[Warning: Mature stuff ahead and all that. Sensitive kiddies, beware XD]
Also if you would like to contact me for any reason, email at or Skype: Shioriness
D A R C Y --------------------------------------------------------------------------
. . . U P D A T E S . . . June 1st
Mental |||||||||||||||||||| Physical
"The poisons aren't helping anymore.
I keep up my consumption though, afraid...- afraid of what will happen if I give up. Ha. No. I know very well what will happen. I'll be overcome by madness- like my mother; my brother. For so long now, spiteing them has been my motivation to keep going. I thought I could prove them wrong. I thought I could show them that I was capable of love, and that others were capable of loving me, too.
Always the fool...
It's all a joke now - waking up every day, going through the motions. Do I look thinner? Sometimes I forget to eat...Well, aside from the plants that feed by growing nausea. I feel so sick, but somehow it's still better than the alternative...
I did venture down to the pond today. I stood ankle-deep in the water for the longest time, staring out across it's surface, looking for those devilish eyes amongst the lilypads. 'Neath...would he take me if I lay down and offer myself? Could it be that easy? He never showed, of course, and I remember laughing so hard I had to vomit in the reeds.
Heh, 'reed's. A fitting place for vomit.
The taste of my own blood still lingers on my tongue. Perhaps I wont have to go looking for the Reaper. Perhaps he'll find me first. I shouldn't care, but...the thought doesn't sit well with me. I can't die from this. I can't simply lay down and let myself wither away. But why? It was not as though my existance deserved an anymore nobler end... Yet my body aches - not just from sickness, but restlessness. That old familiar masochism that yearns for a more violent death. Go down fighting? There was an idea...
Alas, just an idea. I've always been full of silly ideas. In the end, would it really matter? Dead was dead. Nobody would waste their magic on me, drag me back from hell or revive my soul. There would be no regrets. There'd be nothing at all. I have no immediate plans to act on any such ideas, of course. I've been accused of overthinking things, and now is no different. Sitting here, alone, the sun on my bare face, it's easy to roll thoughts of my own mortality through my head
I would miss the sun."
D wanted this to be in his own words this time...
Also, relations updates.
General
Name: Darcy. Prefers just 'D' Gender: Stag Age: Late Thirties (Birthday: June 9th) Size: #13 Voice: Similar to Ethan Hawke Scent: Old Spice 8| The man your man could smell like~ Set: Monarch Pelt, Real Deer Mask, Fan Antlers
Personality
Laid back and easy-going, Darcy isn't the hardest stag to get along with. He's generally accepting of strangers big and small and takes anything 'out of the ordinary' in stride. While he has his charming and polite moments, the stag's humor is generally pretty dry. Sarcasm is a second language and making a joke out of everything is second nature. There's also a definitive air of self-confidence about him that makes up for his lack of size and general bulk. He faces challenges head on and all too often with a smirk on his face. Darcy has very strong principals and rules that make up his sense of 'right and wrong' and follows them closely...even if they sometimes seem a bit contradictory to others. He often expects the same courteousness in return and may pass judgement quickly on anyone who doesn't heed those expectations. Rudeness is something he doesn't take lightly.
Once a loyal and fiercely protective friend and lover, Darcy is now weary of close connections. He thrives on casual encounters, intimate or otherwise, and will reject any company he feels may be getting too close, or who is already close and straying - a 'hurt them before they hurt me' mentality. When he does acquire a friend or a lover, Darcy can lay the charm on thick. He's calm, sensitive, respectful and attentive, giving a deer exactly what they need when the occasion calls that he give anything at all - unless, of course, what they need goes against his own principals. He rarely ever opens up to anyone, unless you somehow manage to slip past his censors and grow closer to him then he often permits. His smile often times hides lies and the something that brews beneath his calm exterior can sometime be seen through his eyes and subtle expressions.
When he acquires an enemy, however, Darcy can hold grudges. He may even go out of his way to spite another if he feels the 'hurt' must be repaid. He holds no biased between males or females, treating them equally, and sometimes even fawns, though he adjusts his tactics according to weakness. He's not afraid of a fight, though he may refrain from one of loss is a certainty. Most of the time his confidence in his abilities trumps any doubt and he'll rush headlong into competition in ways that may appear reckless to most. When he fights, Darcy fights dirty. Quick on his feet and skilled with his maneuvers, he'll take down his opponent however he can if it's a serious battle. If not, he may enjoy teasing and taunting his enemy more then harming them, keeping just out of harm's way and dancing at the edge of danger.
There is a darkness in Darcy, of that you can be sure...but also a lot of light. He no longer is the stag he once was, but glimpses can still be seen beneath a colder, more distant mask. There is always a certain sadness and secretiveness about him, clear in his slow, thought-out expressions and careful words. He does his best to control the worst side of him through a variety of methods, and ignores the judgement passed on him. In anger and distress though, he sometimes loses all control and lets the darkness out in irrational bursts. During these times, he is a mere shadow of himself, empty yet full of rage and despair.
D stands for more than you express
"Dangerous", as you choose to describe
But "Doubtless", "Daring", "Determined" as well
The Forest calls for a leader
And quality is certainly your strength
What shall you call yourself, Darcy?
I would choose "Destined"
Aw Quad :3 That was quite nice, thank you! Destined for what? D8 Do you know something we don't?! He will of course always be too humble for his own good haha
"I know not how you came to be in such a horrible condition... but I sense the distress in the young doe beside me... I may not be much but please, allow me to look over your wounds so that you may heal in due time my dear sir..."
WonderfullySarcastic and Gglidden:
Yes, quite! XD Good to know someone reads these ;3' haha
FelisFire: The stag stared blankly ahead, his half-lidded amber eyes glazed as they remained frozen on the statues before him...and anything else that stepped in their way. He didn't blink, or react to anyone around him. Even the soft voice of the strange doe at his side went unanswered; unheard.
-Smacks D- Sorry about him XD He is pretty out of it. Were you the one sitting with Sonan last night?
Indeed that would be my doe Luana ^^ I read the updates, she was wandering with Sonan some and followed her to the area after getting herself set up in her current set.
Ahhh ^^ Well it was very nice of her to sit with him. I apologize he couldn't greet her properly ._. But I will appreciate it on his behalf lol <3 Perhaps some other time when he's a bit more conscious.
The little black doe approached the playground with a deep heaviness and sense of dread in her heart. There Darcy had remained by the dying blue monster’s side, and she had refused to come near now for several nights, even when the young Fikos had pleaded with her to stay, she had staunchly denied the request. Now she moved forward, a slight limp in her gait, the puncture wounds in her haunches from Sianna’s pronged horns hindering her movement. Her carriage remained high though as she had moved through the forest, her footfalls airy, attempting to hide any sign of weakness or betray her injury. Climbing the rock, upon which the battered monarch stag and the blue beast rest, she stood off from them, a mix of emotions washing across her face. A latent fury with Nightmare still resided in her heart, the sight of him causing the whispers of the black magic she’d used to try and destroy him rising up inside her, hungry for blood. Her ruby eyes glazed for a few long moments, struggling with it, finally pushing it down and reining the deadly darkness in. Not worth the loss of herself. She shifted her attention to the monarch stag that lay at his side. They had not spoken since that night that she had thrown her soul to the darkness, in order to save him from the blue beast’s savage intentions. A fresh sense of fury rearing up….fury and betrayal, emotions that played across her face as she gazed at him, scarlet eyes bearing down. She shook herself, schooled her features, replaced them with calm, looking over Darcy now with a critical eye, evaluating his injuries, several of them did not look good, possible infection setting in. She’d come laden with supplies and moved closer to him now, keeping her eyes on him, not looking at the monster who labored to breath so close by. “May I tend these,” she asked him, eyes glancing over the wounds to indicate her intent. She prepared herself for rebuff. For rejection.
Kestral: Aw ._. He would love to be there for Fikos right now heh <3 At the moment she's plenty tougher than him!? Take comfort! And definitely DON'T follow by example haha. Of course, Darcy wouldn't approve of her taking part in the rut so be glad he's not active enough to give her a scolding the next time he sees her :3''
Thanks for the well wishes though <3 They mean a lot.
Sight:
The scratching of hooves roused him from deep, incoherent thoughts. The stag shifted, ears twitching with signs of life at the side of his head while his eyelids cracked to peek out at the world. Mm, daylight. It stung a little at his tired eyes, but they quickly adjusted and he blinked away the fog of sleep while his mind rebooted. After growing steadily aware of his own body, he grew aware of Nightmare's. The giant still lay beside him, as still as ever...but alive, yes, as shallow as his breathing was it was there. This appeasing thought almost made him drift off again...until footsteps and movement drew his head around abruptly. Herla.
Darcy stared blankly at the little doe and her cautious approach, trying to look surprised though not even that emotion registered strongly enough. When had his heart become so...numb? It apparently wasn't just his stomach that had been steeled in the lonely hours. He did not lift his head, nor did he say a word as he watched her watching him, her ruby eyes roving over his sprawled form with a mixed look. Was it pity? Disdain? Maybe even something darker...a glimmering of the fury he had glimpsed that night as she'd unleashed her magic on the monster at his side. Heh...maybe he'd just imagined it. She looked calm now, finally meeting his eye, yet there seemed to be miles between their gazes. She even sounded far away when her voice finally broke the silence. Tend to him? The idea seemed absurd somehow. With his only reaction being the subtle furrowing of his brow, he let his eyes roam over her the same way hers had. They froze on the discolored, ruffled area on her haunch...and narrowed. “Maybe you should... take care of yourself,” the stag answered back in a quiet, hollowed tone.
He was slow to respond, his gaze seeming unfocused when he first looked at her and she could see that his injuries where extensive. She closed her eyes and let out a ragged breath, turning her head away, trying hard to control all the emotions that boiled beneath the surface. Concern. Anger. Hurt. Guilt. She should have come sooner…at least for HIM. When she looked at the monarch stag again, his eyes where roving over her, gaze setting on her injury, causing her to shift uncomfortably. ““Maybe you should... take care of yourself,” he said, his answer to her offer to care for his wounds his voice sounding distant and removed. She went rigid. Her face twitched and her eyes narrowed, her gaze cold as she looked down at him, “I do,” she said, her voice low and cold. She pulled her eyes away and paused for a few long moments, staring hard at something unseen on the horizon. She let out another ragged breath, the tension high in her body. She was nearing exhaustion, the days events had been hard on her, but this had to be done TODAY. She had already waited too long. “It doesn’t have to be this way. So…difficult.” she said, a note of weariness and fatigue touching her voice. But everything was difficult with Darcy. Always so trying. “I won’t take up much of your time, won’t plague you with my unwelcome presence,” she said testily, moving forward now without express permission, she lowered her head to inspect a nasty gash.
