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 Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2008 8:55 pm
Sequoia was tired and out of breath as he flew through the woods, his limbs tired and his heart heavy. How could they? How could they poke fun at his life, his past, lovers and friends, and that tragedy? How could they make fun of it? Of murder, death, and her? How could they make it light, cheerful, and encourage others to fly into the sky to be gobbled up? And how could he have been so easily suckered into it? It was their fault. Char’s fault. He went to him and wooed him with pretty words and commenting on his voice, saying he could be a bard. He told him to go to the Theater and what did he do? He set the stage of stories about The Above. The Sky Fiend. Didn’t he know how tragic his life and those around him had become because of it? How it hurt to think of it. Never did a night go by where he did not think of her. Of what had happened and how he wasn’t there.
It hurt.
Sequoia shuddered as he flew, not home but to the only sanctuary and the only person who had suffered and who understood. Flying in the familiar territory, still wracked by the storm, he found his perch and landed on Rosinweed’s territory, breathing deep as a shudder raced down his body. “Rosin?” He pleaded out. Despite the Sentinel never leaving, he thought she was not home and felt pained and crumbling to think it. He wanted her hear.
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Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2008 9:35 pm
Rosinweed would probably never find a mate. She was not interested in the males, or the females, for that matter. She would most likely never raise a hatchling or fledgling, or would she mingle with the rest of the Sentinel society on a regular basis.
Despite these unfortunate losses to the wildtype, she still heard the call of mother nature and motherhood in general.
At the moment Sequoia had crossed into her small patch of sanctuary, the highly paranoid female was in the depths of her stick fortress and was doting on the nest she had made of down, twigs, feathers, and scraps of fur from prey she had eaten.
She placed a stray feather, wiggled it, moved it.
Placed it, wiggled it, moved it.
Placed it, wiggled it, moved it.
She did this until she deemed it perfect for the time being, then moved on to another portion of the nest. Nettle rested comfortably inside and Rosin soon joined the parus, whom she settled over in a protective and loving stance once she was done tidying up.
Chaucer slipped into the fortress through a gnawed entrance he had made through one side, which was just large enough for the mus to squeeze through.
She heard the heavy breathing and the settling of Sequoia before he called for her. Chaucer and Nettle did not seem to acknowledge the arrival as a stranger, so she had assumed it was him. His voice only verified it.
"Rosin?"
At the sound of his pained voice, the female gave a soft keening cry and fluffed her feathers.
"Seq? Sequoia?" She stood and clambored from her nest and peered out at him from the darkness.
"Come? Come? Inside. Quick, now. Alright?" There was a tint of worry in her voice, though it was different from the usual worries that plagued the female's mind.
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Posted: Thu May 01, 2008 10:42 am
Sequoia was silently thankful that Rosinweed was home and awake. Of course she would be. She never left. She didn’t leave because she was fearful for her life all the time for an unknown monster, which prevented her from interacting with all the other Sentinels, making more friends who he was sure would like her as much as he did, and would go out and met someone of her own; Someone that was made for her, just like he had been made for AmberLilly. It was The Above, The Sky Fiend, which resulted in Rosin being closed off from the world, paranoid about all visitors and unable to relax aside from the reinforced security of her own home. And how could people make fun of that tragedy after a tragedy? They didn’t understand. They didn’t know.
Sequoia mustered up a weak smile, small and tiny upon his features as Rosin peeked out to usher him inside. Entering, he looked about meekly and at the ground. The added darkness from the covering sticks, that thick wall of twigs, made him feel better from the security. It kept the world and all its people out. He breathed in deep again, his eartuffs flat upon his head and his wings close to his body. The sunshine glimmer that was usually in his eyes was gone, the only light from the Mus hole reflecting on his jewelry. Even the yellow dye on his plumage seemed dull in color.
“Rosin…can I stay here for a while. I don’t feel like being home alone and I don’t want to go anywhere.” He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to be surrounded by people who understood and that of nature, who did not judge him.
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Posted: Thu May 01, 2008 8:30 pm
Silence was upon her as her golden eyes drifted across the pitiful and sad form that was her only true friend. It was a silence of understanding and sympathy.
"Can stay. Can stay, always. Always whenever, always open." She spoke softly, as if afraid it would upset him more if she her tone rose. Something had gone wrong and this something had to do with then. Nothing else ever seemed to bother him as deeply. Nothing else ever seemed to chase away that bright and seemingly cheerful gleam in his eyes.
She waddled back and to the side, ushering him deeper into her only sanctuary, which would be unknowingly damaged with the coming of spring.
