welcome to your new hell, Welcome to the Menagerie. Or as we like to call it, Dome Sweet Dome! We are an eight-year strong futuristic shapeshifter and sci-fi creature roleplay, dedicated to bringing you a world unlike any other; a world in which your character has become an experiment and must fight for survival in a domed city, cut off from the rest of the world. Choose to be any animal in your fight for survival in an artificial world built by the Keepers as they subject you to experiments beyond your control. Choose to wander the world inside the walls alone, as a Rogue, or find safety in numbers in one of the groups known as Rings. How will you survive?
60 - 65 ºF
blustery with scattered showers spotty sunshine
YEAR 2309
shift bans.
» Cougars (aka Puma, Mountain Lion, Panther)
» All Tiger Species
» All Lion Species
» All Wolf Species
» African Leopards
group bans.
none.
encouraged !
FEMALE CHARACTERS! create a RETRO or ANTHRO and get 250 CP + a free skill! read me for more info!
last updated: april 19th, 2016
Click on each Ring or Retro group image to view their ranks!
GROUP UPDATES
CARNARING
Jocelyn Edelwolfe is the new Alpha! Seija Mulviene is the new Beta, and Grey is the new Delta. Lead Hunter is now Boone Haywood, Head of Border Patrol is now Noelle Ndango!
FALLENRING
-
FULSIRING
Fulsi has a standing treaty with the Nakoma, granting limited access to their fresh water.
NAKOMA TRIBE
-
ANALOYA PRIDE
a while back, the Analoya suffered a suspicious poisoning of their river, luckily with few casualties; the Bellator are suspected of having taken part in it, and there are whispers that Pride leader Wanderer is talking alliance with the Nilda for access to their clean water.
BELLATOR HERD
As new leader of the Bellator, Loril has instituted some rank changes. See this thread for more information!
LAWAII FLOCK
no updates!
NILDA PACK
no updates!
CARNARING QUICK STATS
ALPHA -- Jocelyn Edelwolfe, Clouded Leopard, played by IronChild
BETA -- Seija Mulviene, Spotted Hyena, played by Seija-chan
DELTA --Grey, Mackenzie Valley Wolf, played by Kriss
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Post by Lyric Shikov on Nov 26, 2013 1:58:23 GMT -5
As soon she told him, Lyric doubted her.
She would not come back. He would be left alone in the dark to die, in a way that he had never pictured. It was one thing to die fighting. It was another thing to be strangled by his memories and made insane by dehydration. The first day was not so horrible; it was that night, and the following day, that unhinged him. He could only think of the bad things, he could only remember the bad things. What he regretted and what he wished he could have changed; things he had said, things he had done, that he wished he could take back.
Lyric did not know when but, eventually, he decided to recollect what was worthwhile. What made him smile. He remembered the lazy days spent in Leena's company, when they had been nothing but two broken people getting to know one another. He remembered the games they used to play on a whim; tag, or checkers, or cards. He remembered the way she would wake him up in the middle of the night because she could not sleep, but they would sit up late and watch movies that would make her cry and make him sit on the very edge of his bed, his hands on his knees. He remembered Lesta pulling him into a headlock only to ruffle his hair, affectionately; he remembered the same man goading him at night while eating ice cream straight from the carton, to Lyric's dismay, just because it had bothered him. He remembered his father insisting that they watch the American football game together, although neither of them could make any sense of it; they had laughed at it. He remembered his mother cooking for him when he was young, his favorite foods, just because she loved him.
That was before everything had happened. Before his parents had begun to hate each other. Before his mother grew tired of mothering. Before his father grew tired of family. Before Lesta grew tired of fighting. Before Leena grew tired of living. He remembered Aurora when he had first met her; he remembered her when they had first kissed. He remembered her when he had made her laugh, made her cry, made her love him. What does she love me? he found himself wondering, senselessly, as the dark drove him to madness.
Eventually he stopped remembering. He stopped wondering. He simply grew bitter again, because he was going to die, but not in the way he wanted, not in a way that made his heart beat. He had moved to lay against the floor, flat on his back, spread-eagle. He had given up hope as soon as she had left.
