08-14-2018, 02:57 AM
[align=center][div style="font-size:9pt; width:420pt; text-align:justify; padding:7px; line-height:12.2pt;"]// i am terribly late please forgive me ;-;
there's no need to reply to this since i've taken so long
Sebastian was not singular in his familial troubles, this he knew. It seemed for all the fanciful bounty a close-knit bond between relatives offered, few had the luxury of indulging and instead found refuge in vice or woe. He would wager some stitched together a patch-work family of choice rather than blood, and his own position resembled that careful threading of tattered cloth until the whole represented something far greater than the individual squares. In the chantry, the Maker and His Bride formed a bridge across canyons of dissimilarities. Who they were before was of little significance, overshadowed by their shared servitude both to Andraste and her children. The chantry supplied Sebastian with a stability he hadn't recognized a need for, an opportunity that opened him to a perspective free of childish desperation and the void of envy.
They had wooed him into a blanketing sense of security, and as soon as the deaths of his flesh-and-blood tore it away, his complacency ended, his tranquil chapter in the chantry closing. The page he turned was both backward and forward - he could not bring justice to his parents' killers without reopening old wounds connected with their memory. Sebastian understood far greater than he had before that particular double-edged sword, but, for better or for worse - often the latter - they were his family. He hadn't taken a life in their name before, nor at their behest, though the road his paws traveled might very well enter that realm of death.
Sebastian would not be the first to kill for his family. He imagined there were individuals who had committed far worse deeds for their kin, and even those who caused their end themselves, but it did not lessen the burden the collie wore strapped to every ridge of his spine.
He could pray for forgiveness later, as soon as their souls might rest easily in their graves - a resolution complicated by the enlightenment of his family's murderer. Sebastian had never predicted he might have to go beyond taking the life of a stranger to snuff the light of a friend, and for that, he would never comprehend an individual's capacity to harm family, regardless of treatment. Here he struggled with the possibility of killing a murderer when she herself hadn't allowed room for sentimentality to stay her hand - he should act no differently than she for their sake. The chantry had unequivocally softened his disposition.
Perhaps he might master that emotional suppression partaken by others, though in experience, Sebastian's closest attempts involved drowning them beneath pleasant sensations and debauchery. It was not a preferable alternative to facing his struggles.
Rest, on the other hand, might lend him a dearly-needed respite, and the collie dipped his head to the mongoose who arrived to promptly greet him. People could offer a strange, inexplicable solace in moments like these. "Sebastian Vael. Would you - The Typhoon, that is - mind a guest? I haven't much to offer but my services, I'm afraid." His level turquoise gaze slipped smoothly from the mongoose to a canine creature, effeminately shaped with peculiar pupils that drew Sebastian's curiosity. Privately, he made a jest regarding a whole new definition of heart eyes.
"Thank you, serah, but it's only a scratch. No need to waste any supplies on it." He smiled warmly, before a jarring call drew his focus from the young hellhound. Shithead? Another in his place might find themselves offended, but Sebastian struggled to rein back a chuckle, and the mirth made an appearance in his eyes, which brightened. He had been the recipient of many colorful monikers in his lifetime, of several degrading shades, and shithead was rather impersonal in comparison. Furthermore, the feline was merely a boy, and any ire Sebastian may have harbored left with the breeze.
Continuing to struggle with veiling a smile, the collie answered lightly, "Sebastian, not shithead, but I can see how you might confuse them." He followed the bandaged boy's gesture to the bell, situated above a basket rather conspicuously, eliciting a partial tilt of his heavily furred cranium. It would require a simpleton to remain oblivious to the transparent mischief on the smaller creature's features, as well as the hazardous nature of the basket. "Ah, I'm afraid my faith permits me to ring only a single bell a month," he replied, mock-serious, a teasing glint in his eyes entirely in opposition to the somber quality of his voice. "Remind me in a month's time."
In the moment following, a hybridized being arrived, both avian and canine. Sebastian did not intend to stare, but it was, quite honestly, fascinating to see the binding of creatures one would assume were wholly dissimilar. However, she did not seem restricted to two, as he noted gills, though he then elected it was best to answer so as to prevent any discomfort on her part. "Yes, I suppose I am a bit wet," he laughed very briefly, and when his eyes opened from it, she had seated herself beside the other winged wolf. Sebastian very nearly chuckled once more at her lack of recall for her position - he imagined that was a common occurrence. It did not seem something restricted to a single encounter. "Perhaps you could have it written on your leg. You're lucky you wouldn't have to shave it in." At her question, he gave a slight shake of his head, the sting hardly noticeable. "Does it look worse than it is? It's a bit of a nick, that's all."