"Always, whenever, for however. However long, always." She added for good measure. Chaucer and Nettle both made themselves scarce to make room for their Master's cherished friend.
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Posted: Thu May 01, 2008 9:06 pm
Though other's would argue that Rosin's style of speak was erratic and ragged, Sequoia found it the most elequent and holding it's own beautiful originallity. Her mannerisms and speak where the golden attributes of the softness of her gender and her way. He thanked her and her parents for it. For whatever had shinned to create her in such a way, he wished it happened more often to create more Sentinels with such a kind heart.
Walking deep insider, he instictively brought himself close to her, draping a part of his wing close to her form and preening her feathers as he started to nuzzle closer to her. It was comforting for him to comfort and he was use to tending to her worries, so when he was distressed, it made him feel better to do the same thing. "Oh Rosin... if more Sentinels where like you, the world would be a better place. You're a flower in the ruff. when I think of all those other terrible...heartless Sentinels, you shine in comparrison." He said. In his state, to see such kindness and sympathy in comparison to those others that had hurt him and poked at his tender spots at the Theater, he found her shinning in her form.
".....they where so terrible, Rosin. They spoke so unkindly of her. They kept talking of the above as if it was a pleasant place and encouraged others as if they could contend with it's might. How could they be so ignorant?" He said, his voice a muffled whisper against her feathers.
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Posted: Thu May 01, 2008 9:25 pm
Rosinweed pressed closely to Sequoia and listened silently as he spoke softly through her feathers. She leaned forward and carefully preened his eartufts as she digested every syllable that left him.
His kind words were soothing, yet the female could not help but feel somewhat ashamed, as she did not see herself in such a light. She could not see in herself what he could see, but she did not object, she preened.
"Ignore... Ignorance... Always plagues. Always always. Always everywhere." She hooted quietly between feathers. "Always, no matter. Will always, not understand. Understanding. No... They don't. They can't."
She inhaled sharply and sighed. Sequoia seemed to carry the weight of the Forest on his shoulders and this saddened her greatly. To know that a miserable and lonesome friend hid behind brightly painted feathers and a cheery smile. It was hypocritical for her to frown upon that, but she did not quite see the hypocrasy in her views. She wanted for him what he wanted for her, happiness.
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Posted: Fri May 02, 2008 8:24 pm
Uplifted to some extent, Sequoia nestled himself down, deciding he would rather much not like to leave anytime soon and with Rosin’s acceptance, would stay. He attempted a weak yet sad smile, his eyes lifting up to look at her directly. “ I guess it’s a good thing they don’t understand. The world would be a sadder place…right?” He tried to look at his downcast situation in some light, but he didn’t feel up to it, even if he gave a reason to look at it in a new angle. Despite feeling down, he felt bad that he was probably troubling Rosin and she really wasn’t the type that needed it.
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Posted: Fri May 02, 2008 8:35 pm
"Aye... Hnn..." She moved from preening his eartufts to the top of his head. "Sadder, yes..."
His sadness increased her worries, but he needed help. He needed comfort. He needed her right now. Her feathers bristled, but she leaned as closely as she could to him to comfort him.
"All find out, though. All see, eventually. All."
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Posted: Mon May 05, 2008 9:58 pm
Sequoia had little else to say. He did not want to tell the story just yet, though he guessed there was no need. Rosin knew how to care regardless of what led to his state and she understood without knowing the details. It was a good thing. Sequoia had a tendency to work himself to an insane rate of quick and senseless talking, somewhere between poetry and sharp madness, a confusing jumble of gibberish that only he understood at times with parts translated if you could catch it and put it to its full context. It was good he was here, because in a soft, close cuddled embrace, the tired performance the CrownLeaf Theater, the flight here, and the rolling turmoil of his mind, wound down and he felt exhausted from his anger and sadness, which either was so use to being suppressed that it never came out, or was something his sunny appearance didn’t usually show.
“Thank you…” He whispered. "...at least you understand."
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Posted: Tue May 06, 2008 5:04 am
She was silent as he spoke, but continued to preen his feathers in an attempt to comfort him as much as possible. She clicked her beak quietly and relaxed her tense frame; her feathers fell into place neatly and although the sad atmosphere, dawn was quickly approaching and she found sleep close at talon.
Days and nights passed rather quickly for the pair. While Rosinweed often did not like company, she loved it when Sequoia came to visit. While it was often he who was comforting her, she did like to dote on him. It seemed to help with those motherly instincts that often have her doting over her companions. She was still anxious, but it seemed to help having him nearby and she was able to focus on a single task: Make Sequoia feel better.