But when had Aurora ever disappointed him?
The door opened. He felt elation and surprise and everything in between when she rushed down to him. Not just her, but a bag. His eyes first settled on her face, checking her subconsciously for injuries, for something amiss. Aside from exhaustion she seemed fine, a miracle in and of itself. He said nothing for his expression said it all; his concern, his happiness, the fact that he had been lost when alone and he now was returning to himself, albeit slowly. But Lyric was a feral creature. Her well-being at least semi-assured, his hands sought for the bag and supplies that he knew were there. He needed them. With her head against his leg, he began to clean and bandage his own wounds; he feared to rouse her, so he did what he had done in Lesta's ring many times. He took care of himself.
She had already done more for him than anyone else would have.
Next came the water. He tried to temper how much he drank, and it worked for thirty minutes or so before he lost self control. He had never been so thirsty. Food followed after.
And, after that, rest. It was the first time that he allotted himself real sleep; before he had been possessed by fever dreams and real, sick worry. With Aurora safe again, he was able to curl around her (albeit in a pained fashion). He replaced his thigh with his arm and, within a matter of seconds, was sound asleep beside her. Perhaps he was not as much of a Tin Man as he claimed to be; for when he saw her, it felt as though he had been dead in her absence, and was brought back to life once she lay in his arms.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
Colorful birds darted through the air with a glittering string as delicate as a spider’s web. They dove and weaved, but as their creation took form – they began to turn ebon. Coarse thread wove over blind eyes that now looked like tiny button sewn into stuffed blackbirds. One by one they dropped to the snowy ground, the weight of their fall softly broken into little graves, and buried in the white. The tiny strings had been made into a nest; a beautiful gossamer bird’s nest that gleamed in the dying light.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. Looks cozy, but the lion doesn’t like to share,” said her old maid Tessa. Aurora turned and suddenly she was in her old room in England. Tessa continued to speak, but they were words she had heard before; from when she was little more than a child.
“What am I going to do with you. You know what Himself said Little Miss, no cream. It’s off to the closet with you –oh Little Miss you know I hate to do it, but if Himself found out I didn’t punish you it would be my job,” her voice was brisk cockney but always sweet. Tessa took Aurora’s small hand and lead her into the closet where she was to sit on a stool in the dark for punishment. If she spoke too much it would ruin her voice, if she drank or ate dairy, or was difficult in any way this was how she was punished. If she cried at all … she had to sit in the dark longer. The door closed.
She liked Tessa. She was kind, and would often play with Aurora a bit. Once or twice she had snuck a few books that were not on her required list for her to look through. Aurora loved the picture books of animals the best. They were so beautiful …
The door opened. The Tin Man smiled down and waved her out from the closet. Hesitantly she stepped out and took his hand. It closed around hers, gently at first … but the grip tighten around her wrist and she squeaked from the pain. His face changed into anger as he shoved something hot into her hand. When he released her she looked down to see a heart – a real heart pulsing blood from veins and arteries. A pocket watch was wedged into its center, but it was smashed.
“Don’t break what’s left of it,” Lyric’s voice echoed in her head and she cried out and pulled it to her chest protectively.
With a quiet gasp Aurora’s eyes snapped open. She did not move, and instead oriented herself. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was … oh yes, she had made it to Lyric and everything went fuzzy. The fogginess of the dream and fear it had left her with vanished when she realized her head was pillowed on Lyric’s shoulder and he was curled around her. They lay almost stomach to stomach -one ebon wing stretched over them gently. The other was folded to her back, trapped between his arm and her body.
His breaths were of sleep, and as slowly and quietly as she could (lest she wake him) her hand lifted to stroke the side of his face. She was warm, tired – and sore but feeling much better than she had when they’d all but fallen down here. She was quiet but his eyes opened anyway. Golden irises stared at her, her teeth caught the bottom of her lip a moment before releasing it into a timid smile.
