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+---- Thread: [AW] solivagant (/showthread.php?tid=3186)
solivagant - Toulouse - 02-19-2019
there are many paths to tread
A full moon was rising, a silent wraith overhead: just as it was cresting the horizon somewhere to the east, the sun slipped beneath the peaks to the west as if in hiding. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howl rang out, its sad and hungry peal echoing through the twilight sky. Something stirred inside of the pale man’s chest, his heart stuttering against its skeletal prison.
There will be hunting tonight.
He had not been here to witness their murders, nor to walk alongside their god; he had not even been here to witness the raging wildfires that had left the younger trees at the forest edge burned and blackened shells. It seemed he had missed all the interesting events, the first to happen since his arrival into Novus.
But he was here now. And as he slipped amongst the trees he became more and more aware of the change in energy surrounding the forest. No longer was it the bright and happy greenwood he had known from before; there was a darkness that clung to it now, a foreboding sense that was nigh impossible to shake. It was as if the forest was hiding some deep and dangerous secret; as if around any turn, he might come face to face with something sinister. A cold wind kicked up, sending his ivory curls into a frenzy of motion.
Winter was clawing at their doorstep — it was only a matter of time before it broke through and ate them all.
The tree branches creaked overhead, the stray breeze stirring them into motion. He passed underneath on silent feet, a ghost weaving through the forest. His eyes bright fever-bright, hungry as the wolf’s howl, searching the darkening forest all around him. He was on the hunt tonight, for clues, for information — for anything he could sink his teeth into.
Toulouse would need to be careful to not turn from the hunter into the hunted tonight.
open to any! ♡
RE: solivagant - Sloane - 02-24-2019
She spent her days either locked away on the privacy of her small little island, or slinking through the forest. After the murders, she made a point to spend a little more time in the forest. While it would be a stretch to identify her actions as patrolling, but she was on the hunt for clues. There was something about the murders that was sinister and brutal - it was something that seemed to beckon her to follow the clues, hunt the hunter.
Perhaps it was her desire to be the first to discover just who, or what, the monster was. Perhaps then she could use her information to sell to the highest bidder. There were things in life she wanted, needed. She has aspirations and this seemed like a perfectly good way to achieve those aspirations.
But as she wanders through the forest, she realizes that she is not alone. She smells him before she sees him. She is situated behind him and off to his left side. She slinks amongst the charred trees, keeping hidden in the shadows as she watches him. She does not recognize him, but something tells her that he is supposed to be a friend, that he’s also a member of the Dawn Court. She can smell the court all over him and yet, she doesn’t trust him. Why should she? For all she knew, he could be the one who committed the murders.
@Toulouse
RE: solivagant - Toulouse - 03-29-2019
there are many paths to tread
The full moon cast its glow over the forest, its light trickling between the leaves and turning the path he walked upon silvery. Fog curled at his footsteps as he walked, dewdrops glistening on the leaves. It was so bright, yet so dark - he was walking through a shadowland, a silent forest whose trees were dark and watchful.
Every noise was painfully obvious, from the crickets chirping in the brush to the owl hooting in the distance. The leathery whisper of wings overhead drew his attention, and the horned man turned just in time to see a bat swooping off in the distance.
And yet, when he stopped to watch it pass, the sound of footsteps did not.
Slowly, intentionally, Toulouse turned off the forest path.
Vegetation seemed to swallow his legs whole, scratching as he ankles and fetlocks with every step he took. Without looking back, without tipping his follower off, he began to make his own path through the trees, weaving and zig zagging around beech and hickory trees. And all the while, the feeling of being watched and the subtle sound of hoofbeats followed.
He isn’t sure how long he walked; long enough for his body to feel warm, despite the dropping temperatures. But eventually the forest opening up into a clearing, where the full moon shown directly overhead. With a wolfish smile slipping easily into place, he stepped beneath it.
For a moment, the wind was the only thing he heard, whispering through the grass and the tree canopies. His eyes, appearing silver in the moonlight, took in the dark and silent forest.
