Author Topic: Standards [Croatoan; Ring II]  (Read 192 times)

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Offline Ceraphena

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Standards [Croatoan; Ring II]
« on: November 29, 2016, 11:54:25 AM »
He waited on the fringe, making sure to stay where he couldn't hear their words; only revealing himself with the meetings adjourned, and the Warden was temporarily free. He hailed her with a soft whuff, stopping briefly to make sure she saw him, and then led the golden Vulture to his current residence. With the poppy field flooded, he had to eke out a new place to live. The cave he found was elevated just out of range of the excess water, and rather spacious for just one wolf. The downside is the stone interior kept it on the cool side, which could be hard on someone like Croatoan. The thought made him frown as he licked his scarred nose, allowing the woman to go inside first; making sure to shake his coat outside so as to not track in the water.

Blackwall moved around Croatoan and went past her deeper into the cave. He grabbed two things. The first was an old caribou pelt, which he dragged back for the lady to sit on. It'd keep the chill from her joints, and hopefully make his bitter home more comfortable. He disappeared again, only to return with the second item: a dead goat. It was a little on the smaller side, but with how the weather turned most prey away... It was better than nothing. He dropped it near her feet close to the skin, and then reclined onto his own haunches quietly. His brow furrowed as he looked at the dry ground, ears pinning back; silent for a moment, processing how to bring it up. He wasn't the most articulate person.

Oh well. Here goes nothing.

"Nero effed us over," He rumbled, red-yellow eyes seeking her glacial blues. Everything was there, ripe for the taking, and Nero had done just that. He had his fingers in too many pies, and Blackwall didn't know how to contend with that. The piebald man was too charming, too smart; everything Blackwall wasn't. He was just an old warlord with bitter memories, and he just didn't have the energy to deal with something like this by himself. "The Sabor told me himself, when I went to answer the call for a Vulture," Their first time meeting, "That Saboro does not tolerate weakness." You were there, remember? "But... I saw him." His tone grew dark as he growled, "I saw that wretched green piece of puss that sticks near the chemists. I saw him." Blackwall's fur bristled as he snarled, "That boy should be dead." It was simple fact. Were they not in charge of such decisions?

"The illegal boy, Nero...? Why..?" He clenched his teeth and growled, a deep savage sound that curdled between his teeth, "Why is he still a Harpy, Croatoan?" It was the first time he uttered her name, and probably the last. It was too intimate, calling his superior by her name. His ears flattened sharply against his skull as he snorted, breathing deep through his nostrils. "Explain to me. I do not understand." The words seeped through his jaws, a putrid ooze of frustration and anger that settled by his feet. His tail curled around his left haunch as he just waited, knowing the Warden would explain everything in a way even he could follow.

She made things simple, the Vulture.

Offline Ceraphena

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Re: Standards [Croatoan; Ring II]
« Reply #1 on: December 11, 2016, 12:14:44 AM »
(Casual bump)

Offline Croatoan.

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Re: Standards [Croatoan; Ring II]
« Reply #2 on: February 08, 2017, 02:12:44 AM »
ooc: please don't bring ooc into ic and automatically know Croatoan's feelings about multiple people.  only Blackwall should know about this.



The tall Warden was tired, after making herself look a complete fool in front of the Harpies in all her panic.  First, a flood, then an illegal child -- she swore she was losing her sanity with each day Saboro stole from her.  Working endlessly for a cause she didn't yet know could happen, if her career even survived this slip-up.  In due time, of course, her rank would slowly regain their trust in her.  She had faith.  They came through.  All of them could be ruthless, but deep down, there was something kind about them.  Something nurturing and gentle.  That was why she picked them.  Even as Blackwall shadowed his superior in most public light, rarely following her visibly into private situations.  But Blackwall was one of her good friends, her eyes and ears, and oh so loyal to the Doberman.

Sweet Blackwall may have been thrown around, but he was no idiot.  He was no puppet.

Her joints ached from the cold and humidity, but her shadow fixed that quickly, offering a soft pelt to rest on.  She nodded to him with gratitude before taking a seat and even leaving enough room for the massive dire.  Then a goat!  Her iced eyes melted.  "Oh, sweet Blackwall, you really do spoil a lady," she remarked with a warm twinkle in her eye.  Yes, Violeta would be a lucky lady someday -- not that the Vulture knew anything about that quite yet.

"Nero effed us over," the Harpy started as she eyed the goat hungrily. Hunger, always hunger in those cold, cold eyes.  She only glanced at him for a moment before nodding, "Yes."  That wasn't a shocker to her!  It was obvious.  But in public light, Croatoan was forgiving.  She was wise.

Right?

Maybe she was just sneakier than one would expect of an aging wardog, mostly brawn over brains.  Crenate and Oriana, great kids as they were, never underestimated her.  Maybe that was why they took her advice into account when making decisions.  But then there were some that saw her as a hot-aired hypocrite.

Good. 

Let them eat cake.