Ah...there it was. That anger again. Cold fury in her crimson eyes that proved he hadn't just imagined it. It was almost tragic to see her pretty face twist into such an ugly expression... Funny that it was so often directed at him. He find it didn't hurt so bad this time around, her disapproval. He had been growing used to it for a while now, flinching away from her looks of disdain and frustration. He deserved most of it too... Did he now? The corner of his mouth lifted despite the bitter throughts that surfaced then. Perhaps finding amusement in all the irony was his only way of comping now. Just let the madness she loathed so much take him? The stag's eyes hardened when the doe moved closer, making it clear his permission was not truly being waited on. Shifting his weight with a wince, he sat up, guarding himself. “Hold on...difficult?” he questioned quickly with an edge of disgust, “What exactly...is so difficult? Why... come at all... if you feel that way?”
"DARCYYY!!!!" Fikos squealed as she hurtled across the forest, tripping and rolling into a puffing heap at his feet. "I... I missed you," She huffed out with a childish grin. "oh, are you okay? Sit down sit dooowwnn." She bustled up to her feet as he stood. "Now, what did you get yourself into this time?" She scolded, hoping that a cheerful mood would make him feel better. It really was all she had to offer.
When she’d moved closer, he’d pulled away. With difficulty. But the movement made it clear…he didn’t want her help. She considered for a moment forcing him, her eyes gauging the stag, measuring what was before her, determining whether this was feasible or not. Her eyes flicked to his hardened eyes, and the sharp antlers. His guarded posture. Would he hurt her? Her eyes widened in uncertainty and she rose again, backing a step, her ears folded against her neck.
“Hold on...difficult? What exactly...is so difficult? Why... come at all... if you feel that way?” he nearly spat at her.
She flinched further back from him. Her head turned down, her eyes clenched shut, “Dammit Darcy,” she swore through her teeth. Herla never swore. Ever. She took a moment to compose herself again before continuing. “Because I care about you, fool stag,” she muttered. The liquid pools of her crimson eyes met his, “Darcy please….let me help you.” she pleaded, her voice soft.
Kestrel:
The stag's head lifted abruptly at the sound of his name, his jaw tensed in mid-chew with his mouth full of berries. Eh? Swallowing, he slowly rose to his feet and gawked at the spirited little doe that rocketed towards him. “Oh, Fik-” he began to greet her back, when the little one lost her footing and fell forward, sliding in the dirt to stop at his feet. Darcy stared in bewilderment as he gingerly stepped back, his left foreleg held up from the ground, forcing him to hobble on the three. The look morphed briefly into concern, only to revert back again at the sight of the grin plastered on her face. Heh...kids. Darcy relaxed again once she scrambled to her feet and appeared to be alright, staring down at her in amusement and slowly shaking his head. “Slow down, slow down,” he urged with a quiet laugh, his tone playful but subdued. He was clearly no match for her energy level. “I've missed you too. Oh, these?” he glanced back at himself, noting the cuts and ruffled fur and murmured, “the result of foolishly taking on an opponent I was ill-equipped to face.” By the looks of him though, that seemed like a dramatic understatement. At least the blood had been washed away, though a putrid smell of old gore still clung to his fur. Clearing his throat, he shook the thoughts aside and smiled. “Sit with me?” he urged, carefully folding his limbs beneath him and settling back into the berry patch with a wince.
Sight:
Was that fear? Darcy's brows knit at the sight of her apprehensive false step in response to his shift in posture. She looked downright nervous, as if expecting him to...what? His empty stomach turned at even suggesting the thought. “Dammit Darcy,” she pleaded, like so many before her. Why did it sound so strangely on her tongue? He waved the thought aside, too focused and irritated by her edginess. Maybe it was Night, and not him at all. Glancing back, he took note that the blue beast hadn't moved, nor did it look like he would be soon. So much for that theory... Turning back, he was frowning. Cared about him? As much as his bull-head wanted to deny this...he could not. She did care about him – always had, but...
There was always a but.
Then came the tears. Cold bitterness, then tears, just like...before; On the hill top, in the fading light, where they'd torn out eachother's hearts with so few words. Funny how the memory was still so fresh and the hurt so tangible. Just a not-so-gentle reminder of the distance between them now. Had they ever really recovered? Darcy looked away, his jaw clenched though his expression remained relatively passive still. He'd put up a wall and now debated letting her in. Maybe just to reach him through the gate? “And I've always cared about you,” he sighed in response, muddying the real truth. He had been willing to die to protect her from Nightmare's fury, without even thinking about it. So where had she been in the aftermath? Gallivanting? Shaking his head, he briefly closed his eyes to think. “You can help me,” he gave in, his posture relaxing some...and then his head lifted and his eyes focused on her once more, determined, “if you help him, too.”
He’d turned away from her, his emotions mostly unreadable. “And I've always cared about you,” he’d finally said, seeming to withhold something else as he shook his head. Always so much between them. Unspoken bitterness. She knew he cared, had tried to console her when Ciel had left…put his life on the line when Nightmare had attacked. But then, instead of coming to her as she lay unconscious near the pond in the spot Obake and Kumiko had laid her to keep her safe….instead of coming to her, he’d stayed with….that thing, Nightmare. The thing she had just sacrificed her soul to darkness in order to save him from, it’s black grip even now a constant presence pressing on her mind, ready to devour and destroy her without constant vigilance to keep it at bay. She was betrayed…by both of them.
“You can help me,” she’d heard him say, and relief had washed over her, only to be quickly dashed when he spoke it’s qualifier, “if you help him, too.”She nearly fell over. Blackmail then. Coercion. Seemed to be the theme of the night. A shaky defeated laugh escaped her as she regained her precarious footing.
“That’s to be the way of it then, is it?” she stated, coolly, her narrowed eyes on the blue beast now, her attention focusing on him, taking in his wounds. The pools of his black blood dripping from the mossy bed upon which he lay. She’d put him there. And the icy blackness inside her rejoiced at the sight. Clamored for that blood. As it wanted to destroy her. Being this close to him, her gaze focused on the blood, it was all she could do to keep the blackness away. She clenched her eyes shut and shuddered. She found herself walking back towards him, her lip pulling up in a curl that she didn’t know was there, her ruby eyes glazing over, the blackness roiling with malicious intent inside her. She stopped. Wresting control from that which lurked below the surface. Shaking herself, she took a few hasty steps backwards, nearly losing her footing on the slippery rocks, her injured haunches doing a poor job at keeping her steady. No. No, she told it. She trembled. Her eyes, shifted back to the stag, “It’s not possible,” she whispered, her eyes wide again. ”I can’t do that. What has been wrought cannot be undone. There is nothing I can do now.”
She trotted around him in circles as he told her briefly that he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Sit? Oh, sit. she could do that. Abruptly pulling her circling to a stop she flopped with a tremendous lack of grace onto one side, legs splaying out slightly, chin in the dirt. The two tendril-like antennae twitched for a moment, then rightfully drooped to the ground where the rest of her lay. Her eyes glaced up at him, nestled in a streak of blue. A bellow from a rutting stag made her head snap up out of the dirt and her ears spring up, freezing in that pose for a moment. Waiting silently for another noise, she scoffed and returned to her original position, rolling onto her side. "Darcy, why do you get hurt so much? I mean, I like hitting stuff too, but why do you always have to get hurt when you do it? I'm not broken and wobbly. You're broken and wobbly." Her tone wasn't accusing, simply curious. She hadn't the slightest idea why anyone would put themselves in harms way to the extent that he did.
Sight:
Darcy hadn't been holding onto much hope when he made this request. He hadn't meant it in a sneaky way...it wasn't some sort of calculated move, though he might see how she would disagree. No, the stag just couldn't stand the thought of sitting here getting his wounds looked at while his friend lay beside him, denied the same treatment. He smiled softly at the doe's look of shock, already predicting the response that slid coolly from her tongue. It quickly faded however as he watched her expression morph yet again.
What was this...look in her eyes now?
Suddenly he wasn't staring at Herla, but someone – no, something else. Something dark and lusting twinkled madly in her eyes, and the stag froze as he found he got lost in them, his amber gaze being sucked in as though to a black hole. Something in the back of his mind shifted restlessly, roused by the danger. 'Hn...? What is this?' it hissed with cool, sleepy interest, a hint of amusement flickering off its invisible tongue.
Then the doe blinked, and the pull ceased. Darcy gave his head a quick shake and stared in bewilderment as she stumbled back, seemingly trying to regain her own stability. She looked... frightened “Herla...” he called to her, though his voice came out a near whisper. His heart picked up speed within his chest, warning him of his own fearful look. When she spoke again, her voice tremored. He wasn't listening. Darcy shifted and carefully lifted himself up from the moss, his eyes fixated on her, brows knit with worry. On three legs he staggered towards her – one step, then another. “Herla what's...happened? This isn't...you.”
Kestrel:
His eyes followed her ungraceful downward motion, a brow lifting in skepticism at the crumpled, awkward mess she became. The little doe certainly had...changed. A sense of regret nagged at him when he thought of how he'd missed it.
Then again, maybe it was for the best.
Fikos herself didn't seem to be holding any grudges. Remaining quiet, he watched her silly antics with an amused interest. While his ears lowered at the sound of the annoying bellow, hers lifted. He snorted and rolled his eyes a bit, glancing off. “Darcy, why do you get hurt so much?”
The question drew his eyes, though his head remained fixed in another direction. A sense of shame immediately washed over him, though her question seemed care-free enough. The monarch... didn't have an answer. Not a good one, anyways. What life lesson could possible come from this? He sighed and allowed his eyes to wander again as he thought. “Well in a real fight there's the unfortunate truth that someone will always be hitting back,” he finally responded, his tone a wary laugh. “Some things are ...just worth protecting and getting hurt over.” 'And sometimes even adults do really stupid things that have no sane explanation,' he finished dryly in his own head, slowly shaking it.
She smiled when he mentioned fighting for things that were worth it. The fidgety little thing rolled even further onto one side, finally leveling out directly on her back, front legs poised and curled above her. She swatted at one of Darcy's ears, but missed by a tremendous longshot and lost her balance, again rolling to one side. She huffed and scowled, displeased with her failure to hit her target. Wiggling around, she managed to get half to her feet, before tangling herself up and falling back into a little heap. Her ears flattened and she blushed. She was literatly falling all over Darcy. Another bellow from farther away. "Darcy, why do they do that? They yell and knock heads together and push girls around. Why? I know its for like, well uh.." suddenly unsure of how to continue, she paused. Her voice lowered to a sheepish mutter. "For like, babies and stuff, but why do they have to yell so much? Why can't they just talk to someone nicely instead of pushing them around? Why aren't you yelling? Is it cuz your leg hurts?" She pondered quietly, finally untangling her twisted pile of fur and legs and settling into his side. A puffed sigh escaped, and she looked up at him abruptly. "Are we friends? Because once, me and Gehirn were talking about friends and I said you and me were friends. But I didn't really know what the guidelines for being friends was so I wasn't sure. I think we're friends."
