears, "My father..." he murmured, glancing away to lean his
head against the rock. "I couldn't say, really. What about him?
He's... different, I suppose. He came from a strong bloodline,
but he wasn't born with any Mark. Neither was my mother, but
father could affect people's emotions; their frame of mind.
Which is how he got close to mother to begin with. I took away
his sight and sense of smell, accidentally of course. I was but
a child, but it was not an excuse to him or his family. I am
alone, bereft of any ties but this Mark and my sense of duty and
obligation to my Clan. He loved me, sure enough, would've given
me anything that was within his power to give. I suppose I
broached a sensitive topic and curiosity got the better of me.
He blamed me for mother's death, which was true, and blamed her
for my stubborn streak."
He let out a soft sigh, letting the words die on his lips lest
he speak more than he dared. It wasn't as if he had a problem
talking about his family or past, it did nothing to stir his
emotions nor did it offer any unpleasant nightmares; his sleeps
were often dreamless. It was simply a matter of censorship, of
how much one wanted to hear. Did she care that his father took
away most of his emotional feelings? Or that when father had
beaten him, White Fox had struck out with his Mark and took away
the sight and smell of the man who sired him? It was curse, his
Mark; a curse he had an iron fist on, now. In truth, his father
had probably helped him more than anything, by making him all
but numb to emotion, as his Mark used his emotions as a cause
for action; the more intense an emotion, the stronger the
reaction, which was a crude way of looking at the red mist.
It simply took away each of the five senses, slowly, gradually;
not in any particular order, but it wasn't always permanent. His
Mark had made him an excellent assassin, had given him a purpose
in the Clan beyond being the black sheep. He was accepted, if
held at arms length. Touching the mist wouldn't harm the person
unless there was an open wound, but it required to be inhaled;
the more one inhaled, the more the red mist got into the system,
the faster it worked and it was a slow process to get rid of it.
But he could also heighten the senses to an otherworldly level.
He had also gotten his mothers knack for being unnoticeable,
even when being looked at dead on. He didn't rely on it much,
however, as when your opponent couldn't hear, see, smell, or
even move, what point was there?
Through half-lidded eyes, he watched her dive under and reemerge
minutes later. Slowly, the steam turned red and, as one inhaled,
they'd notice their skin felt tingly, like their arms or legs do
if they lay on them awkwardly. Slowly the water would get warmer
to the touch, not from more heat, but from the heightened sense
of touch. It wasn't painful, though for her, he'd have to crank
it up a bit; with this, it helped the muscles of the villagers
relax and worked deep into their bones, especially when they've
been sparring for several hours. A lot of the elders came just
because of this. They thought it was the hot springs, and not
White Fox himself doing it. It was a small gift and it kept his
abilities honed for the most part so that he didn't too rusty or
lose the control he had over it.
After another minute or two, the red mist would vanish, though
the feeling wouldn't; not for another half hour or so. It varied
upon the person, in general, however. "Let me know when the
tingling feeling goes away..." He murmured just loud enough for
her to hear as he submerged his head and came back up, pushing
the silver-white locks out of his face. "This is one of my
guilty pleasures... I feel human, sitting here in the water.
Even by myself, it brings a sense of calmness over my mind." His
voice died as he closed his eyes once again, leaning back
against the rock to enjoy the heat of the water relaxing his
muscles.
#Post#: 354834--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Hayley Date: November 29, 2013, 6:06 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Chiara was astounded by how desolate White Fox’s life was.
Everything he divulged hinted at a solitary life topped off with
hate and a sprinkle of death. No wonder he was the way he was.
But such a life made Chiara imagine just what he would be like
if he was born differently; if he wasn’t a shadow marked at all,
if he hadn’t killed his mother, or angered his father.
She imagined his parents first. They were beautiful. Rujin would
be the spitting image of his father. The disheveled white hair
and his lithe and solid body would all be inherited from the man
who made him, but he would act most like his mother. He would be
caring, warm, selfless, and his eyes – oh his eyes. That was
Chiara’s favorite part of him. They would be a silvery blue and
sparkle all the time with warmth. She imagined him not as White
Fox – he wouldn’t be known by that name. No, he would be Rujin.
A Rujin who had no curse, a Rujin who wasn’t tied to a fate of
solitude.
