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 Posted: Mon May 07, 2012 12:35 am
kuromeez have i ever mentioned how terrible i am at intros /SOBS/ I HOPE THIS IS ALRIGHT
There were too many people, and not enough hiding places.
Senga pushed down another wave of anxiety, crouched in the shadows like a ghost as another group of horsemen from different clans passed by. He was used to hiding in trees and foliage, but for now, the dark would have to do; a thought that was both displeasing and annoying all at once. Watching as the strangers left his sight, Senga lifted his head and cautiously approached the open clearing, his wings ruffling to the foreign chill in the air. Back home, the jungles had been humid and warm. Here, it was barren, and cramped, and --
Senga backpedaled straight into the shadows when another group of clansmen - these ones dressed in the silk robes of Conquest - passed by. Crowded, Senga finished to himself, shoulders rolling tightly backwards beneath white fur. Owlishly, the executioner's gaze followed them until they were gone. So he was near to that part of the reserve then. It wasn't that the young horseman had gotten turned around so much as he hadn't been paying attention. Extending his wings in irritation, Senga stepped away from his hiding spot and gave a few tentative flaps before bending his knees and leaping upwards into the cold, dank air to observe the world from above.
The five tents spiraled out below him, Conquest's temporary shelter closest, and his own brethren's nothing but a tiny square in the distance. The flight back could be short, simple even. But the young executioner was hesitant to go back; hesitant, if only because of the constant terrible broadcast of noise inside of his head. The thick tangle of whispers all crowding in his skull gave Senga a headache when they were being polite. They gave him a lot more when they weren't. Sighing, the horseman folded his wings and dropped back down to the ground below, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to carefully plan out a landing, or plan out just how he was going to avoid all of the Conquest clan-members milling about somewhere below.
Which might have been a reasonable explanation for why the next few moments were something of a blur, up until the moment when Senga realized he wasn't landing on solid ground again, but rather on someone's head.
"Oh, hello."
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Posted: Mon May 07, 2012 2:25 pm
Kupuritama YOU'RE FINE BBY YOU'RE FINE <3
His entire life he had been allowed the privilege of a single room, considering that all he had had was a younger sister growing up, and it was well known within his family that siblings did not share rooms - especially siblings of the opposite gender. Mengyao supposed he had lived a rather extravagant lifestyle before - which was probably why learning to accommodate for everyone in such a place was not exactly an easy task.
He did not like having to subject himself to this, and hopefully the rebuilding would go faster, and he would have the chance to live the way he wanted once more.
Living by himself was much more preferable than living in a Jack forsaken tent.
Mengyao tried not to think too much about it, but the tent was crowded and he was feeling more than a little claustrophobic about it. Exhaling his breath and trying to keep the tension in his shoulders and the voices in his head from growing to astronomical heights, Mengyao made his way from the tent, pushing aside the flap and stepping out. He took a great breath of fresh air, and pulled the fan from his sleeve, idly waving it in front of his face.
This is pathetic. You're pathetic.
"Oh, do shut up," Mengyao muttered irritably to himself, just before something heavy and definitely alive collided with the top of his head, sending the both of them crashing down onto the ground with a loud thump.
Mengyao attempted to gracefully extract himself from the sudden mess of fur, feathers, cloth, and bones, but since there was no way to do so, he settled for ungraceful, and yanked his robes free from beneath whatever - or rather, whoever - it was that had just landed on him.
It was a horseman - but not one that Mengyao recognized.
"Little horse, don't you have something better to do than to pretend that you are capable of flight?" said Mengyao, pulling his clothing straight again as he smoothed a greying hand down the front.
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Posted: Mon May 07, 2012 5:52 pm
It wasn't that he'd meant for a crash landing, but all things considered, Mengyao was a rather... preferable thing to end up on instead of say, one of the bonier Famine horsemen. Fluffing his wings, Senga propelled himself backwards, settling a few feet away from the long-robed noble, who seemed rather less graceful than normal.
Maybe thats because you landed on him, A snide voice piped up from somewhere in the back of his head.
Senga ignored it, folding his wings tightly to his side instead and giving a quiet 'hmph' at the words. He was not exactly well trained in the art of conversing with members of Conquest, seeing as before now, he'd only ever seen one in passing. Now they seemed to swarm the place left and right, their flowing robes and proud tones terribly difficult to overlook. And as perfect and pretty as they were, Senga thought that they were nothing short of neon bright targets in the dark, hard to miss and even harder to avoid.
