RP with
Rhaegal, needs more interaction. (I should play him more in the Forest gahh) Feel free to join, this is open for everyone. All I ask is that you won't quit halfway and that you'll be moderately active.
I accept all kind of violent and hateful behaviour towards this character, just avoid godmodding 'kay.
Warning for self-harm, blood and gore, violence and body fluids. All kinds of sensitive and delicious stuff. Potential naughty language.
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What have you done this time?
I don't know what has happened, or that's what I keep telling myself. But the truth is that what I'm trying to accomplish is nothing but a foul lie - an attempt to fix the situation that my reckless behaviour has caused. I just remember losing it for a small moment - yet that moment was more than enough for me to do it. I actually did it. I killed someone - I killed someone, even though I wasn't hungry. I didn't kill to defend myself. I
just did it. And the sickest thing about it is that I don't feel regret. Quite the opposite - I feel strangely at peace. As if justice has been served, a weight lifted from my heart. A thorn removed from my paw.
Even now, when the defiled body of a young, spotted deer drags behind me, I don't feel anything. I don't even feel the slightest hint of hunger. My only instinct is to dispose of the body. I just don't want anyone to know. I need to get clean from this blood that creates dried red spots on my fur. I want to forget it ever happened - or more likely, I just want to forget about the fact that I don't feel anything. Perhaps its shock that stops my own conscious from reacting.
You're a monster. Why'd you do something like that?
I guess I don't know - the little pest annoyed me. I clearly showed the fawnling that I want to be left in peace, but did it listen? No, it wanted to be my
friend . What a naive, childish thing for it to do. It deserved all that was coming its way, right? I didn't mean to kill, just give it a little scratch to tell it to get the hell away from me. I guess I just swung my paw too hard - maybe I even bit its neck in the process? I really hope I did. If I didn't, the poor one suffered a painful death. Just imagine it, being almost literally teared to pieces. Not being able to fight back. Not even having the slightest chance. I seriously pity the thing, but I just can't feel terrible. Not just yet. It was an annoying pest, just another prey destined to die. Right?
... You'll see soon enough. You murderer.
I'm not a murderer! It was an accident - it had to be one. The deer was the one who caused it, I just became a little angry and tried to teach it a lesson about teasing others. My paw just slipped, that's all. There's nothing more to it.
Glad that the voice doesn't bother me anymore, I try to hasten my pace. I'm well aware that the body I'm carrying in my mouth is leaving a huge trail of dark blood behind me, but I don't have time to worry about it. I must make it to the Pond. I can 'erase' this situation there by disposing of the corpse, or what's left of it. There'll be no-one to suspect that I did it - no-one to identify the name of this fawn. The evening that keeps closing in makes my work easier, as most beasts prefer to hide themselves in their little holes. Predators start to move in these hours, and I'm not the only one. Others will have their hands full, I'm sure.
The scent of flowing water catches my nose, and it only works as a motivation for me to hurry up. Someone is bound to find the blood pool by the Oak soon, perhaps the severed leg that I didn't manage to carry. They just can't find out it's me, explaining everything will be a pain. Can I really even explain what I did? Perhaps not.
The body is already beginning to get cold as I put it on the ground next to the water's edge. All I need is a good throw and the body will be washed away. It will sink, after all the trouble I went through to attach the small pieces of rock around its feet. If it wouldn't sink - well, that was another story.
I remove the bandage from around my eyes for a slight moment to inspect the body for the last time. The neck is unnaturally bent, so I can even see how the flesh is broken from the middle. It reveals a thick bone sticking out, broken thanks to the harsh way that I've treated the body while carrying it. The three legs that it has left are twisted in a similar manner, one of them almost falling off from the rest of the body. The severed leg snapped right off a while back, and someone's bound to find it. I secretly wish that it's another predator, just glad to find something to eat. That would take some of the blame off him, at least.
The body itself is harshly torn from several spots, claw marks leaving chunks of fur and flesh hanging from the wounds, going as deep as to reach the level under the muscle tissue. Yet it isn't all the gore that I see in the body, it's the eyes that I'm scared of. They just look up lifelessly, screaming that the fawn didn't want to die. Panicked, wide and full of desire to continue living.
