Bright Moon - a land sullied by mystery and the ravaging scars of a terrible fire. Abandoned as a pack land for years, the terra has been used as a gathering place for the brazen and bloodthirsty drawn there by the lingering pall of death. Yet from the ashes there comes an unordained phoenix, the rainbow hues of hope glinting in her mismatched globes. Through the obsidian drapes obscuring the scenery, she alone was able to catch the perfumed aroma of new life on the breeze and hear the sluggish streams flowing ever swifter into the morning.
Thus, with a purpose, she set out to map the incognita, discovering daily the extent of the reawakening and unearthing within herself a desire to return the landscape to its former glory. Now she stands tall as privileged Alpha of the lands, lording over the rock-strewn prairie and bountiful forests with a firm but gentle paw.
Having finally realized her deepest longing to be a queen, Satowra is focused solely on the revival and maintenance of the Bright Moon Pack. Her question to each prospective warrior that comes to the border is simple:
"Do you have what it takes?"
IP: 156.34.153.0
Posted on November 28, 2011 at 01:41:33 AM by tamlin.
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& you only see what you want to see tell me... can you see me? The glacial alpha of a paradise reborn had not believed that his jet queen would return. He had despaired, he had moped, morose, in the wild places of the pack that she had left to him. Out of his storming, painful despair had come gradual acceptance, and acceptance came hand in hand with a slowly growing ability to cope with his new, alien life. He was not initially suited to be an alpha. He, Tamlin, was no king, rather he was a knight of the highest calibre. Courtly and chivalrous, he was a defender, a protector of the one that he had chosen. He was her chessman, a faithful beta who would do whatever she wished of him. His loyalty had not been given away without much thought, but after a few glances at her, a few chances to sense her honest nature and raw determination, he had decided that the scarred princess would be his to serve. And then she had left him, deserted Bright Moon. She had not divulged where she was going and what she was going to do, instead merely passing the title of alpha onto him before vanishing from his life. Mourning – yes, they had mourned. All of Bright Moon had come to him, yes, him, looking for reassurance and he had given it to them as best he could. They had decided to trust him and they had developed close ties. He was their leader, in a sense, a paladin whose sole job was to provide for the betterment of the pack. The only reason that he had accepted the job was because he viewed it as an order, something that Satowra had wished for him to do. He had recently been challenged for the title that had been given to him was his charge. The challenger, a presumptuous male named Blue Fang, had sauntered up to the border and let out a howl that reeked of impunity. Tamlin had been forced away from a pack hunt which would have been the first one that Bright Moon had managed to pull through with. Whether or not his soldiers had continued to track their target – a lean doe, while he was gone was something that Tamlin was not positive about. They had appeared to be fairly excited, but without his urging them on, he wasn't sure if their anticipation would be enough to help them track a speedy herbivore across the Prey Plateau. But back to the challenger and his fate. The fool who had so presumptuously assumed that Tamlin, as a new alpha, would be easy prey had left the crimson clearing with blood seeping from deep wounds. If the brute walked around too much for flexed his neck the wrong way he would die. To be honest, the ivory stallion wasn't feeling too sentimental or remorseful about the fact that he had just maimed a wolf and possible was the cause of his death. He was too serious to be in the air with his standards. The wolf had challenged him – the wolf was hurt. He would expect no less than that. Even if the other brujo had died right there, Tamlin was not naive or whimsical enough to be scarred over such a trivial thing. Despite the fact that the snowy brute had come away the winner of the fight, he himself was not without injuries. In order to inflict a taunting bite upon his opponent and to get a better stance for the next attack, Tamlin had stood still and allowed the idiotic Blue Fang's attack to hit full force. The slavering canine had come in rapidly, his maw flapping like some sort of fiend as he snapped. Luckily for the defender, the act of snapping caused the flesh of his neck to be mangled more than deeply dug into. The mess still hurt, but it was bearable. The only other wound that Tamlin had received was a small, shallow cut to his shoulder area. The scrape had stopped bleeding almost immediately and was scabbed over cleanly at this point, since he had spent the rest