She stood there staring at the monarch stag, not really seeing him, trembling, heart pounding and the sound of her own pulse roaring in her ears. So close. It was so close. The blood. It wanted that blood. Wanted rivers of it to flow. And she wanted to flee now. The urge to run from it, to bolt off through the woods as fast as she could overcame her, as if her shaky limbs would even make it off the rock, as if it was something that she could even run from to begin with. “Herla…” she heard the soft whisper through the roaring in her ears that wanted to consume her. “Herla, what’s happened, this isn’t you,” his voice broke through to her, she grabbed onto it as an anchor, something to pull herself up on, she clung to it. Her eyes focused unsteadily on the stag, he was getting up, moving toward her. It was a struggle for him, “Darcy?” she said, her voice wavering, barely a whisper now as well. “I…can’t do it. Please don’t make me….I can’t go near.” her eyes where wide. The things it wanted. Vengeance. Destruction. Blood. Insatiable. She wouldn’t be strong enough to come back from it a second time.
Kestrel:
The stag attempted to dodge her flailing, though there wasn't much he could do. Her clumsiness was no doubt silly and charming, and he tried to conceal the pain that shot through his ribs as he shifted his weight by forcing a smile and chuckling. He didn't want dampen her mood. “Come on now, sit down before you hurt yourself,” Darcy laughed – more at the deliberate irony of what he was saying then anything else.
Finally she settled, tucked rather neatly into his side now. The conversation took a turn and this time the stag's ears reluctantly swiveled to catch the distant roars she was speaking of. His brow creased as he stared off in the direction of the sounds, though he saw nothing of the combatants making them. He listened warily as she spoke question after question, uncertain of...where she was going with all this. “I'm not 'yelling' because I don't approve of any of it,” he responded coolly once it seemed the young doe had finished, “It's not for 'babies', Fikos...it's for ego. Primitive displays for primitive gains, that's all. No point to any of it but to disgracefully flaunt and advertise yourself like something to be possessed.”
Darcy's tone grew darker till he all but snorted out his words. His ears had once again found themselves laid back against his head, the tips pressing against his antlers. Realizing how tense he'd gotten, he sighed a little before glancing at her. “I hope you're not getting yourself mixed in with all of that nonsense, my dear. You deserve more than that. Love built on real things... 'Course you're far too young to be worrying about that.” Shaking his head, the corner of his mouth lifted in a distant smile. “Yes, of course we're friends.”
Sight:
Darcy's ears reluctantly lifted at the sound of his name. It was spoken with such quiet uncertainty, as though trying to confirm if he were there at all. He didn't understand it. Finally her wide-eyed gaze seemed to register him standing there; finally looked at him rather than through. “I...can't do it.”
His eyes narrowed. It was not anger, simply a...guarded lack of understanding. He shuffled closer, amber gaze trained upon hers cautiously until he stood before her, now completely blocking her view of the monster that lay beyond. This fear... it was so familiar, yet so foreign coming from her it made his stomach twist. Time seemed to slow down as he stood there, hovering over her in silence, searching her face for answers. Then his eyes grew stern. Leaning in, the muscles in his face tensing to conceal the pain, he leveled his gaze with hers. “What's happened to you?” he questioned again, his tone steady and direct – gently demanding the same out of her response.
The monarch stag came closer, moving with obvious difficulty. She registered this. And frowned. He shouldn’t be moving around like this. Not for her. But he did. Standing over her, blocking her view of the blue beast, until only his face filled her field of view. She went to protest but could find no speech. He looked down upon her for a long moment, a questioning look upon his face, and she could only look back at him, captured by those amber eyes. “What’s happened to you,” he asked, her, not unkindly, but firmness to his tone that demanded her attention.
The wide eyed doe stared back at him, breathing hard. But she answered, voice coming out in a strained whisper, “It’s here now,” she said to the stag, “Inside of me. Lurking. The darkness. The power. Beckoning me to use it. To finish what was started. I let it in. To…save you…” she cocked her head, her ruby eyes unfocusing again and wandering to a spot over the stag’s head. “It was so easy, really,” she said, her voice trailing off, “So easy.”
“...The Darkness?” he repeated, the direct nature of his tone disintegrating once more, now a whisper to match her own. Power? His body threatened to go rigid at the thought. More tickling from the shadows of his mind; a whispering of delight. Darcy shuddered. No, this was different. He went into the past, attempting to dig up the memories of that evening he'd pushed aside. They were unfortunately not the most coherent collection of files. His head had spun, blackness clawing at the corners of his vision as he struggled to remain on his feet. Wait, no, he was on the ground when Herla had let loose her fury. Exactly what she'd done or how she'd accomplished it, he didn't know, but Nightmare was sent reeling, and...the look on her face...
“What did you do?” he continued to question, his voice a weary rasp as he struggled to pull himself from his memories. Once he did, he realized her gaze had wandered away from his again. The glazed look in her eye made his heart hammer. What was she muttering? “Herla!” the monarch called out, raising his voice once more, “Snap out of it! What did you do? That magic... Where did it come from?” Darcy felt his panic rising and desperately swallowed it, racking his brain for what questions to ask. He knew nothing about magic...knew nothing of what danger she'd put herself in. How could he possibly help?
The stag’s raised voice calling her name drew her attention back to his face. Focused her. He looked stricken. Shaky. A frown creased her brow as her eyes set upon him once again. He shouldn’t be standing, she didn’t want him hurting himself, but she was distracted by his questions. Where did the magic come from? She paused, then answered. “It’s always here. Always has been. It just needed a sacrifice. There was the blood. All that blood. And anger. So it took what I offered. Took me.” she flinched remembering the pain as it seized everything from her, ripping from her to strike out with deadly force against the object of her anger. She shuddered at the memory, a fresh rash of tremors quaking her form, but she continued in a soft whisper, “There was no other option…you were on the ground, not moving…he was going to… kill you,” she said choking on the last words, the remembered desperation so vivid in her mind. “I had to do it…”
His ears pressed themselves against his head, quivering at the effort. Sacrifice, blood... he may not have known much about magic, but this idea wasn't new to him. His mother had babbled such nonsense things once, in such a similar fashion. The muscles around his eyes tensed, threatening to narrow them in the anger it stirred. He wanted to grab her and shake her – anything to rid that look from her eyes! Yet, to his relief, it appeared she was already regaining focus. The little doe began to shake, reality finally drawing her back into its unpleasant – yet tangible- clutches. Yet the anger did not fade. It remained and pulsed anew as she continued on. “Foolish,” he nearly hissed, exhaling the word in a harsh release of tension. Of course it was hypocritical. How could he blame her for wanting to save him? Yet rational thought was hardly what came to mind as he recalled that evening, shouting at her to stand down as she continuously provoked the beast. Would Night have really killed him? It was a question he'd been asking himself over and over. Even more importantly though...would it change anything? “How...do you get rid of it?” he continued to press, his posture slouching a bit as he began to realize her 'ailment' was out of his reach. Maybe. Glancing her over in doubt, the stag's eyes once again rested on the wound at her flank. He said nothing, but his eyes questioned her.
As his words grew more and more angry, she drew more and more into herself, quivering slightly. Shame nagged quietly at her for her previous frolicking with the accused. His ears flattend in anger, her's in sad subbmission. When he mentioned they were friends though, she tried to relax a little. "Well, I'm not as old as you Darcy, " she teased hesitantly, "but I'm not a baby anymore." She laughed a little at this, clearly aware of her own blind innocence.
She stared into the distance for a few minutes, letting the quiet set in before she said "I wish you weren't all beat up." She squeezed her eyes shut and scruntched up her face before peeking one eye at him. Nope. Still beat up. She visibly deflated at the lack of effect her statement made.
Suddenly she became very self-concious. She realized Darcy hadn't seen her since before she had left. And now that she's back, no wonder no one recognizes her. Her bouncy bubbly personality had turned into a tripping, tumbling heap of concern. Her physical appearance had changed too. The fragile black and white swirls that had laced her body had been replaced with large brown and orange slashes. The once round doe body had been malnourished and beaten to the point where she always seemed terrified and inferior, her confidence went with it.
Lowering her gaze to the ground beneath her, she was at a loss for words. Unsure of what to say now that she realized how terrible she must look. "It's not my fault though, I didn't do it on purpose.."
He was angry, she could see it in the tightness about his eyes and the posture of his shoulders. She shied away from it. From him. Falling into herself ever so slightly. Foolish he called her, the words stinging. Perhaps so. Darcy never approved. But she’d done the only thing she could have. And as for everything, there was a price to pay. He demanded to know how to get rid of this thing she’d let in, an almost defeated look falling over his features, his glance falling questioningly over the wounds on her side. Self consciously, she shifted under his gaze. This was hurting him and for that she felt shame and sadness. She turned her face, shaking her head.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, her only sense about it being that she had to be on guard, ever vigilant against its temptation. “I have to be strong against it. I can’t succumb again. I have to…stay away from him….” she said, her eyes leading to the blue beast that lay obscured behind the monarch stag that stood before her, “Let me care for your wounds, then I’ll go. You don’t have to…you don’t have to leave him.” she said now, her scarlet eyes meeting his again, a desperation slipping into them as she felt herself growing more fatigued, her wounds aching and sapping her strength. Her fortitude was flagging.
Kestrel “I know you're not,” Darcy sighed, bowing his head and nodding a bit at her teasing, “but things shouldn't be rushed. I know...I tried, when I was your age. I know what it feels like. Like if you don't find love now you never will? It isn't true. It took me... quite a bit longer to realize what love even was.” Darcy paused to think about what he'd just said, his smile fading a little. He realized only then that it might seem strange to Fikos to hear this coming from a stag without a mate. Perhaps it was. Then again...the little doe would not make his same mistakes, he was sure.
An ear lifted at her next statement and his soft smile crept once more into place as he watched her try and conjure her wish into reality. “Me too,” the stag mused, tilting his head at the sudden sullen tilt of her expression. Well now, this wouldn't do! Without thinking, he leaned over and pecked her gently on the forehead before resting his chin gently on the top of her head with a sigh.
Sight:
It hadn't been his intention to scold her, though in the past he might have done just that. He was merely reacting – and he'd never been very good at hiding his emotions, had he? Darcy couldn't protect her. It had been a realization he'd slowly been coming to terms with, and staring down at her now it...finally felt right to admit it. Without that four letter word nothing he did would be enough. The stag averted his eyes as she shifted beneath them, staring down at the blood and moss covered stone as an emptiness filled him then. “Then tell me what I need to do for him,” he sighed, stepping back to give her her space again, “If it'll make you feel better to tend to them, I wont object...but tell me what to do.”
[lol starting to think this would have been so much faster over MSN XD' ]
[Yes, probably would have been much faster, this week left me no stamina for late night MSN RPs though, sorry. So it was this our nothing! ]
The doe watched him turn his attention to the blood covered rock and ask her to tell him how he could tend the wounds himself. Her eyes flickered to the blue monster, before quickly averting, again. She wouldn’t risk anything more studied to evaluate the full extent of the injuries. It was all she could risk. “Okay,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before nodding to the stag, her face set and grim. “I don’t have enough supplies…but I can get more.” Yes, she could do that. Collect and prepare what she needed, bring it back for Darcy to use…that she could handle. It would be better than nothing. “I will treat your injuries, I’ll explain as I go,” she said now, holding her head a little higher, keeping her attention strictly focused with a steel will on the monarch stag before her. She set out her supplies, most of them pre-prepared poultices wrapped in leaves.
