Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
Use caution when the Wolf comes aknockin; Posted on October 12, 2020 at 04:56:01 PM by Rougaru
There was a time when Rougaru was young, when he had first balked at the voice of the wolf that moved within him. The beast had once began as a nagging voice, a small flicker of feeling arising when the emotions of a young boy was at the highest. He had feared the animal then, feared the primal emotions that ran like hot fire through his veins. He felt lost in those days, afraid to speak aloud the turmoil that churned beneath his skin. Surely mother would think him a monster; no doubt father would banish him without a second thought. In those days, he fought the beast and prayed that never would his secret reveal. That is, until the day finally came when he could not fight himself any longer. That day, lost among the black sands and torrential winds, he learned to give the wolf its freedom. Together they managed to fight the waves of misery and exhaustion that overwhelmed him when it had been just himself. It was because of the wolf that he survived the monsoon that washed over his father’s herd lands that day. He alone rose from the debri and aftermath to face the new world. He had lost them all that day. Father, mother, the herd, his siblings…. All of them disappeared that day. Were it not for the wolf, loneliness and depression would no doubt have cut his young life short. He learned then to rely on the voice of the beast, and to let the monster guide him and his searching steps. His survival, he chalked up to the skills of the beast, feeding the adrenaline and the emotions that rose and ebbed like the tides of the sea. Were it not for the beast; Rougaru would never have survived.
Looking at the pale mare now, he feels a sudden rush of emotions that he was not prepared for. When first he had come upon her, the great beast felt a sense of intrigue and curiosity as to what might have happened and what stories she might hold. Rougaru and the wolf shared a love of adventure and stories from far distant lands. The lupine creature loved to roam and while the stallion’s very nature and the pack that he protected claimed the majority of his time, still the gray beast felt the pull of the full moon and the longing to travel farther than its paws would set foot upon. Like a small foal, innocent and new to the world, the pale mare tugged at his cold heart strings. The wolf’s need to protect surged through the blood that pounded in his veins.
It was not simple pity that he looked upon her with, but sympathy from one who understood the power and torture that was such a loss. Small ears tilt forward at the feather soft sounds of her unsure voice. Like the pale rose with petals delicate and fragile beneath the slightest breath he finds himself resisting the urge to rush to her as the watery tears fill her eyes and she turns away. She cannot remember.
A new wave of pity washes over him as the great mahogany stallion takes a faltering step forward. Thickly muscled neck stretches to linger a breath from her silver white neck. Depthless emerald eyes close as the rolling emotions are shoved back and once more kind warmth glistens in his gaze as he nods. ”You are not the first and rest assured you could not be the last….” he murmurs, pausing to let his gruff tones linger in the still silence that has enveloped them. Reluctantly he draws his head back, a confident smile replacing the worried lines that crease his lips. ”Perhaps with time, your memories will return.” he finishes.
Her legs flail beneath her as once more the disoriented mare attempts to stand. Despite himself he finds his eyes trained upon her, his heart leaping as gracelessly her legs find purchase upon the churned earth and this time, she is able to haul herself onto unsteady legs. She shakes, not the same shaking of a newborn foal on wobbling legs but nonetheless she wobbles in uncertainty, as though the residual effects of her head wound still clung to what remained of her mind. Her gaze is fearful as it peers up at him beneath thick, feathered lashes. Instinctively he takes another step towards her, angling his body nearer to hers so that should she wish to, she could allow his solid frame to give her slight form some stability. What do I do now? A question that perhaps even he is not the best to request an answer from. At times, he wondered himself if he knew the answer. So many times he remembered himself staring up at the bright silver blue moon, the same question lingering upon his own heavy tongue. Sorrow clouded his brilliant green eyes as he stretched his whickered lips forward to brush her blood stained cheek. ”The only advice I can give you is to just keep breathing. One foot before the other and even when the journey is confusing, at least you can look back on the path you have already conquered.”
The cool night breeze tugs the endings of his words and leaves even himself thoughtful on their meaning. Was it the wolf who spoke to them now? Was it once more the feral creature who spoke its wisdom when he found himself lacking in his own words? Was it a memory of a childhood long forgotten? No, even if the words had once been spoken by his sire, Rougaru would have remembered them. It must be the golden-eyed creature who felt the tug of exhaustion and loss. Wherever they came from, Rougaru could not help but to smile at the truth as it set in within his own mind.