LISTEN UP SHRUB'S ADVANCED STUDENTS!

Okay, I want a memory from your character's past. Any memory, could be anything from their past. I hope you pick something meaningful to the character, something that will keep me interested. I want you guys to write it out and post it in here when it's finished. Here's what I want to see in it:

>Must be at least 1,000 words, but I'm expecting longer than that from you guys.

>Almost perfect spelling and grammar. I really want you guys to get good at editing your work.

>Characterization, this is very important. It's basically the whole point of the assignment. I really want you to think about your character. How they act, why they act that way, and how it has affected others around them. I want to see how you do this and if you do it well.

There's no real due date, I don't like rushing you guys. I want to make sure you take your time and put a lot of effort into it. When you have all posted in here, I'll go through each one and make comments on it and repost it in one post for each student. Well, hop to youngins'!

OoC: Well, now that I'm in a suitably depressed mood(I'm typing this after making my post) I think I'll go to bed. I hope this was interesting to you Shrub and Bloodsword... this is how my character parted company with Essie Brashe and found his way to the mountains Guardian Dragon and I are now roleplaying in.

BiC:

Kichaa followed slowly behind Essie as she stormed through the city, trying once again to find her brother. She had never even found a clue about him, but still she searched avidly, absolutely devoted to finding him. Kichaa had to admire her determination, if nothing else, but he doubted that he would ever be able to witness her reunion with a brother whom she probably had never even met. The thoughts were probably not a credit to the young swordsman, twenty years-old and on the verge of some kind of...change. There was that word for it, and that one only, because he was becoming more and more angry around groups, more arrogant, and in some ways... a lot harder to control. He found himself disliking other people in general, not anyone in particular, but instead the whole of ‘people' was encompassed by this negative feeling. He couldn't understand why, but he had a very good idea, regardless of how ridiculous or impossible it could have seemed– which it did, oh yes, it did– to himself or anyone else. Kichaa's nagging suspicion was... love. He had a very good sense for things that bothered people, himself in particular, and love was the only thing that had never managed to creep its way into his psyche, at least not since his childhood.

Hate, yes... hate had enveloped him at one time, mostly hate for criminals, but he had gotten over that, and with that hate went the kind of anger that he used to display– he now displayed another kind quite often. Kindness-- now that was something that he was still known for from time to time, but still he had to admit that even that was something that had waned off during this period, along with most feelings that went with it... like charity, happiness, hospitality, and so on and so forth. Greed was something that had never been abundant, only felt on rare circumstances and under strange arrangements, though jealousy was something that had invaded his very being lately.. He felt jealous every time Essie so much as glanced at another man... and that was another foreshadowing of what he thought was love. The list of emotions that he had, at one time, felt on and off, was endless and would remain endless as long as he remained alive, but love was at least one that he had never felt... and he did not know why.

Sighing softly, he stopped slightly behind Essie– who, despite a constant search for her brother, had no trouble keeping up a welcome friendship with Kichaa– and simply waited for her to become the raging cyclone of searching that she had been for as long as he had traveled with her. He was disappointed, though not completely, when she turned to him and asked with a strange tilt of her head, "Why do you keep following me? Don't you ever get tired of chasing me around?"

The question was in good humor, but Kichaa was not... though for her he melted into sweetness. He didn't let it on though, and may have gone overboard trying to mask it as he said, "Of course I do. Don't you like having a puppy?"

The tone was all off, and Kichaa knew it, but it was too late to take something like that back. Anger flared up in Essie's beautiful green eyes as she opened her mouth to scold him for the sarcastically bitter way he'd spoken to her, but she closed it for some reason... the anger retreated from her eyes as well, fading down somewhere– where it was, Kichaa did not know– inside her replaced by an immediate and sudden change in her body... she had tensed. Had he not known her, Kichaa would expect her to hit him... which is exactly why he didn't expect it when she did. As the breath left his lungs, his face registered shock from the punch she'd delivered to his stomach, something she had never done before. Now, Kichaa was not a weak man, in fact he was far from it, but Essie had hit him hard enough that even he– a well-trained, hardy swordsman– couldn't resist letting out a gasp of pain and crumple beneath his own, suddenly very heavy, weight.