"I am quite capable of flight," He responded quietly, his tone hard and defensive, "you were in the way. And I am not little." Perhaps it wasn't the best way to start a conversation, but while Senga tolerated comments like that from his own clan, he would not tolerate them from long-sleeved, fancy, high-to-do nobles like Mengyao. At least not without a fight. Shaking his head, the young executioner pawed gently at his skulls, making sure they were all in one piece as they rattled hollowly together before turning his attention back to Mengyao.
Or, more specifically, to his greying hand.
"Oh," The young executioner tilted his head at the strange sight, tapping a black striped wingtip to Mengyao's hand. "You as well?"
What were formalities again? Senga certainly didn't know.
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Posted: Tue May 08, 2012 12:12 am
The look Mengyao gave the horsemen was clearly a scrutinizing one as his dual colored gaze swept up and down the smaller, stockier frame of the one who had landed on him. A thick, white furred pelt hung over dark skin and pale hair, a gathering of what appeared to be animal skulls looping around his torso and waist - all things that indicated that his former clan had to have been War. From beneath the pelt a set of dark, striped wings were tucked neatly against his back and legs, and there were two vertical scars crossing over his left eye.
An eye that was as bright gold as his own, Mengyao noted silently to himself.
Idly, he pulled out the fan again, touching the feathers to his own cheek as though it were a reassuring gesture of sorts. "Forgive me for saying so," said Mengyao, in an utterly calm voice that boarded on bored - there was, however, a slight tinge of what might have been interest to it as well, hidden beneath the dryness - "but seeing as how you are a good several inches shorter than I, that constitutes being little, at least from my own personal view. I am quite certain that there are other horsemen here that are shorter than you, however, so perhaps you are merely average after all."
It was hard to tell whether he was teasing or being serious, a serene smile crossing Mengyao's face as though he hadn't a care in the world, despite the voices inside of his head.
A smile that dropped almost instantly when he felt something soft brush against the back of his hand. Automatically Mengyao jerked away, his eyes flashing blue and gold as he stared down at the young man, pressing his lips together. For a moment he did not speak, but then his shoulders relaxed, some of the tension easing.
"Ah, that is not really anything to speak of," he said lightly, airily, and smiled benignly, still waving the fan against his face, a few strands of hair gusting over his cheek. "Tell me, what is your name? Are you always this...forward?"
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Posted: Tue May 08, 2012 1:07 am
While Mengyao wasn't as intimidating as the old chieftains of War had been, the scrutinizing glance was met with a nervous twitch of wings, breath held for a moment in silence. Rumbling quietly, Senga shifted to balance his weight evenly, the skulls strewn across his furred pelt clicking hollowly together along with the beads and feathers that also stood out against dark skin. He knew he was not exactly a pretty sight -- he carried more scars than most others in his clan, his arms and torso wrapped with bandages that covered larger, wider ones by far. His lips pulled into a tight line; just how long did Mengyao plan to take on his once-over?
Gold eyes glanced upwards, and Senga frowned at the words, and more so the fan. What a strange contraption; though he supposed the members of Conquest had no wings to use in substitution instead. "Hmph." A soft, snorting sound, almost inhuman and more like a wolf's growl escaped his lips at the words. "How very observant of you." He responded, but without any real heat. He was not unused to being called short, little, or young, and there was no real argument he could provide when it was easily pointed out that most were taller than him. War boasted proud, strong men and women. Where they were tall and muscled, he was tiny and lean. It was - ah - very irritating. Senga's eyes half-lidded. But he'd grown used to it by now.
Tilting his head without any real surprise at the others jerky reaction, the young executioner rumbled quietly in his throat. The wingtip merely hovered for a moment where once there had been a hand before folding back towards his body and giving a few flaps, effectively fanning himself as though to mimic the use of Mengyao's own precious treasure. "Hmm." The boy's head tipped downwards, and his wings stretched out on either side of him, not quite unfurled to their full extent, but enough to show the stripes and tawny feathers as they hovered around him, quivering restlessly. He'd spent days after the destruction alone, tracing the patterns of grey on his skin, memorizing their patterns and where they were. Most obvious were the ones that spidered up the side of his face, and those that ran like dried blood beneath the bandages and bare skin of his stomach. The sight of them sparked voices in his head, all buzzing like flies over a rotted corpse.
Pathetic - useless - little - weak...
Senga hushed them with a low and keening growl before his eyes turned to Mengyao, the words not missed, though neither were they responded to for several moments. Finally, the little wolf raised his hands, thumbs hooking beneath the hood of the pelt and pushing it back.