Well, it was all the same now, it was dead. It's future, past or present wouldn't matter much anymore. Yet why is it that my legs shake so violently as I crouch to finish it all? It's as if I am the one being afraid. But of what? I just don't know the answer for that, either. I don't want to think any of this for longer than I already have. In a quick, merciless swing, I throw the body far into the Pond, full of hope of not having to see it again. This was just cleaning up after what I did - it was the right thing to do, right? My face is expressionless as I watch it sinking further into the depths of the cold water, those blaming eyes glancing at me for the last time before the corpse finally fades away from view. I'm free - the smell of blood and urine no longer distract my nose from smelling the freshness of the Forest air. It is done. Now there's nothing else to worry about. Nobody has seen me.
Right? 
Stuff is going down
We gonna get awesome
YEAH
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The Wolf had folded into his submissive posture, and the Deer frowned. This was the point where the leader would wander away, almost with a satisfied smirk. But Rhaegal was no ordinary wolf. He could speak for a start. He understood almost perfectly what Fibonacci said, and had opinions of his own. For a normal wolf, the protocols for their life were survive and pass that to the new generation. The Wolf sat beside him wasn't like that. Did it have something to do with his hatred for demons, even the demons that were purely benign spirits? Maybe he had made a deal with one, and it went wrong. Whatever it was, it was a strong dislike for demons of all kinds, and Nacci felt like no amount of persuasion would change his mind.
The Wolf's voice had dropped to a melancholic monotone now, and Nacci's eyes darkened with it. He was genuinely remorseful, though he didn't doubt he was before. Almost too remorseful. "The fawn is dead," he said not curtly, but just firm enough. "You can't do anything now. At least you killed it and didn't leave it lying in pain somewhere." The Deer looked like a stone angel, his pale lips set in a hard line and no breath of wind to blow his hair. Even so, it was still bitterly cold without the knife-breeze of winter. Fibonacci couldn't wait until spring and summer, when the Forest would be alive again and so would he, celebrating with ever-changing lavenders and greens. He would be colourful with the Forest. For now, though, he was the stone angel who listened, and the Wolf had spoken again. "I said they either created or destroyed, and our Gods only create," he replied. "They cannot do anything about the fawn now, and if you destroy a fawn, it's not their problem. I don't think they'd be able to bring it back, either. Perhaps they can't resurrect creatures in the Forest. Maybe we're already dead." The Deer paused for a moment, and the Wolf spoke again. He gave him a sidewards smile, sad yet happy. "If they had stopped you, we would never have met."
Nacci knew he had saved lives and taken them - he was born and brought up to do it. But his other purpose was discovery and belief, and the Wolf couldn't seem to see his story as true fact. Sure, he was being kind and trying, but he hadn't quite understood the Stag, and although it wasn't the Wolf's fault, it angered him. However, his heart lightened when the Wolf offered help to find his sister. But he didn't have anything belonging to her, and he had a dark feeling that she would only reveal herself when she wanted to. He didn't tell the Wolf this, though, for he didn't seem to understand magic well. "I have nothing of hers," he said with true sadness. "But I appreciate the gesture." The Stag shuffled to his feet, and hooked the soft leather strap of his sword around his neck, and froze as a musical clicking noise reached his ears. A silver droplet lay at his hooves - no, it was a charm, attached to a gossamer-thin chain, shaped like a branch of antlers. He gently explored it with his hoof, before turning to the Wolf and saying, "Perhaps this'll work."
At least you killed it.