Imagining such things caused a stirring deep within Chiara’s
chest, making her eyes widen with curiosity. Her fingertips
danced delicately on her skin under the water, over the direct
spot where the stirring originated – and spot where, if she had
one, her heart would be. Now it was her turn to be put in a
different universe, and it began right as she closed her eyes.
The first thing she saw was herself, or was it? It was hard to
tell when the woman was so full of life and warmth, the complete
opposite than the way she was now. But Chiara had to admit that
she kind of liked herself that way. The woman she saw – herself
– moved fluidly, and she imagined her dancing with elegant turns
and leaps. She had long dark hair, glossy and wavy. Her skin was
pale, but it held some color that made her appear warm. The eyes
on her face were a bright blue, unnaturally so, but they suited
her well. Her skin would be soft to the touch, and her body
would be toned to near perfection. In this world, Chiara was a
woman; warm, soft, desirable, everything she wanted to be. But
it wasn’t real, it was all fabricated in her head, though well
enough she could believe it was how she was before.
When she opened her eyes Chiara felt a pang of sorrow stab her
chest. It wasn’t real. She swallowed hard and blinked her eyes
into focus, though she stared upon the empty water between their
soaking bodies. “So your father is the cause for your warm
presence and friendly personality.” The sarcasm was evident in
the tone of her voice, even her facial expression gave way to
her jest. But she arrived to that assumption based on what he
said: “…father could affect people’s emotions; their frame of
mind.” Going on to say he angered his father by taking away his
senses, it was easy to arrive to that conclusion, but there was
also the off chance that it was all some freak accident, though
that was highly unlikely. Clearing her throat, Chiara looked up
at White Fox, a small smile on her face. “What do you think you
would be like if your childhood happened differently?” She
questioned. She already had her ideas, but she wanted to hear
what he would think about it.
The stirring in her chest slowly spread over her whole body – it
hadn’t gone away, but she was occupied enough to not think about
it. However she hadn’t noticed that the steam was now tinted an
eerie red that reminded her of the mist she saw White Fox make
when they first met. Her suspicions were confirmed when he told
her to inform him of when she stopped tingling, which was a
better word for what she was feeling. As the sensation grew, the
deeper the warmth spread throughout her body. At first it scared
Chiara. She wasn’t supposed to feel things as strong as that,
but after a while she decided she liked it. It made her feel
normal.
“I’ve decided I like you, Rujin.” Her voice purred lazily, eyes
closing as she leaned back to relax just as he. While his
detached and dead personality would intimidate others and scare
them away, it only drew Chiara in closer. But she didn’t know
how close she could get until he pushed her away.
#Post#: 355259--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: December 12, 2013, 3:07 am
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An eye opened to watch her as she had been silent for a minute
or so, and worried if she had fallen asleep. It would be
expected, but he didn't think she would, not unless she was
truly fatigued. Probably a feeling she hadn't felt in a long
time; a feeling he hoped this small break in her long trek would
reawaken, if briefly. To let her know she wasn't as dead as she
thought.
As her sarcastic remark, he arched the eyebrow of the opened eye
at her, but remained silent. He watched the thoughts flicker
along her blue eyes, dancing subtly. As much as he wished her
question caught him off guard, it did not, for it was something
he pondered often. He allowed a small silence to reign over
them, to see how if she felt doubt in her question and wondered
if she had stepped too far, but White Fox merely shook his head.
"A question I have pondered many days, and still no true answer.
Maybe there isn't one, or this is simply how I must be. No more,
no less." He paused a few seconds as he looked away. "Honestly,
though, I would not have it any other way. I'd like to think if
my life had been different I'd still think the same way. I am
what circumstances made me. I didn't break beneath the pressure
but merely... accepted it and changed accordingly. Why should I
complain when I have the knowledge that others suffer far more
than I have or will?"
White Fox didn't dwell on the past very much, simply moved on
and accepted it as it was; unchangeable. And if he could change
any of it? Why would he? He wouldn't have been able to do the
things he has done, seen the things he has seen, or meet the
people he has met. His life was far from boring and not always
filled with death and misery. Indeed he had felt joy, for how
else could he feel sorrow? He felt anger, much like he has felt
peace. He has seen beauty that made him weep with such joy and
had seen horrors that made him weep with fear. But even as his
eyes took her features, for the umpteenth time, he could see the
beauty that remained frozen, locked in time. White Fox wasn't
completely turned off to admire such features. He sighed softly,
and turned his attention back to her as he heard her speak.
