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 Posted: Mon Jun 02, 2008 9:38 am
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Posted: Mon Jun 02, 2008 9:44 am
<> Rules to abide by -This is a private journal, please don't post without permission.
-Please feel free to view the journal and ask if you would like to RP.
-Follow the Gaia ToS and ToS put down by the shop if given posting permission.
-Other rules to be added later if necessary.Table of contents Null Post--Certs
Post 1--Rules/ToC
Post 2--Willow
Post 3--Willow Background
Post 4--Willow RPs
Post 5--Burburry
Post 6--Burburry Background
Post 7--Burburry RPs
Post 8--
Post 9--
Post 10--
Post 11--
Post 12--
Post 13--
Post 14--Credits
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Posted: Mon Jun 02, 2008 9:51 am
<> The Hlessi  -Name::: Willow
-Gender::: Doe (Female)
-Post Style::: Size 10 font, standard color <>
-Personality::: To be added
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Posted: Mon Jun 02, 2008 9:54 am
<> It had been three Fu Inle’ before thirst and the need to silflay had driven the young female from the security of a rotting log amassed in a thicket of thorns. Whimpering, the dusty doe poked her head from the log’s end. Her ears laid back from fear but still alert, listening for any sounds. As she stepped, a small breeze rustled the thorns and the doe retreated into the fallen crevice. Her heart raced, and nervously she stroked a paw over her face. Upon removal she gazed upon a dark semi-dry stain of blood. Her right eye and nose ached. In a well conditioned act she cleaned the blood from her unkempt fur. The iron taste made her spit it out. Quivering, she again stepped to the opening of her hiding place.
Three Fu Inle’ ago the female was happy and well groomed, sitting amongst other does, talking and scratching burrows. One of them had complimented on the young female’s burrow digging ability. “Willow, you do wonders. And you never rest. When did you last silflay?”
“I believe last evening. I think…” The female with the dark patches on her tail, ears, nose and back stopped to contemplate her last meal. “I do believe it was last evening. Burberry made sure I ate.” Upon hearing the name of the brawny buck, the does cooed and sighed at her.
“How adorable!” A doe to the side commented. “I do think that buck fancies you Willow!” At the comment the easily embarrassed Willow turned and occupied herself with her digging.
“I-I don’t know what you mean.” She stammered. The does giggled and returned to their work, humming about Willow and the buck Burberry.
At the end of the day the does all went above ground to silflay. Willow went with them and picked idly at clover. The season for them was coming to an end and times for her and the others would be tough.
After silflay the entire warren retired to their dens. Willow passed by the great hall of her warren, poking her head in just to see if any familiar faces could be seen. There was one. The buck the does were cooing about before. Burberry. She watched the buck scuffle with another in a show of strength. He had aspirations to be an Owsla and by the looks of it, he was getting there fast. The mock fight was over shortly there after and the males rubbed their scratches with Burberry being the decided winner. The buck chatted briefly with his opponent before heading towards the other entrance where the bucks holed up for sleep. Willow smiled to herself as the male vanished, happy he had succeeded.
In her own den Willow curled up for sleep. Soon she was out, exhausted after an entire day of scratching a new passage way. But her sleep was short lived. Overhead a great roaring noise, deafening, frightening, like thunder had come down from above and decided to explode inches over the warren. Does from outside Willow’s den ran by, each shrieking. The dusty female soon joined their ranks, each fleeing for the entrance out. Squeals and shouts from bucks and does alike caused more confusion as rabbits ran over and under each other trying to escape the overhead thunder. Willow darted around, over, and under, the noises getting louder and more frightening. She did not register the faces of anyone around her, only looking forward in the holes, dashing for the entrance.
A great ripping noise permeated the air and each rabbit turned to look as a great blade tore through the roof of the warren. The ones in front screamed and dashed off while the others behind it backed away to look for another route. Those underneath it…Oh…Best not think of them. Willow, in the front, tore fast, her own voice unheard over the others. Just a yard or two ahead was the entrance, clogged with kicking, scratching, biting rabbits. As she reached salvation, a rabbit of smaller size leapt in front and kicked the doe in the face. Willow felt a stinging just above her nose as the hind leg left her face.
She got caught in the middle of four rabbits each trying in his or her own way to flee out the hole. The tearing and roaring got louder and louder. From behind came pushing, biting, scratching. Suddenly a great force of stopped up rabbits pushed the five out of the warren. Willow landed hard on her side but instincts kicked in and she ran. She ran like she had never done so before in her life, as though a great elil were baring it jaws down upon her. Heart hammering and feet plundering the soft earth, the doe was not aware of the world becoming silent. The screams and roars were gone from around her, but they lurked inside her head. More frightened than ever before in her life, Willow kept on running, farther than she ever went before. Finally she opened her green eyes to what lay before her. A great thicket of overgrown thorns was there and just inside their prickles was a hollowed log. A large mass of safety. With adrenaline flowing the female sprinted into the mass of thorns. One tore at her right eye, but she did not feel the pain of it. The only thing on her mind was that log and its safe inner darkness.
