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day of song and story : trapped joiner - julia. - 12-11-2018
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"][ most of this is just backstory only the last two paragraphs actually matter ]
Do not stand at my grave and weep
Inhale. Exhale. Feel the graze of each breath within the structure of lung, the expansion of them before it is rushing forth, heavy the sound drawn about blunted points, dancing upon edges. Life. Death. Impossibility is one without the other to hold it aloft, to give reason for such, dull the sheen of a life that finds itself unable to expire and dreary an existence where only the chilled touch of the dead may find place. She knew all, felt it within a hear that had hammered into the curved expanse of ribs it tale, lengthy it for all too long was her time, years spiralling forth. Inhale. Exhale.
Focus upon only this, feel the pressure build until it is fire, liquid the heat touching upon the sinew and muscle, encasing the bone. Grumble toned next breath, rose from minuscule part of darkly toned lips, huff broken as touch of such annoyance coiled within its depths. Faint the strands of memory, the presence of others about her. Older had they all been but family, drawn together not by the touch of blood contained within the complex network of veins, misplaced idea the blood of another ran deeper then did anything else, but experience. Years had been drawn together, presence grown familiar and comforting yet the heat was there, fire in the roiling depths of stomach and forth it poured within heated words. Amongst them arguments never ending, spiralling forth for confined had been their space, yet gone, taken from them within the wake of tragedy.
I am not there, I do not sleep
Press of tongue, blunt the tip of lengthy muscle, wet the leathery skin of upper lip as it moved. Unconscious each movement, twist and lurch of body all too large yet unexpected it too, small the stature for such creature. Wet and greedy, earth sucked at the press of heavy paws, sought to take from her all yet it held no hope of such, clinging to the length of claws as limbs stretched. Red tied about joint, found where paw touches upon leg. Tight the draw of it, familiar the worn fabric, memory within.
Laughter spilled forth though small had been their home, not enough to contain them three. Family were they no matter their differences, the curl and weight of horn within the mess of curls marking her as different, the scars adorning him and all too large to be fit within the family of the man deemed her father, but a scrap of a man by their side. But happy were they all, enjoyed their work as the ring of hammer upon heated steel arose in a clamour, the scrape of knife upon piece of wood.
“It smells like grandmas.” laughter toned the memory, touched phantom words as her weight rocked the chair. Dark the wood of it, match to the ring adorning her finger as it did his, heavy the tone of lavender upon it.
I am a thousand winds that blow
It should have been her. Yet it had no been, far had she been from the town caught atop spires of rock and earth lurking and broke, homes taken, their own place ruined for they had stood against him. Upon broad neck they rested, fine the leather of the thin necklace and delicate the circles of rose wood, once given with a promise. Sharp the inhale of breath and sudden the parting of lids, the raise of great head. It mattered not how many times she may wish for such, draw forth his memory from before, hear his tales ring within her head, gone was the man she had loved, married all those years ago.
Strange this place, different from all others, thought turned from the depths of memory and instead to surroundings, latching onto it. It had been a week – or may it have been more, time fluid and odd, concept she had deemed unneeded – mindless her wandering. Different from all else, the press of earth beneath her body touched with a heavy moisture, few and far between the clumps of flora for well worn was this place, churned the mud within passage of countless many. Dank the smell of it, rich tones of earth touched with the wetness of it all, yet so too was something rancid, dark the tone for many were caught and died, left to rot within traps.
I am the diamond glints on snow
Unsure was she of this place but better was it to linger, find an area she may rest, recover and gather her bearings. Chance was there it may lead to something, give her some hint of where she might go, find the family she had lost. Shift of weight, heavy the press of axe about the broad expanse of her back, exhale marred with a groan. Difficult the first step, the stretch of limb allowing the ache of pain to grow within, touch about shoulders and hips, work into the length of legs.
Don't ever let your guard down. Familiar the words, growl of it echoing and ricocheting within her head yet all too late was it. Easy was it, the peg staked upon the edge broken beneath the press of her weight, time enough only for unease to register before snare tightened, weight drawn up until she was suspended by a leg. Lucky was she it was nothing more then rope, durable for it held aloft the great weight of a bear no matter her status of one of the smaller, the clamour of Railsplitter as it fell from her back followed closely by a roar. Reaching up she made attempts to cut the rope but short was her aim, flailing limbs not even touching it.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
Re: day of song and story : trapped joiner - aya - 12-11-2018
[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 55%; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;"]Cool, a bear.
There to ruin all semblance of formality was Aya, the comparatively petite tortoiseshell with bees in her brain (figuratively) and blood on her paws (literally.) "You just hanging out?" Aya asked, snorting at her own joke, her inward laughter buzzing. She noticed the big old unmissable axe, and went to shove it out of the way so she would not accidentally cause another death. That done, she continued on her merry way.
"If I let you down, promise not to kill me?" She asked, bounding over and easily scaling the tree up to where the rope was tied. Passively she wondered who had even bothered to set a trap, but figured it was one of Morgan's weird schemes or something. This'll catch an intruder, she thought in his voice.
Wrapping her mouth around the rope, the chaser chewed right through it, and if successful, would probably hear a loud thud of bear meeting ground. Oops... well, you know what they say about first impressions.
tags | updated 11/12:
Re: day of song and story : trapped joiner - arcy - 12-11-2018
[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 65%; font-family: timesnewroman; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;"]Some days, it's hard for Jim to force himself to get up. Not from sleeping -- god knows Jim barely sleeps anymore. But just when he lies down, and suddenly all that's in his head is his crew. How long has he been here? How did he get here? He has vague memories of a transporter, but sometimes he thinks he smells blood, thinking of his last moments before he found himself with four paws.