Unbenknowns to the fortress's current inhabitant and her guest, a certain sentinel had been seeking them out almost since the first night Sequoia had arrived.
The brightly painted aberrant was exhausted and his wings ached. He had never been the best of flyers and he tired out quickly. The night Sequoia had stormed away from the Theatre, Fjord had been confused. He had merely been trying to warn the fledglins about straying too high. The thought of Sequoia suffering personally from it had never occured to him. No, he assumed that it was Char's tale that had upset the pretty artisan, as it had upset himself a bit, too.
It had taken a great deal of wandering and asking for directions to find the location of Sequoia, who had not been in his own territory. Crow had been figgety on his back and Feather often lost interest in the search. He would dissapear for hours at a time, but he came back as he always did.
Currently, the aberrant bard sat perched high in a spruce just outside of Rosinweed's territory. He was sure this was it, for he had never seen another structure quite as strange or quite as formidable in appearance. Clutched in his talons was the still warm body of a skurri he had snagged earlier while hunting, though he had to take off his bells to achieve the task silently enough not to scare all the prey in the area away.
As he slipped them back on, they jingled and jangled, which caught the attention of a certain little alarm parus named Nettle.
The little creature hopped to the main entrance of the stick home. After looking this way and that, she was sure she found the location of the intruder and she immediately began to sound the alarm with her unpleasant squawks.
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Posted: Wed May 07, 2008 12:22 pm
Basil cringed at hearing the other parus, Nettle, chatter away. For a bird that was trained to make a voice clear and smooth, the little parus irked the painted companion. Basil wasn’t in a particularly good mood, having been left home and then having to find Sequoia when his long absence went to worry. Now that he was at Rosinweed’s territory, he found the companions alright aside from the times they set off their alarm, which drove him mad. Still, Basil wasn’t about to complain and had been as pleasant as a little companion could. Sequoia guessed it was a clear sign of how upset he was when even Basil would not make remarks to correct his speak. Though comforted, Sequoia had not done much of anything for the days that followed his arrival. He had kept himself and his mind busy with collecting food with Rosinweed, finding that staying close to her home was something he for once wanted, not wanting to leave or go out. To met anyone at any time was just something he didn’t want to do which was odd for the usually social and friendly Artisan.
Aside from gathering, Sequoia helped with gathering sticks and just preening Rosin and the companions. Just because he didn’t want to see anyone didn’t mean he didn’t have his desires to be close as he was prone to be with others regardless of how long he spent with them. After a few days, Sequoia was finding himself settling in nicely in Rosinweed’s territory and was entertaining the idea of staying so he could be helpful. Rosinweed was right in staying that very little people understood, and right now, he thought maybe he should just stay with people that knew him better. Feeling useful, Sequoia occupied his mind soley on gathering food, fixing up the place, and when he spotted it, plucking flowers to tuck into Rosinweed’s nest and territory to bring some color to the usually frightful fortress of sticks. Sequoia was actually on the look out for some ivy, which would work great in covering the sticks which could climb on Rosinweed’s crafted sanctuary, enclose it in it’s vines, keep it securely in place and also brighten it up with it’s deep green leaves. All she would have to do is preen the leaves from growing over the entrance.
Thinking on this, Sequoia sat nestled inside the enclosure, watching Rosinweed and just gently dozing before getting ready to go out again and find some berries and such to gather. Upon hearing the noise, he watched Basil wince and turned about. “Hmm?” He thought out loud. Nettle was a very observant bird but sometimes even the little parus mistook Sentinels for objects. Still wary, Sequoia stepped through the entrance and brought a wing out to hush Nettle, looking about from where the bird was looking towards. Perched higher above and few trees over was a Sentinel that rang a familiar bell. He watched his preformed only days prior and with such vivid detail to the story, Sequoia wasn’t likely to forget the Bard. Especially since he had shot the very same Sentinel a rather vicious look that he usually didn’t even keep in his arsenal. Eartuffs back, Sequoia turned about, ushering Nettle inside. “Let’s go inside. Quickly now.”
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Posted: Wed May 07, 2008 12:36 pm
At the sound of the parus's shrill cries, Fjord winced. Unfortunately, the painted pica at his side began to echo Nettle's noisy alarm.
"Hsssh, Hush, hush!" He scolded Feather softly, who seemed annoyed by the reprimand. "Hush and we'll have nice berries later, Feath... Please?"