Upon entering the great hollowness, Willow collapsed and blacked out. Her little heart was near bursting at the marathon she ran and the torments her eyes and ears had encountered made her dizzy and ill.
The sun was up the next day, shining as though a great evil had not passed the night before. Still the doe slept in unease, rolling, whining, seeing faces of family, friends, and a buck she had loved most of all. They haunted her, and her worry kept her in a coma of sorts. Three moons later she came to. And now she stood at the opening of the log, eye and nose sore and stomach reeling, but hungry none the less.
With extreme caution the doe finally managed to get out. She crept near the thorns, feeding here and there at some spare grass. Her ears were kept on alert and her eyes twitched at her surroundings. Willow was sure of it, this place was a great way from her, or what was her, warren. Just under some thorns was a puddle of water, fresh. It must have rained that past night. Willow examined her face. Her right eye was gashed and her nose showed where the youth had kicked her in attempts to flee. A dark feeling crept over the doe. Her warren was gone. Her family, friends, her livelihood, they were all gone. Her mind flew to the image of Burberry; the strong, brawny buck with the wet dirt colored coat and the six white spots down his back. The same buck who a lifetime ago was coaxing her to silflay and doting on her every movement. A sudden coldness ran through her heart as Burberry’s likeness faded from her mind. She would never see him again. He was gone, lost, now and forever to her. Her warren was gone. Everything she ever knew was never coming back and nothing would ever be the same.
Willow sat by the thorns even as the sun faded behind the clouds and promised rain. Her mind was a stream of thoughts. Where to go, what to do, how to get there. What, why, how, when, who? She sniffled in the approaching cold. Finally she decided sitting in the open would be the death of her so she retreated again to the log. Once night fell, she would journey out to find a new warren. Explain her situation, yes, they would understand. For the time she drifted off again.
The doe awoke just before Fu Inle’ had arrived. She shook the damp from her dust colored fur and gingerly stepped from her temporary home. Silence. Not even the wind was around to sing in the night trees. Going back home would mean nothing, no one would be there. Going out into the world where she knew no one or anything about it could mean death, but it could also mean finding a new warren and maybe, just maybe, some of her long lost companions.
Elil were everywhere at anytime, but the doe figured most would be at rest during the dark hours. “Travel by night, rest by day.” She spoke to the rocks that she passed, now a great mileage away from the thicket. She lay low as she walked, ears and tender nose making up for what her eyes lacked. No sounds. How odd.
At Ni-Frith two days later Willow lay in a patch of hay in an old, abandoned field. Her stomach growled for food, but the hay was old and tasted poor. Plus it did not fill her when she tried to eat it. Breaking her own little mantra, the doe cast herself out of the hay patch. Ears erect she listened for sounds. Small berry birds twittered in the greenery of the trees nearby, but other than that, nothing. Her eyes turned to a great red structure at the end of the field. She had never seen such a thing before and it amazed her. Stories of Men told her one or two must reside there. Fear told her not to, but hunger and the smell of something delicious made her bold for the time being.
Willow hurried across the dried field to the red structure. Surrounding it was a great barricade. At her level it was cool and her paws fit through the openings between the ties that held it up. Her paws and nothing more. From behind it, she could see a garden and inside of that garden, flayrah. The doe’s stomach growled at the sight of it. Oh, how good would a carrot be right now! The rabbit scanned the barricade. No sign of entry but…Wait…A small hole lay to her right only a yard away. It was shallow, but some digging made it wide enough where the doe could slip underneath with some wriggling.
Cautiously, the young female made her way to the unprotected garden. Carrots were closest to her and her escape hatch. Again with some digging Willow lifted one out. A quick scan and she began to eat. How good! Flayrah was just as the elders had said it would be! In her chewing, Willow had forgotten to scan her surroundings. A shadow eclipsed the hungry doe. She started. A whisking noise and a slap sent her flying head over tail to the dirt away from the garden. Instincts again made her run. She turned. A great form, features shadowed by Frith, pursued her holding a stick with a great fan attached. The blow had sent the doe a great ways from the hole from whence she came. Willow had to find another way out. Her ears, eyes, and nose were frenzied with movement, trying for escape. The form was behind her, a whooshing noise came overhead. She ducked. From the corner of her left eye Willow saw it. Another escape hole. Momentary elation came over her and she darted in that direction. Blocking freedom was a shining pile of curled silver thorn. The pile was small, she could clear it with a leap.
The doe ran and as she prepared to leap, the stick-fan came down and slapped her again. She flew almost entirely over the shining thorn. She almost made it, but her right hind leg became ensnared in the coils. Willow squealed at the thorns caught her. Desperation to get away with her life caused her not to think, but to pull away. The thorns held fast and tore fur from skin and bone. A final, deranged tug freed her, but with a nasty pain. Willow made quick for the hole, but found it too shallow. She struggled against the cool barricade and pulled away, tearing her right ear a bit in the process. The form slapped the fan-stick against the barricade thrice as Willow ran for the tree line.