A few heads turned in curiosity to see why Kichaa had doubled over, setting one hand on the ground as he regained his senses from the punch, but they turned back quickly when they saw Essie glaring at the area at large for no other reason than Kichaa had managed to touch her nerves. She took a few steps back from Kichaa, whom she had thought was her friend, and lashed out angrily, "If you think you're treated like a dog, then why do you keep following me? Huh? You could go and be all by yourself, so why don't you just go, I don't want you here if you're going to act like this."

Kichaa almost felt sorry, but she hadn't needed to hit him for it, so the flicker of hope for him disappeared when he stood back up to his full height. Essie wasn't short, but Kichaa towered over her at six foot four, and the look on his face was impassive in the absence of any feeling, he didn't care anymore, "I'll leave when I want to. Just go find your poor, long-lost brother alright? I'll be right behind you."

Essie turned away, putting her shoulder to him, took one last, worried glance at him and began running. Kichaa could tell that she wasn't searching for anyone... not anymore, and he could tell exactly what direction she was running: the harbor. She was going to leave, or at least try to leave. No, he thought, she knows that I could get on the Soarline before she even got it ready to sail, much less set sail. What's she doing?

But the girl kept running, her hair and bandana flying out behind her as she went, and Kichaa realized what she was doing. She wasn't running to anything. She was running away from him. He had made here either angry enough or sad enough that she had decided to run away instead of talk to him about it, and that was unusual. The young swordsman immediately felt sorry for what he'd said-- for what he'd done, really– and tried to catch her, but it was too late. He'd given her enough of a head start that he lost her in the crowded docks; because of this, he decided to return to the Soarline, to see if she had actually gone there.

His legs ate of the distance, mostly because he was still running, between himself and Essie's frigate– a clipper ship, really– and brought him there just in time to see her run down the plank and straight at him. Not in any kind of mood to be messed with again, Essie simply eluded Kichaa when he tried to stop her and skidded around him on the dock. Somehow Kichaa ended up in the water by the ship watching her go, wondering what he'd done. He hadn't noticed on the deck, but she wasn't empty-handed anymore: she had her weapons and a small satchel swinging behind her. She's gone, he mused, swimming unhappily towards the nearest ladder, she's gone... and I might never see her again. The prospect did not agree with him, in fact he almost vomited on the spot, but he managed to dragon himself up onto a ladder, and from there a piling, to rest. His day was turning out to be one large mistake. If he had just said one thing differently, he could have easily avoided. It could have all been avoided... if he hadn't been in love with Essie. He was in love with her, he was sure now... but he just lost her in less than twenty minutes, probably forever. We might not even become friends again, he thought sadly.

His eyes remained dry, not a tear in them, as he stood on the large wooden piling and gazed out over the throng of people on the wharf, all of them going about their business without a care for how much pain Kichaa was in. Looking down at himself, Kichaa sniffed ever-so-quietly before jumping onto the dock's wooden planking and sliding out into the masses of people. He lost himself in their closeness, walking through their midst to the stable feeling dead at heart. The only thing he could think about was how he'd lost her, how he had screwed up, and how he couldn't do anything about it. He walked straight into the horse-hotel– he'd called it that when setting Evelynna up for their stay, and even that made him feel the pang of hurt... he'd said that to Essie– and found his tack. His mount snorted in welcome, but Kichaa didn't have the will to act happy, even for his beloved horse, as he saddled her and swung up into the leather seat.

Pulling on the reigns slightly, he directed her out the back door, towards the north side of town and toward the mountains in the distance. Aching all the way for what he'd lost, he left the port city, the name of which he could not even remember anymore, and headed through the countryside. He didn't even notice the changes in temperature as he rode night and day, or when Evelynna simply stopped walking and began to eat... after about three hours of sitting there, he did remember, and he prompted her into a walk once again. They reached the Northern mountains in another three days of constant travel; there, they stopped.

Stars twinkled overhead in the night sky, though only a faint glimmer could be seen through the thick foliage of the forest. Trees that rose hundreds of feet towered over every other plant and animal with iron-strong, brown bark. However, dragoons lived peacefully amongst the forest, using its coverage to build a city hidden from view. Homes were made of the same wood as the forest and constructed in simple shapes. They were anchored onto the sides of the great plants and connected by twisting and draping suspended walkways. Only a few houses touched the earth were the festivities were active.