"The Sabor told me himself, when I went to answer the call for a Vulture, that Saboro does not tolerate weakness." Yes, she was there.  But she listened, calm, cool, collected.  Then she thought.  While the woman never worded herself carefully, she made an exception.  "Blackwall, the only weakness he displays is for his family.  A weakness for all to see.  His reputation was tarnished.  Most everyone has turned his back on him."

I forgive him.

But does she?

"But... I saw him.  I saw that wretched green piece of puss that sticks near the chemists. I saw him." Blackwall's fur bristled noticeably, "That boy should be dead."

All she had to say in reply was, "All in good time.  The Romans' downfall is slow.  We'll just be there to watch and... clean up the mess."  Yes, the boy should be dead.  But would Croatoan go so far as to murder a child and incite the downfall of another Elite?  No... but she would watch.  With Blackwall at her side, and her Harpies behind her.  Maybe some of them felt sympathy for the red Raven.  That was alright.  Let them think with their own minds.  Harpies are not Jackdaws.

"The illegal boy, Nero...? Why..? Why is he still a Harpy, Croatoan? Explain to me. I do not understand."

He uttered her name, his jaws flexing upon the name and tasting it as if it were his last meal.  But Croatoan was forgiving.  And, she didn't really care.  One could call her Meathead and she'd still answer.  A gentle smile spread across her lips.  "Don't you know how closely this illegal child is being watched?  One slip up... and it'd all be for nothing."  Long ears twitched.  "But not me, I'm forgiving.  I forgive him.  For this terrible act directly against me.  He remains my friend.  I forgive him."  But oh, her face said otherwise -- twisted into a grin more savage than sultry, her croon edging off at a harsh snarl towards the end.  "And that makes me better.  I may be seen as old and senile when he's kept as a Harpy -- yes, he deserves to lose this rank.  But I'm such a good friend.  And he's such a prideful, arrogant, crumbling asset."  She took in a breath, shifting her weight.  "Blackwall, I've been playing this game for nearly seven years -- it's time you move in for the check."  She folded her paws beneath her weight.  "But no fang will be laid on Nero.  We don't pursue.  We watch.  Mere bystanders."

Then she snorted, turning to stand up and dig into the goat.  Only when her belly was half-full would she turn and smile, licking her chops.  "I'm just a foolish old woman, right?"


They didn't know it when they turned me loose
I shot the sheriff and I slipped the noose
The law ain't never been a friend of mine
I would kill again to keep from doing time
You should never ever trust my kind

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Quote
[9:04:47 PM] hot homeless dad: cro effing rushes in with a butcher knife and an apron
[9:04:50 PM] hot homeless dad: IM GONNA CULL IT!!!!!!

Offline Croatoan.

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Re: Standards [Croatoan; Ring II]
« Reply #3 on: February 20, 2017, 09:38:01 PM »
little nudge from the back pages, don't feel pressured to reply shroxx <3


They didn't know it when they turned me loose
I shot the sheriff and I slipped the noose
The law ain't never been a friend of mine
I would kill again to keep from doing time
You should never ever trust my kind

profile . player . bin



Quote
[9:04:47 PM] hot homeless dad: cro effing rushes in with a butcher knife and an apron
[9:04:50 PM] hot homeless dad: IM GONNA CULL IT!!!!!!

Offline Ceraphena

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Re: Standards [Croatoan; Ring II]
« Reply #4 on: June 13, 2017, 05:40:34 PM »
ooc: Like Papa said, this is IC only. No one else should know about this except Croatoan.



"...Yes," Blackwall rumbled after a moment of silence, red-yellow eyes meeting those glacial blues in sharp understanding. The warlord rose from his place on the cold floor, and moved to stand before her; Warden, Vulture... Friend. Looming over the reclined woman, he realized the irony between the two of them. In most scenarios, the old begged the young. Here, in the Red Society? It's the young that must seek the old, and pray to be on the same side. Granted, he wasn't young per se, but Croatoan surpassed him in every way imaginable. She lived here, seven years in the game, and survived. She scraped her way to the top, perhaps one of the smallest creatures he'd dealt with in a long time, but the presence she carried? It buried him six feet under, and the respect he felt for her would never waver.

Croatoan didn't lie. At least, not to him. That's all that mattered. It's why she deserved his loyalty, and he gave it. Willingly, and without question.

She was worthy.

His people's memory made the fringe dire reach down, and gather the goat's blood in his paw. It dribbled down his forearm as he brought it to his face, smearing the red liquid straight across his eyes; a solid war band. Eyes closed, the wall of muscle shifted forward and down, prostrating himself before the woman until his nose brushed against the claws on her feet.

"I am your shield."

The oath. Now for the signature.

Blackwall returned to his full height, and offered her his still wet paw; hovering it before her eyes, waiting for a sign of acknowledgement.

"I am yours, Croatoan."

Wield me as you will.
« Last Edit: June 13, 2017, 05:43:03 PM by Ceraphena »