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 Posted: Thu Apr 08, 2010 6:50 am
Deep in the forest, far too deep for any normal, sane individual to venture for fear of wild beasts and the rumor of a vicious killer that lurked in its depths, there was a shrine. It was a run down little shack, really, made of ancient and withered stone with wild ivy overtaking most of the structure. The light that trickled down from the canopy shone on it in little points of light, making half of the building seem to glow, and the other half melt into the scenery of the forest. All in all, it had a very organic feel to it, no matter how delapitated it was. The lowest branches of the trees that had grown closely around it brushed the top of the stone ceiling, while the entryway was cracked and sagging, the great pillars with their stone stags half crumbled away, the stags almost completely eroded past recognition. One of them had half its body missing, including its head, but the sight in whole wasn't grotesque. The place had a quiet, peaceful beauty to it, no matter how ugly it first appeared.
A soft growling could be heard coming from the shadowy depths, not too far of a depth considering it was a one room shrine. A few steps down into darkness and one would come across the shrine's only patron and protector, Widdershin. He was at a makeshift alter, made of crumbled rocks from outside and pelts, with a small incense burner sitting on top like a faceted jewel. It was burning, glowing softly and emitting a smoky, earthen smell. The glow made Widdershin's face look softer than normal, and for once he had a sort of peaceful look on his face. It didn't happen often after the interlude with Haveni, and oh how the forest had mourned for him when their beaten and battered sentinel had returned. Scarred and made lame in one eye, he'd been having trouble with depth perception, and only the forest's guiding hands had been able to help him get around lately. But he was determined to persevere, and become the man he once was, just........different. Stronger. More like what he should be, as this forests protector.
He'd been punishing himself lately because of it, meditating and praying to the forest gods for hours, even days at a time, training whenever he wasn't praying in an attempt to make up for his lame eye. Even Alestro had been leaving him alone, only sending a wolf from the pack occasionally to check in on him and report back, to make sure he was taking time to eat and sleep. He'd been in utter solitude, mulling over how he'd let himself become so beaten by HUMANS of all things. Humans. Those vile, weakling creatures, and he'd let them maim him. So what did that make him?
It was the question plauging Widget's mind, polluting his trains of thought so that nothing else mattered but that single question, and finding the answer. Or perhaps, running away from that answer. Changing it while no one was looking.
Turning his head skyward, Widdershin howled, his voice echoing in the stone room and drifting out into the surrounding forest. He supposed no one would hear him keen for himself, as it was a rare occurance anyways, but he was so deep into the forest no one would DARE come into his territory.
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Posted: Thu Apr 08, 2010 10:13 am
Ah, but someone did hear, someone who had dared to journey into his territory.
It was a foreign forest to her, but the trees had warmed up to her nicely, whispering of tales and trials that happened under their boughs. A lively forest, much like the one from where she was birthed. The forest she could never see again, without the pain of death. She had been outcast, when she was forced to kill her curse-infested sister, and acquired the curse herself. It had marred her face and eyes to the point she constantly wore a half-faced fox mask, removing it for no one. She feared greatly she would be outcast again if others saw that she had been affected by that curse.
Was it gone? Would it come back? As she puzzled over her thoughts, that feral howling erupted into her ears. She startled, staring in the direction it came from. There was a soft scent on the air...incense? As she cantered up the overgrown path, she could finally see the remnants of a forest shrine.
Her ears twitched, picking up the rustle of talk between the trees. They seemed pleased she had found her way here. Why? Nessa cautiously moved forward, silently and carefully, peering into the open door of the shrine.
There was a man there...the first non-serkr she had ever seen close up. She drank his image in with her eyes for several long moments, trying to learn everything she could about him without actually knowing him. A strength emitted from him, something enhanced by the forest around them, and some form of violence that seemed to lurk just beneath his skin. The trees were whispering about him now. He was somehow like her, yet not. A child of the forest, but in very different notions.