A large bonfire had been created in the middle of the plot of land. The flames licked high into the sky, casting orange upon everything that wasn’t hidden. None of the dragoons were worried about the fire damaging anything as the bark of the great trees could withstand all but the strongest fire. Several dragoons were dressed in bare clothing made of animal fur, male and female alike. They danced around the fire in hectic and sudden movements, a tribal dance to the great dragons that protected and blessed them. All other dragoons that lived in the city were also gathered around the fire. Some were sitting quietly and praying while others were making merry and feasting. It was a blessed festival held once a year that safeguarded the city from intruders and enemies.

A distance from the festivities, two dragoons huddled together where the orange glow barely reached them. One was a strong looking wind dragoon, nearing his 60s but appearing as though he were only in his mid-20s, sitting up straight. His short, blond hair was ruffled and didn’t lay flat against his head. He was wearing a simple cloak make of deerskin for the occasion. His stern, red eyes gazed thoughtfully into the distant fire. One of his brilliant green wings was folded against his back but the other was draped around another body that was lying close to him. This was a female lightning dragoon. She was much younger than the wind dragoon, though it was almost impossible to tell by sight alone. Her clothes were made of deerskin as well, a long and flowing skirt and a covering for her breasts. She was huddled up against the male, her head resting on his uncovered chest. With his wing draped around her, she couldn’t see the other dragoons but was able to perceive the glow of the fire. So, the dance is still proceeding… I wonder how long we’ve been lying here, she thought. “Syk?” she asked suddenly, “Are you happy with this?”

“Hmm?” he replied absentmindedly, startled from his thoughts, “You mean about the engagement? Of course I am, Kai. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice was as firm and strong as he looked and the answered was given reassuringly. Kai loved to hear him talk to her.

“Well, I’m… so much younger than you,” the female dragoon stated weakly. That hardly was the reason she was worried. Kai didn’t want the wind dragoon to feel pushed into this, like he had no choice.

“That doesn’t matter,” he answered. Then the male lifted his wing just enough that he could look at her face. She turned up to him when she felt his appendage move, “Kai, age or anything like that doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t worry. I love you.”

His words filled her heart with warmth and she resigned her head against his chest once more. The subtle up and down movement of his breathing beckoned her to sleep. The child closed her eyes and did almost fall asleep had not the sound of someone landing near them disturbed her.

“Well, well, what have we here? Are the two lovebirds making out?” a woman’s voice questioned obnoxiously. Kai didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

“What do you want, Akira?” Syk asked, his eyes narrowed. Akira never brought anything but trouble. She was a fire dragoon with shimmering red wings and dark red hair to match. Her eyes were gray in color but weren’t dull, instead they were some of the liveliest eyes one could find. She her outfit, similar to Kai’s, was made from cougar fir, a rarity in the forest but something her wealthy family could afford.

“Aw, aren’t you glad to see me, Syk? I figured you could us some civilized company,” her tone was of one that thought them self to be the best, that thought everyone was a lowly slave. Kai shuffled under the wind dragoon’s wing, causing him to retract it. The older female’s happy look turned to disgust, “Oh, you’re still here. In that case, I’m sure Syk would enjoy my company.”

“Go away,” the lightning dragoon demanded, “We don’t need you to ruin the mood.”

“What mood? You torturing this handsome man with your presence?” she replied rudely. It was no secret that she wanted the male to herself, she had fancied him every since she saw him. The fire dragoon walked up to him and, bending over, looked him in the eye, “I’m sure you would much rather cuddle with me, right?” Her tone was drenched in seductiveness.

The fighter turned away and stared into the fire, “Kai and I are engaged now. I would suggest you stop your toying around.” His own tone was cold and careless and caused Arika to step back.

“En-engaged!?” she stated with shock. Then she looked over at the lightning dragoon, “To her!? Why would you pick someone with such a horrid family? I bet she’d-”

“Enough!” Syk roared, taking both females by surprise. “Your feelings don’t change the fact that we are engaged. Leave us alone.” The fire dragoon stuttered and tried to say something. When nothing came, she growled and, with a venomous glance at Kai, she spread her wings and took off, most likely heading to her own home. The wind dragoon sighed, obviously agitated by the encounter.