“Come on out,” he said at last, his voice low. “I promise I don’t bite.”
Usually.
@
RE: solivagant - Sloane - 04-27-2019
She follows him, even as he steps off the path and into the thick brush. She tries to keep her eyes on him, to follow him without following directly in his path. After all, the thick brush just made her steps more noisy and that simply would not do. His path zig-zigged and she tried to follow, remaining just off the trail.
But soon, the forest opened up into a cleaning. She halted her progression, her eyes looking up at the bright, full moon. The light it cast was unmistakeable and Sloane was so sure that if she continued to follow him, it’s light would give away her position in a heartbeat. And so, she had already chosen to stop her following, to let the stallion be. And yet, he was the first to stop.
The smile that he presented her with was coy and mysterious. It was always as though he wanted her to see him, that he was taunting her. Eyes watched him from the shadows, quietly studying him. It is then that he speaks, requesting that she come out into the light so he might lay eyes on her. He swears he won’t bite, but Sloane knows better than to believe the lies of strangers.
But I might. Thoughts were spoken into her own mind as she watches him, still perched in the shadows beneath the cover of a burnt tree. She had never been one to play nice with others, to welcome them with open arms and friendly greetings. She was more prone to sarcasm and rudeness.
And yet, Sloane was trying to be somewhat friendly. She had to attempt to be nice to those around that also called Dawn Court home. After all, if she was ever going to gain more knowledge and understanding, she needed the help of others, no matter how much she hated to admit such a thing.
And so, with a sigh of defeat, the draft mare stepped out from her position beneath the charred tree and into the light the full moon offered. She blinked at the sudden onslaught of light, her eyes not yet ready to adjust to the change in lighting. “…and why should I trust you? I don’t know you.” Sure, he smelled like Dawn Court, but he could be a spy. With shit hitting the fan everywhere in Novus, she supposed that this could just be an imposter. He could be the beast that murdered those two citizens. Shapeshifting was, after all, a coveted power.
@Toulouse
RE: solivagant - Toulouse - 05-09-2019
there are many paths to tread
For a moment, he wondered if his silent follower would humor him or simply disappear back into the night. He couldn’t blame their hesitation. Toulouse might display the same hesitation if their roles were reversed.
The moon seemed to grow brighter overhead, swelling with light. It’s laughing at me,” he had time to think, in the time it took her to step into the clearing. Does it know I’m a wolf?
Perhaps it did. Perhaps it was waiting for him to grow sharp teeth and shed his skin, to have his body twisted and warped into something terrifying.
Perhaps it was waiting for him to turn into the monster of Viride, and turn around to consume the stranger following him.
It would be a fitting end, and one he would not be opposed to. Toulouse was a monster of his own right, after all, one that changed his face every day and became someone - something - new every morning.
But he was not a monster that fed on flesh; only secrets. He was not Viride’s monster.
He hears her first step, the crunch of frosty grass underhoof, and his smile grows. He turns around to meet the black and white mare as she creeps into the clearing with him. The moonlight turns her silver, and he can hardly make out the trails of red marking her sides. She’s tall, taller than him; but she slinks like a fox, each step hesitant, despite her baroque appearance.
He drinks in her appearance, his smile slowly fading.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t,” he muses aloud. He hopes it surprises her; liars don’t usually admit themselves so easily. His eyes sparkle at her, laughing silently with all the secrets he knows but doesn’t say.
“Nor do I know you,” he continues, dipping his head once so the rings on his horns catch the moonlight. “Yet here I am, giving you the benefit of the doubt, trusting that you aren’t a murderer. Life is a balancing game after all.”
Toulouse falls quiet, watching her with a thinly veiled interest. Only the wind stirs between them, brushing its cold fingers along their bodies. He resists the urge to shiver, glad for the weight of the heavy scarves hanging along his frame.
Then he shrugs his shoulders and flicks his long, pale tail. There’s a hundred questions he could ask, but he settles on one - for now.
“Why were you following me?”