Jim isn't sure he wants to think about it. (if he was dead, he couldn't go home.)
So, he doesn't. Jim has always been great about avoiding his problems. Forgetting they happened at all.
... Okay, and listen, Jim usually tolerates the mud in Tanglewood. But right now, he's in a foul mood. Something he will not take out on his poor groupmates. After a few years on the Enterprise, Jim had perfected the art of Not Yelling At Poor Chekov For No Reason, and other crewmember editions.
.. It would appear that some poor person got caught in a trap, again. At least judging by the roars. It was unfortunate that so many people got stuck. But he can't fault the system when it clearly works. It traps them in one place until a Tangler can retrieve them, see? And then you don't have to worry about intruders as much!
"Can you even use that axe?" Jim asks, something like awe(despite having seen the bear meet the ground), but mostly curiousity in his voice. Jim could probably use an axe. .. He definitely could, because that one time on that one planet .... Just not like this, though. He could barely balance on three legs, much less wield something that heavy. Ah, a shame. All the cool weapons just weren't for him and his paws.
... .... Oh, right, but he should ask about Professional Stuff. Jim never liked that sort of stuff, but Tanglewood's is ... fine. Seriously, it really just comes down to demanding motives. "Hey, what're you doing here, anyways?" He asks, carefully hovering a decent distance from the bear so he can ascertain she's not going to turn on them now that she's out.
[glow=black,2,300]— ✰ —[/glow]
Re: day of song and story : trapped joiner - julia. - 12-11-2018
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]“You need to stop rushing in all the time, one of these days your not going to come back,” gentle the tone as had been the hands, trail of finger tips touching upon skin, feeling along the split. Dark had been the well of blood raising about it, river flowing until it gathered within the hollow of elbow, found home before it fell, quiet the irregular droplets as it touched upon leg. She was not fearful though unease gnawed upon the edges of her thought, touched the uneasy threads of it as the prior events coiled about the present, hazy the dark eyes within the flat face, draw of lips making easier to notice the tight hold of teeth.
Family had they been, more then the blood she had felt, heavy the tang of copper dancing upon her tongue as she had tended to what she had spoken of being but a scratch, fluttering the warmth of her stomach at so close a proximity of this wonderful women. Quietened now, though within the lining of her stomach heat still rose, touched about it and clear were the signs of her displeasure as tight were drawn each muscle, heavy breath marred with the edge of growl.
Broken apart, faint the laughter spilling forth. Ridiculous was this situation, anger dissipating as from the depths of her stomach the sound was drawn. Little amusement may be derived from such simplistic joke but it was enough for her, calming frayed nerves until she caught movement beneath, danging paws waving the other off, huff of breath growing until words pushed through teeth within a tone of anger. “Don't touch it.” Heavy the weight of the weapon, difficult to shift for a great many, faint the flicker of surprise as Julia watched the small feline move aside the axe, dulling some of the edge of her rage.
Indeed was there a thud, few the seconds between the other finding a perch so about the rope may she fix her jaws and the words she spoke registering, sudden the exclamation as gravity took her. “Fuck!” Into a pained groan the word faded, swallowed within the sound. Inhale. Focus upon each breath as it touches upon your throat not the ache of body worn, the wear of travel grown too much. Exhale. Assistance was what was offered and given no matter the end of it, done the task and so on she must continue.
Instinctive movement, reach of limb, curl of paw about said axe. Blunt had grown its edge, the red of it worn until the lacklustre silver beneath shone through within rough scratches and nick, wood of the handle well worn, splinters offering pain to those who dared to wield it. “I could,” shift of gaze touching upon the next, calm the manner in which he carried himself.
Weight of it within hands, feel of talons clicking upon the shaft of wood, laughter arising. Hours spent in such a place, little the grove but their place, heavy the weight of mud clinging to her. Flick of tail, excitement within so simple a movement, the twist of the weapon and – the clamour of them meeting, from him a snort and all she could do was stare.
“Was walkin when I decided I wanted ta...hang out-” with this eyes turn once more to Aya, slight the twist of smile upon her lips “-am new bout these parts but ya got a good way of welcomin others, truly enjoy being hung upside down and dropped on me head.”
Re: day of song and story : trapped joiner - guts - 12-12-2018
[glow=#000,1,400]YOU PUT UP YOUR DEFENSES WHEN YOU LEAVE, YOU LEAVE BECAUSE YOU'RE CERTAIN — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]
She herself had many close encounters with the traps strewn about the territory. She was susceptible to wandering, curious to map out the terrain, her legs that had been used to settling for long amounts of time wanting to stretch and move about. Many times she came close to being victim to these hazards, one misstep leading to her being hung up such as this bear. It was irritating at times, but she could recognize the use for them.
The voice hits her ears like nails on a chalkboard, her way of speaking unpleasant to her compared to her own dignified pattern. It doesn't show on her face, though, expression blank as she approaches. It was kind of entertaining, seeing such a large being entangled like that. But she made no sound, only an acknowledging hum.
"It's nothing personal," she says, deadpan. "It's simply for security." she goes on to explain, gaze darting towards the axe before settling back on the female that stood before them, wary in the way she watched her. She was an interesting one.
The voice hits her ears like nails on a chalkboard, her way of speaking unpleasant to her compared to her own dignified pattern. It doesn't show on her face, though, expression blank as she approaches. It was kind of entertaining, seeing such a large being entangled like that. But she made no sound, only an acknowledging hum.
"It's nothing personal," she says, deadpan. "It's simply for security." she goes on to explain, gaze darting towards the axe before settling back on the female that stood before them, wary in the way she watched her. She was an interesting one.