“Why does she always bring up my family? What does she have against them?” the younger dragoon wondered out loud. Most of Akira’s insults stemmed from her family. Kai even got into a swordfight with the other dragoon after one insult. Unfortunately, that battle ended in a loss and humiliation. Akira had really lorded it up after that incident.

The green wing covered her once more, “I wouldn’t worry about what she says. Akira has never been happy with what she has and never will. She’ll say anything to bring people lower than herself.” He reassured her by wrapping an arm around her waist. His touch relaxed the lightning dragoon and she resigned herself against his chest once more. Syk was so firm yet gentle, his presences always made her feel good about herself.

“Syk?” she asked meekly.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

It was dark.

Darkness, as far as the eye could see. There were only very few details indicating that it was a separate place, and not a pitch black area that could so easily be revealed by creating a light.

No…This great place, devoid of light or goodness, was much more than that. It was the source of all nightmares, and fears. A brother-land to the plane between planes, the space upon which a soul could cross to another plane of existence, this wretched region seemed to give terror and fright a new meaning.

Although there was nothingness as far as the eye could see, there was indeed someone. This person stood upright, his gaze peering into infinite darkness, as if expecting someone. But it was far more complicated than that.

The human was a man. He wore a full-bodied midnight blue leather suit, with flaps of it flowing from his shoulders down to his waist. On his chest was a diamond, remarkably fashioned within the leather. Fastened to his back he wore a midnight blue cape, which fell to rest at his feet. In his hand he held a small rod, topped with a large purple pearl. The handle was pure silver, and illuminated the void of darkness.

“He expelled you…”

The man twisted around to see a cloaked figure, dressed entirely in black. If he hadn’t spoken he would have been entirely invisible.

The man in blue narrowed his eyes at the black one. “Be gone, foul creature. I have no need of your petty words of temptation.”

He turned around and looked the other way, attempting to ignore the spectral thing. Much to his annoyance it teleported straight in front of him and held out a gloved hand.

I can take you back…he will soon arrive at finria and be mirrored by a shadow…You.”

The man cocked an eyebrow and surveyed the creature with annoyance. “How do you know of this?”

The cloaked thing chuckled darkly. “What is it that I do not know of?”

Then he vanished in a puff of smoke. The solitary man stared in no direction, then sat down and closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Lance stumbled along the dirt path, his expression dull and unoccupied. He did not care for a purpose. He just wanted to find her. Then everything would be alright…

The many shady boughs of a forest came into view- it did not seem to be very large, as the ending of the sea of trees was quite visible from Lance’s vantage point. Investigating seemed like an interesting idea- after all, what hope did he have of finding anything else?

The travel-worn teenager readjusted a strap from a small bag on his back, and then started doing an uninterested kind of march over to the clearing, tripping over several rocks in the process. Many times he seemed to be dragging his feet, unaware of what he was doing.

A sharp poke in the eye woke him up from dream land. He stumbled back, cradling his head in his hand. Were did that tree come from? He squinted, a tear falling from his watering eye. He looked at the clearing, noting that the tree was but one of many in a large forest. It stretched as wide as the eye could see, and Lance was sure he would have to pass through there to get to his destination…wherever that was. He walked around the tree, muttering dire curses with one hand still clasped over his eye.

After little more than a few minutes of trudging through the maze of brambles, wood and the occasional rabid squirrel, he desperately wanted to get out, even if he had to backtrack to the entrance…that is if he wasn’t doing that already.

A glimmer of light in the distance stopped him momentarily, and he started to walk towards it, mind alert. I wouldn’t be surprised if a beast camp is in here, or something. He thought suggestively.

As the light grew brighter, he realised probably a flame; it was most likely a magical fire that was giving off the radiance which illuminated the otherwise dull and uninhabited forest. Lance pushed a willowy branch out of the way and observed what he was seeing, eyes wide.