With the stags leave, she applied these to his wounds, explaining as she went. A few of them had started to fester setting an expression of consternation upon her face, but she kept herself as detached as possible, not allowing her thoughts to wander to HOW these wounds had been created in the first place. She could not let herself dwell on that lest the emotions get the best of her. The broken leg almost got the better of her, a fresh surge of anger welling up inside her.
She gritted her teeth and excused herself abruptly, with the explanation that it needed to be splinted and she would need to collect materials for that. So she went, shakily climbing from the rock, unable in her fatigue to hide her limp now as she stiffly moved off into the forest to find what she needed, giving some time to rein in her feelings once more, before returning to splint the fracture. She gave him leaf packets filled with herbs to fight infection, and to help with pain and swelling, explaining that they were to be eaten. The wounds should be soaked daily and new poultices applied afterwards, she instructed. When she was finished, she found herself simply standing then, staring at the monarch stag, a scowl of concentration on her face. “It’s a lot of work…” she spoke finally, “It’s not something you should be trying to do doing on your own, in this state…” she finished feebly.
[Yeah I haven't really been in the mood either >< Though I'm falling too behind on all my interactions...]
It seemed like a fair compromise at the time … except for the fact that letting her do all this did not seem to be making her feel better. Darcy reluctantly submitted himself to her will, laying down upon the rock and letting her do what she needed. He watched her carefully, barely reacting to her applications. No smile, barely any eye contact, the doe worked with a stern unhappiness that kept his ears laid back and his muscles tensed. It didn't feel right, letting her do it. He scolded himself for his lack of resolve, wishing he had sent her away. Then he scolded himself again for thinking such a thing.
What had happened to them? It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to let this happen again …
When she returned from her 'retreat' – the truth of the disappearance more than obvious by the bubbling anger in her eyes she could barely fight to conceal – the monarch was lost in melancholy thought. Carefully extending the leg for her to work on, his brows knit and his jaw clenched to hide a wince from her unintentional roughness. He barely registered her words, knowing in his heart he probably wouldn't heed her warnings. Maybe it was all a waste, in the end. It was only once she stepped back and stared at him for a long moment that he dared lift his eyes again and actually look at her. His tense, emotionless lips sagged beneath the weight of her scowl. Darcy's chest tightened – a warning sign he was slipping too far. Tossing his head haphazardly to the side to clear the sweat-slicked bangs from his eyes, the stag snorted away the sensation and forced a wry smile instead. “I appreciate your help Herla. I'm surprised my body isn't going into shock with all this pampering it's gotten, heh … This isn't my first go-round. Believe it or not I've somehow managed to survive up 'til now just fine … on my own. You don't have to worry so much, ok?”
After staring at her a moment, trying to force warmth into his eyes as they implored her to listen, the monarch summoned the strength to haul himself to his feet. His dressed wounds tingled and burned and itched as his body moved, shifting to find balance upon three legs. He gazed down at the splinted leg, fighting the temptation to lift it safely from the ground. Instead he rested the point of his hoof gently upon the moss and studied it a moment, then turned to eye the pile of supplies she'd brought him with a softened look.
“Thank you,” he offered quietly, though he predicted his sincerity would only be met with more disdain. “I know you don't … understand. You're probably tired of hearing me try to explain why I do anything I do... but I'm not a child, Herla. I don't always know the right path to take, but I can't keep shying away from everyone's disapproval while I try and figure it out. Maybe it'll take the rest of my life. Maybe that wont be for very long … I never meant for you to get hurt in the process. For what it's worth I value our friendship, however selfish of me it was to pursue.”
She listened to his attempt at levity as he thanked her and watched him struggle to his feet again, her own eyes softening as well as she looked at him, letting her cold clinical detachment slip away to see him again. To see Darcy. The barest hint of a smile played on her lips, weary and fatigued as it was. Then he continued speaking, trying to explain himself to some degree.
The doe blinked. “This is all so….familiar,” she said dully, after she’d finished listening to his words, words that were so shockingly similar to those uttered by another not so very long ago. Memories of the striped stag swirled in her vision, his earnest pleading with her to understand what she could only see as sorely misplaced loyalties and…betrayal. Another situation in which she’d been asked to understand that which could never be reconciled within herself. Another ordeal in which she’d been left dying and bleeding. Her eyes flicked to her own wounded side, and shuddered at what had just transpired yet again that very evening. Sianna dragging her back…. Everyone’s play thing, it seemed. To be abused and tossed about at their whim. On their fancy. An expendable thing? Perhaps she would be worthy of being cherished, perhaps not. She was expected to bear through it. Be strong and take it. And it had made her stronger hadn’t it? Stronger than she had been before. She couldn’t bring herself to be grateful for that though. The strength had come at such a high expense. She was changed…in more ways than one. Her expression was one of numb surrender to the inevitableness of it all.
“I don’t suppose I will ever stop caring about you,” she said, the fire of her ruby eyes dull and without life. Like a flame that had been extinguished by a flood, leaving only a deadness behind. “We all have to do what we have to do though…I understand that.” thickly lashed lids closed over her dimmed eyes, “I will return tomorrow, with more supplies…for both of you,” she promised, giving a solemn nod before turning and with as much gracefulness as she could muster, made her way off the rock again.
Relaxing entirely with his calm remarks, she rest her chin on the ground, thinking. She let a long moment pass, leisurely ponding things he had said. Finally she muttered "Then what is love?" She stretched out a bit more and closed her eyes. "And, what made you find out? Do I have to find out in my own special way?" She tossed the last question on without really considering. It seemed everything worth doing had to be done different than whoever went before.
Again absorbing thoughts, she considered "love". "Do parents love their fawns?"
The question was very hesitant. This was simply a conversation though, no need to tense up. There was a strange tug in her chest. Like, someone had pulled a string inside. It didn't hurt, it was just strange. Did her parents love her? Did anyone love her? Why does love hurt so many people? If love is so good, then why couldn't she think of anyone who was "in love"?
Sighing a bit, she silenced the now racing thoughts, and let her eyes drift closed again.
--
EDIT: Darcy, Fikos is trying very hard to entertain you two and she is getting no response.
Damnit! watch her backflip!
[ EEP! I totally didn't know you replied to this D8' Not sure how I missed it... Sorry!
As for Fikos entertaining them, D was watching! He stood up and encouraged her a few times too...but wasn't really sure what she wanted ._. He can't jump around and dance with her unfortunately...not much more he can do but sit and watch the show. He felt pretty bad about it when she started sad emoting...]
He lifted his head a bit, supporting the full weight of it again as she lowered hers to the ground. His eyes followed her, a soft frown upon his lips at the distant, thoughtful look on her once exuberant face. His ears were once again coaxed forward by her questioning, and the stag shifted a bit at the unease it caused. Could he give her an honest answer? He owed it to her...and to himself...to try. “ I guess you could say that... I wouldn't really know, since I only have myself and my own experiences to draw from... But I know love isn't something you should go looking for. It's not a feeling you can force or pretend. It's something that finds you, sometimes in the form of unlikely sources. For me...It's was a deep connection. A source of comfort that never wavered. Like I'd found the other half to my whole.” 'Except you're not whole,' an amused voice chuckled dryly, clearly entertained by his speech. That's why it hadn't worked.
“Do parents love their fawns?”
The question surprised him. His mouth fell ajar as he stared at her, though he quickly realized this and 'clicked' it shut again as his brow furrowed in doubt. He found he couldn't quite read the expression on her face... Darcy didn't know anything about Fikos' parents to even assume he knew the reasons behin the inquiry. Who too felt a tug at his chest...except it was more like a punch, a sharp pain caused by an emptiness that would never be filled. “Yes...” he carefully responded, his voice a whisper. Yet this wasn't the full truth, was it? Was it okay to lie to her? But what could he say that would be the full truth? “It should be the most natural, unbreakable kind of love there is... But...not everybody is capable of love, Fikos.”
She bit her lip and inhaled slowly to keep the tears away. This is not sad. It just is. Sighing, she nuzzled back into him after he had shifted slightly. "I don't think my dad knew how to love, but I think, if I knew my mom she did. She braced herself for telling the story, she never quite got through it. "See it's not so bad, I learned lots of stuff on my own. But I remember being little and broken, I couldn't walk when I was supposed to. It made my dad really angry and he yelled at nothing alot. I think he was mad because I'm a girl too, because he yelled at this girl deer a lot too. He never hurt anyone by hitting or pushing though. My dad was a bluish color and my mom was reddish with splotches like these," she said, rolling on one side and motioning toward the odd shapped masses of brown covering her body. "and she was sad a lot. And so one day dad was real mad at me because I was broken, and the girl deer was being sad, and dad said something to her, before I understood words, and made her more sad. So then he told me to get up and I tried but couldn't because I don't know what was wrong with me but I was broken. And so he got real mad and the girl deer stayed kinda far away but close enough to watch and then he told me again and stomped at the ground and so I used a bush to grab onto and kinda hoist myself up and then he took a few steps back and told me to walk. Well basically I got out into the open and fell and couldn't get back up, but instead of pushing me into the bushed like the girl deer would do before she was already gone and then dad left too. She sighed outwardly, having said most of her story in one run-on sentence to keep from breaking. "And so I think if she was my mom she did love me a little, and just couldn't take care of me because I was broken. But I'm not broken now!" She smiled up at him hopefully, unconsciously seeking approval that she was capable of being loved now that she wasn't 'broken'.
"He watched Eraline approach out of the corner of his eye, and then the conflict that conspired between she and Bishop who was not done throwing tantrums."
ROOOFFFLLL.
Oh yeah =3= Very much not done. When it comes to Darcy, I think there may be quite a few more jealous displays in the future, haha~
And lol
I truly hope not... for all their sakes @_@ I hope we can maybe get an interaction going between them to clear this up sometime soon...unless you object?
(I'm on it~ An RP between Eraline and Bishop, and before that, Henna and Bishop, prompted all this XD I think I've summed it up alright, but let me know if you want me to explain anything.)
Bishop wandered the forest without mind or direction, simply following the pathway his hooves laid out for him. He had disrespected Eraline’s family. He had broken the only cardinal rule, and the price was exile. He’d agreed to this rule when he spoke with Henna, believing wholeheartedly that he could keep that promise… Not truly knowing about “family”… not the way Eraline meant it.
His blind path led him to the playground, a memory greeted him. Darcy atop the great rocks, fussing at Bishop and Graph for their sparring. It still brought resentment into the buck’s chest, but it also brought an idea. A gray area. Not a loophole... But the rules were hazy in this place. Perhaps...
