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Reply [IC] Rogue Lands [IC]
[PRP] Listless (Sanaa & Khaldun)

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Whimsical Blue

Mythical Shapeshifter

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PostPosted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 1:16 pm


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See, there had been a reason for why the goddess had come here... but she found it hard to remember, and even harder to remember why she bothered. Sure, one could argue that as the Goddess of Crafting, she WAS her domain, and therefore, being out here collecting raw materials was perfectly natural, even required for her very existence.

But lately... lately she'd felt like a boat set adrift, no anchor, no wind... nothing to push her along in the direction she needed to go. If she was honest with herself, there really wasn't anywhere to go. Her life would stretch on indefinitely, her consciousness moving from one form to another as she died and was reborn. And for what? So that she could make little trinkets that would decay and fall apart long before the life she made it in expired? Sometimes, they even disintegrated before the lives of the mortals around them.

Where was the permanence? Once, she had aspired to create the spark of life in her creations, struggling for that moment of perfection that would create something meaningful... what a fool she had been. She knew now that life created life, not some collection of string and wood and gears. It left her wondering what meaning her life, her domain, even had.

It was these gloomy, introspecting thoughts than had the golden goddess reclining under a twisted little tree, staring off into the distance rather than tearing it up and taking it home for the raw materials she had come for. Ever since the birth of her cubs, she had been like this. Nothing held interest for her any more and the conflict she felt kept her from doing what she did best. Many days were spent like this, staring into nothing, her creations scattered and half finished around her. Today was notable for the fact that she wasn't home in her workshop, but had made a half-effort to get out and find new things to make.
PostPosted: Fri Oct 19, 2012 11:52 am


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Frustration was being drawn across the land by some invisible thread. An instinct awakening in him that he'd mostly ignored before. Today, though, he was allowing it to lead him across the rugged landscape, guiding his paws and giving his step purpose. Not that he was happy about it. It had been weeks since he had left his desert homeland of the Dawnwalkers. Weeks since he had vowed to discover himself and his powers. So far, all he had found was failure and, of course, frustration. The taste of his inability was bitter in his mouth. He was so certain that he would have made some progress by now without his family hovering around him, suffocating him. But still he could not do things expected of an immortal. It made him weak. Made him vulnerable. It also made him angry.

What was the point of having wings if they wouldn't fly? Why couldn't he mask himself like his ridiculous mother could? Why could he not teleport from one place to the other, forcing him to live like a mortal. His paws were worn from all the walking and flapping his wings brought him nothing but bruises and an all-consuming frustration that transformed into spectacular rage.

He was a god for crying out loud. Why had he been forced into this accursed life to have the look of one but none of the skill? Perhaps it was his mother's poor genes. She was crazy as crazy could be. Perhaps he'd inherited some fault from her family line. Maybe he was the poor sap who'd gotten all of the throwback, fail genes.

It wasn't fair.

He gave a loud huff, laid back his ears and looked up--

--and spotted her immediately.

A splash of brilliant gold that seemed - to him - as bright as the sun. He squinted, extended his stubby wings and moved forwards. He'd never yet met a god who was not one of his own family. Perhaps he might find some useful conversation with this one? Or maybe he would just be laughed at...he was sure he would have laughed at himself once his failure became known.

Well...perhaps he just wouldn't let on?

He sidled closer to her, head canted, and gave a gruff call. "What are you looking at?"

Kimaria

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Whimsical Blue

Mythical Shapeshifter

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PostPosted: Fri Oct 19, 2012 2:14 pm


Sanaa blinked and suddenly realizing her eyes were dry and sore from staring for too long. What was that? A voice?

She turned to view a young god, one she had not met before in this lifetime, and she answered automatically. "Nothing. I was thinking hard enough I wasn't seeing anything. I have... a lot on my mind." Her voice had a bit of age to it, but it was cool and detached, logical. She didn't make excuses or jokes, she simply stated facts. She might be changing lately, but somethings never did.

"I've never met you before." The golden female said as she sat up, her many wings flaring open and then settling neatly along her back, the large golden ones all but covering the two sets that rested below them. "My name is Sanaa and my domain is Crafting... the act of making something from something else. Who are you?"