"Senga. And yours?" He rumbled quietly in return, bright gold flashing against dark skin. "It seems rather more interesting than being shy." He turned his head to the side, observing the growing darkness of night, and the silence quickly descending over the reserve. "Would you prefer a different approach?"
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Posted: Wed May 09, 2012 8:27 pm
The young horseman in front of him was much smaller in stature than Mengyao, but he carried himself with an air of subtle confidence - even if that confidence was marred by his subtle shifting, the way his wings fluttered; all signs that indicated he was uncertain over something, though Mengyao could not pinpoint whether it was himself or whether that was just how he was.
"I tend to be extraordinarily observant," said Mengyao lightly, taking the mildly derisive comment with ease. Inside of his head, a few of the voices spun wild, extravagant tales, but he pushed them aside, ignoring the low buzzing noise consistently between his ears.
The feathers pressed against the side of Mengyao's face as he refrained from taking an involuntary step backwards from the horseman. He had already managed to break his facade by jerking his hand away from him, a fact he regretted, since he only showed how he truly felt around those that actually mattered. He did not know this young horseman, and did not know what he was like, so dropping to anything short of what he wanted to be like was not something he wished for.
Quickly the calm facade was dragged back, put into place, and Mengyao idly flipped the fan around at his cheek, the gesture somehow oddly reassuring. His gaze narrowed very subtly, hardly noticeably, at the mimicked gesture from the other, but he did not say anything about it.
The voices rose and fell like the swell of an ocean inside of his head.
"Mengyao," he replied casually, and started to walk in an observant, contemplative circle around the other, not really looking at him, but instead keeping his view elsewhere, as though his mind was preoccupied.
"And I quite agree," said Mengyao lightly, a serene smile sliding over his lips as he looked over his shoulder. "One should always say exactly what is on their mind, otherwise how are we to know what goes on? I much prefer the more forward approach to the timid, though there are notable exceptions."
Like his precious Lifen, even Yuzhi and Lan at some times. Mengyao did not stop in his walking, but still directed a question back at the wolf-pelted horseman.
"Tell me, Senga of War - are you often hiding up in trees?"
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Posted: Wed May 16, 2012 3:34 am
Senga watched Mengyao with a rather hooded expression, unsure of the man's personality, and even more unsure of just how observational he really was. The young executioner prided himself in finding the tells of others, of hiding in shadows and picking out small details that no one else saw. But that was within War, and he had heard many tales of Conquest, and the way the men and women of that clan carried themselves, and just how smart they could be. But how smart are you, really? He wondered, glancing upwards at Mengyao, how much are you able to see?
Despite his puzzlement and his own words that had triggered the others response, Senga laughed quietly, his skulls clicking hollowly together and against his fur. "Oh, we shall certainly see about that." He murmured quietly, neither teasing nor joking, but instead simply a statement of intrigue. The horseman ruffled his wings then as the voices sparked up in his head, whispering and shouting and berating him for being so conversational with a stranger all at once.
Hush. The word did no good, really, but it was worth a shot.
Focusing back on the member of Conquest, Senga could not help but tilt his head at the feathers and the look, his lips pulling thin and his eyes narrowing just slightly in thought. It was rather fascinating just how quickly Mengyao slipped into his facade, and just how quickly the touch of wingtips had thrown him outside of it. Was it common of Conquest members to hold themselves up with masks? What a petty way to spend energy. Hypocrite, a nasty part of the voices in his head hissed, stupid boy. He mimicked the gesture idly for a few moments more as he tamed the voices and the growing knot in his gut, only pausing in the movement when Mengyao began to circle him, like a predator circling its opponent before an attack.
"Ah." Senga blinked at the name, rumbling quietly in the back of his throat. "Mengyao." He repeated silently, locking the name into memory. "I see." He continued to watch the other without moving, his head turning to follow Mengyao as he continued his slow, steady pace. The members of the different Isles were both fascinating and foreign to him. His life had been spent either in the jungles or - for a brief amount of time - Lairs. Mengyao was a mystery to him. One that part of the executioner wished to rip open and tear apart. To learn about. To learn from. Senga's mouth curled downwards at the involuntary end of that sentence, and he pushed that desire from his mind with force.
"Hmmph." The words were met with a critical glance, and Senga extended a wing again when Mengyao came close enough, circling the appendage around the others body and pushing against the silk cloth as though to draw him closer and stop his circling for a moment. Turning, the young executioner pushed a finger to Mengyao's chest, raising a brow up at him with an inquisitive half-frown. "That is an interesting thing for you to say, Mengyao, and yet you seem to hide behind that facade of yours as though it were a shield." His lips parted into a soft huff, as though he were contemplating something complex and annoying, "I suppose I do not understand your... type well. You speak of liking straight-forwardness, but in some respects, you yourself do not seem straight-forward at all."