In her next few words, he would chuckle humorlessly, "Just now
deciding that? After walking with an unknown man into his abode,
you are coming to the conclusion that he is likeable? I am...
amused. But I am glad, however, that you enjoy my company as I
find myself enjoying yours as well." He offered her a small
smile, which turned rather impish; the shadows of mischief
dancing in the red hues as they opened fully to take her in.
"For my first question, why do you fear the open night?"
#Post#: 355634--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Hayley Date: December 15, 2013, 3:59 pm
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A silence gave birth between them, making Chiara wonder if this
was as far as White Fox would allow her to venture, but when his
voice shattered the quiet like a mirror the corner of her lips
twitched up into the smallest of smiles, the action unnoticeable
in the dim lighting. His answer wasn’t one she was expecting,
but he explained his view perfectly. After a nod of her head and
the opening of her eyes, Chiara began to speak with a voice that
was not her own; a voice that was altered by the warmth to make
her appear as a living being. “So you’re okay with being this
way?” A perfectly shaped brow arched at her question, and she
leaned forward towards him. “Do you not want to feel anything?
Love, hate, jealousy, pride, sympathy?”
Her jaw clenched once her words stopped. She was jealous of him.
His body was warm and alive, yet he acted as though he were
dead, as if he doesn’t appreciate the heart that beats within
his chest. He had the body, yet was as unfeeling as a block of
ice, all the while Chiara was a block of ice with the emotions
of any other normal human. It was unfair. She wouldn’t allow
such thoughts to pass through her lips, though. As much as she
didn’t like being the way she was, she couldn’t dislike White
Fox for having what she wanted. It wasn’t his fault that he was
the way he was, and he had treated her well. Nevertheless, her
hands were clenched under the water.
Her face took on the expression of false humor; a smile appeared
on her face though it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was hard to
discern whether or not I liked you. You’re not the most…
welcoming person, but I deeply appreciate what you’ve done for
me, which has in turn caused me to grow fond of you.” The smile
on his face was enough to make the tingling sensation she was
feeling go deeper within her, and for a split second she saw the
happy and alive Rujin she imagined sitting before her in the
water, but the image was gone just as soon as it appeared,
leaving a sinking feeling behind in her chest.
His question took her by surprise; brows rose in unison and her
pink mouth formed a petite ‘o’, however that expression lasted
only a few seconds before it was replaced with a contemplative
look. “You’ve heard the cracking, yes? I’m sure you can imagine
just how cold I am.” A small sigh left her lips and a delicate
finger traced the crease of her lips. “Temperatures drop at
night. While the day is just warm enough for me to break the
ice, the night is too cold for me to do so. I would completely
freeze; unable to do anything. Being that helpless isn’t
something I am too fond of.” Her eyes narrowed at the thought,
but she found it too difficult to hold onto the petty anger when
she felt so relaxed in the steaming waters. She wished she could
sit in the waters every night, but she knew her stay with Rujin
would eventually come to an end.
Chiara’s dazed gaze focused back upon the sharp planes of
Rujin’s face, eyes alight with challenge as her head ticked to
the side mere degrees. “Any more questions?”
#Post#: 356034--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: December 21, 2013, 3:04 am
---------------------------------------------------------
His head cocked to the side at her question about him feeling
anything. "I haven't been any other way, so why wouldn't I be
okay with this? That's like asking a blind man if he would
rather be able to see. Sure, he'd like to, but he is content
with finding his own sense of beauty in the dark reality of his.
If he isn't, then he has yet to come to terms with his own
inability and deserves to be blind." He paused for a second,
then continued, "Besides, why would I want to feel the pain of
those I killed? To dwell on the consequences of my actions and
therefore be unable to continue on? Let's say I do continue on,
I wouldn't be able to find any joy in this life. I have the
potential to feel it, but what else is there once the guilt of
hundreds of deaths weighs upon your soul? I'd only feel the
negative emotions, as to where now I only feel nothing but the
faintest tugs.
