Lies and Deceit - A Fantasy RP

[Cyprus]

Luna’s tone shifted to one of coldness, reflecting her outer shell of her personality. She stated simply “The orphanage only made porridge. So no, not really.” She realized her voice and eyes had changed, and apologized immediately. Her she was, breaking down their conversation. She pleaded “I’m sorry for speaking like that. It’s just...” Luna found it hard to defend herself in front of someone seemingly perfect like Persepolis.

Persepolis heard the change in her voice and saw the change in her eyes. "You don't have to apologize to me," She assured her. "I didn't mean to strike that chord. I hope you can forgive me for that." She felt horribly that she had ignated these feelings in Luna.
"Someday, if we have the resources, I'll make some dishes for you from when my siblings and I were kids." She offered.

 

[HoodedHuntress]

"Hm. Yeah." Raquel mused. She shouldered her pack, until she could find a good hiding place for it. "Let's go."
Hector didn't glance up, mumbling "I need to find the right-Aha!" He pounced upon a massive limb, and sat down, trimming many of the leafy appendages.

Eva looked at her, following her at her brisk pace, wondering where they were actually going, but not worrying enough to that she would actually ask.

 

[HoodedHuntress]

Persepolis heard the change in her voice and saw the change in her eyes. "You don't have to apologize to me," She assured her. "I didn't mean to strike that chord. I hope you can forgive me for that." She felt horribly that she had ignated these feelings in Luna.
"Someday, if we have the resources, I'll make some dishes for you from when my siblings and I were kids." She offered.

Luna shook her head, still apologizing, not quiet realizing her past wasn't her fault. She mused some, before replying "I'm sorry. That's just my past and there's nothing I can do about it. I shouldn't have reacted that way." With a weak smile, she added "And that sounds great Persepolis."

 

[HoodedHuntress]

(@Bantambird did you need someone to RP with?)

 

[Cyprus]

Luna shook her head, still apologizing, not quiet realizing her past wasn't her fault. She mused some, before replying "I'm sorry. That's just my past and there's nothing I can do about it. I shouldn't have reacted that way." With a weak smile, she added "And that sounds great Persepolis."

"Don't sweat it," Persepolis replied. She didn't want Luna to feel bad. She knew she was having a good time out here and didn't want to ruin that for her.
They reached the blueberries. "I'm thinking we can make these pancakes tomorrow morning" She said, starting to pick some berries.

 

[HoodedHuntress]

"Don't sweat it," Persepolis replied. She didn't want Luna to feel bad. She knew she was having a good time out here and didn't want to ruin that for her.
They reached the blueberries. "I'm thinking we can make these pancakes tomorrow morning" She said, starting to pick some berries.

Luna shook the thought of the orphanage out of her head, before turning to the blueberries. She remarked "That's true, but we need strawberries. We're not leaving with out your favorite fruit." (I just realized all of this probably isn't ripe all at once, but I'm having fun, so screw it)

 

[Cyprus]

Luna shook the thought of the orphanage out of her head, before turning to the blueberries. She remarked "That's true, but we need strawberries. We're not leaving with out your favorite fruit." (I just realized all of this probably isn't ripe all at once, but I'm having fun, so screw it)

(Lol, we'll pretend they're all ripe. This is a lot of fun.)
"Okay, guess we'll have to find Strawberries then," Persepolis said with a smile. She brought over a handful of berries to add to the bag. "Strawberries are really good on top of pancakes."

 

[HoodedHuntress]

(Lol, we'll pretend they're all ripe. This is a lot of fun.)
"Okay, guess we'll have to find Strawberries then," Persepolis said with a smile. She brought over a handful of berries to add to the bag. "Strawberries are really good on top of pancakes."

(I agree XD) Luna moved a bunch of blueberries over into the bag using her head, until they had a good bunch. Once that was finished, she asked "Ready to go find some strawberries?"

 

[RiverStorm]

Xylo witnessed the whole fight in silent disdain. He had almost lacked some respect for wolves, who always hunted in packs. Perhaps it just reminded him of when he was a child, and bullies from school had attacked him in groups, him trying to fight them off. Doing push-ups at age eight and watching boxers to fight back. When she moved, he didn’t. They might’ve trusted her, but the same was most likely not the case for him.

The wolves had dragged it over to River and Xylo`s side of the river/lake. River returned to a crouch as a large black wolf began walking towards them, the only thing that could have shown in her eyes was respect. As another wolf bared it`s teeth and took a threatening step at Xylo, but the larger he wolf snarled and the other tucked it`s tail and laid back it`s ears in submission. The wolf gave several barks as he reached them.
"Hello, Slash, Alpha of Forest Pack." River began, then paused. "You don`t have to worry about stealing our prey, we were simply taking a walk." Her words were met by more barks.
"He is called Xylo. He is one of the co-leaders of the Banished. You can trust him, he won`t do any harm to your pack as long as they don`t do any harm to the Banished." She said, her voice calm, though she decided to leave out for now that she was the other leader. "Is that all?" She asked kindly. More barks. The wolf leader turned and padded back to the others, to help them drag back the deer carcass.
River rose up to her feet again. Just as the wolves vanished into the trees, she noticed his look.
"Is something wrong?"

 

[RiverStorm]

(@HeavensHens88 remember that long post you did in AHAM...this is in honor of that.) Horius had reached a spot. Sitting down on the floor, the soft rustling of leaves beneath his weight was the only sound to be heard in the area. He looked around him as a last form of checking there was nobody to witness his rage, but most importantly his weaknesses. The forest, as if it knew what the man was capable of, provided silence, backing off from the one who had conquered its on-slaughters. It assured him solitude, quiet, silence.