Humming quietly, Senga drew his wing away, pressing it instead to the small of Mengyao's back and directing him back into his circling if he so pleased. The question made him blink, and glancing at the other, he raised a brow. "That is a strange question, Mengyao of Conquest." Senga considered it for a moment, however, and glanced to the side, where the dark of night swallowed the rest of the reserve from his view, "I would not call it hiding, though I do prefer the air or the canopy to the ground when I am not hunting." He frowned, looking back at Mengyao, "Have you ever hidden or climbed a tree? I imagine it would be a rather... fascinating sight."
He allowed the silence to continue for a few moments before crossing his arms, watching Mengyao in quiet contemplation. "Now tell me, what is one such as yourself doing out here so late at night? Surely you had... more interesting things to attend to than a midnight stroll?"
kuromeez OMG I AM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG Q_____Q rl kicked my butt over the weekend sobsob /HEADBOW
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Posted: Thu May 17, 2012 10:08 am
A somewhat strange smile, oddly demure, eased its way across Mengyao's face. The feathers of his fan made soft rustling noises as he lifted it, the tips sliding over the pale skin of his cheek as he lightly waved it back and forth, the movement subtle and quiet. He did not know how much this boy would be able to tell about him from the layers of careful facades, expertly raised shields, and smooth, obviously over-extravagant tendencies, but hopefully it would not be much.
Mengyao, after all, prided himself on keeping everything under wraps. It did not do to wear your life story on your sleeve, and he was not about to let anyone - even those in his own clan - fully see him for who he was.
No one, except Lifen and Lan would be given that. Not even Yuzhi at times.
A few voices whispered, like small fragments of shadows dusting along the inside of his mind. Mengyao shook his head once, as though to clear it, and the voices softened briefly, and then rose again, drifting in and out.
His steps around the boy - around Senga - were neither predatory, nor defensive, however, and the expression on Mengyao's face was a calm one, as though he were merely relaxing. He had no intentions of starting anything - fighting was ill-favored, especially to, of all people, Mengyao, and while he did not really care much for those of the other clans, he certainly held no anger towards them. Senga fit well and truly into the war category - everything he wore was specific, nothing extraneous, nothing purely for decoration. Mengyao wondered whether the skulls were a symbol of something - a trophy of sorts, perhaps - but did not ask, instead keeping up his slow, circling pace until he was back in front of Senga.
One of the horseman's wings lifted, touched his back. Mengyao slowed to a stop a mere foot away, lifting his brows at the forwardness. It seemed he was right - he did everything without hesitating, without facades. It was all so...straightforward.
"My beliefs and my actions are two separate things entirely," replied Mengyao lightly, and smiled, his expression unchanging even as Senga pressed a finger to his chest as though accusing him. "I am who I am. Straightforwardness is a characteristic of many, and I appreciate it a great deal more than hesitancy. You are right; I keep a great deal of myself hidden away, but this is my own personal preference. I do not wish for my entire life story to be on display.
"I suppose this makes me a hypocrite, but..." Mengyao shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling. "there you have it."
Senga's wing dropped down, and Mengyao felt it pushing against his back again, as if to encourage him to walk forward. He did not, however, rise to the encouragement, Mengyao instead tucking one of his hands into his sleeves, the fan disappearing into the blues of the cloth. The other hand lifted, reached out towards the young horseman and his fingers moved beneath his chin, lifting his face.
"What I find interesting is being here at all," replied Mengyao cryptically, and the serene smile was back, his eyes flickering across Senga's face as though examining it. "You are young, are you not? You have not the maturity in your face as some of your clan have, but you have it elsewhere, in your words."
Dropping his hand away, Mengyao tucked it into his sleeve and began pacing again, a few strands of dark hair falling about his face.
"And I find climbing trees a tedious exercise."
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Posted: Thu May 17, 2012 11:05 pm
Senga was not so used to members of Conquest that he felt comfortable in their territory, especially with one of their own. However, apart from the quiet rustling of wings every now and again, his expression stayed calm, hooded even. Watching, waiting, observing. Mengyao fascinated him, but he was not reckless enough to follow that path of interest so boldly just yet. Not when he knew so little. Unlike the noble, the young executioner was unaccustomed to playing with masks, even though he did not wear his emotions on his sleeve either. Senga fell somewhere in the middle. If someone wanted to, if someone pried hard enough, it would be easy to tell Senga's mood, Senga's thoughts. But he did not give them away so easily, like others of his clan. Like Jay, and even at times Iyari.