Like he had thought there was a fire there, suspended in mid air by an unseen force. The small space had no trees and plant life existing in it, as if they knew better than to grow near their death bringer. A strangely dressed woman sat cross-legged next to the fire, her eyes closed and her hands moving mysteriously over the flame. Lance noticed that she wore all manner of jewellery, and a crimson bandana had been tied around her head to bring out her curly brown hair.

As soon as Lance took a step within the hidden glade her eyes snapped open, causing Lance to flinch. After seeing that the boy who had intruded in her meditation ritual was none other but a teenager she relaxed, her wrinkled features curving into a solemn smile.

Ah, my dear. I foresaw that I would have a visitor, and the signs also informed me that this one would possess a gift…I was hoping not to have another magician storm into my hideout and demand my secrets! Yet hear you are, and my spirit is relieved. How may I help you?”

The young mage surveyed the obvious seer with apparent amusement. “Oh, well I was bored so I decided to…take a look at this forest.”

The lady nodded, a few necklaces tinkling in rhythm as she did so. “A wise choice, lad. For if you had not entered this forest, you would not be able to hear the wondrous secrets that I am about to impart to you now, would I?”

Lance was slightly annoyed by her so familiar attitude towards him, but he shrugged it off. “I guess not. So what is it that you’d like to tell me?”

The seer rolled up her silk sleeves, her bangles clinking against each other as they rolled down her arm. “Your future, dearest. I have not seen much of yours as of yet, considering your many opportunities…Though I do know that you follow the path of light, and this may prove to be a problem.”

Lance gave her a questioning look, his brow etched into confusion. “Sorry…but how is that a problem?

The mystical woman shook her head, sighing deeply. “My dear, wherever you turn darkness will follow you. Though you also have the elements on your side, I fear you cannot do this alone, in your current state. Though In your future, I do see allies and friends who will support you no matter the cost. The light shalt prevail if your heart is set and your intentions pure; just remember that.”

Lance was perplexed, though he was certainly inspired by her encouraging words. “So if I can’t do it like this-“

“Ah, Vaila has already thought of this. I can grant you my blessing, and my essence can join with yours to sustain you when you leave….Now, give me your hand….”

Lance held out his hands, and Vaila grasped them with surprising force. She closed her eyes once again, and the flame beneath them turned a strange shade of violet. The fortune-teller started to mutter ancient and ominous words under her breath, and a rush of energy flew from her to join my Lance, the inferno growing to envelope the two, though the sage didn’t feel it. Vaila was still chanting louder, and Lance started to feel frightened.

“Existo luminosus partosility us…Vilos!”

And then it stopped. The seer and the mage both were panting, exhausted by the exchange. Vaila opened her eyes and grinned at Lance.

“Ah, for the days when I was young again. You have much to live for, young one.”

Lance smiled back, grateful for the help Vaila had bestowed upon him. “Thankyou…heaps. I wish I could thank you with something, but I’ve got nothing.”

Vaila merely dismissed his request with a wave of her hand. “Oh, never mind, dearest. I just have something to ask- what is your name?”

“I’m Lance. It was a pleasure to meet you, Vaila.”

The old woman stood up dusting off her dress. “I feel the same, deary. It is time for you to go, I presume. I think I can help you with that.”

The seer held up her hand, and a bright white flash flew out from it…


Lance opened his eyes to see that he was sitting on his back, on the path where he had been before he entered the forest. He got up; looking over to the forest he had just emerged from.

“Thankyou…”

OoC: B’day present, Mistress Shrubby. I know it doesn’t really have a meaning, but I’ll develop on it…

OOC: It is not exactly a memory, depending on various aspects of her travel, it could be her fate in her own unvierse while she is here. But never the less, it is a dream she has constantly, well at least parts of it.