After what seemed ages, she finally spoke, using a voice as gentle and soft as the sun-soaked wildflowers which were swaying gently in the grasses, just outside of the shrine. "Why are you crying like a wolf? Are you hurt?" She only half-peeked from behind the open door. She wanted to go in, but that lurking violence frightened her, and she was more apt for escape of survival outside of a small enclosure.
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Posted: Tue Apr 13, 2010 9:09 pm
The Sentinel continued his keening until a voice drifted into his senses. It was not a remarkable voice, not the kind that truly made you stop and blatantly stare out of sheer beauty or melodic value, but it was distinct. Enough to cease his keening as he slowly turned his head to look at the intruder. How dare someone come into HIS forest and on top of that shame, he was even more furious that they had caught him during a moment of utter weakness. He did not keen to his forest often, as it was simply not his way, and when he did it was a private, almost sacred, thing.
His eyes narrowed as he darted forward, right hand outstretched and curved like a talon of some sort, quickly connecting with the woman's windpipe as he slammed her against the trunk of a tree behind her. Holding her a small amount off the ground, he allowed her the small mercy of letting the tips of her toes brush the thick roots of the tree, giving her some flimsy support so he wasn't completely suffocating her. With a soft growl, he glared at the woman.
"That......is none of your concern, whelpling," he hissed, his blue eyes piercing like daggers, well at least the one that was still clear. His eye had healed, grown milky and dull, obvious to all his newfound disability. Yet it didn't impede him too much, sometimes it did when he wasn't focusing on it, but not as often these past few weeks since coming home. With a small 'tch' sound and the 'shusshing' of the trees, he glanced up to the tall, proud old pillar he had her pinned to, nodded silently, and withdrew his hand to let her fall on her own feet.
He did not know why, but his dearest forest did not want him to hurt her, and he would gladly oblige to their whims. He did not like her though, as her scent was strange, no matter how much a small part of him felt at ease somehow. Balanced. It was a strange feeling, and he crowded himself up close to the half crumbling statue, wrapping himself around one of its legs as the ivy crept up and wound itself around his waist and weaved through his hair momentarily before retreating at an annoyed glance. He did not mind indulging the........'friendlier' plants that adored him, but it would not do to be affectionate with them in front of a stranger, even if she felt like she was one of them. It unnerved him, really, and he studied her for a moment, scrutinizing her completely with eyes as sharp as any predator looking for nicks in the strength of a potential opponent.
Leaning his head up against the crumbling stone statue, he nuzzled it, closing his eyes for a blissful second and choosing to ignore her as of the moment, enjoying the feeling of skin and antler gently brushing up against weathered stone. Still keeping his eyes closed and refusing to acknowledge her on his level, he addressed the outsider again.
"Why are you in my woods, coimhthíoch?" he questioned, almost hissing the last word.
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Posted: Tue Apr 13, 2010 9:51 pm
It all happened so fast, and unexpectedly. Here she had shown concern for someone she thought wounded, and only moments after, she had been throttled and driven hard into the trunk of a tree.
She'd yelped from surprise, but it came out merely a small whine in her throat, since his hand had clenched hard upon it. She felt the skin upon her back break open slightly as she was scraped up the trunk, and then down as he released her.
Why are you in my woods?
She groaned slightly, gingerly rubbing at her now bruised throat, and wincing as she felt the opened scrape upon her back as she stood back up. Hearing those words, she seemed to look at the trees around her quickly, as if expecting them to aid her in an answer, before she turned her eyes back to him, the fox mask staring at him with its unblinking, painted face.
"The woods belong to themselves, not to you!" she cried, changing her posture. Now her body was tensed, poised as if ready to fight or to take flight. The mask she wore hid which of these choices she would make; a tactical device used by Serkrs for centuries.