@
RE: solivagant - Sloane - 05-14-2019
He admits that perhaps she shouldn’t trust him, that perhaps she had every right to fear him. The way his eyes rest on hers makes her uneasy, as if he truly is a monster sizing up his prey. She has never liked the look of others upon her body. Never once has she been called a beautiful monster. She’s never caught the eye of stallions or young colts that just want to release their influx of hormones. Never has she been the figure of fantasy of a killer, a goal to be achieved or a mountain to climb. She has always been a secret, something known about but never talked about, something people both feared and loved.
But then he is speaking again, claiming that he doesn’t know her either. No shit, Sherlock. He doesn’t know her because she does not like to be known. She would much rather be the boogie man under the bed, the shadow in the corner, the fly on the wall. If so many knew her, how could she gain and keep her secrets? How could she survive in a world when everyone she went, someone was calling out her name? She couldn’t. And so, she preferred to keep her identity unknown, only telling those that needed to know. This fellow, unfortunately, didn’t really need to know.
He continues and Sloane is only half listening to him talk about giving her the benefit of the doubt, trusting that she was not the murderer that lurked in the forest. It was good of him to trust her so easily for she would not return the favor. “I trust no one.” She doesn’t even trust the mare who gave birth to her or the stallion who currently rules Delumine. She trusts no one but herself, and even that is a stretch.
The night grows quiet, the two of them simply staring at one another, waiting to see who’s bluff was better and who would be the first to make a move. Only the wind blows, howling as it whips through the charred trees. Leaves rustle behind her and ears follow the sounds. But there are now growls, no footsteps, only the whistling of wind and the rattling of limbs.
Eyes remained locked on his, even as he asks why she was following him. He is the first to stand down his bluff and she wonders only briefly if this is a trip. If he is trying to get her to let her guard down so he might be the first to attack. “I was not following you at first…” Her voice trails off, it’s volume quieting as she finishes. She speaks the truth. She had not been following him initially, only following the trail of wind and the smell of blood. But then he came along and she had to wonder if it was the one she was supposed to be following all along. “…but then I wonder why you were alone in the forest. Have you not heard of the dangers this forest keeps secret?” He might ask her why she too was alone in the forest but she knew she did not have to answer him. He was not her king…but even if he was, she was sure she would never answer him.
@Toulouse
RE: solivagant - Toulouse - 07-13-2019
there are many paths to tread
She doesn’t offer her name - but nor does he ask for it. The way she looks at him, narrowing her eyes and barely concealing a frown, the way her body tenses as if she wants to run or charge, the ice in her tone; she doesn’t want to know him. He is nothing more than a stranger walking through the woods to her. And she is no more than the stranger trailing along after his shadow.
And yet she followed him. Perhaps it was her curiosity, he supposed; it seemed doubtful that there was an inner knight within her, a heroin who only wanted to do what was best for their court. Toulouse nearly scoffed at the notion. No, she had other reasons for chasing him into the forest, of that he was sure.
”I trust no one,” she tells him, and this time, Toulouse cannot help the laughter that spills from his lips like acid. It burns him from the inside out, curdling his heart. It’s raw and vicious, and he hopes she hates it. “To each their own,” he tells her when he catches his breath, and there’s a wicked glint to his eye. Toulouse did not trust many people himself - and it would be naive of her to assumed he was telling the truth any time he opened her mouth. Lies came naturally to him; he was half snake, after all.
The moon slides slowly behind a stray cloud, and as the night bathes them in darkness he steps forward. His eyes are still shining, brightly, vibrantly, reflecting the stray starlight like two beacons that seek to capture her within their spotlight. The wind whips his hair about him, a pale veil that frames his face.
As the moon comes out he stops, close enough to see the planes of her face limned in silver.
“You wonder why I’m alone, and yet what were you before you tagged along on my trail?” he questions, and his eyes sharpen. He doesn’t expect an answer. He doesn’t need one. She was alone, just as he was.
“I know the dangers,” he tells her softly, curtly, and his eyes are still laughing at her. What makes you think I care? they say, as they flash green and silver. The words are there on the tip of his tongue, barely restrained, begging to be released - but he doesn’t. Not yet. What makes you think I’m not the most dangerous thing out here?