of the day recuperating before beginning his slow waltz back to the lands which he was the steward of. Pain was a major component that added up to his frustratingly slow march back to Bright Moon. He had wanted to call a pack meeting as soon as he and his hunting band had come back, but since he wasn't hunting, he contemplated perhaps waiting until they reported back. Out of all the warriors he had decided to take with him, he trusted that Twilight at least would attempt to bring something back. Despite the fact that she was flirtatious, Tamlin got the vibe that the minx was very dependable. He thought of each pack member individually as an attempt to distract himself from the agony of his injured neck. Whether or not it was working would be hard to gauge. Seeing him from the outside and not knowing what he was thinking, one would perhaps assume that the pallid stag was in no pain at all. His face, as trademark, remained stoic, composed and serious. His navy eyes glinted with the same steeled determination that they always held. His crown was lifted high, his tail arched in scorpion position over his back. It created a slight shadow, something which caused his off-white fur to look more pristine in contrast where the shade made it grey. The recent victory caused him to feel somewhat more assured, not of his position as 'almighty king' as much as in his ability to defend the title that he still could not view as rightfully his own. Looking at him from his own mind, one could tell that his nerves were shrieking angrily at him, beating against his neck and bringing waves of agony with each minuscule movement of his neck muscles. He walked along, buried deeply in the catacombs of his mind, since he was occupied by his thoughts. However, he had not long to bask in contemplation, for a familiar scent hit him all at once. He jerked to a halt and lifted his nose into the air to better draw the odor in. His double check confirmed what he already knew. The queen of Ashes and Rebirth, Lady Satowra of Bright Moon, had returned to reclaim her land and once more rule over his vassals. He had not been puffed up by his time as leader. Rather, he was more than happy to be ruled over and would not mind becoming a knight, more importantly, her knight, once more. Ignoring the blatant protests of his nape, he picked up a trot, moving his strapping limbs in a schooled smooth manner, as to minimize jarring. Even though he was trying his best to be swift, his injuries hampered his progress. He drew in the influx of scents that lurked in the wind and thus noticed Rio and Raylen's arrivals. Because of his keen nostrils, the pastel masculine was not shocked in the slightest when his lean form cleared the gnarled trees and the forms of three of his most well-known acquaintances came into his sight. What shocked him was their stances. Satowra's head bowed, as if she was some mere Omega? He had come too late to hear the words that any of them had spoken, but he did not need to take part in the conversation. His tail drooped to a reasonable level and he stepped coolly out of the tangeled underbrush. He stank of blood, but at this moment, this pristine moment, that does not matter. “My lady.” His words are respectful, grave and a statement of loyalties. He moves forward, his steps fluid. He brings his lithe bodice to a halt when he is right next to her. The fur of his unhurt side brushes against her own rug, creating an interesting show of contrast between their two pelts. Tamlin, however, does not notice these things, for he has eyes only for her face. Uniquely intuitive, almond shaped orbs flicker over her face, noticing with dismay that she seems saddened, a mere shell of the magnificent leader she was before her untimely disappearance. He flicks an auditive toward his two closest friends, comrades and allies – Rio and Raylen. It had been a simple decision to name them as his beta and his gamma, and he was glad of it. They had offered him nothing but reassurance and guidance. When he interprets their postures, he feels a flash of irritation. Tamlin is ready to forgive, and although he will never forget, he can still move on. His type of loyalty that he had given to his queen was a harsh one, a non-breaking kind. She had left, but he remained her faithful servant. He still holds enough of his former alpha status about him to give them a glance that holds many combined emotions. He understands their pain, which tempered the sternness of his chastising look, but still, his overwhelming need at the moment is to protect his lady, as her mental state seems fragile. She is too precious to him to be lost. He will not allow her to slip out of his life again. |
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Photomanipulation © GD, Echo Garnett, Kirsebaer Literature © Tamlin, Minnie Lyrics © PLEASE FILL THIS OUT IF YOU USE SOMEONE'S LYRICS! [: © Blossom Forest, 2010 |
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