Post by opossum on Jun 25, 2015 17:15:32 GMT -8
Quiet. A Short while ago the world was nothing but chaos and intermittent clouds, thunder and crackling like spirits swirling around the cairne. Madness betook the world and it was the state of things for a time. The world was going back to a better time, but the truth of things were that those who dwell within the eye of the storm's winds can not keep themselves whole.
Cubs taken to the cairne for protection, young Ajaba with a spark of life. Though hate sat in their breast, it would be whipped out, or ripped out at worst. At best it would be talked out, and convinced. That chance never came. Too long had they been stubborn, and had seen ill of the world around them, and like a flash they were gone. Not an utterance on the cairne, just the air of youth and the stupidity brought with it.
Drinks. Fire. Celebration. The world was ending, and they were the lucky ones with a first class ticket. A ticket that they probably don't want, but accept whole heartedly with the hope that it itself will bring them hope. Time is passing, and eventually a Young man, with an old mind stands before a skeleton. Sockets, holes, and claw marks fill it's calcium shell. A remnant of what once was and what would hope to be. With faith, a hard worked token is brought. The enmity of forgiveness in it's purest form. A single tooth. Searched and furrowed, until a spot is deigned, and the tooth is pushed and lost. Taken as a token, a ferry price for a hairs width of hope and pride.
Many came. Many, that they did not think would. Some, were surprising. The minds of many were taught with anticipation, and soon war had broke out. Not between those who came and those who were, but with those who brought the wyrm in their hearts. Brought down by the tools, buried, and cleansed. The lot were drawn to a camp fire that soothed their inner beasts for a time, to discuss things like individuals with voices could.
Some, did not come. Some that were hoped for. An ancestor, a child, an elder. Someone. A key opened a door to naught but air for the time being, and though the Garou are one for their self-pity, and self woe unto the deeds their fore-fathers wrought. One was left alone, and none of the attitude about the fire would know, as it was not theirs to see or feel. Tired, anguished. He sat outside the periphery of vision, watching those talk with who they called. Many laughs, many Garou trying to apologize. Good for them, it was what they wanted, it's what they were planning. An upwards lift to their minds, and the world they were soon to be in....but though the skies were clear. Rain, still fell. No one on that cairne could truly feel the weight of loss. To know that you; in all of creation, even if for a short time, were the only one left. What history was, what potential could be, lost but for the single drop in the ocean of reality that was he.
Still tired, the world progressed, the mists were clearing but not completely. The world is unsure. People...are not themselves. New people are about. The old has been forgotten, and even those who are themselves are....in essence and memory, different people who led slightly different lives. An alien feeling in the breast arose in the lone wanderer of the cairne. This new life, this new person. He was a shining example, a bastion of hope for those who existed now in this new world, a burden of strength to show those who are weak what the world should be like. How they should act in it.
Only time will tell if this one comes to the proper set. His mind wanders between what was lost, the sorrow and rain felt for a nation that had passed and returned, and the newly minted flesh of a life given. Was this stolen? Is this body theirs? Likely not many will question this, but someone who is very self drawn will dig deep enough to figure out. There is strength in there, there is wisdom and cunning. A tenacity for survival and destruction. A burning rage of powerful proportions, and a grand plan for the world to come. Truly an icon for a misbegotten race of beasts who couldn't do their job right the first time, Come now to show them how to do it right the second.
This world is fresh, and so are his teeth. Let the moon sink into the ocean, for dawn is coming. Wary be the future that shines darkness under this rising sun.
Cubs taken to the cairne for protection, young Ajaba with a spark of life. Though hate sat in their breast, it would be whipped out, or ripped out at worst. At best it would be talked out, and convinced. That chance never came. Too long had they been stubborn, and had seen ill of the world around them, and like a flash they were gone. Not an utterance on the cairne, just the air of youth and the stupidity brought with it.
Drinks. Fire. Celebration. The world was ending, and they were the lucky ones with a first class ticket. A ticket that they probably don't want, but accept whole heartedly with the hope that it itself will bring them hope. Time is passing, and eventually a Young man, with an old mind stands before a skeleton. Sockets, holes, and claw marks fill it's calcium shell. A remnant of what once was and what would hope to be. With faith, a hard worked token is brought. The enmity of forgiveness in it's purest form. A single tooth. Searched and furrowed, until a spot is deigned, and the tooth is pushed and lost. Taken as a token, a ferry price for a hairs width of hope and pride.
Many came. Many, that they did not think would. Some, were surprising. The minds of many were taught with anticipation, and soon war had broke out. Not between those who came and those who were, but with those who brought the wyrm in their hearts. Brought down by the tools, buried, and cleansed. The lot were drawn to a camp fire that soothed their inner beasts for a time, to discuss things like individuals with voices could.
Some, did not come. Some that were hoped for. An ancestor, a child, an elder. Someone. A key opened a door to naught but air for the time being, and though the Garou are one for their self-pity, and self woe unto the deeds their fore-fathers wrought. One was left alone, and none of the attitude about the fire would know, as it was not theirs to see or feel. Tired, anguished. He sat outside the periphery of vision, watching those talk with who they called. Many laughs, many Garou trying to apologize. Good for them, it was what they wanted, it's what they were planning. An upwards lift to their minds, and the world they were soon to be in....but though the skies were clear. Rain, still fell. No one on that cairne could truly feel the weight of loss. To know that you; in all of creation, even if for a short time, were the only one left. What history was, what potential could be, lost but for the single drop in the ocean of reality that was he.
Still tired, the world progressed, the mists were clearing but not completely. The world is unsure. People...are not themselves. New people are about. The old has been forgotten, and even those who are themselves are....in essence and memory, different people who led slightly different lives. An alien feeling in the breast arose in the lone wanderer of the cairne. This new life, this new person. He was a shining example, a bastion of hope for those who existed now in this new world, a burden of strength to show those who are weak what the world should be like. How they should act in it.
Only time will tell if this one comes to the proper set. His mind wanders between what was lost, the sorrow and rain felt for a nation that had passed and returned, and the newly minted flesh of a life given. Was this stolen? Is this body theirs? Likely not many will question this, but someone who is very self drawn will dig deep enough to figure out. There is strength in there, there is wisdom and cunning. A tenacity for survival and destruction. A burning rage of powerful proportions, and a grand plan for the world to come. Truly an icon for a misbegotten race of beasts who couldn't do their job right the first time, Come now to show them how to do it right the second.
This world is fresh, and so are his teeth. Let the moon sink into the ocean, for dawn is coming. Wary be the future that shines darkness under this rising sun.