Bishop sniffed the air, and immediately picked out the scent he was looking for. Unfortunately, it was scattered across the forest. A tuft of fur here, a spattering of blood there. The stag had left his mark so many places. But eventually, he managed to track down the stag himself. Bishop waited until he was alone (which was no small feat), and hesitantly approached him, head low, ears folded back. If he could undo his mistake...
"Stag Darcy," he said formally, bowing low. "For my disrespect on Eraline’s family... I wish to make amends."
Kestrel: Darcy hadn't been expecting the sudden fountain of words that spilled from the young doe's mouth. At first he gawked down at her in surprise as she began to weave him at tale of her past, but soon settled upon realizing...she needed to tell this story. She was a strong little thing, managing to get through it so stoically, though perhaps the reason for her rushing was to keep up the facade? The stag himself offered only a small frown and an attentive eye, allowing his own heart to sink for her. It wasn't just sadness her story conjured though...it made him angry. Selfish bastards... so blessed with their gifts and yet too selfish to appreciate them. His brow set in a hard line above his eyes, but he kept his composure before her, his ears falling back as a breath sighed from his lips. The stag managed a small smile at the end of her speech. “No, you certainly aren't. I guess you showed them,” he mused softly, thinking back to the determined young fawn he'd first met. She'd gone through so many changes already in her young life... What could he say? As much as he wanted to point out all the flaws in her so called 'parents', he knew it would not be for her benefit, and so he sat in silence with her a moment, smiling wryly down at her beaming face, thoughts dancing through his his distant eyes. “You know...when I was born? I was very small and very weak, a floppy mess of skin and bones. I came too early, and I did not rise right away either. I was...sick many times, and almost died when I was very small. Somehow I made it through. I...had a mother, yes, and she did not abandon me, though... I do not know if she ever truly loved me either. I think she wanted to, but her heart had been crippled by the past. And even after all of that? I still believe love is real. I still know that parents are meant to love their children. We must be better than our parents and learn from what few lessons they've taught us.”
Shaku for Bishop: [SORRY FOR THE WAIT! No excuse for why it took so long ._. I ended up just writing to write anyways lol]
“Gypsyweed... Purple flowers... The hell?”
The stag grumbled as he pushed through the tangled layers of foliage, his eyes shifting warily over the array of wildflowers spread out before him. Three out of four of the blossoms were purple, and openly mocking him with their similarities. Why had he not saved a sample of this, again? He would chalk it up as another absent-minded mistake rather than stupidity. Shifting closer, he lowered his head for closer inspection, trying to note the details. These leaves didn't look right... Hmm but that one looked more familiar. Then again, the flowers looked larger than he remembered... Agh! He couldn't tell in this light! Pinning his ears the stag reached down and snagged up a mouthful of the weeds before attempting to back out of the overgrown garden. The long, saw-like grass and creeping vines twisted around his legs, impeding any sort of graceful progress. He muttered through the stems of the flowers clenched between his teeth as he fought to unwind one of his back legs.
“Stag Darcy.”
...Huh? He froze at the sudden voice, unaware that anyone had even approached with all the noise he'd been making. Darcy tentatively glanced to the side to spy the figure standing a ways behind him. Wait, was that- ? With a last mighty kick he freed his leg and lifted his head, turning it in the others direction in time to watch them bow. An ear dared to leave its irritable post, swiveling forward to catch the male's words. Disrespect? Eraline? The young buck rose once more, allowing Darcy to fully recognize who stood before him. 'Bishop.' His eyes narrowed. It hadn't been a conscious response, but the mere sight of him brought about an immediate tension. Bishop was a threat. Yet what he'd spoken could hardly be ignored. 'Amends?' His amber eyes moved over him in slow skepticism before he made to speak - ...only to become aware of the clump of flowers still held fast between his teeth. Oh dear. Sure he looked rather foolish now, the monarch snorted and turned away, continuing his backwards journey till he finally stumbled clear of the mess he'd wandered into. Rolling his shoulders, he shrugged off the shameful feelings threatening to creep up on him. Any lingering anger was forced aside as well as his expression hardened to one of indifference, turning to face Bishop and limping towards and then past the buck. A splattering of sun warmed the earth not far beyond him, and it was here Darcy stopped and relaxed his jaw, dropping the cluster of weeds in the light. “And how do you intend on doing that?” he questioned upon lifting his head once more, staring the young male down with a level gaze.
Head tilted, eyebrows raised and mouth opened slightly was Fikos's less than graceful response to Darcy's own story. When he had finished, however, it was all she could do to not leap to her feet and run circles around him. His story was just like hers! Someone else went through it too! Instead of joyously cheering and bounding she snuggled even closer than she had been before. "Yeah and Darcy! you were broken when you were little, but so was I and now I'm not! and you're not either!! Her words were laced with more happiness that her words could describe before she turned sheepish and added "Well actually you are but I meant not in a way that can't be fixed, or something. I guess it could have maybe been avoided but at least this isn't born broken-broken this is just 'Darcy got into trouble again'-broken, so sorry if that didn't make sense. after pondering her own words to make sure she had explained correctly, she went back to smiling at him. "I still wish you weren't broken." she again scrunched up her face but instead of deflating when nothing happened, she giggled childishly. She was far to exuberant to have someone to share feelings with. Thus, she did what Fikos' do best, and made up a song.
"Darcy was broken and so was I,
and if we were birds it'd mean we couldn't fly.
But we're not birds and don't live in the sky!
uhh.. somethin' somethin' somethin' rhymes with fly!
But Darcy get's broken all the time!
And so I gotta sing and try to rhyme.
But luckily the sun still shines,
Maybe I should only try to rhyme part-time!
This song is getting off to-opic!
Good thing it's not philanthropic!
My chances of finishing this are microscopic!
Probably because I am pretty myopic!"
She paused, then:
Myopic means unable to foresee things." She smiled big again at her song and knowledge of words.
(Pfft, it was just like... a day XD That's hardly a wait at all ♥ )
Bishop followed the older stag with calm surrender, noting and silently judging his awkward movements, but not allowing this judgement to seep into his expression. He couldn't allow himself to botch this. Not now. Besides... he'd been in similar situations before, where it seemed like the forest had stacked things against him. Vines for him to trip over. ...That one fight where he'd dropped his mask mid-battle. If Darcy somehow managed to get himself tangled in a flower patch, well...
He stepped out of the way when Darcy made his way past, ridding his heart of its cruel amusement. Reminding himself that he was here for Eraline. That in order to be with her again, he'd have to cancel out his disrespect. Make it as though it never existed.
He hadn't, however, put much thought into how this could be done, and he stared blankly back as Darcy questioned him.
"I... disrespected the family," he repeated slowly. The disrespect had stemmed from a clash of wills. Mori had explained domination to him. Entering a herd and showing leadership. When he had seen Darcy, he attempted to do this. A domination. If this was how he had disrespected Darcy, perhaps he could cancel it out just as easily. "If it is a matter of honor, I can restore it. I am strong. ...In a public display, perhaps? I can kneel to you, or run." His eyes coasted down to the flowers Darcy had gathered. Barely even flowers... weeds. They weren't even that pretty. "What are you doing?"
Kestrel:
<3 -snugs Fikos- Such an odd duck she is XD Eep...I'm afraid I don't know how to reply though ._. We seem to have reached a circle and I fear I may be getting repetitive now. He isn't being very fun atm XD Perhaps we can retire this one?
Shaku for Bishop: [-rambles on to spite tiredness-]
Darcy couldn't be sure what he saw staring back at him then. In the past, it was the irritating defiance of youth. Over confidence. Ignorance! He was not so old that he could not recount his own adolescent years. Had he not possessed the same head-strong qualities? A battered, brainwashed child given a second chance and eager to rebel and dominate his new world. The stag had little doubt that remnants of these things still remained, goading the young buck on...and yet there was something different in his eyes now. Something...lost? It was as though his question had taken him by surprise - though surely if Bishop were on such a noble mission of repentance, he would have thought his approach through more carefully.
The weathered stag nearly chuckled at the thought of it, if his amusement could only overpower his disdain. Darcy often found himself patiently amused as he watched the young males around him fumble through their teenage years. However, Bishop had crossed a dangerous line. He had stepped between him and Eraline.
A brow cocked, a sign of questioning outside his impassive facade. Understanding what the buck was getting at as he spoke took him a little longer than he'd like to admit. In fact, he still wasn't sure he understood him right. Kneel to him or run? What a dumb shit...
“What are you doing?” Bishop's gaze was cast downward, his attention drifting during Darcy's pause of contemplation. The monarch's eyes narrowed again, a swell of irritation threatening his cool at the change in subject but he quickly rationalized himself out of it. “Gathering herbs,” he stated plainly, not really caring what the younger male thought of it. That's right...he didn't. Heh...to think he was letting this punk get him all worked up. That was the most Darcy had to be ashamed of in that moment. With a sigh of release and a shake of his head, his brows gathered in a hard line above his watchful eyes. “You really think this is about honor? That I'm actually threatened by your boyish displays of impudence? Kneel to me...heh. I've taken on things nearly twice your size.”
Despite the rough edge to his tone, the monarch's expression revealed nothing of cockiness. In fact, his eyes seemed to soften then - if only a little. “And I have lost to things twice your size. I stand before you now, beaten and incapable of challenging you had I any desire to do so. Oh yes, I am truly at your mercy. You think me weak, don't you?”
This time, he allowed the chuckle in his head to roll in the depths of his throat. “Honor. Respect. Love?... Don't wield words you don't understand. Hm...I don't suppose you'd have better knowledge of herbs though?” Darcy mused aloud, his voice growing casual once more. He tore his gaze from Bishop's to again eye the pile of flowers at his feet, the corner of his mouth lifting some. Tilting his head, he gingerly reached out with his broken limb to roll the stalks around in the dirt, spreading them out before squinting at them more closely.
|||||||||| Physical
D stands for more than you
D stands for more than you express
"Dangerous", as you choose to describe
But "Doubtless", "Daring", "Determined" as well
The Forest calls for a leader
And quality is certainly your strength
What shall you call yourself, Darcy?
I would choose "Destined"
QHB
Aw Quad :3 That was quite
"I know not how you came to
Goodness I feel like such a
Ra Chibi by Karooi
*cough* Quite the busy day
.
Jeeeeze poor Darcy and Herla!
Forget Your Perfect Offering.
There Is A Crack In Everything.
That's How The Light Gets In.
(A part of the lyrics of Leonard Cohen's Song "Anthem")
WonderfullySarcastic and
Yes, quite! XD Good to know someone reads these ;3' haha
FelisFire:
The stag stared blankly ahead, his half-lidded amber eyes glazed as they remained frozen on the statues before him...and anything else that stepped in their way. He didn't blink, or react to anyone around him. Even the soft voice of the strange doe at his side went unanswered; unheard.
-Smacks D- Sorry about him XD He is pretty out of it. Were you the one sitting with Sonan last night?
Indeed that would be my doe
Ra Chibi by Karooi
Track! Lovely biography~
Lovely biography~
Ahhh ^^ Well it was very nice
Bluejay17: Thanks!