”Hi,” she said quietly – almost shyly. ”Are you feeling better?" She paused, then asked - "Did I get the right things?”
Post by Lyric Shikov on Nov 29, 2013 16:55:18 GMT -5
When he awoke, a part of him was not expecting to see her still beside him. But she was; and she had come back. Lyric smiled into her touch, his eyes closing after having taken her in with one sweep of them. "Da," Lyric replied, raising a hand to interlace their fingers. "To both. Yes to both." His voice was light with sleep, even more heavily accented than was typical of him.
It was rare when he awoke with her by her side. What was not so rare, however, was waking with a bone-deep weariness. He was still tired, despite having slept solidly for several hours. Lyric felt browbeat, as though the world had chewed him up and spat him out. His expression was subdued; even his eyes were subdued, when he opened them. "I did not think you would come back." Perhaps the honesty came so easily because he was still half-asleep; perhaps it came so easily because here, in the absolute darkness, he could see nothing and feel nothing except for his Rory. There was nothing, except for her and his pain.
He ached and closed his eyes again. Ashamed. That was the word for what he now felt; ashamed, because he had disappointed her. He remembered their argument. You were going to leave and never come back.
Lyric had thought of it time and time again, since she had left. It seemed that her return made no difference; he would continue to think about it, until it plagued him like a bad dream. He untangled their fingers and felt blindly in the darkness for her face; he touched her cheek, her brow, her lips. If I could, Lyric thought. I would keep us here forever. Just the two of us.
He leaned forward to kiss her, removing his thumb from her lower lip to replace it with his own mouth. It was a gentle kiss that conveyed what he was too afraid to say with words; thank you, I do not know what I would do without you. The space between them was breathless and he wished--God, he wished--that he could feel less melancholy. So he forced himself too. He reminded himself that he was alive and that many people considered that to be a blessing, although he often wondered why.
"Do you want to tell me a story, moy golubushka? A happy story?" Lyric paused. "I have one. It is about a brave little bird who flew far, far away." His voice hitched. He had not thought that it had been entirely real, until this moment, when he felt her and talked to her and knew her.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
Post by Lyric Shikov on Nov 29, 2013 18:59:54 GMT -5
Lyric did not say what he was thinking. She may have promised but very few people lived up to what they said they would; sometimes they simply were not able, sometimes they did not care enough to. Lyric knew that Rory was naive enough to not understand this through no fault of her own. Lyric had always been there for her, had he not been? The thought occurred to him abruptly. He had been there for her, through thick and thin, through hell and high-water. There were times when it would have been better if he had not been, but Lyric was and that was that. His throat was dry with the realization because he had never, ever gotten his dedication given back to him in the past. Aurora was the only one to have returned it, his dumb and blind and self-destructive loyalty. It takes two crazy people, he thought in wonderment.
The more he thought on it, the more he realized what she had done for him. Leena would have never come back. Lesta would not have. His mother would not have. His father would not have. No one he used to know would have done what she had done for him. And after all this, I still do not treat her how I should. The kiss was soft and gentle and it reminded him that he was holding her to standards that he should not have been. Why could he not just trust her? She had never disappointed him, aside from the slap.
Ironic how a few days alone could lesson the insult of that injury. He did not even care! What did it matter, one slap? Lyric was smiling stupidly in the dark, the kind of smile that belonged to a boy, a little boy. It hurt his cheeks.
In that moment, he loved her so much that it hurt him, that it stole his breath. Did she not know that he was talking of her? Did she not see that she was the brave little bird. Lyric leaned forward, his lips brushing hers as he continued, his voice strangely colored by passion. "She flew so far because she was trying to find someone that she cared about. They had gone away and they had always been away. Their body was there but their feelings were not always so present and now their body was gone, too. They did not always seem to care, or do the right thing, because their thoughts were always on the past instead of the moment. She loved them anyway and when they disappeared, she had to find a way to save them. The little bird thought that he must have wondered off again, for some stupid reason. He always meant well but he got lost so easily."