"Now, I could ask you if you'd rather be alive, and you'd say
yes. Because you know what's it like to be alive as well as dead
and being alive is preferable to being dead, no? Perhaps the
blind man would thank you, but perhaps he would curse you as
well. As it is now, I do not care for my past or my future, I'm
not worried about consequences. I do not fear them, therefore I
am able to act as I see fit and not moved to inaction by fear."
His eyes caught the way her facial features seemed to tense up,
the way the corners of her eyes seemed to wrinkle at corners and
her lips moved into a thin line, though just by the barest of
fractions of an inch. He wondered why she was upset, but
refrained from asking. It wasn't his business and if it was
important enough, she'd say something. Perhaps she loathed him
for his own inability. They were the exact opposite of each
other, more or less.
He allowed a soft sigh to pass his lips, slowly changing the
chemistry of the red mist to slowly take away the sense of
touch, which would allow the muscles to relax much more. For a
brief moment, and not for the first time, he wondered if his own
Mark dulled his emotions as well. An impossibility, but
something he had always clung onto.
"Perhaps in the spring or fall," he murmured as she finished
explaining. "But summer nights are just as hot as the days, if
not hotter. Here, at least. Even our winters aren't quite as
cold as most." He shrugged, not wanting to nitpick at her
explanation, as it was plausible. His body always ran pretty hot
most of the time anyway, which was a wonder why he wore so much
clothing during the day, when it was especially hot, but he had
his own reasons, or reason.
He stood up, the water coming up to his naval, and he strode
towards the wooden floor. "You can stay, if you'd like. I'm not
leaving, but I cannot stand the water anymore." His pale flesh
was a bring pink from the heat of the water; the black Mark
glittering faintly with red as he used his ability to help her
relax. He used his one towel to wrap around his waist, keeping
his back to her; though he didn't have a problem with being nude
in front of her, or anyone else --despite his earlier objections
back at the village-- but she had displayed a sort of
prudishness about being naked, so he respected her wishes for
the most part. Just as his chest and arms and legs were free of
any scars or blemish, his back was just as perfect and the lean
muscles of his back shifted with his movements as he wrapped the
towel around him. It barely his knees, which was just fine with
him as he walked away from the wet floor to sit atop the large
stone he had earlier been leaning against, sitting cross-legged.
He rested his elbow on one of his knees and let his chin rest in
the palm of his hand as his long, slender fingers made a tattoo
against his Marked cheek. "I'm not good at questions, so I'll
let you tell me your story, or as much of it as you want. Tell
me something only Chiara knows. I want to know what dark secrets
you harbor, my cold-bodied guest."
#Post#: 356035--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Hayley Date: December 21, 2013, 12:48 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
“We both fought in a war, though from what I remember mine
wasn’t full of epic battles between two families that hate each
other. No, I fought my battles myself, and usually, it was
myself I was fighting.
“I guess when I woke up I was completely… insane – I don’t
remember much from when I first woke up. I knew I was confused,
but most of all I was angry. I had a hard time understanding why
this happened to me; what had I done to deserve this?” She
paused and motioned to her body, an ember glowing in her eyes,
threatening to start a fire. “I remembered thinking that if I
couldn’t live and be happy, then neither could anyone else. I
guess that’s when I went crazy. This is where things become a
bit hazy for me; I don’t remember doing, but I knew I did it
because all evidence pointed to me. I went to the nearest town
and just… killed. Anyone and everyone. Man and woman. Young and
old. I remember waking up in the middle of an ocean of blood and
bodies, knowing what I had done, but not remembering how.
“After my initial… killing spree, I became more experimental
with my state. I rationalized that if I took away their
heartbeat, mine would start beating again. I killed then not
because I was angry, like the first time, but because I was
curious. I thought I had to take away what made them alive, so I
started to drink their blood. When nothing happened, I began to
devour them, starting with their hearts.” She paused as a shiver
racked her body and as her throat clenched. Her eyes, which were
glazed over and looking intently at the water, flashed to White
Fox’s face for the briefest of moments, expecting to see clear
disgust on his face; but she couldn’t bring herself to analyze
his features longer than a quick glance. “After a while guilt
began to eat away at me. As much as I believed that I didn’t
deserve to be this way, I knew that the innocents I killed
didn’t deserve to die that way either. It was selfish of me to
think that I was more important than them. I know that now, I
wouldn’t be this way if I was.” A pained expression was water to
the smoldering embers of anger. Any and all fight left her, and
she slumped back against the sharp rocks behind her, finding
that all energy was sapped from her body.
