The Lost Islands
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Common

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.

HEROES GET REMEMBERED block
Posted on April 22, 2022 at 07:41:10 PM by ANATH


Actually attempting to raise her son this time instead of pawning the job off on someone else had probably… not left the colt in a better position, really. The twin boys would likely be better off being raised by wolves, or something, rather than the foulmouthed and ill tempered retired general. You don’t pick your family. All of Anath’s children had learned that the hard way, and her last sons would be no different. They’d grow, and they’d be fine in the long run. None of the others had been fine, but this time was… different? At least Anath could tell herself that.

They’d lived long enough to be weaned. She paid less mind to Cynic and Heretic now, returning to her ways, a ghost haunting the Crossing. Rade, too, had been suspiciously absent lately. Had he finally gone off to die? A morbid thought, but not the most unreasonable idea. Anath suspected that the Peak would hear from Jaws, though, had that been the case. Though her great granddaughter didn’t know the true depth of her bloodline, the retired general could see herself in the girl. Still, she wouldn’t take responsibility for Jaws, and would stay well away unless strictly necessary. Maybe she didn’t want to tarnish the only good one.

Her mood was less than pleasant as she strode through the Commons. Less than pleasant, less than personable, but when had Anath ever been? Maybe it’s here that she feels Rade’s absence most of all. At least he understood things. Now she walked alone through the winter-burnt Crossing. Shit, she looks every bit the ghost, tattered and battle-hardened. From far off she can see a painted stallion stopped to speak with a woman, giving her some distance. Concern was born of necessity, but she’d keep her distance for now. A guardian in this place.

A shift of the stiff winter breeze– oh. Her stomach pitches. The general is compelled to stick her nose into their business, if by nothing other than the smell of the Badlands on him. Her home… even after all her years in the Peak, her home. Anath catches the woman’s words as she approaches, a wry smile on her lips. At once, she feels… younger? The headstrong girl that had been raised by a band of men too rough for their own good, confident without any real reason.

High-headed, Anath fixes the bridle stallion with an accusatory gaze. “If I had to guess, maybe he’ll try to offer you somewhere away from the cold.” The Badlands. Salem. Salem. Anath would chase the thoughts of home from her mind as well as possible. The champagne ghost speaks, her gaze boring into Rafe. The Peak’s ire was different than Anath’s own reservations, but he couldn’t know that. Instead, the retired general will simply wait and watch the man where he stands.
Anath
"HEROES GET REMEMBERED
LEGENDS NEVER DIE "
html by russell for hound(c) 2012 and beyond.




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