Author Topic: memory is a fickle siren song [prp ghost]  (Read 205 times)

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Offline Blackmoore

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memory is a fickle siren song [prp ghost]
« on: October 24, 2016, 04:10:21 PM »
There had been a lot on his mind as of late.

His dreams had been plagued with memories of his trial, false accusations flying through the air as his fate was decided. The man lounged on a fallen moss-coated log, absentmindedly picking at the tiny white mushrooms growing on the side in little clusters. Blackmoore heaved a sigh as thoughts raced through his mind, all of them unpleasant. Traitor, liar, rapist, the words echoing deep within his skull. He had tried not to let it show, but that trial - those accusations, claiming he forced himself upon a woman - the man grit his teeth together so hard that his jaws hurt, muzzle wrinkled as a low growl bubbled up his throat. He would never!

Ah, but that was the picture Tortuga had painted of him, and Inaria was eager to accept it. Blackmoore grimaced, lowering his head to lay it on the soft moss. It smelled earthy and pleasant, soothing in a way. God knew Blackmoore needed that.

The dire knew he had to prove them wrong, somehow. He was not a traitor, not a liar or a rapist especially; though he was man enough to admit that he had gone about his business all wrong when it came to obtaining trinkets and such for Inaria's benefit. He had been selfish and tunnel-sighted, and it had gotten him shoved down into the mud as an omega. He longed for the life of a soldier, respected and admired, appreciated and loved. His friends had been absent, making the man wonder if they had truly been his friends at all. Moons was perhaps the only one he knew he could count on, and even then, the dire did not wish to bother her with his problems. As Marchioness, he knew she had enough on her plate as it was.

He had to do something, though, didn't he? It would not do to wallow around in his own misery and sorrow forever. Brows furrowed, ad Blackmoore stood up, slipping off of his perch onto the soft grassy ground below. Muzzle tipped skywards and he opened his jaws, letting loose a smooth, deep howl that beckoned for the King himself.

Blackmoore almost expected to be ignored completely; he knew he wasn't well-received within Inaria's grounds anymore (had he ever been?), but he had hope that Ghost would at least hear him out. When the King arrived, Blackmoore bowed low, and made certain to keep his body held accordingly; lower to the ground, tail drooping and half-tucked behind him, ears pressed against his skull. "My King, thank you for answering my call." His voice was humble and thankful, tone low and deep as usual. Whenever Ghost responded (or if he simply didn't), Blackmoore would pipe up once more. "I'd like to show you something," the omega said, turning and trotting off a few feet before turning back to make sure that Ghost was following.

Blackmoore was hopeful, but he refused to let himself become too hopeful.
you saw my pain washed out in the rain
broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins
but you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart
and you knelt beside my hope torn apart

but the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
we'll live a long life

so give me hope in the darkness that i will see the light
'cause oh that gave me such a fright,
but i will hold as long as you like
just promise me we'll be alright




(profile / tracker / #896e4f / played by silokk)

Offline Blackmoore

  • PALADIN
  • Inaria
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Re: memory is a fickle siren song [prp ghost]
« Reply #1 on: May 15, 2017, 03:32:29 PM »
bumping this up
you saw my pain washed out in the rain
broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins
but you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart
and you knelt beside my hope torn apart

but the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
we'll live a long life

so give me hope in the darkness that i will see the light
'cause oh that gave me such a fright,
but i will hold as long as you like
just promise me we'll be alright




(profile / tracker / #896e4f / played by silokk)