“I just moved around from place to place after that. I thought I
would be able to wander through towns and cities unnoticed; I
wanted to blend in like the rest of the people, but somehow
someone always managed to see that I was different. They’d point
me out and get the other people to side with them. I was a
monster in their eyes, and everywhere I went they banded
together and ran me out. At first I believed them – that I
wasn’t meant to be with other people. After years of traveling,
I realized that no one should have to be alone. No matter how
much you think you do – how much you think you’re destined for
loneliness, you secretly crave the companionship of another
being.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eyes and
swore she felt water trail down her cheek; a tear, but Chiara
wasn’t sure if it was real or not.
With a clenched jaw Chiara heaved herself out of the water. The
milky skin that was previously hidden was now exposed for him to
see, and she didn’t care. She had just bared her soul to him, so
why not her body? She slowly made her way to her towel, wrapping
it loosely around her body and not giving him a glance. “You
asked for something only Chiara knows. Well, Chiara knows
everything; everything about her is a secret. No one has ever
asked about her until you.” She straightened up and brushed some
hair out of her face; it looked thick and unruly, but it was
already starting to dry, gently curling around her face, making
her look petite and elven. “I’m not looking for sympathy, nor
am I looking for you to criticize me. I told you what you asked;
let’s just leave it at that.” Chiara gave him a look with
narrowed eyes and then turned around. “I’m ready to go back
inside now, if you don’t mind.” She whispered, shoulders
hunching slightly. She didn’t to just barge into his home – that
would be impolite. Besides, she didn’t remember which room he
gave her for the night.
#Post#: 366325--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: July 10, 2014, 12:35 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
White Fox watched her as she wove her tale, one that tugged at
the heart strings and one that he could relate to, though not in
any way she would really understand. But, as with most stories
with such tragedy in them, it wasn't his place to speak or to
show how he felt about it, though he was heartened by her trust
in his person to confide that into him. When she would look his
way, he offered her a small smile that, hopefully, conveyed that
feeling.
As she rose from the water rather abruptly, he rose with her,
though at a normal pace, not wanting to offend or to come across
as rude or some pick up some other title that he'd rather not
have tied to his name. As he rose from the stone, he called the
red mist back. Granted, it would be awhile yet before her senses
came back to some normalcy.
"It wasn't your fault, you know. I mean, it was, but that's
because you didn't know any better; much like a child doesn't
know right from wrong when they first begin exploring." He spoke
as he walked up beside her, pushing the white hair back with his
fingers as he opened the door to the narrow, and long, hallway.
White Fox also made sure he would talk over whatever objection
she might have about his 'lecture'. "That being said, I'm not
saying your behavior was excusable because of that, but it is
more... understandable, given that you had just 'woken up', yes?
Sometimes we figure out life a harder way than necessary, but
that doesn't mean we are any less wrong about it. Sure, you may
have killed more than a few people and eaten quite a few more,
but you learned that it was wrong, or that doing so would get
you know where in this life. You've chosen to rise above that,
and for that, I admire you.
"Besides, mortality is so... overrated. Who knows what really is
right or wrong? That's more of a personal choice than one that
can be made for you, though most cultures or societies have
their own laws that help decide for you. And even then, people
sometimes ignore those. We all make mistakes, some worse and
less forgiving than others, but the main thing is what we take
away from that experience. No one is perfect, least of all you
and I."
As he was talking, he had guided her through the hallway into a
another on the left and brought her to a door about halfway down
on the right. "This is your room for the duration of your stay.
The main room is just around the corner, which is where I will
be most of the time. The hot spring is back down that way, which
I am sure you can remember." His gaze, though seemingly innocent
enough as he looked upon her, was rather predatory and intense;
the blood-red irises not helping with the effect. "Oh, and here
are these. I took the liberty of picking them up before we
left." He handed her old and new clothing, his face the picture
of neutrality as he spoke; his voice even and calm, as always.
"Is there anything else?" An eyebrow that was already slightly
arced by nature rose in time with the question.
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