Aww Darcy... you're not
Well just know that she loves you and misses you and hopefully will eventually be on at the same time.
The little black doe
Kestral: Aw ._. He would love
Thanks for the well wishes though <3 They mean a lot.
Sight:
The scratching of hooves roused him from deep, incoherent thoughts. The stag shifted, ears twitching with signs of life at the side of his head while his eyelids cracked to peek out at the world. Mm, daylight. It stung a little at his tired eyes, but they quickly adjusted and he blinked away the fog of sleep while his mind rebooted. After growing steadily aware of his own body, he grew aware of Nightmare's. The giant still lay beside him, as still as ever...but alive, yes, as shallow as his breathing was it was there. This appeasing thought almost made him drift off again...until footsteps and movement drew his head around abruptly.
Herla.
Darcy stared blankly at the little doe and her cautious approach, trying to look surprised though not even that emotion registered strongly enough. When had his heart become so...numb? It apparently wasn't just his stomach that had been steeled in the lonely hours. He did not lift his head, nor did he say a word as he watched her watching him, her ruby eyes roving over his sprawled form with a mixed look. Was it pity? Disdain? Maybe even something darker...a glimmering of the fury he had glimpsed that night as she'd unleashed her magic on the monster at his side. Heh...maybe he'd just imagined it. She looked calm now, finally meeting his eye, yet there seemed to be miles between their gazes. She even sounded far away when her voice finally broke the silence. Tend to him? The idea seemed absurd somehow. With his only reaction being the subtle furrowing of his brow, he let his eyes roam over her the same way hers had. They froze on the discolored, ruffled area on her haunch...and narrowed.
“Maybe you should... take care of yourself,” the stag answered back in a quiet, hollowed tone.
He was slow to respond, his
Ah...there it was. That anger
“Hold on...difficult?” he questioned quickly with an edge of disgust, “What exactly...is so difficult? Why... come at all... if you feel that way?”
"DARCYYY!!!!" Fikos squealed
When she’d moved closer, he’d
“Hold on...difficult? What exactly...is so difficult? Why... come at all... if you feel that way?” he nearly spat at her.
She flinched further back from him. Her head turned down, her eyes clenched shut, “Dammit Darcy,” she swore through her teeth. Herla never swore. Ever. She took a moment to compose herself again before continuing. “Because I care about you, fool stag,” she muttered. The liquid pools of her crimson eyes met his, “Darcy please….let me help you.” she pleaded, her voice soft.
Kestrel: The stag's head
The stag's head lifted abruptly at the sound of his name, his jaw tensed in mid-chew with his mouth full of berries. Eh? Swallowing, he slowly rose to his feet and gawked at the spirited little doe that rocketed towards him. “Oh, Fik-” he began to greet her back, when the little one lost her footing and fell forward, sliding in the dirt to stop at his feet. Darcy stared in bewilderment as he gingerly stepped back, his left foreleg held up from the ground, forcing him to hobble on the three. The look morphed briefly into concern, only to revert back again at the sight of the grin plastered on her face. Heh...kids. Darcy relaxed again once she scrambled to her feet and appeared to be alright, staring down at her in amusement and slowly shaking his head.
“Slow down, slow down,” he urged with a quiet laugh, his tone playful but subdued. He was clearly no match for her energy level. “I've missed you too. Oh, these?” he glanced back at himself, noting the cuts and ruffled fur and murmured, “the result of foolishly taking on an opponent I was ill-equipped to face.” By the looks of him though, that seemed like a dramatic understatement. At least the blood had been washed away, though a putrid smell of old gore still clung to his fur. Clearing his throat, he shook the thoughts aside and smiled. “Sit with me?” he urged, carefully folding his limbs beneath him and settling back into the berry patch with a wince.
Sight:
Was that fear? Darcy's brows knit at the sight of her apprehensive false step in response to his shift in posture. She looked downright nervous, as if expecting him to...what? His empty stomach turned at even suggesting the thought.
“Dammit Darcy,” she pleaded, like so many before her. Why did it sound so strangely on her tongue? He waved the thought aside, too focused and irritated by her edginess. Maybe it was Night, and not him at all. Glancing back, he took note that the blue beast hadn't moved, nor did it look like he would be soon. So much for that theory... Turning back, he was frowning. Cared about him? As much as his bull-head wanted to deny this...he could not. She did care about him – always had, but...
There was always a but.
Then came the tears. Cold bitterness, then tears, just like...before; On the hill top, in the fading light, where they'd torn out eachother's hearts with so few words. Funny how the memory was still so fresh and the hurt so tangible. Just a not-so-gentle reminder of the distance between them now. Had they ever really recovered? Darcy looked away, his jaw clenched though his expression remained relatively passive still. He'd put up a wall and now debated letting her in. Maybe just to reach him through the gate?
“And I've always cared about you,” he sighed in response, muddying the real truth. He had been willing to die to protect her from Nightmare's fury, without even thinking about it. So where had she been in the aftermath? Gallivanting? Shaking his head, he briefly closed his eyes to think.
“You can help me,” he gave in, his posture relaxing some...and then his head lifted and his eyes focused on her once more, determined, “if you help him, too.”
He’d turned away from her,
“You can help me,” she’d heard him say, and relief had washed over her, only to be quickly dashed when he spoke it’s qualifier, “if you help him, too.”She nearly fell over. Blackmail then. Coercion. Seemed to be the theme of the night. A shaky defeated laugh escaped her as she regained her precarious footing.
“That’s to be the way of it then, is it?” she stated, coolly, her narrowed eyes on the blue beast now, her attention focusing on him, taking in his wounds. The pools of his black blood dripping from the mossy bed upon which he lay. She’d put him there. And the icy blackness inside her rejoiced at the sight. Clamored for that blood. As it wanted to destroy her. Being this close to him, her gaze focused on the blood, it was all she could do to keep the blackness away. She clenched her eyes shut and shuddered. She found herself walking back towards him, her lip pulling up in a curl that she didn’t know was there, her ruby eyes glazing over, the blackness roiling with malicious intent inside her. She stopped. Wresting control from that which lurked below the surface. Shaking herself, she took a few hasty steps backwards, nearly losing her footing on the slippery rocks, her injured haunches doing a poor job at keeping her steady. No. No, she told it. She trembled. Her eyes, shifted back to the stag, “It’s not possible,” she whispered, her eyes wide again. ”I can’t do that. What has been wrought cannot be undone. There is nothing I can do now.”
She trotted around him in
--sorry for the short-ish post, gotta run!
Sight: Darcy hadn't been
Darcy hadn't been holding onto much hope when he made this request. He hadn't meant it in a sneaky way...it wasn't some sort of calculated move, though he might see how she would disagree. No, the stag just couldn't stand the thought of sitting here getting his wounds looked at while his friend lay beside him, denied the same treatment. He smiled softly at the doe's look of shock, already predicting the response that slid coolly from her tongue. It quickly faded however as he watched her expression morph yet again.
What was this...look in her eyes now?
Suddenly he wasn't staring at Herla, but someone – no, something else. Something dark and lusting twinkled madly in her eyes, and the stag froze as he found he got lost in them, his amber gaze being sucked in as though to a black hole. Something in the back of his mind shifted restlessly, roused by the danger.
'Hn...? What is this?' it hissed with cool, sleepy interest, a hint of amusement flickering off its invisible tongue.
Then the doe blinked, and the pull ceased. Darcy gave his head a quick shake and stared in bewilderment as she stumbled back, seemingly trying to regain her own stability. She looked... frightened
“Herla...” he called to her, though his voice came out a near whisper. His heart picked up speed within his chest, warning him of his own fearful look. When she spoke again, her voice tremored. He wasn't listening. Darcy shifted and carefully lifted himself up from the moss, his eyes fixated on her, brows knit with worry. On three legs he staggered towards her – one step, then another.
“Herla what's...happened? This isn't...you.”
Kestrel:
His eyes followed her ungraceful downward motion, a brow lifting in skepticism at the crumpled, awkward mess she became. The little doe certainly had...changed. A sense of regret nagged at him when he thought of how he'd missed it.
Then again, maybe it was for the best.
Fikos herself didn't seem to be holding any grudges. Remaining quiet, he watched her silly antics with an amused interest. While his ears lowered at the sound of the annoying bellow, hers lifted. He snorted and rolled his eyes a bit, glancing off.
“Darcy, why do you get hurt so much?”
The question drew his eyes, though his head remained fixed in another direction. A sense of shame immediately washed over him, though her question seemed care-free enough. The monarch... didn't have an answer. Not a good one, anyways. What life lesson could possible come from this? He sighed and allowed his eyes to wander again as he thought.
“Well in a real fight there's the unfortunate truth that someone will always be hitting back,” he finally responded, his tone a wary laugh.
“Some things are ...just worth protecting and getting hurt over.”
'And sometimes even adults do really stupid things that have no sane explanation,' he finished dryly in his own head, slowly shaking it.
She smiled when he mentioned
She stood there staring at
Kestrel: The stag attempted
The stag attempted to dodge her flailing, though there wasn't much he could do. Her clumsiness was no doubt silly and charming, and he tried to conceal the pain that shot through his ribs as he shifted his weight by forcing a smile and chuckling. He didn't want dampen her mood.
“Come on now, sit down before you hurt yourself,” Darcy laughed – more at the deliberate irony of what he was saying then anything else.
Finally she settled, tucked rather neatly into his side now. The conversation took a turn and this time the stag's ears reluctantly swiveled to catch the distant roars she was speaking of. His brow creased as he stared off in the direction of the sounds, though he saw nothing of the combatants making them. He listened warily as she spoke question after question, uncertain of...where she was going with all this.
“I'm not 'yelling' because I don't approve of any of it,” he responded coolly once it seemed the young doe had finished, “It's not for 'babies', Fikos...it's for ego. Primitive displays for primitive gains, that's all. No point to any of it but to disgracefully flaunt and advertise yourself like something to be possessed.”
Darcy's tone grew darker till he all but snorted out his words. His ears had once again found themselves laid back against his head, the tips pressing against his antlers. Realizing how tense he'd gotten, he sighed a little before glancing at her.
“I hope you're not getting yourself mixed in with all of that nonsense, my dear. You deserve more than that. Love built on real things... 'Course you're far too young to be worrying about that.” Shaking his head, the corner of his mouth lifted in a distant smile.
“Yes, of course we're friends.”
Sight:
Darcy's ears reluctantly lifted at the sound of his name. It was spoken with such quiet uncertainty, as though trying to confirm if he were there at all. He didn't understand it. Finally her wide-eyed gaze seemed to register him standing there; finally looked at him rather than through.
“I...can't do it.”
His eyes narrowed. It was not anger, simply a...guarded lack of understanding. He shuffled closer, amber gaze trained upon hers cautiously until he stood before her, now completely blocking her view of the monster that lay beyond. This fear... it was so familiar, yet so foreign coming from her it made his stomach twist. Time seemed to slow down as he stood there, hovering over her in silence, searching her face for answers. Then his eyes grew stern. Leaning in, the muscles in his face tensing to conceal the pain, he leveled his gaze with hers.