He had mauled her when she only wished to aid him, bruised her tender flesh. Caught her off guard from a nicety. It made her blood boil that she had allowed herself to succumb to such a weakness as compassion, but she never could help that, could she? And he had seemed so very sad and angry, and all alone.
Just like she was.
Her words became softer as she watched his every movement, drinking in every detail of his image. Horns. He had antlers. None of the serkrs had horns. They fascinated her greatly, and her curious nature had to be fought off, less she be compelled to run up to him to feel them. And that wound upon his face; his damaged and milky eye...even though her own face marred by curse scars disgusted her, she found those scars on him...to be quite beautiful, and intriguing. Had he not just attempted to throttle her, she might have insisted on putting a healing salve on it while listening to his heroic tales of how he acquired such a wound.
Suddenly, she was grateful for the mask, and that he could not see that she had been transfixed upon his visage in the way she was. She shook her thoughts off, answering his question quietly, calmly. "I'm lost. I don't know where I am, and everything is scary and different...but the trees here were kind, and they told me to come...to come right here."
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Posted: Tue Apr 13, 2010 10:25 pm
Widget glanced over with a small frown. His forest had led her here to him? Looking up at the trees, he sent an inquiry to them as to why they thought she needed his help. To this, they simply replied in musical unison that she was a lost soul, and needed his stern hand to guide her through their winding boroughs. They liked her, and thought he might too. He 'tched' again, rolling his eyes. The forest had no business trying to set him up with 'friends'. Who needed them? He'd done something selfless for another before, and look where that had gotten him. Broken and Lame, by humans no less.
He was less the Forest Sentinel at the moment and more the Forest Hermit, the trees replied to his annoyance. His eyebrows furrowed in offense to the comment, and he glared at them, soliciting several small shivers of branches from some of the less-than-resolute trees. There were those even in his own forest that found him scary and intimidating sometimes, no matter how many hundreds of years they'd been here before him, nor how tall and strong they'd grown. Widdershin was still quite the unnerving creature at times. But yet the grandest oak of all, one that grew slightly to the right of the temple, and whose boughs brushed the top of the dilapidated building 'shuffed' and 'sang' in the wind, it's deep mighty voice making Widdershin blink in surprise and turn to look at it attentively.
This was 'Grandfather Oak', the oak that had protected him when he was a babe, and had covered him with its roots from the cold and harm, had nourished him until the wolves were notified of the small babe that now belonged to the forest. The tree was as close to a father as Widdershin had or could possibly remember, and he often came to him for advice or guidance. For now, the oak lifted one of its mighty roots to point at the poor newcomer accusingly, and made the trees around him cower as he shook his branches crossly to speak to his troublesome 'grandson'. Demanding he take care of her wounds and be hospitable, he reminded Widdershin that they did not want outsiders to think their forest was to be feared, or did he not want the people to come back to the temples to worship the forest gods as they rightfully should for fear of it's cruel Sentinel?
With a soft, defiant grumble, Widdershin shook his head in annoyance as the root rested itself again, sliding off the statue with one last affectionate rub of his antlers. The stone stags made him comfortable, as if he was not the only stag in this forest, but had silent brothers to tend to. Looking at the woman, he sized her up once more, looking her over up and down and circling around her slightly to look up and down her back as well. With a short 'ha-rumph' sound, he swept her hair off her back where the tree bark had scratched her skin and picked her up in one fluid motion.
Carrying her to the OTHER statue (since his 'brothers' needed equal attention), he sat her down so she was facing away from him, and leaning on the stag's body for support. Brushing the stray strands of hair remaining away gently, he looked up to the oak and sighed, shaking his head with a slouch of his shoulders. Not only was he to come home humiliated and maimed but now he was to groom and tend to this female as if he was her subordinate? When would the torment and punishment for his weakness end? What was Grandfather trying to teach? He could not say, and for the moment, was too stubborn to care. Looking around momentarily for a plant he could use as a salve, he frowned as he found none, and sighed, resigning himself to the only other alternative he was raised by.