BIC: Drip, drop. Drip, drop. Drip, drop.. The putrid stench of caked blood, sweat gland secretions, and the sound of the inscrutable rain filled the small damp cave. A sputtering fire ringed solemnly by eight, odd shaped moss-covered rocks strove to live. The vegetation it fed upon, a thick ****** as big as a cat was once perfect for burning. But now, it was sodden to the core. The flames beat away a bit of water, and fed upon the miniscule piece of wood it had dried out and could feed upon, creating a tendril of greasy black smoke to curl up to the roof of the rocky enclosure. In the back of the cave, not but five feet away from the beginning, the collected smoke swirled, an inky black portal to some other realm. A portal it was, as the smoke gathered, the deadly gases in it concentrated, slowly killing the woman whom now lay in an exhaust driven sleep, a few centimeters away from the hopeless fire. Her soft mocha lids fluttering in a dream-like delusional mind set, strong lithe limbs lying akimbo to her form. The smooth arms where marred with slashes, most at the wrist. A faint blood trail ran across the damp rock floor, smeared and faint in others, some it pooled. In a distant corner of the cave, a sharp rock shard lay smeared in crimson life. Bits of dark skin could be seen sticking to the rock shredded and drown in blood, all over the sharp edge of the rock.

Outside, heavy layers of sleet poured mercilessly from the heavens into the barren earth, one parched beyond belief, now drown in water. From one sort of waste land to the polar opposite, from desert to sea. The day before, the woman lying next to the almost dead fire, had traversed the desert that once occupied the land below the small cave, and scaled the sheer cliff to the opening. The rough tan sandstone had broken away several times, leaving her hanging by a few fingers, the threat of the hard desert floor far below. But the young woman had valiantly crawled up into the cave, to lay sobbing, using a piece of stone that had broken off from the cliff ledge to saw away at her wrists. When pitch-black night had came, leaving no light what so ever, and a bone deep chill, so had the rain. Thick black clouds gathered high above, slowly moving to cover all the twinkling stars that had once been above the desert. The rain had started soft at first, heavy clean drops, which fell with a splat, leaving an out spray of water with each. A fire was then lit, using the supplies that had been packed in the back of the Gerudo survival cave.

The young woman moaned softly in her sleep, parched lips barely moving apart. Long curly tresses of rich strawberry blond gleamed in the firelight, a sea of red on pale mocha skin, surrounded by black silk. Black streamers, which where the flowing sleeves of her garb, trailed down into the depths of the cave, the ends not visible as the radius of the fire’s light grew smaller. Caked blood, segmented and cracked, hung like barnacles to the sleeves. A faint cough sounded in the still night air, barely louder than the crackling of the fire. A small billow of ash flew across the stone floor, the wind of the small cough carrying it to gently stop at the wall on the opposite side, granules of carbon becoming lodged in the hard mineral to stay as a memoir for all eternity in that cave, perhaps the only sigil of the generations of people who had lived below the eternal ocean that would be available to their scions, if they ever found it.

Something rustled, and the marred mocha arms moved, blood stained palms meeting the rough floor, small pebbles digging into the flesh. Wobbly, the woman pushed herself up, letting out cries of pain between her teeth. Her hair fell like a veil of morning to each side of her face, and tears started to flow like the rain was. Almond shaped eyes were shut against the world, and her sharp chin rose. A breathless sob racked her form, rocking her back and forth. She screamed, feral, throat scratchy and dry, as loud as she could. It echoed across the empty sea, no ears to hear it, only those drown at the bottom of the sea, or slaughtered by the Evil King. Irva continued sobbing, thick tears running down her face, rocking slowly back and forth. She opened her lids, a sea of stormy gray, the pain portrayed there like a mural.

Her people, the strong and proud Gerudo, slaughtered. All of them. He had returned, and with malice and fire, he killed her people first. He had then swept across the land, spreading death, and pestilence. The people had prayed, and no hero had arisen. The images flashed across her widened eyes. Standing in front of the desert goddess’ statue, praying for a savior. The wind, torrential, and sand stinging her flesh. Then she had cried also, holding the dead body of her mother close to her chest. Then the loud barking of Moblins and grunts of other creatures came to her ears, and Irvanna fled. For days she journeyed across the desert, toward her goal, the cave she now rested in.

She had reached it at the dawn of this day; a bright merciless sun rising in a swath of crimson on the wavering horizon of baked earth. Numb, and broken, she had fallen to the floor upon reaching it, the shard of stone held tightly in her hand. Nimble dark finger wrapped around it in a death grip, she had slid it across the soft flesh of her wrist. A snaking rivulet of crimson appeared, and Irva began to sob again. Again and again she sliced deep into her flesh, the rock’s edge finding veins to sever each time. Then she had collapsed, and the rain, the last gift of the Goddesses, had started to fall.