“What's happened to you?” he questioned again, his tone steady and direct – gently demanding the same out of her response.
The monarch stag came closer,
The wide eyed doe stared back at him, breathing hard. But she answered, voice coming out in a strained whisper, “It’s here now,” she said to the stag, “Inside of me. Lurking. The darkness. The power. Beckoning me to use it. To finish what was started. I let it in. To…save you…” she cocked her head, her ruby eyes unfocusing again and wandering to a spot over the stag’s head. “It was so easy, really,” she said, her voice trailing off, “So easy.”
“...The Darkness?” he
“What did you do?” he continued to question, his voice a weary rasp as he struggled to pull himself from his memories. Once he did, he realized her gaze had wandered away from his again. The glazed look in her eye made his heart hammer. What was she muttering?
“Herla!” the monarch called out, raising his voice once more, “Snap out of it! What did you do? That magic... Where did it come from?” Darcy felt his panic rising and desperately swallowed it, racking his brain for what questions to ask. He knew nothing about magic...knew nothing of what danger she'd put herself in. How could he possibly help?
(^Darcy and Herla are
The stag’s raised voice
His ears pressed themselves
“Foolish,” he nearly hissed, exhaling the word in a harsh release of tension. Of course it was hypocritical. How could he blame her for wanting to save him? Yet rational thought was hardly what came to mind as he recalled that evening, shouting at her to stand down as she continuously provoked the beast. Would Night have really killed him? It was a question he'd been asking himself over and over. Even more importantly though...would it change anything?
“How...do you get rid of it?” he continued to press, his posture slouching a bit as he began to realize her 'ailment' was out of his reach. Maybe. Glancing her over in doubt, the stag's eyes once again rested on the wound at her flank. He said nothing, but his eyes questioned her.
As his words grew more and
She stared into the distance for a few minutes, letting the quiet set in before she said "I wish you weren't all beat up." She squeezed her eyes shut and scruntched up her face before peeking one eye at him. Nope. Still beat up. She visibly deflated at the lack of effect her statement made.
Suddenly she became very self-concious. She realized Darcy hadn't seen her since before she had left. And now that she's back, no wonder no one recognizes her. Her bouncy bubbly personality had turned into a tripping, tumbling heap of concern. Her physical appearance had changed too. The fragile black and white swirls that had laced her body had been replaced with large brown and orange slashes. The once round doe body had been malnourished and beaten to the point where she always seemed terrified and inferior, her confidence went with it.
Lowering her gaze to the ground beneath her, she was at a loss for words. Unsure of what to say now that she realized how terrible she must look. "It's not my fault though, I didn't do it on purpose.."
He was angry, she could see
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, her only sense about it being that she had to be on guard, ever vigilant against its temptation. “I have to be strong against it. I can’t succumb again. I have to…stay away from him….” she said, her eyes leading to the blue beast that lay obscured behind the monarch stag that stood before her, “Let me care for your wounds, then I’ll go. You don’t have to…you don’t have to leave him.” she said now, her scarlet eyes meeting his again, a desperation slipping into them as she felt herself growing more fatigued, her wounds aching and sapping her strength. Her fortitude was flagging.
Kestrel “I know you're not,”
“I know you're not,” Darcy sighed, bowing his head and nodding a bit at her teasing, “but things shouldn't be rushed. I know...I tried, when I was your age. I know what it feels like. Like if you don't find love now you never will? It isn't true. It took me... quite a bit longer to realize what love even was.” Darcy paused to think about what he'd just said, his smile fading a little. He realized only then that it might seem strange to Fikos to hear this coming from a stag without a mate. Perhaps it was. Then again...the little doe would not make his same mistakes, he was sure.
An ear lifted at her next statement and his soft smile crept once more into place as he watched her try and conjure her wish into reality. “Me too,” the stag mused, tilting his head at the sudden sullen tilt of her expression. Well now, this wouldn't do! Without thinking, he leaned over and pecked her gently on the forehead before resting his chin gently on the top of her head with a sigh.
Sight:
It hadn't been his intention to scold her, though in the past he might have done just that. He was merely reacting – and he'd never been very good at hiding his emotions, had he? Darcy couldn't protect her. It had been a realization he'd slowly been coming to terms with, and staring down at her now it...finally felt right to admit it. Without that four letter word nothing he did would be enough. The stag averted his eyes as she shifted beneath them, staring down at the blood and moss covered stone as an emptiness filled him then.
“Then tell me what I need to do for him,” he sighed, stepping back to give her her space again, “If it'll make you feel better to tend to them, I wont object...but tell me what to do.”
[lol starting to think this would have been so much faster over MSN XD' ]
[Yes, probably would have
The doe watched him turn his attention to the blood covered rock and ask her to tell him how he could tend the wounds himself. Her eyes flickered to the blue monster, before quickly averting, again. She wouldn’t risk anything more studied to evaluate the full extent of the injuries. It was all she could risk. “Okay,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before nodding to the stag, her face set and grim. “I don’t have enough supplies…but I can get more.” Yes, she could do that. Collect and prepare what she needed, bring it back for Darcy to use…that she could handle. It would be better than nothing. “I will treat your injuries, I’ll explain as I go,” she said now, holding her head a little higher, keeping her attention strictly focused with a steel will on the monarch stag before her. She set out her supplies, most of them pre-prepared poultices wrapped in leaves.
With the stags leave, she applied these to his wounds, explaining as she went. A few of them had started to fester setting an expression of consternation upon her face, but she kept herself as detached as possible, not allowing her thoughts to wander to HOW these wounds had been created in the first place. She could not let herself dwell on that lest the emotions get the best of her. The broken leg almost got the better of her, a fresh surge of anger welling up inside her.
She gritted her teeth and excused herself abruptly, with the explanation that it needed to be splinted and she would need to collect materials for that. So she went, shakily climbing from the rock, unable in her fatigue to hide her limp now as she stiffly moved off into the forest to find what she needed, giving some time to rein in her feelings once more, before returning to splint the fracture. She gave him leaf packets filled with herbs to fight infection, and to help with pain and swelling, explaining that they were to be eaten. The wounds should be soaked daily and new poultices applied afterwards, she instructed. When she was finished, she found herself simply standing then, staring at the monarch stag, a scowl of concentration on her face. “It’s a lot of work…” she spoke finally, “It’s not something you should be trying to do doing on your own, in this state…” she finished feebly.
[Yeah I haven't really been
It seemed like a fair compromise at the time … except for the fact that letting her do all this did not seem to be making her feel better. Darcy reluctantly submitted himself to her will, laying down upon the rock and letting her do what she needed. He watched her carefully, barely reacting to her applications. No smile, barely any eye contact, the doe worked with a stern unhappiness that kept his ears laid back and his muscles tensed. It didn't feel right, letting her do it. He scolded himself for his lack of resolve, wishing he had sent her away. Then he scolded himself again for thinking such a thing.
What had happened to them? It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to let this happen again …
When she returned from her 'retreat' – the truth of the disappearance more than obvious by the bubbling anger in her eyes she could barely fight to conceal – the monarch was lost in melancholy thought. Carefully extending the leg for her to work on, his brows knit and his jaw clenched to hide a wince from her unintentional roughness. He barely registered her words, knowing in his heart he probably wouldn't heed her warnings. Maybe it was all a waste, in the end. It was only once she stepped back and stared at him for a long moment that he dared lift his eyes again and actually look at her. His tense, emotionless lips sagged beneath the weight of her scowl. Darcy's chest tightened – a warning sign he was slipping too far. Tossing his head haphazardly to the side to clear the sweat-slicked bangs from his eyes, the stag snorted away the sensation and forced a wry smile instead.
“I appreciate your help Herla. I'm surprised my body isn't going into shock with all this pampering it's gotten, heh … This isn't my first go-round. Believe it or not I've somehow managed to survive up 'til now just fine … on my own. You don't have to worry so much, ok?”
After staring at her a moment, trying to force warmth into his eyes as they implored her to listen, the monarch summoned the strength to haul himself to his feet. His dressed wounds tingled and burned and itched as his body moved, shifting to find balance upon three legs. He gazed down at the splinted leg, fighting the temptation to lift it safely from the ground. Instead he rested the point of his hoof gently upon the moss and studied it a moment, then turned to eye the pile of supplies she'd brought him with a softened look.
“Thank you,” he offered quietly, though he predicted his sincerity would only be met with more disdain. “I know you don't … understand. You're probably tired of hearing me try to explain why I do anything I do... but I'm not a child, Herla. I don't always know the right path to take, but I can't keep shying away from everyone's disapproval while I try and figure it out. Maybe it'll take the rest of my life. Maybe that wont be for very long … I never meant for you to get hurt in the process. For what it's worth I value our friendship, however selfish of me it was to pursue.”
She listened to his attempt
The doe blinked. “This is all so….familiar,” she said dully, after she’d finished listening to his words, words that were so shockingly similar to those uttered by another not so very long ago. Memories of the striped stag swirled in her vision, his earnest pleading with her to understand what she could only see as sorely misplaced loyalties and…betrayal. Another situation in which she’d been asked to understand that which could never be reconciled within herself. Another ordeal in which she’d been left dying and bleeding. Her eyes flicked to her own wounded side, and shuddered at what had just transpired yet again that very evening. Sianna dragging her back…. Everyone’s play thing, it seemed. To be abused and tossed about at their whim. On their fancy. An expendable thing? Perhaps she would be worthy of being cherished, perhaps not. She was expected to bear through it. Be strong and take it. And it had made her stronger hadn’t it? Stronger than she had been before. She couldn’t bring herself to be grateful for that though. The strength had come at such a high expense. She was changed…in more ways than one. Her expression was one of numb surrender to the inevitableness of it all.
“I don’t suppose I will ever stop caring about you,” she said, the fire of her ruby eyes dull and without life. Like a flame that had been extinguished by a flood, leaving only a deadness behind. “We all have to do what we have to do though…I understand that.” thickly lashed lids closed over her dimmed eyes, “I will return tomorrow, with more supplies…for both of you,” she promised, giving a solemn nod before turning and with as much gracefulness as she could muster, made her way off the rock again.
Hey C: Saburo just asked
Saburo just asked Darcy, why he so hard to move, and what happened to him. (.
Relaxing entirely with his
Again absorbing thoughts, she considered "love". "Do parents love their fawns?"
The question was very hesitant. This was simply a conversation though, no need to tense up. There was a strange tug in her chest. Like, someone had pulled a string inside. It didn't hurt, it was just strange. Did her parents love her? Did anyone love her? Why does love hurt so many people? If love is so good, then why couldn't she think of anyone who was "in love"?
Sighing a bit, she silenced the now racing thoughts, and let her eyes drift closed again.
--
EDIT: Darcy, Fikos is trying very hard to entertain you two and she is getting no response.
Damnit! watch her backflip!
Kestrel: [ EEP! I totally
Kestrel:
[ EEP! I totally didn't know you replied to this D8' Not sure how I missed it... Sorry!