Silence for him to shout out his anger, his rage. For him to cry out his tears.

Horius' eyes, a mixture of the white snow of winter covering the dark brown oak tree of the forest, looked to the sky, a vast ocean of fears and regrets and rage. Trepidation surrounded the man; he began sweating, dreading the inevitable. The inevitable consumed him, swallowed him up like a lost voyager drowning in the sea, with no one to salvage him. His mind raced, rudely whispering into his ear she wasn't there. She wouldn't listen. Because she wasn't there.

Horius finally uttered a word. A word whose tone could only be understood by a mother, that of one whose child is suffering and needs comforting. His lips touched each other, finalizing the utterance. It had begun. "Mamá?" was all that broke the silence. His ears wished to have the delight of witnessing his mother's soft, kind, voice, as she responded to his call. His eyes, which had closed, slowly fluttered open like a butterfly breaking free from its chrysalis, yearning to see the like of day. But while the butterflies would experience the warmth of the sun's life-giving rays, he was given nothing but darkness. The darkness ate away at him, tearing as his flesh, gnawing at his bones, sapping up his blood till he was no more. And once he was no more, the darkness stayed. Forever.

Curse the silence! Let it rot, away with the carcasses of the weak. Silence only reassured him everything he had was dead. Silence made his brain reminisce. He had no choice but to comply with the cruelty of the mind's doings. With the opening of the first chapter, he was consumed. Page one.

The toy train ran happily along its simple circle, obeying the law of the tracks. Horius laughed as he pushed the first car over, toppling the others with it, then carefully reconstructed the train cars neatly before doing it again. A door opened. His mother had come home, surely, the creak of the door, years old now, aged by wind blowing against it and the scratches of the feral cat, opening and her soft, elegant, footsteps carried upstairs where his father was, in their room. As Horius toppled the train set once again, the cars separating and hitting the carpet floor which molded under their weight, he heard a huge bang upstairs, and the loud voice of his father, filled with hatred and malign. Horius supposed they were simply talking, arguing perhaps, but his heartbeat betrayed his true suspicions as it beat away against his rib cage, threatening to burst out and run off elsewhere. Horius looked up at the ceiling, which had shook with a bang, vibrating the walls of the house. The cacophony came with a cry, the cry of his mother. One that had a tone that could not be described lest one witnesses it in person. That cry only intensified as Horius sprang to his feet, ignoring the pain that rushed through his body as he stepped on one of the cars of his former. As soon as he had reached the stairs, the sobs of pain and pleas of mercy echoed throughout the house, torturing his eardrums. There were demons in the walls, surely, carrying the news around the small wooden house, whispering in cursed voices how she was doomed. The small beige house, forged with the wood of birch and the toil of his parents, always bright, illustrated with light shades, was nothing but a pit of darkness. As he burst into the room, breathing with the breath of a madman who has just killed, he saw.

His father, standing over his mother, wielding a broken bottle of wine, its edges dark green mixed with the red of his mother's blood. Some of the alcohol had spilled on the floor in a puddle that soaked into the carpet, staining the normally impeccable floor. His maddened face, creased at the edges with anger and ignorance. His veins pumping dark blood fueled by hatred back to his heart, blackened with malignity and evil.

His mother. With injuries too grave to explain, her blood stained an unhealthy red dye, urging him to leave. So he didn't have to see. See her hurt, her suffering. She had wings, beautiful wings of a goldfinch.

Horius had tried to push his father away from the violent scene he was birthing, but received instead a push so forceful it sent him hurling into the hinges of the doors, scraping and tearing into his flesh, petrifying him with pain. Only unfrozen by his mother's cries to leave. The cries stopped when he had reached the porch, leaving behind his teddy bear and his train set to obey his mother even at her death. With that, Horius abandoned the porch he had played as a child, the porch he had eaten on with his parents on war summer nights, and where he had made snow angels in the brisk winter mornings. A child's obedience is what made him survive that day, along with his mother's love. As his figure faded into the forest, his new veil from his father's cruel hands, Horius seemed to regain his sense of the present. The sky was in front of him again. His cheeks were covered in the salty tears that no one could see, lest they be killed. They didn't deserve to see his pain. Horius looked down at his forearm. The scar from the hinges was still there, branding him with a life of relentless pain and sorrow. It's dark hue signified his and his mother's blood, forever with him, coursing through his wretched veins.

The words came out choked, struggling to leave his mouth. They pained him to say. With a quiet sob, he murmured "I failed Mamá. I failed. I'm so sorry Mamá. I tried, but he was too strong. I am strong now, but..." Horius, who had fallen to a kneel, stood up, enraged, hissing "But what GOOD DOES THAT DO NOW?"

Horius cloaked himself with his hood and marched off. Straight to the hunter's territory, snapping branches, crushing leaves. The forest didn't matter. His home would obey him, let him pass. Do what must be done for his mother. As he neared, he turned invisible, seeing two hunters carrying a tarred Aves. Limp and lifeless.

The eyes of the Reaper darkened, cloaking any emotion other than that of fury and hurt. No sympathy was found in the lagoons of hate that stared upon the cowardly killers. His muscles tensed, every tendon an axle of a killing machine that would usher only pain, and hurt, and revenge. Uncloaking himself, he stood before the two men, uncloaking himself. He would be the last thing they ever saw.

He was a reaper, and there was nothing he could do.

(Mind blown by your writing skills. 0-0 )