Grabbing some particularly wide Ivy, he silently apologized to it, though it did not mind, it was happy to be useful to him, and tore it from its sibling vines. The juice would help the scratches heal, but he had to clean them first.
Leaning forward, Widdershin began to do the most curiously social thing he'd been taught in his entire life...........and began to lick her wounds clean himself. He paused for a moment after tasting some of her blood. It was sweet, like sugar, with a tang of something else in it and the usual hints of metal. It was not unpleasant, and he fidgeted for a moment in disorientation with a small frown and a furrow of his brows. Looking up slightly, he frowned at her.
"Try to sit still.....I need to clean the scratches, and the pulp I'll put on them will sting a little, but it will heal faster and cleaner. I cannot do much about the bruising......I........I apo.............I am not used to having others come here.......I am always alone, with the forest and wolves as my family.......the forest calls me Widdershin, the Sentinel and guardian of these woods," he explained, attempting to explain his odd mannerisms and avoid her immediate discomfort at being handled so familiarly. He knew people looked at him odd when he acted too wolfish, or too reclusive, or when he was more interested in listening to their houseplant than them. Not being used to having others around only made him slightly more selfconcious about it, though, and he went back to his work, gingerly licking the rest of her scratches clean.
His horns grazed her shoulders gently a few times as his head bobbed up and down for its work, and his eyes began to droop to a half-lidded position from both the calming feeling of having something soft touch his antlers, and the familiarity of grooming someone else for a change. It had been a long time since he had bonded like this with the pack, and he found slight comfort and momentary release from his troubles at the notion.
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Posted: Tue Apr 13, 2010 11:20 pm
Again! Again she had become distracted and now found herself plucked from the ground like a common log, and toted around! Her senses, her reaction...the killer instinct she was forged with growing up, had it all disappeared now that she was no longer permitted in her birthplace?
Yet, his demeanor had changed. The calloused feel of his hand was no longer threatening but firm and gentle. The trees were not alarmed by anything happening; they did not shake and tremble at a sign of danger. They had never lied to her before, so she lowered her fighting reaction, curious as to what exactly....
Ooh. She shivered when his tongue touched her, surprised from feeling the warm softness of it on her wound. It stung a little, but soon she felt the pain becoming less, and even chuckled softly when she felt his antlers thumping against her back. She had never had a wound tended to like this. It was odd, yet intriguing, and part of her enjoyed it.
She'd had many wounds and injuries before, but most were never catered to with such ginger care, if catered to by another at all. Her heart seemed to flutter, strangely. Was it from being tended to in such a strange, yet effectively nice way?
With him being in such close proximity, she could catch his scent fairly well. Her eyes closed behind that foolish mask as she breathed it in. A warm, lively smell...it was very much like the forest's scent, but with more flowing warmth.
".......Th...thank you." she murmured, her fluffy little ears twitching slowly, and drooping a little. "....Widdershin." she repeated his name slowly. A small smile curved on her lips. "Then, no wonder the trees told me about you. There are so many that are awake here, I was surprised." She had to bite her lip to keep herself from purring embarrassingly while he continued tending to the scrape.
"Th...u///u The forest I come from called me...Yenessa. I know not many know of our tribe, because of...circumstances." She didn't know if she wanted to reveal the sordid, protective nature of her tribe just yet. He'd seemed to lay down arms, and she certainly didn't want him to become fierce again thinking she would cause him harm. Sure, she'd taken many lives of those who wondered too close to their sanctuary...but she was only now beginning to realize the heavy effects of death. "But..." she continued. "You could...you could call me Nessa, if you like."
She turned her head slightly, trying to catch his gaze to give him a soft smile, only it was futile. Though she could keep a person's gaze, they could never see her eyes. They could never know what she was truly feeling, because they could not see into her soul. Not anymore, at least.
"The wolves..they're really your family?"
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