As for Fikos entertaining them, D was watching! He stood up and encouraged her a few times too...but wasn't really sure what she wanted ._. He can't jump around and dance with her unfortunately...not much more he can do but sit and watch the show. He felt pretty bad about it when she started sad emoting...]
He lifted his head a bit, supporting the full weight of it again as she lowered hers to the ground. His eyes followed her, a soft frown upon his lips at the distant, thoughtful look on her once exuberant face. His ears were once again coaxed forward by her questioning, and the stag shifted a bit at the unease it caused. Could he give her an honest answer? He owed it to her...and to himself...to try.
“ I guess you could say that... I wouldn't really know, since I only have myself and my own experiences to draw from... But I know love isn't something you should go looking for. It's not a feeling you can force or pretend. It's something that finds you, sometimes in the form of unlikely sources. For me...It's was a deep connection. A source of comfort that never wavered. Like I'd found the other half to my whole.”
'Except you're not whole,' an amused voice chuckled dryly, clearly entertained by his speech. That's why it hadn't worked.
“Do parents love their fawns?”
The question surprised him. His mouth fell ajar as he stared at her, though he quickly realized this and 'clicked' it shut again as his brow furrowed in doubt. He found he couldn't quite read the expression on her face... Darcy didn't know anything about Fikos' parents to even assume he knew the reasons behin the inquiry. Who too felt a tug at his chest...except it was more like a punch, a sharp pain caused by an emptiness that would never be filled.
“Yes...” he carefully responded, his voice a whisper. Yet this wasn't the full truth, was it? Was it okay to lie to her? But what could he say that would be the full truth?
“It should be the most natural, unbreakable kind of love there is... But...not everybody is capable of love, Fikos.”
She bit her lip and inhaled
--oof. Life story much?
I read ALL the things!! :>
:>
"He watched Eraline approach
ROOOFFFLLL.
Oh yeah =3= Very much not done. When it comes to Darcy, I think there may be quite a few more jealous displays in the future, haha~
OH GOOD 8D And lol I truly
And lol
I truly hope not... for all their sakes @_@ I hope we can maybe get an interaction going between them to clear this up sometime soon...unless you object?
(I'm on it~ An RP between
Bishop wandered the forest without mind or direction, simply following the pathway his hooves laid out for him. He had disrespected Eraline’s family. He had broken the only cardinal rule, and the price was exile. He’d agreed to this rule when he spoke with Henna, believing wholeheartedly that he could keep that promise… Not truly knowing about “family”… not the way Eraline meant it.
His blind path led him to the playground, a memory greeted him. Darcy atop the great rocks, fussing at Bishop and Graph for their sparring. It still brought resentment into the buck’s chest, but it also brought an idea. A gray area. Not a loophole... But the rules were hazy in this place. Perhaps...
Bishop sniffed the air, and immediately picked out the scent he was looking for. Unfortunately, it was scattered across the forest. A tuft of fur here, a spattering of blood there. The stag had left his mark so many places. But eventually, he managed to track down the stag himself. Bishop waited until he was alone (which was no small feat), and hesitantly approached him, head low, ears folded back. If he could undo his mistake...
"Stag Darcy," he said formally, bowing low. "For my disrespect on Eraline’s family... I wish to make amends."
[[Sorry Kestrel and Shaku,
(No rush~ >u
Kestrel: Darcy hadn't been
“No, you certainly aren't. I guess you showed them,” he mused softly, thinking back to the determined young fawn he'd first met. She'd gone through so many changes already in her young life... What could he say? As much as he wanted to point out all the flaws in her so called 'parents', he knew it would not be for her benefit, and so he sat in silence with her a moment, smiling wryly down at her beaming face, thoughts dancing through his his distant eyes.
“You know...when I was born? I was very small and very weak, a floppy mess of skin and bones. I came too early, and I did not rise right away either. I was...sick many times, and almost died when I was very small. Somehow I made it through. I...had a mother, yes, and she did not abandon me, though... I do not know if she ever truly loved me either. I think she wanted to, but her heart had been crippled by the past. And even after all of that? I still believe love is real. I still know that parents are meant to love their children. We must be better than our parents and learn from what few lessons they've taught us.”
Shaku for Bishop: [SORRY FOR
“Gypsyweed... Purple flowers... The hell?”
The stag grumbled as he pushed through the tangled layers of foliage, his eyes shifting warily over the array of wildflowers spread out before him. Three out of four of the blossoms were purple, and openly mocking him with their similarities. Why had he not saved a sample of this, again? He would chalk it up as another absent-minded mistake rather than stupidity. Shifting closer, he lowered his head for closer inspection, trying to note the details. These leaves didn't look right... Hmm but that one looked more familiar. Then again, the flowers looked larger than he remembered... Agh! He couldn't tell in this light! Pinning his ears the stag reached down and snagged up a mouthful of the weeds before attempting to back out of the overgrown garden. The long, saw-like grass and creeping vines twisted around his legs, impeding any sort of graceful progress. He muttered through the stems of the flowers clenched between his teeth as he fought to unwind one of his back legs.
“Stag Darcy.”
...Huh? He froze at the sudden voice, unaware that anyone had even approached with all the noise he'd been making. Darcy tentatively glanced to the side to spy the figure standing a ways behind him. Wait, was that- ? With a last mighty kick he freed his leg and lifted his head, turning it in the others direction in time to watch them bow. An ear dared to leave its irritable post, swiveling forward to catch the male's words. Disrespect? Eraline? The young buck rose once more, allowing Darcy to fully recognize who stood before him. 'Bishop.' His eyes narrowed. It hadn't been a conscious response, but the mere sight of him brought about an immediate tension. Bishop was a threat. Yet what he'd spoken could hardly be ignored. 'Amends?' His amber eyes moved over him in slow skepticism before he made to speak - ...only to become aware of the clump of flowers still held fast between his teeth. Oh dear. Sure he looked rather foolish now, the monarch snorted and turned away, continuing his backwards journey till he finally stumbled clear of the mess he'd wandered into. Rolling his shoulders, he shrugged off the shameful feelings threatening to creep up on him. Any lingering anger was forced aside as well as his expression hardened to one of indifference, turning to face Bishop and limping towards and then past the buck. A splattering of sun warmed the earth not far beyond him, and it was here Darcy stopped and relaxed his jaw, dropping the cluster of weeds in the light.
“And how do you intend on doing that?” he questioned upon lifting his head once more, staring the young male down with a level gaze.
Head tilted, eyebrows raised
"Darcy was broken and so was I,
and if we were birds it'd mean we couldn't fly.
But we're not birds and don't live in the sky!
uhh.. somethin' somethin' somethin' rhymes with fly!
But Darcy get's broken all the time!
And so I gotta sing and try to rhyme.
But luckily the sun still shines,
Maybe I should only try to rhyme part-time!
This song is getting off to-opic!
Good thing it's not philanthropic!
My chances of finishing this are microscopic!
Probably because I am pretty myopic!"
She paused, then:
Myopic means unable to foresee things." She smiled big again at her song and knowledge of words.
(Pfft, it was just like... a
Bishop followed the older stag with calm surrender, noting and silently judging his awkward movements, but not allowing this judgement to seep into his expression. He couldn't allow himself to botch this. Not now. Besides... he'd been in similar situations before, where it seemed like the forest had stacked things against him. Vines for him to trip over. ...That one fight where he'd dropped his mask mid-battle. If Darcy somehow managed to get himself tangled in a flower patch, well...
He stepped out of the way when Darcy made his way past, ridding his heart of its cruel amusement. Reminding himself that he was here for Eraline. That in order to be with her again, he'd have to cancel out his disrespect. Make it as though it never existed.
He hadn't, however, put much thought into how this could be done, and he stared blankly back as Darcy questioned him.
"I... disrespected the family," he repeated slowly. The disrespect had stemmed from a clash of wills. Mori had explained domination to him. Entering a herd and showing leadership. When he had seen Darcy, he attempted to do this. A domination. If this was how he had disrespected Darcy, perhaps he could cancel it out just as easily. "If it is a matter of honor, I can restore it. I am strong. ...In a public display, perhaps? I can kneel to you, or run." His eyes coasted down to the flowers Darcy had gathered. Barely even flowers... weeds. They weren't even that pretty. "What are you doing?"
Kestrel:
<3 -snugs Fikos- Such an odd duck she is XD Eep...I'm afraid I don't know how to reply though ._. We seem to have reached a circle and I fear I may be getting repetitive now. He isn't being very fun atm XD Perhaps we can retire this one?
Shaku for Bishop: [-rambles on to spite tiredness-]
Darcy couldn't be sure what he saw staring back at him then. In the past, it was the irritating defiance of youth. Over confidence. Ignorance! He was not so old that he could not recount his own adolescent years. Had he not possessed the same head-strong qualities? A battered, brainwashed child given a second chance and eager to rebel and dominate his new world. The stag had little doubt that remnants of these things still remained, goading the young buck on...and yet there was something different in his eyes now. Something...lost? It was as though his question had taken him by surprise - though surely if Bishop were on such a noble mission of repentance, he would have thought his approach through more carefully.
The weathered stag nearly chuckled at the thought of it, if his amusement could only overpower his disdain. Darcy often found himself patiently amused as he watched the young males around him fumble through their teenage years. However, Bishop had crossed a dangerous line. He had stepped between him and Eraline.
A brow cocked, a sign of questioning outside his impassive facade. Understanding what the buck was getting at as he spoke took him a little longer than he'd like to admit. In fact, he still wasn't sure he understood him right. Kneel to him or run? What a dumb shit...
“What are you doing?” Bishop's gaze was cast downward, his attention drifting during Darcy's pause of contemplation. The monarch's eyes narrowed again, a swell of irritation threatening his cool at the change in subject but he quickly rationalized himself out of it.
“Gathering herbs,” he stated plainly, not really caring what the younger male thought of it. That's right...he didn't. Heh...to think he was letting this punk get him all worked up. That was the most Darcy had to be ashamed of in that moment. With a sigh of release and a shake of his head, his brows gathered in a hard line above his watchful eyes.
“You really think this is about honor? That I'm actually threatened by your boyish displays of impudence? Kneel to me...heh. I've taken on things nearly twice your size.”
Despite the rough edge to his tone, the monarch's expression revealed nothing of cockiness. In fact, his eyes seemed to soften then - if only a little.
“And I have lost to things twice your size. I stand before you now, beaten and incapable of challenging you had I any desire to do so. Oh yes, I am truly at your mercy. You think me weak, don't you?”
This time, he allowed the chuckle in his head to roll in the depths of his throat.
“Honor. Respect. Love?... Don't wield words you don't understand. Hm...I don't suppose you'd have better knowledge of herbs though?” Darcy mused aloud, his voice growing casual once more. He tore his gaze from Bishop's to again eye the pile of flowers at his feet, the corner of his mouth lifting some. Tilting his head, he gingerly reached out with his broken limb to roll the stalks around in the dirt, spreading them out before squinting at them more closely.