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Scenes of the Past

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Scenes of the Past Empty Scenes of the Past

Post  Vilkas Thu Jul 12, 2012 6:26 am

Basically, I'll be posting moments from my various characters' lives
Vilkas
Vilkas

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Post  Vilkas Thu Jul 12, 2012 7:01 am

((Not the past, but I had to write it))

Ichabod went to his favorite corner in the classroom and went straight to work. The teacher instructed the class to sketch their role model. Ichabod didn't hesitate. He knew exactly who to paint. Ichabod's pencil almost danced across the paper until finally he finished. Pleased with his work Ichabod spoke for the first time in front of his class without whispering "Thackary..."


Scenes of the Past Romani10
Vilkas
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Post  Vilkas Sun Aug 05, 2012 5:36 am

A young Keen lay on his back, staring up at the clear sky. ----- sat beside him and asked "so *****, you chose elven-kin?" Keen chuckled and replied "Elven-kin(elves) are more appealing than Lavi-kin(humans). Your Da'mi(father), for example, has managed to scare off many a curious eye single-handedly. While your Da'len(mother), in contrast, has used her appearance to seduce men and women alike into doing anything she asked of them." ----- chuckled and nodded. She looked at the trees before them, seeing a glimpse of a soldier's sword, and sadly said "You know..."

"I thought we would be together forever"
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Vilkas

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Post  Vilkas Thu Aug 16, 2012 2:43 pm

(This is before Lark was cursed) ((Original story by Thing With No Talent on fanfiction.net. Here's the link http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7445154/1/ ))

Lark always knew what his dreams would bring him. Memories from a time before Merbs ever left The Dark Lands. But one memory he held close and almost always dreamed of was when his father fell in love with a human.

Stork was a slave to an upper class family. More specifically, he served the family's eldest daughter Yasmin. Stork, like most Merbs, had the type of mind that could conjure up terrors anywhere. After a horrifying nightmare that refused to leave him be, Stork found himself in Yasmin's bed with her.

Yasmin awoke with a start. She shot up and hissed at the Merb "Stork! What--"

She didn't finish the sentence, because Stork flinched away from her tone as though she just pointed a dagger at him. Irritation melted and flowed quickly away, replaced by concern. Yasmin sighed, then reached for his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

The concern intensified as soon as she touched him. He wasn't just shaking - he was vibrating all over like he would have flown apart at any second. It was like touching a frightened kitten. His cool skin felt drier than usual, and his breathing was hushed but frenzied. His eyes were as wide as they ever got, and his gaze darted around the room like a restless fly, refusing to settle on anything, Yasmin included. He seemed to almost radiate panic.

She gulped, willing herself calm. His panic was infectious, and she couldn't reassure him if they were both terrified. "Stork. Stork, look at me. It's okay. I can help. What is it?"

He blinked, and finally focused on her, though it seemed automatic, like he was just obeying an order. He seemed to be trying to cringe away from her and press closer at the same time. Yasmin took his other shoulder and griped him firmly, resisting the urge to shake him, which would probably do more harm than good. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"

Finally a response, as he shook his head sharply. No, not that. There would be blood if that were the case. Yasmin relaxed minutely. "So what happened?" Her mind raced through the possibilities - an intruder(fighting always scared Stork), a prank, something that could've set off Stork's last nerve. Maybe he saw, or thought he saw, something through the window that triggered his anxieties. Or maybe...

"You had a nightmare." It isn't a question.

The paralysis snapped, and suddenly her arms were full of Merb. The move startled her, and not just the speed of it. In the month or so that she'd known him, Stork never sought physical contact before. In fact, he usually shied away from being touched. Even then, his desperate clinging was tentative - his hands were clenched on fistfuls of cloth rather than flesh, and he wasn't looking at her, keeping his head low instead so that his face was hidden in her collarbone. She sensed that he'd pull away in an instant if she gave him the wrong signal. But now that he was reaching out to another person, finally, Yasmin wasn't about to discourage him.

Slowly and carefully, her arms encircled him, hands resting on his broad but far too bony upper back. Every muscle was tense, electrified. His heart was beating against his ribs like a caged bird.

"It's okay," she said, voice just above a whisper. "Whatever it was, you were dreaming. Everything's okay now."

She went on murmuring like that, not knowing if the words were getting through. If nothing else, perhaps he'd register the soft, soothing tone. It's all she could do for him. That, and let him cling, hold him in return and - carefully, once she was sure he wouldn't startle into flight any second - stroke his back with her fingertips. Yasmin was always a maternal sort, and the gestures of reassurance were as second-nature as fussing and scolding. She just didn't get to practice them as often. Rene needed reining in more often than she needed comfort, and Rebecca wouldn't admit when she did need it. In Stork, however, Yasmin saw something broken in need of mending. No healer in the world could possibly fix him, but perhaps, just perhaps, if she was patient and persistent enough...

Carefully, she arranged the blanket more comfortably around them, not letting go of Stork the whole time. He twitched with every movement, like he was fighting the urge to flee. She never saw anyone so wired. He seemed about to explode with fear. He was afraid of his dreams, afraid of being left alone with his fear, but equally afraid to seek help - afraid of Yasmin, which she couldn't begin to fathom, and it disturbed her to no end. What did he think she'd do to him? Her mind shied away from that question, she knew the answer and hated it. She griped him a little tighter and willed him to calm down, his terror was almost physically painful to see.

Her efforts were not in vain. Slowly, gradually, some of the tension bled out of him. He leaned into her, still shaking, still petrified, but at least his fear of her was diminishing. When she tentatively raised a hand to pet his hair, he didn't flinch.

She never felt his hair before. It was a strange texture, as inhuman as he was. Heavy, lank and oily, it slid through her fingers like strands of seaweed. His skin, cool and clammy, was slowly growing warmer as her blood heated his through contact. There was something almost symbolic about that, though Yasmin couldn't say exactly what.

"Must've been some dream," she said softly after a moment, giving him an opening in case he wanted to talk about it.

Evidently he didn't, because he immediately tensed as if to pull away. Yasmin held tight. "Easy, easy. It's okay. You don't have to tell me. You don't."

He relaxed again. Was his heart hammering less wildly than before? She thought so. She went on holding him, stroking the back of his head, murmuring nonsense now and again before finally settling on comforting silence. The rhythm of their breathing was soothing enough by itself. Little by little, the terror faded out of the room.

It seems to take hours, but Stork's trembling finally subsided, and the tension clutching his frame dissipated. With a soft sigh, as if in relief, he collapsed, turning to jelly in her arms. All at once he seemed heavier, a dead weight, and at the same time somehow lighter - Dear Gods, was he always this skinny? With his muscles limp, there was nothing to him at all: a bundle of twigs held together with string. Something in Yasmin's heart broke open and bled. She felt tears rise to her eyes, and sniffed them back quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

She wasn't sure if he was asleep or just comatose, but at last his breathing was even and slow. He found peace. She managed to give him that, at least.

It was a long time before she was able to relax herself. But eventually, lulled by that steady respiration and remembering her interrupted sleep, Yasmin slipped away from consciousness, still holding an armload of Merb, feeling the strange beat of the cold-blooded heart against her own.


Whenever Lark dreamed of this moment he would awaken in tears. They weren't just his tears, but also the tears of his father who was sold to the breeder after Yasmin's father found out about their mutual love. Though his father cried from sadness,

Lark cried out of rage
Vilkas
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