Another winged individual. Was there a correlation, or was it merely a coincidence? Perhaps some of them were related, or the environments here and nearby encouraged that sort of mutation, though hers seemed a bit too small for flight capability. Bees spat on that logic, however. "Unfortunately, I feel it as well." Subconsciously, he smoothed down the fur on his chest. "You have my thanks, serah, though that won't be necessary."
there's no need to reply to this since i've taken so long
Sebastian was not singular in his familial troubles, this he knew. It seemed for all the fanciful bounty a close-knit bond between relatives offered, few had the luxury of indulging and instead found refuge in vice or woe. He would wager some stitched together a patch-work family of choice rather than blood, and his own position resembled that careful threading of tattered cloth until the whole represented something far greater than the individual squares. In the chantry, the Maker and His Bride formed a bridge across canyons of dissimilarities. Who they were before was of little significance, overshadowed by their shared servitude both to Andraste and her children. The chantry supplied Sebastian with a stability he hadn't recognized a need for, an opportunity that opened him to a perspective free of childish desperation and the void of envy.
They had wooed him into a blanketing sense of security, and as soon as the deaths of his flesh-and-blood tore it away, his complacency ended, his tranquil chapter in the chantry closing. The page he turned was both backward and forward - he could not bring justice to his parents' killers without reopening old wounds connected with their memory. Sebastian understood far greater than he had before that particular double-edged sword, but, for better or for worse - often the latter - they were his family. He hadn't taken a life in their name before, nor at their behest, though the road his paws traveled might very well enter that realm of death.
Sebastian would not be the first to kill for his family. He imagined there were individuals who had committed far worse deeds for their kin, and even those who caused their end themselves, but it did not lessen the burden the collie wore strapped to every ridge of his spine.
He could pray for forgiveness later, as soon as their souls might rest easily in their graves - a resolution complicated by the enlightenment of his family's murderer. Sebastian had never predicted he might have to go beyond taking the life of a stranger to snuff the light of a friend, and for that, he would never comprehend an individual's capacity to harm family, regardless of treatment. Here he struggled with the possibility of killing a murderer when she herself hadn't allowed room for sentimentality to stay her hand - he should act no differently than she for their sake. The chantry had unequivocally softened his disposition.
Perhaps he might master that emotional suppression partaken by others, though in experience, Sebastian's closest attempts involved drowning them beneath pleasant sensations and debauchery. It was not a preferable alternative to facing his struggles.
Rest, on the other hand, might lend him a dearly-needed respite, and the collie dipped his head to the mongoose who arrived to promptly greet him. People could offer a strange, inexplicable solace in moments like these. "Sebastian Vael. Would you - The Typhoon, that is - mind a guest? I haven't much to offer but my services, I'm afraid." His level turquoise gaze slipped smoothly from the mongoose to a canine creature, effeminately shaped with peculiar pupils that drew Sebastian's curiosity. Privately, he made a jest regarding a whole new definition of heart eyes.
"Thank you, serah, but it's only a scratch. No need to waste any supplies on it." He smiled warmly, before a jarring call drew his focus from the young hellhound. Shithead? Another in his place might find themselves offended, but Sebastian struggled to rein back a chuckle, and the mirth made an appearance in his eyes, which brightened. He had been the recipient of many colorful monikers in his lifetime, of several degrading shades, and shithead was rather impersonal in comparison. Furthermore, the feline was merely a boy, and any ire Sebastian may have harbored left with the breeze.
Continuing to struggle with veiling a smile, the collie answered lightly, "Sebastian, not shithead, but I can see how you might confuse them." He followed the bandaged boy's gesture to the bell, situated above a basket rather conspicuously, eliciting a partial tilt of his heavily furred cranium. It would require a simpleton to remain oblivious to the transparent mischief on the smaller creature's features, as well as the hazardous nature of the basket. "Ah, I'm afraid my faith permits me to ring only a single bell a month," he replied, mock-serious, a teasing glint in his eyes entirely in opposition to the somber quality of his voice. "Remind me in a month's time."
In the moment following, a hybridized being arrived, both avian and canine. Sebastian did not intend to stare, but it was, quite honestly, fascinating to see the binding of creatures one would assume were wholly dissimilar. However, she did not seem restricted to two, as he noted gills, though he then elected it was best to answer so as to prevent any discomfort on her part. "Yes, I suppose I am a bit wet," he laughed very briefly, and when his eyes opened from it, she had seated herself beside the other winged wolf. Sebastian very nearly chuckled once more at her lack of recall for her position - he imagined that was a common occurrence. It did not seem something restricted to a single encounter. "Perhaps you could have it written on your leg. You're lucky you wouldn't have to shave it in." At her question, he gave a slight shake of his head, the sting hardly noticeable. "Does it look worse than it is? It's a bit of a nick, that's all."
Another winged individual. Was there a correlation, or was it merely a coincidence? Perhaps some of them were related, or the environments here and nearby encouraged that sort of mutation, though hers seemed a bit too small for flight capability. Bees spat on that logic, however. "Unfortunately, I feel it as well." Subconsciously, he smoothed down the fur on his chest. "You have my thanks, serah, though that won't be necessary."
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[align=left][div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size:16.6pt; color:black;"][b]OH, I'LL PRAY UNTIL THE LANGUAGE DIES
praying, 'cause you're so, so high; can i spend my life trying to climb you? — [color=#d0ab6a]bio