What cruel things to say about the baby's death, but it makes me want to smile the way these deer do. It's called brutal honesty, and I know that the stag is right. I'm the one who decides to kill in the end, and no deity is responsible for what I do or have done. I am the reason my own pack hates me, and I am the reason a young soul passed the gate too early. Me becoming the lowest ranking member of the Great Hierarchy is all because of my own actions, and the silvery stag knows it, too. It's better that I face the truth of my own existence rather than shove the responsibility to others. Real or not, these gods he speaks of have nothing to do with me. I can't pretend they are real in my world just to blame them for what had happened. My head just lowers for a quick nod. There is truth in his words that I can comprehend. "You really seem to - like these gods of yours. How can you trust them so much? How can you love something you can't touch?" My question is merely curious, and I don't mean to doubt him in any way. These deities are real in his world, but the existence of an allmighty creature so pure and trustworthy you could almost give your whole life to their hands still goes beyond the reality that I can grasp. But just because I can't believe in it, doesn't mean I'm not willing to try and understand it. This is a way to gain knowledge of the existence of this realm, and I'd like the stag to be my guide. I haven't yet met anyone who's willing to lower his sword in the presence of one who hunts his kin.
The response he gives me about his sister's belongings are disappointing, but there's hardly time to mourn that shortage - a noise of strange clicking reaches my ears, and they stand up curiously like a pup's. It reminds me of the sounds that the crystals deep in the Leader's den made when played with, and I think that it is a beautiful sound. The stag touches it so gently with his hooves, as if it was a treasure - I'm not too sure what it is, but it seems to be something important. I wait patiently until he's done, and step closer as he speaks. Fibonacci's scent is almost overwhelming, now that we're standing this close. I can almost feel his fur touching mine, and the spicy, strange scent goes deep into my system, almost distracting me from what I'm actually supposed to do. Smell the trinket, forget the stag for now. "What is this?" I ask as I softly tread closer, my sense of smell ready to pick up anything that I do not already know. I must know of the object's origin - it will help me to determine any additional scent that might be attached to it. As my nose wildly investigates the smells attached to it, I know that there must be something buried beneath the stink of the material that it's made of.
Sorry this took a white
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As Fibonacci studied his face, he noticed the Wolf seemed a little taken aback by his sudden, brutal comment. It was true, though - it hadn't suffered utter torture, even if it was dead now and it was killed unjustly. At least the Wolf had the decency to finish it off and dispose of its body, so as to let it rest and not be devoured or worse, dismembered by beasts that would play with the fawn's body like a cat toying with a mouse. Such creatures were not favourites of the Stag, as they were more demonic in nature and morality than any other, even if they were biologically corporeal organisms. He wondered why the Wolf thought what he had done was bad - he clearly was remorseful, and he respected the body and didn't deface it, or use it for his own benefit if he hadn't originally intended for it to be used as such. He wondered if Wolves had different morals, that killing another when not in the Hunt, no exceptions, was severely punishable. Perhaps that was the case. "Don't punish yourself. What's done is done."
The questions the Wolf asked the Stag were easy to answer. The Gods were forgiving, bringing those who need a second chance to their creation, the Forest. They were kind and generous, sharing their magic with the creatures they sheltered. They were there and real, unlike the gods Lovan had. There were plenty of reasons to love them, and very few to hate them. "You can touch them," Nacci began, "If you dare. They walk among us, as flesh-and-bone creatures, not air-and-dust. They forgive you for all your mistakes and let you have a chance at being better. What's not to love? But we are still free creatures, able to leave at will if we can find an exit."
As Nacci stared at the object by his feet, the Wolf leaned in to sniff at it curiously, and asked what it was. The truth was, he didn't really know. It was a pretty little thing, all silver with a ruby studded into the tiny pendant, even if it was a little tarnished. He had definitely seen it before, but he still looked at it as if it were completely new to him, the way someone might look at a friend they hadn't seen in years. Was it his sister's? He leaned his head down, and sniffed a little, trying to pick up a recognizeable scent. He raised his head again, and noticed a little black tinge to a part of the chain. It smelled like fire, girl, and metal. His sister. As a tear threatened to paint his ashen face, he spoke. "It's my sisters. From the fire. It should work. Please tell me if it'll work." Those last words were almost a plea, and he turned his head to the Wolf and stared with his silver-white eyes. He needed to know if he could find that piece of his life that had been burned away.