Perhaps Toulouse is hunting the monster, or perhaps he’s simply hunting the secrets she speaks so casually of. Or perhaps Toulouse is a monster - not the Viride murderer, but some other breed - seeking his next victim beneath the full moon.
Whatever he is, is whatever he wants to be. The horned man knows exactly what that is, and he has no intention of telling her.
@
RE: solivagant - Sloane - 07-23-2019
His laughter does nothing but irritate her and it takes quite a bit of restraint to avoid asking him what was so funny. She certainly didn’t believe her lack of trust in others something that warranted laughter. Then again, she didn’t really care. He could laugh at her all he wanted. As long as she was left alone to her own thoughts, he could do as he pleased. For all that Sloane was, or wasn’t, she lived by a very strict set of rules that governed her actions. It was a short list, and she was one to bend the rules from time to time, but it usually worked well for her. One such rule was to not allow the thoughts or opinions of others sway her. She would not let this boy get under her skin nor would she show him just how much he annoyed her. To do so would only fluff his ego a little more. She certainly didn’t need this encounter to turn into some sort of power trip.
She wonders aloud why he is out in the forest, not that she really cares about the answer he gives. His thoughts, actions, and risks taken were his own to choose and the consequences that came with them were his to bear. The same could be said for herself. She knew the risks of being in the forest alone, a yet, she understands what could happen should the monster find her. She is at peace with her own choices, but is he?
She was trying to be friendly, as friendly as she might can be, to warn him that there were, in fact, dangers in this forest. And yet, he doesn’t seem to care that she warns him, instead he’s more interested in asking why she too is alone in the forest. She doesn’t have to answer him, to tell him why she’s alone. It is her business only. He doesn’t need to know that she relishes the darkness, that she loves the way her heart beats faster if she thinks the monster is following him. Those raw feelings are for her alone, not for him to be made aware of.
She is almost ready to take her leave, to allow him to figure out the consequences of her own actions. And yet, he speaks just as she was putting one foot in front of her. He says he knows the dangers, he should then understand the risks of being out here alone. Sure, their likelihood of surviving is far greater when they walk together. However, Sloane is much to proud to admit that. Perhaps she might for some people, but this fellow was not one of them. “Good for you.” She wasn’t about to tell him exactly what the forest held anyway.
She steps past him, close enough that he can feel the way the wind tunnels between them as she passes. She makes sure to flick her tail for good measure, the hair brushing against him. She means nothing by it nor does she expect any sort of reaction in return. She’ll leave him to him to welcome the consequences of his choices, just as she will welcome her own.
Into the shadows she goes, her body suddenly engulfed with darkness as the other side of the forest swallows her up. She continues her meander, her eyes sharp and ready for anything that might step from the darkness.
@Toulouse
RE: solivagant - Toulouse - 08-01-2019
there are many paths to tread
He starts to think she might not answer him - the mare is standing so quietly, so still that he worries (in a sarcastic sort of way) that she might have been turned to stone then and now, right before his very eyes. But if looks could kill, surely Toulouse would have been rendered to a pile of ash by now. As the wind plays its fingers through his mane, dancing across his back, he smiles at her - a wolfish smile that does not relent, does not back down. A smile that tells her he is not afraid - of her, of the darkness, of monsters.
”Good for you.”
Perhaps he should be concerned. She does not seem like the type anyone would want as their enemy, and yet, Toulouse delights in it.
For a moment, as he stands there watching the trees wave at him, hearing her footsteps fade away into the darkness, he considers following her. It would be fitting, in an ironic way - he wonders what her reaction might be, when she realizes the man she had followed was now following her.
But instead, he turns away. There were more important things to do, things to see, secrets to unravel. The dark-eyed mare would be the least of his worries.
The full moon was still smiling brightly overhead when he disappeared into the forest, opposite the direction she had gone. And as he does the smile slips from his face, and all that’s left is the quiet rustling of the leaves overhead.
@
thank you for the thread! i wish toulouse could have been nicer to her :c