shapeshifter
Archived
medic
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Post by Laurent Reynard on Jun 17, 2011 19:44:20 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,475,true] | [atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/tamaspet/laurentnew2.png] She seemed like a half-remembered dream. It had been over a year since Laurent had last seen her, and before that, he’d only known the albino lioness a short time. Their relationship had been a whirlwind of emotions that ended on the roof of a Fulsi skyscraper, with Laurent plummeting to his death. By some miracle, the keepers chose to save him, and Laurent hadn’t really realized that Royale had been real until now. The moment he remembered, Laurent headed out for Fallen territory to see if she was still there. It was a long shot, considering how long people usually lasted in this place. Perhaps she never even made it off the roof that day; surely the rest of the prison staff had been on their trails shortly after they noticed her gone. And if they had found her? And seen his body lying crumpled on the concrete below?
Laurent shook his head, not wanting to think of the fate that might have befallen her. He tried not to get his hopes up too much as he wandered through the Fallen desert, only vague directions from another Fulsi as his guide. He’d thought about asking his friend Bonifacio, but after their last fight about Royale the day he’d died, Laurent thought it best not to bring it up with him. He would only try to warn him against going to look for her, wouldn’t he? There was only a miniscule chance that he’d find her alive, and even then, what would they do? The Fallen and Fulsi were still technically enemies, and Laurent would be in the same boat all over again.
“This is crazy,” He sighed, realizing that he might have made a terrible mistake by coming all this way. Perhaps it was better to just turn back. But he’d already lost Pavak… The thought of his old friend made Laurent’s chest tighten with a pang of sadness. He may have been fond of Royale, but Pavak… He’d loved him. And with thoughts of Pavak came thoughts of Kavi, and the good times the three of them once had together back in India. What had once been a daily struggle to them now seemed like heaven compared to all of this. Laurent felt his eyes begin to sting with tears, but they evaporated under the hot desert sun before they could even begin to roll down his cheeks.
He realized then that the worst part of it all was that he had no idea what had happened to either of them, and no idea how to find out. At least in Royale’s case, Laurent hoped that the Fallen Ring would have some information about her. It was his best lead to finding her, and if she wasn’t there, finding out what had become of her. Setting his jaw tight with determination, Laurent continued on through the endless expanse of sand, following the lifeline of rusted train tracks. “I’ll find her,” he promised himself. “And maybe one day, Pavak and Kavi too.”
Ooc: 83 Started it, yayy. –pats Laurent-
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mykolaskubis
GUEST
SUBJECT IS DORMANT
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Post by mykolaskubis on Sept 3, 2011 1:30:36 GMT -5
Late afternoon had brought a siege of a different sort to Fallen lands. The sun had shifted to the east the better part of an hour before, casting the surrounding arid landscape into pale, wraith-like shadows. They crouched behind that which sheltered them--scrub brush and the cracked, moldering ties of the tracks themselves; misshapen as if starved, more of a muddled, bruised color than true black. The tracks themselves were the sole exception; their rails shimmered, seeming to waver in the heat, bending at strange, impossible angles the further into the distance they stretched. The dimming light--or what little remained at that hour, separated into pale bars of gold--had attracted several insects.
Primarily dragonflies, the heaviness of their bodies and the resultant drone amplified in the heat. Centipedes, with their thick, sleek shells of dark auburn and vaguely reddish caramel hues likewise scurried by. But the true prize were the moths; dark, sleek-winged creatures, their own wings making an odd, high-frequency hum that was almost a whisper--the soft rustle of rapidly turning pages. The true crowning glory, however, was the pure white moth--the tips of its wings just barely freckled with the hint of a darker pigment.
And it was this moth that Mykolas chased, with all the enthusiasm of an Olympic sprinter just within view of the finish line. The pair moved in a strange tandem; both bat and moth. In spite of the insect's best attempts to shake the Bumblebee bat, Mykolas remained doggedly behind--hunger the sole driving force behind their elaborate dance. Hunger, and the delighted--if perverse--knowledge that nothing would infuriate his roommate more than if he returned with bits of crushed wing between his teeth.
It had been a point of contention between himself and Pavak for months, now; Pavak had often threatened not to come anywhere near him if he continued to eat bugs--citing that their ground bits clung unpleasantly to his teeth. Kola, in his turn, denied the allegations cheerfully. All the same, it hadn't stopped him from earning the rather sourly bestowed nickname of 'bugbreath.' Kola argued that it wasn't his fault that Pavak couldn't appreciate the protein the diet offered--or the irresistibly peppery flavor of moths. He cheerfully ignored Pavak's dry remark of telling him that he and his damned bugs could go straight to hell.
Wings beating furiously, the bat slowly began to gain on the moth, closing the distance between them. He was so close that he could practically feel the phantom crunch of its soft exoskeleton between his teeth. It was at that precise moment that the moth suddenly veered up--changing altitude. Mykolas attempted to follow the path it took with his eyes, but his gaze was abruptly dazzled by the sunlight. Disoriented by the blinding intensity of the light, he himself dropped in altitude--failing to realize the danger he was in.
By the time his vision cleared, it was far too late. He banked desperately, attempting to pull up as Laurent's chest--little more than a solid, dark wall to his sun-confused eyes--rose in front of him. To no avail. His head struck against the wall before him, with a force that was surprisingly hard for such a small creature. His body recoiled from the impact, and for a moment, he seemed to hover--until his wings crumpled against his side and, stunned, he dropped to the hard desert floor. His wings fluttered frantically for a moment, and then were still.
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