His voice was thick. His words were quiet and he kept thinking that he was really saying it, even in a roundabout way. He was telling her who he was in the rawest way imaginable and he was still lying. It was obviously just a story, one that he had clearly made up. Was it not? It was an abstract version of their own. "She was afraid when she left, because she had never done anything so brave. She looked everywhere for him. Under every rock."
"When she found him, he was in a hole. Birds are not supposed to go underground, are they? But she did. She went into the dark and the cold and brought him out, shivering, to warm him with her wings. She asked him, 'Why did you go down there?' and he said, 'It is where I belong.' The brave little bird argued with him and convinced him that no one belongs in the dark, alone, least of all him." Lyric took a steadying breath. Coward, his thoughts told him. Why could he not say thank you in a normal way? His words were heartfelt, as though he was reciting something other than a story, a damn metaphor he had invented off the top of his head. Leena had loved to do that. Just come up with stories, although hers had been dark and bitter and it was time for Lyric to stop thinking of her.
So he made the story happy where he would have normally made it sad. "They did not go back to where they came from." Lyric wished he was so brave, so as to never go back to Carna. He wished that they could live in that intimate darkness forever. "They stayed where they were and they were happy. They built a nest and the little brave bird taught her friend how to fly again, because he had not flown for years. The little brave bird was never afraid again, though. She was brave enough for both of them."
He was still blurry with sleep, his words whispered, his body shifting through aches and pains so as to press close to her. Why could he not say it? Why could he not say that he loved her, aloud, in those blunt words? He had thought it and said it in roundabout ways, but when did he start meaning it and understanding what it meant? It meant not abandoning. It meant not being abandoned. It meant caring, when it was dark and cold and painful. You are like the Tin Man.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
His warmth drew near as he continued the story and his tone changed as he told her an ever growing story. She wanted to find someone that had gone away? How sad …their body had been separated from their feelings? Horror filled her expression … how awful! For a person to be separated from their feelings ... their spirit? It would make sense that since their spirit were gone all they could focus on was when they had still had it? On the past ...
Her head nodded determinedly when he said that the bird loved them anyway, it could not be their fault? Save them yes, find all of them and make them whole! Of course he would wander, unconsciously looking for that piece of himself that had been gone for so long. Lyric paused, and Aurora swallowed … her attention rapt … what would happen?
She was afraid, she heard and responded instantly. ”But she had to go!” she whispered fiercely and nodded when he spoke of her looking everywhere. Under every rock,”and in every tree,” she added.
The thought of him underground concerned her and she gasped and shook her head in protest, her hand grabbing a handful of Lyric’s jacket. Eyes wide, she listed as the brave little bird argued with her dear friend that he belonged with her in the sky and nodded with a furrowed brow. Of course he did, he was just looking for his spirit in the wrong places! When he grew quiet again, Aurora held her breath.
Listening to the happy ending, the blackbird Anthro blinked. ”But … his spirit,” she whispered. ”Did he find his spirit again? She could be brave enough for them both, but it would be for naught without his spirit. He would simply wander off again … ” she stared into the darkness for many minutes, awaiting his answer breathless.
Post by Lyric Shikov on Nov 30, 2013 20:59:40 GMT -5
He should have expected this. She became more and more enthralled with the story, speaking as he would have as a child; with such abrasive logic that it was adorable. That was, at least, until she confronted an aspect of the story that Lyric had overlooked. The space between them was not tense, per se, but Lyric felt as though the air had been robbed from his lungs. He reached for her hands where they gripped his jacket, taking them in his own.
His eyes closed in the darkness and he kept them closed, going so far as to do what he did best. He lied, even though the most truthful answer he could have never been was, "No." But Lyric did not tell her the pathetic, dark truth. He did not wish to see her sadness or her childish disbelief, because he did trust in that. She would argue with him, he thought. She would believe otherwise; was that not obvious? She believed in him, the very example of how impossible it was for some people to find spirit. "He found it. It had been with the brave little bird all along; it was just that neither of them knew it until she saved him."