As she spoke, her green eyes roamed him, taking note of his appearance, and specifically, his adornments. She felt a sense of familiarity with them, but if she had made them for him, it had been in a past life that she no longer remembered. He looked travel worn as well, but for all she knew, he was the god of travel, or rogues, or something like that and this was simply how he always appeared. Questions rose up in her, but they faded as her listlessness returned, her body every so slightly slumping. What was the point? What would she get out of knowing everything about him, even if he wanted to tell her?
PostPosted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 10:19 am


His jaw jutted; mouth set in a firm line. Great. Another god with issues. Why were their lives so tormented? They should be living like kings not wallowing so deep in their troubles that even breathing became a task. His wings snapped closed against his sides and he drew up his head a little higher as if to seem bigger and older. He'd inherited his father's ridiculous half-mane, too, and it made him self-conscious. The flare of her brilliant wings seemed to daunt him, too. No doubt she could fly with such a splendid plumage as that. No just one pair of wings but three! His eyes lingered on them enviously.

Her power, too, was intriguing. Being able to make things? What sort of things? Something he might be able to take advantage off? Maybe she could build him a pair of wings that worked. That would be a turn out...

"I've not been here before." He replied in his normal, bratty manner; brows knitted tightly. "I am Khaldun. God of--" Nothing. Failure. No...neither of those, though perhaps they might have suited him. "Frustration." He ended at last. "As in the act of making someone frustrated." He mimicked, though in truth he only seemed to frustrate himself. His powers were broken; reflecting inwards instead of out - or so he liked to believe.

"What sort of things do you make?" He asked then, rather bluntly.

Kimaria

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Whimsical Blue

Mythical Shapeshifter

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PostPosted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 12:06 pm


The goddess blinked lazily, wondering at the emotions that seemed to flare and die under his skin. It wasn't that she didn't have emotions... she often felt pride, desire, avarice, inspiration... even love and, yes, frustration... but letting them wax passionate the way they were in him, that was something strange to her. The only thing she ever felt, or had felt, truly passionate about was the pursuit of her domain, of that illusive perfect of life itself... What in his life could be pushing him to feel so strongly? Or was he simply like that, as she had observed in others.

"Frustration. It must be a difficult domain to embody." She said quietly, part of her glad to find a distraction in him. His bratty nature rolled off her back like water from a duck's, making not even a dent in her composure. If she truly came to dislike him, she would simply leave. No sense in letting him work her up as well.

"I make all sort of things... anything the mortal or immortal imagination can concieve of. Well... except for one thing... and Mkodi herself has bared me from that." Her voice took a darker turn at the end, in mention of the Great Mother. Here was the source of all of her problems, all of her... frustrations. Un-inclined to continue in -that- direction, she turned to something safer. "At one point or another, I have made every piece of divine armor or decoration that the gods come into being wearing. Not in this life, perhaps, but a past one, sometimes far enough back that not even I remember it."
PostPosted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 12:36 pm


"Yes." He replied. "I blame my parents for that." Some domains should just never be permitted to breed and create other gods. Never mind that his domain was an older one and this meant he must have lived another life before. As far as he was concerned he didn't remember those other lives and he would have gone on not knowing if his mother and father hadn't hooked up like they had.

Sanaa's calm nature seemed, at least, to be having a more positive impact on his mood than one might have thought. And, when she told him of her abilities, his eyes took on a brighter sheen. Even his ears dipped forwards, focusing in on her more intently than ever. "That sounds more useful than my abilities." He replied, pretending for the moment that he had abilities. "Mkodi?" He wrinkled his nose. Hadn't his mother mentioned an Mkodi before? It seemed like it might be important but he dismissed it with a ruffle of his wings. "You mean you made my necklace?" He asked, sounding slightly sceptical. "And my mother's bracelets, too?" He'd always wanted one of those but she had never been willing to part with them. "You must be pretty old to be able to make all of those things."

And then he shifted his weight before asking: "What can't you make?"

Knowing his luck it would be the very thing that he needed.

Kimaria

Fuzzy Kitten

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[IC] Rogue Lands [IC]

 
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