So different, little wolf, one of the voices whispered in the shell of his ear, so unique and wrong. Senga brushed the sound away with a hollow, quiet growl in the back of his throat. He wondered if Mengyao too felt them in his head, the static sound of wordless noise. His eyes drifted to the grey of his torso, and then to the faded color of the noble's hands. He did not ask, knew that Mengyao would not speak. If he were to compare the man to a creature, it would most likely be a snake. Sly and slippery, and dangerous to hold. A part of Senga's mind roused and whispered wryly, dangerous?
Senga shook his head when the other spoke, drawing his hand away from his chest again and glancing up at the other, undaunted by their difference in height, eyes flashing a hot golden hue. "I see." he responded, his voice puzzled and curious and quiet all at once, contemplating the other with a long stare. "Is that a common practice for all of your kin, or just the way you yourself prefer to... ah, present yourself?" The young executioner let out a soft sigh, glancing down at the wing folded outward behind Mengyao. It wasn't that it was difficult to understand, only strange. His clan bred bold and forward members, where trophies were put on display for all to see and stories of the past were shared openly during the heat of night and gatherings as well. And while Senga had only ever hidden in the shadows or watched from above, he was still pensive over this confusing man.
Glancing back at Mengyao, Senga blinked before rumbling quietly and rolled his shoulders back. He was not usually one for so many words, but he wasn't deterred enough to stop now. "There I have it," he repeated with a thoughtful pause before carrying on, "though it seems like you do not have anything on display." It was an odd phrase, and Senga frowned at the words, raising his eyes to stare at the serene facade Mengyao was still playing at - had always been playing at, he supposed. "I'm sorry if I'm more blunt than you'd prefer," He added, almost as an afterthought, "you are just very... strange to me."
Which was sincerely meant as nothing more than a statement. Senga did not ever have it in his mind to make enemies. He preferred to stay away from the messiness of personal spats, even if he himself sometimes caused them unknowingly with his forwardness.
Oh. Hm.
Senga blinked at the touch, neither rejecting it nor reacting just yet when Mengyao lifted his face. How odd, and -- and that smile was beginning to annoy him. Having just stated his tendency towards hiding a great deal of his own emotions and such away, Mengyao's expression now made Senga want to push it away. Knowing that it was most likely just a mask wore on his nerves, and the young executioner growled hollowly in the back of his throat, a quiet sound. He tilted his head slightly to accommodate the touch, bright eyes a shade of amber-gold that seemed to betray his otherwise calm expression. "What a vague response." He responded with a sigh, "but I imagine you are a vague person over all." His lips thinned slightly at the mention of maturity, though instead of being swept away by the cluster of static nonsense shouting and crooning and yelling all at once in the back of his head, Senga simply rumbled quietly, eyes half-lidding.
"Younger." He couldn't help the words, but instead of carrying on, the young executioner blinked once and glanced back up, rivaling Mengyao's serene smile with an inquisitive stare, "is that surprising to you?" He lifted a hand, as though to either brush Mengyao's away, or perhaps return the touch, but instead of acting right away, he paused, contemplating the other with a critical stare before tapping his knuckles to the side of Mengyao's face. "This is annoying." he said, referring to the expression before lowering his hand and frowning at the serene smile on Mengyao's face. So used to the straight-forwardness of his clan, Senga was rather baffled by Mengyao's facades, by his want to keep everything hidden and out of sight.
Watching Mengyao begin to pace again, Senga rumbled quietly, allowing his skulls to click hollowly together as he moved to watch the other, a slight scoff following the response to climbing trees.
"Perhaps it would not be so tedious if you did not insist on wearing clothing that would sooner get you caught upside down in the branches." Senga tilted his head at the fabric Mengyao wore. Just how heavy was it? It seemed like such a pain. Fluffing his wings, the young executioner glanced down at the tawny feathers in thought. "Though I imagine without wings and practice, one might find it difficult." Shrugging his shoulders, Senga looked back at the pacing noble, rumbling quietly at him. "What do you do then, if you don't busy yourself with climbing trees?" He couldn't help but ask, his words tinged with a dry quality beneath the quietness of his words. Curiosity had won out over caution tonight it seemed. And whether that was a good thing or not... well, who would ever know.
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