That was how it should have been, was it not? But Lyric could not manage it. He felt quietly, darkly sad, reminded again of how temporary this all was. His mouth still brushed hers as he spoke and he used that last sentence as an excuse to kiss her, to quiet her. Lyric did not know if he could handle what she may or may not have said in reply.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
She had not realized her grip until he took her hands in his own, and she seemed to come back to herself. His tone changed again. Her mind ticked, paying attention to his words, his breaths … Lyric was like a hot desert. You could not always be sure of what first appeared.
There was an undercurrent to the story that slowly worked her psychological gears and it did not take much for her to realize a few things. There was a sadness to his voice, and she would have to be completely thick to miss his story was about more than just the birds. It was an effort … and confusing, but she couldn’t leave him with the burden. She was always a burden.
She took a breath, and when his lips touched hers she kissed him until she had gathered what she hoped conveyed that she understood. Her hand went to his face and with a peck to his lips, her cheek slid against his until her lips touched his ear.
”It was a wondrous thing, my Lyric,” she began softly. ”But if he never did find it, she would stay with him anyway.” She trembled; it made her sad to think of what they had both gone through this year. Aurora had learned so much, and it made her sad that he had to change the ending to please her. Did he not know? Her hand at the back of his neck pulled him into a tighter embrace.
Releasing him slightly, she touched her forehead to his and smiled. ”Sometimes things once lost … can never be found.” Her head shook infinitesimally side to side and her eyes opened. ”It does not make it your fault.” Her arms stretched around his shoulders and neck to hug him, squeezing him as hard as she could for a full minute – though tired as she was it wasn’t impressive. She released him with a smile, hoping he understood.
Post by Lyric Shikov on Nov 30, 2013 23:21:16 GMT -5
Lyric felt as though it were some strange dream, this entire ordeal; he would have said that it was one if not for the fact that Aurora managed to make him feel and do things he never would have otherwise. In the dark and in the pain, he felt closer to her than he had ever felt to another living person, even if that intimacy was tinged by tragedy. Or am I just being a melodramatic bastard? That was certainly a possibility. He had been told that he had a flare for dramatics in the past, by more than one person.
She kissed him and then her lips ran to his ear. He was quiet, listening, not understanding at first. And then the realization dawned on him and Lyric felt like more of an idiot than he ever had before. Aurora wasn't stupid. She had understood what the story was about, at least on some level, and now she told him something that he believed was impossible.
Shouldn't shapeshifting be impossible? The biggest miracle in his life, always overlooked, always forgotten. But it should not have been something he was able to do. If he could turn into a two hundred pound wildcat, it should not seem so impossible that she loved him. He was quiet, wordless, unable to say anything in the face of what she had done. She continued to offer him kindness even though t was a lost cause, and for what? Him. Lyric felt her shift, until her forehead was against his and she was embracing him.
He said something he never thought he would. "Forever?" He asked, his voice hoarse. "Would that little brave bird stay with him forever?" Because he had been abandoned, time and time again. He feared to inquire something so sensitive, so full of meaning, when he knew that the word "forever" meant nothing as certainly as it meant everything. She had yet to leave him though. She waited with more patience than any saint Lyric had known, although he had not known many. He was loyal, damned loyal. She should not have been, but she was
Lyric felt something he had not in a very long time. He did not have a name for it; perhaps because there was not a name for it. It rose, unbidden, until it devoured his thoughts and his feelings. He wanted her. He wanted to keep her, he wanted her to be there always. He thought of how he had stopped himself so long ago in the Speakeasy, to preserve something innocent before he could corrupt it and now he thought that there had been a reason for that; drunk, it would have been wrong. It would have been wrong any time since then because he would not have meant it. He had known from the very beginning that she was not someone he could disregard and treat callously. The fact that he was realizing this consciously now, so late, was like a slap.