The pica tilted his head sideways and parted his beak, as if he were to screech again. Fjord held his breath and flattened his eartufts in anticipation for the annoying noise, but Feather merely snapped his beak shut, then broke into a chattering laugh.
The bard rolled his eyes and glanced down to the entrance of the fortress just in time to see a hint of golden yellow and black as Sequoia dissapeared, ushering in the eager Nettle.
"Hello?" He called timidly, but sound enough to be heard. "May I share words with you?"
"Hrrah, who? Who? Who is it?" Rosinweed had been dozing deep in her stick fortress when Nettle began to sound her alarm. The wildtype snapped to attention and crouched low, with her eyes narrowed. She knew nothing of the bard and had not pressed Sequoia about the topic. Every feather on her body seemed to stand and her eartufts slicked back.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2008 10:08 pm
Sequoia pushed Nettle in, wishing they had several sticks to block the entrance. Feeling vulnerable, he turned to look at Rosinweed, who was more high strung by a stranger being near then Sequoia was at a threat he knew. Upon her q3eustion, he debated saying it was no one. A flash alarm by Nettle who probably saw a skurri, but Sequoia felt that the bard would be persistent. Sequoia wasn’t the type to lie either.
“It’s just someone from the Theater. A bard.” He said, using his wing to usher back a curious Basil who had been dozing with Rosinweed and woke up to hop over and see what the commotion was about. Pushing the Parus back, he knew that Rosinweed and all the companions would be eager to see who this stranger was and it felt like a personal scar to not let them see. He didn’t want them diving into his own little mess. His outburst and problems at the Theater and the bards involved. He was suppose to be there for others, not be the weak, depressed burden.
“I’l ---I’ll go take care of it.” He said, finding that the first break of a stutter was not a good sign for him. Breathing deep, he turned about and started his way out of the entrance. He wanted to keep Rosinweed back, but if he stayed at the opening, she would hear the conversation. She’s worry.
“This isn’t your territory. Don’t you know better than to trespass? You’re not welcomed here. Go back to the Theater. Go home!” Sequoia said, telling the bard off. He was surprised by his tone, but not by the passion in his voice. He had ample passion for all highs and lows and it was that sensitive passion that spiked up his moods. “I’ve had enough of bards!”
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2008 6:35 am
As Sequoia spoke, Fjord cringed. The often times meek and insecure young bard was not only troubled by the fact that the pretty artisan was berating him, but by the sheer amount of passion and tone in his voice. He found himself at a loss for words, although he hadn't exactly thought this through before he left the Crownleaf, he merely decided he would find him.
"I-I-I'm sorry... Truely, I am." What could he say to calm Sequoia? The fact that he did not know him well enough to know the exact source of the problem posed, in and of itself, yet another problem.
"I... We... We didn't intentd to upset you..." He felt exposed and embarassed and the words that would of come easily to him in normal social situations seemed to of vanished.
As Sequoia moved away from the entrance, Rosinweed scrambled after, but did not leave. First her beak, then her head poked out. Her eyes narrowed as she settled on the strange bard, with his bells and flashy paint. While Sequoia was painted, it did not seem to bother her. She worried for the longest time, but finally came to the conclusion that the Sky Fiend must not notice that rich yellow and amber colour that her friend was painted with, because It never came to get him.
Surely It would see this stranger's bright blue and green. It was like a beakon in the boughs... And those bells! Her eartufts pressed against her skull at the mere thought of it.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2008 7:33 pm
Didn’t intend to hurt him? That was laughable! Fuming, Sequoia drew himself out of Rosinweed’s enclave and into the open, eartuffs back.
“I may have been taken for a fool once, but do you really expect me to be that guidable twice? If you come at a Mus with talons, does that Mus forget you that easily? Of course not! Your plays where too specific and for Char to invite me on that day, he either made me an idiot, or wrapped you all into it. He’s a despicable Sentinel for doing such a thing and you should either take responsibility for working with him or, if you where betrayed as I was, be able to understand why I am angry.” He huffed. “I was told bards where made of the most sensitive hearts, able to open up and absorb the light and dark of Noctua for all it was and paint it through words. I never felt the full blunt of that art crafted into such a vicious bite. You have dug up past bodies for what you have done and I hope that the Thunderbird should strike all of you down for doing such a thing.”
Sequoia was usually a pacifist, one who would jump into fights to break them apart at the risk of his own life, but when it came to that one thing, that one Sentinel from long ago, he felt himself boil from eartfuff to tail. It was probably the only times he could associate the type of aggressive the Elites and Hunters felt.
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