Rolling down a short hill and stopping at the whim of a tree root, Willow examined her hind leg. Four cuts faced out at her, bleeding fresh. She winced and proceeded to lick the wound clean. After the task was done and the bleeding slowed, Willow scraped a small inlet under the thick root that stopped her and laid down to examine her torn ear. It wasn’t fully off but a good tug would cast it from her head. She repeated her regained mantra in her head, angry she let her belly rule her judgment.
Night came again and the now smarter, all be it injured, doe hurried amongst the trees bound for nowhere. She limped a bit, easing her weight onto the torn hind leg at intervals so it could get used to supporting again. Willow paused to smell the air. A smell, not quite embleer, was hanging in the air. She could not tell if it was elil or not. Her new smarts told her to lay low and avoid danger, not run to it like with the garden. She had learned her lesson about Men and traveled into the trees to avoid all traces of them. Here, the dark greenery held no smells or leavings of man. Here, for now, she was safe.
Willow journeyed on in the trees, that nagging smell still touching her curiosity. She didn’t have the feeling of being followed, but the smell was everywhere. And, it seemed, it was getting stronger the more she walked. A large spruce tree stood in her path so the doe walked around it. On the opposite side the smell was overpowering. And she saw the scent’s owner.
A black and white skunk lay on its belly just near the tree. The doe shook her head to try to clear her senses but couldn’t. The creature, not elil (thank El-ahrairah!) barely took notice of the rabbit and she left it alone.
Day came again and the doe rested. Night fell before she awoke and after cleaning her dirtied fur she took up her path again. From somewhere ahead, an elil howled. It sounded strange, strangled. Not homba-like at all. The doe shuddered and took to a cave-like structure formed from roots. The howl came again, closer. In the roots she watched the direction where the howl descended from. The air had gone cold, too quiet save for that howl. Willow shivered, her fur standing on end. From in front the bushes rustled. Her claws dug into the soft mossy dirt. The bushes parted to let loose a creature she had never seen before.
Its body was a grizzled mass of grey matted fur. It was homba shaped, but bigger. Much bigger. Its eyes were hidden by the grey shag. The embleer coming from the beast was horrible. Not as bad as skunk stink, but still horrible. It dragged in breath through a heavily toothed mouth. Willow remained still, daring not to breath. From the great distance away the beast breathed through its horrid mouth. But in an instant, it stopped. Its mouth shut, but a rapid, short gasping started. It was smelling.
Dread wiped over Willow and though she didn’t move she could feel every fiber of herself start to yell. The beast’s sniffing drew its feet (haggard claws!) towards the spot where Willow lay in fear. The great gasps of air filling the nose with scent were loud and terrible. Then, they stopped. The matted head rose up, hair parted to reveal wild, yellowed eyes and the jowls rose to expose rotting teeth. From the mouth came a whine of longing followed by quick, raspy barks. Legs covered with matted grey twitched in agitation. The eyes rolled over Willow’s hiding spot. The doe still did not move. Another short tempo of barks and the beast lunged forward. In an instance it was at the opening of the root cave, clawing for the rabbit it smelled underneath. Willow backed away, looking over her left shoulder at the entrance that was now her only exit. As she looked at her only chance, the overgrown claws dug in and cut her shoulder.
The rabbit squealed. An unheard cry over the heavy panting and barking of the starving elil. Willow began to back out, looking into the wild yellowing eyes that saw her as nothing more than a free pass from starvation. Willow pinned her ears back so they wouldn’t get ensnared on the roots above her. The elil kept at its wild clawing, whining and barking at the frightened doe. Willow figured she’d have one shot to run as fast as she could to escape. Out of fear she shut her eyes and shot backwards. Pain tore through her right ear as the elil clamped down and whipped the rabbit upwards. The ear, already wounded from before, ripped off. The elil spat it out and chased the doe as she fled from it. Its jaws opened as it dove for the rabbit. Another squeal as the jaws came over and held fast onto her back.
Willow felt the jaws clench and her back tighten against the teeth. Her legs flailed and she brought her front paws up to scratch at the face of the elil. Its jaws bit down more and she soon lost all hope of freeing herself. The elil shook her violently from side to side. The agony from her ripped ear, shoulder, and now back was too much. If she died, would she see Burberry? Is he dead? Questions, images, flashed before her eyes and in her mind. Sadness and a sense of not knowing what she could have been washed over her. This was the end. What a way to go, a meal for an embleer elil.
Suddenly, she hit the ground. The elil howled in pain and that embleer stink from earlier washed over the area. Willow’s legs took less than a couple of seconds to find themselves before she was off and running. From behind the elil continued its howling and the stink drifted.
Willow continued to flee until a line of wild roses appeared before her. She maneuvered under it and fainted. The last conscious thought to go through her mind was “I know what I am now. I am one who has no home, an above-grounder. I am hlessi.”
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2008 6:29 pm
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2008 6:30 pm
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2008 6:31 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:06 am
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:09 am
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:12 am
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:15 am
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:16 am
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:18 am
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:19 am
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 6:20 am
<> -Cert, lineart, and coloring all property of Tales of Watership Down.
-In journal posts (including backstories) property of Ravina Loki.
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