"Can... I show you how much you mean, moy golubushka?" It was after she had let him go. Lyric touched his mouth to her neck in the darkness, gently. His words were failing him and he could not, he could not contain this thing that rose inside of him, demanding attention. It was some lost part of himself, some aspect of his forgotten childhood. He was smiling, sadly, but it was the most genuine smile he had had in a long time."It will hurt."He doubted that she understood what he meant, what he was talking of, what kind of act there was to further their intimacy. "It is like kissing. But... more."
Damn him! Lyric was fumbling over his words, ruining it with his own awkwardness."It is what some people do, when they care about each other. It is like this talking, this... feeling... but it is physical, too." She always caused him to be stupidly, thickly unsure of himself.
Last Edit: Nov 30, 2013 23:27:08 GMT -5 by Lyric Shikov
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD
Aurora smiled and nodded forever. Forever was a very long time, although she thought maybe he was not speaking literally. Or was he?
Can … I show you how much you mean? His lips on her neck made her breath catch, It will hurt. It is like kissing, but more. Another memory brushed her mind, when they played in the water and he had stilled and admitted to being with other people. He had kissed her feverishly, his teeth catching her lip as his body pressed against hers. "Like that. I've been with people doing that, but with them it doesn't mean anything and we go farther."
She reflected a moment, remembering the contours of his chest … the warmth of his body and the pretty tanned color of his skin. She had all but frozen in place for a whole minute before her hand slid down from his neck to his chest. Their faces were so close in the darkness, their breaths intermingled and she could feel the flutter of his lashes, the beat of his heart.
Slowly, her fingers pushed back his coat and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, pulling back his collar until her hand could feel skin. Her lips kissed his neck, then his collar bone before lifting back to his lips. Those things scared her … but not when she thought of Lyric. She remembered long ago when they had been in the Speakeasy and he had shown her romance. She smiled against his lips, ”Romance?” she supplied quietly when his fumbling had ceased.
Although it was only a year ago that he had given her vodka for the first time and danced and laughed into the night - it seemed a life time ago. Things had changed in so many ways. The taste of his mouth, the feel of his hands, the way he made her light on fire ... so much had not. She hopedthey never would.
Post by Lyric Shikov on Dec 2, 2013 1:27:45 GMT -5
When she did not reply immediately, his first thought was that he had been stupid. Of course he had been stupid, too reckless with his words that he fumbled over and could not speak in a way that made sense. He was still, hands shaking, the silence a sort of burden that he could not bear. Anything but her rejection. Lyric could handle anything but her turning away from him.
He waited breathlessly for her to say something, but his worries stilled when her fingers began to work at his clothing. He remained still, so still. The moment was fragile; he feared that if he touched it, if he touched her something would be broken. Lyric shifted when it was necessary, however, to shrug off his clothing. The feel of her hand against his neck was overwhelming, a small touch that made his breath come a little quicker. That one less layer was freeing.
Romance? The word was breathed against his throat where her lips had just brushed him. Lyric could not find it in himself to speak; he had almost forgotten of the Speakeasy. He had almost forgotten that, of course, he had taught her romance. She was able to sum up what he had attempted to say in a single word; it was not until she spoke it that Lyric realized that was half of what he meant, in all actuality. It was what he meant because this was not just baseless; each touch jostled him, brought him back to life.
He needed this. Some time during the past few days he felt as though he had lost himself, as though he were lost. Now she ground him. She brought him back. That was what gave him the courage to speak. "Romance," Lyric repeated.
His hands rose to her shoulders, gently, and then one hand rose to her face to tilt her mouth up toward him. Lyric kissed her more gently than he had ever kissed anyone.
Was it not time to take it full circle? To continue what he had started over a year ago? If he had learned one thing, it was that in the Menagerie nothing could remain the same. Not the innocence, not the "romance". It was better to take it here and now in the darkness of their tragedy and their revelations both. His body ached, his wounds stung, but the pain just reminded him that he was alive.
OH YOU WATCH ME STEADY, YOU WATCH ME WITH QUIET SINCERITY AND YOU HOLD ME HEAVY, YOU HOLD ME LIKE I WAS BORN TO BE HELD