I scoff a little at the
The stag's explanation of these gods only manage to confuse me more, for I have never heard of any forest deities having a physical manifestation or the ability to walk amongst them as one with the lesser creatures. A scary thought, but it was nothing impossible. After seeing what the demonic creatures had transformed my family into, a walking god doesn't sound like anything that wouldn't be possible, unbelievable or not. Still, just because they walked and had flesh, didn't make them worth anyone's love. Fibonacci says that they only create, but that sounds like something out of a pup's fairytale - creation is connected to destruction one way or another, that's what I've been told. Can this world really be that different? It seems to question everything that Yng'rim ever tried to insert into my head. "They don't seem like leaders. If they allow anyone to come and go as they please, how do they maintain peace and discipline amongst their subjects?" It all sounds so strange, and unnatural - where were these gods now? Were they watching over them right now? Had they witnessed his crime? Paranoid, my eyes and ears focus from one bush to the next, fearful of any rustling I may hear. This Forest seems to connect together so tightly - what if all of the prey work together with these gods? It could mean trouble later on. And I am afraid of the possible punishment, even if the stag says they will forgive your mistakes. But was my action really a mistake? That's what I'm afraid of. I had no control over my own anger, but there's no-one else to blame but me. I should have stopped.
As the stag explains the object's origin, I focus my ears on his words while my nose desperately pokes the trinket's cold, shining surface in hopes of detecting something else than the stinging smell of the material itself. The smell of burnt material is right underneath the stink of silver, something that makes me grimace slightly, but not bad enough for me to quit the search. The silver stag sounds hopeless, I must do this for him. Even if it helps with his nearly impossible search, this is my chance to do something better. I dig deeper, the scent of fire is almost distracting... it almost feels as if my lungs are breathing in the menacing cloud of smoke with every sniff. Almost making me cough and step back in displeasure, but I know there is something else in there, at the very bottom. A smell, sweeter than the others, becoming buried since the last time the trinket has seen its owner. But it's there. A girl. I can almost hear her giggle inside my head. Sweet and bitter for me, but definitely familiar for the stag, something hopeful. It also carries a familiarity to the scent that the stag carries - the scent of being from the same litter. The scent of their shared mother, most likely. I flash a quick, crooked smile to the buck, licking my upper lip in excitement. "I believe I found it. It's faint, almost buried beneath the smoke and the flames. But my nose is sharp." This could mean that we can begin the search. If the stag's sister is in these woods, I'll definitely be able to track down her scent.
Sorry this took so
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Fibonacci knew the Wolf's trouble - when something was too well learnt to be forgotten. He kept silent while the Wolf spoke, as he understood that his rules were the rules that controlled his life, and nothing more. He didn't know how they functioned, or whether they could be bent or worked around, though by the sound of it, they couldn't. But even if the Wolf couldn't forget them, could he still let go? "No-one's trying to kill you right now," Fibonacci said. "But you're lucky you aren't a demon. I'd have killed you on sight if you had been." A light smile played on the Stag's face. Perhaps he was too much of a troublemaker to understand rules that controlled someone so much.
The Wolf didn't seem to understand how the Gods worked. The Stag couldn't blame him - his society and Nacci's were bent on justice and punishment, and if those were taken away, everything would fall apart. With no-one to lead them and enforce rules, Nacci's people would turn on one another, and he had no doubt that would happen to Rhaegal's pack too. Maybe that was why everyone in the Forest was brought there - because they were different. "The Gods give everyone here a second chance," Fibonacci began. "If they don't take it... It's revoked. We have the option to like or dislike them, and to use the Forest as our own home and source of food and water. We aren't their subjects, and they aren't our rulers."
The Stag eagerly watched the Wolf examining the necklace. He wondered why it hadn't turned up sooner. Maybe she wants to be found now, he thought. The last happy memory he had of his sister was watching her pale golden hair rippling behind her as she dashed into the forest by their home. It was that day when she discovered the tree. There must have been something bothering her before that day, or she wouldn't have disappeared in it or even gone near the thing. As Rhaegal raised his head, the Stag saw his triumph before he even heard it. "Thank you," he said, almost unable to speak. They were so close - he was so close. But there was one thing, a thought he couldn't shake off. It was disappointing, but it had to be said. "I... I don't think she wants to be found. If she did, she would come to me. She would never hide from me like this on purpose. I'm sorry, I just don't think we should try this."