There was no one now, only the sea. Nothing like it had been yesterday. A muffled moan echoed softly, and the fire died, embers extinguished by the rain. All that was let was darkness. The last Gerudo dragged herself toward the back of the cave, links of steel clinking gently, mingling with the sound of her crying. And the gas, the deadly substance the fire had created, wrapped her in its sweet embrace. Tentatively, it stole her last breath, and dried her tears, taking away all her sins and grief. Stormy gray eyes flashed once with sadness, before becoming dull forever.

OoC: Well, since I have to do it, I decided to start it and get it up with an interesting part. This is the past of Sakume, and will show some very important parts.

BiC: Thud…thud…thud…Yosuke’s footsteps hardly connected with the earth as she ran, for she was as swift as a deer in motion. Thud…thud…thud…the pace set by her heart began to pick up speed, yet she continued to sprint with all her strength. What if she would hear? What if she was found? Urgent foreboding thoughts swirled throughout her mind, keeping her from her normal logical views. The night was illuminated by a sudden flash, followed by the roar of thunder. Like a sheet of ice, rain began to pour down, numbing Yosuke’s footsteps.

“Where are you going, sister dear?” In a quick leap, Sakume appeared, blocking the path. “Not trying to run, are you?” her voice was simply coated in bitterness and anger.

Yosuke stopped still in her tracks, desperately thinking of a way to fight back. “Sakume, it was not our fault! We tried to save them! Why won’t you believe us?” Tears began to streak her cheeks, but they could not be seen in the torrential rain. “Why?”

Sakume had been secretly dreading this…She threw down her claw-like weapons, letting them sink slightly into the muddy ground, and glanced upwards towards the sky, where the moon could barely be spotted. It was beginning to peek out from the clouds…As the luminescent glow beamed down upon the land, the rain continued to pound. “I was there! I know what I saw! You did nothing! And now…you’ll die!”

Yosuke knew that if she was to have the slightest chance at living, she would have to do something drastic. She leaned down in the mud, searching until her fingers enclosed upon a large stick. It was most likely useless, but she had to try. It was her life on the line. “Please, sister! Believe me!” Her blonde hair lay limp and stringy about her face, her eyes wide in fear.

Sakume lifted her body towards the sky, raising her hands as if to clutch the moon. “Ah…fear…” She looked at Yosuke, an evil grin plastered on her face. “I love the smell of it.”

Yosuke hardly had time to prepare for the oncoming flurry of attacks. The stick did prove to be useless, but it blocked the first strike from connecting. After a few simple punches from her sister, Yosuke had a bloody nose, a split lip, and what felt like a broken wrist. “Sakume! Please! I’m begging you!” she gasped out, crumpled on the ground.

“You always were the weak one in the family.” Sakume felt the glow of the moon embrace her body, and the rush of the werewolf blood began to flow through her body. She twisted and turned in unimaginable ways, growling with pain. Like an animal, she fell to the ground, snarling and whimpering as the change continued. Fur sprouted through her body, and her fingernails grew into cold, sharp claws. Her teeth elongated, splitting through her gums as fangs. Her two dog-like ears twitched uneasily, and her pupils became yellow slits. A low chuckle erupted from her chest, turning into a sinister laugh. “You shall pay for what you have done…” Her low, threatening voice boomed out, amongst the crashing of thunder. Flexing her claws for a moment, she charged for her sister, who screamed as she held her head in her hands.

“Stop this!” An authoritative voice rang out among the storm, and a large shape placed itself in front of Yosuke.

Sakume faltered, and roared in anger. “Get out of the way, brother!”

The larger werewolf simply stared at his sister, his own golden eyes piercing into her. Whereas she was brownish in color, Raziel was a pure gray, say for a single tuft of dark blue on his forehead. His muzzle parted as his fangs gnashed together. “Stop this, Sakume. Why do you insist on this pain and suffering? You must remember!”

The smaller werewolf violently shook her head. “No! It was your fault! Yours!” she shrieked, pointing an alleged finger at him. “You caused this! I’ll kill you both!” With that, she took off at full speed, trying to get to Yosuke from an angle. She was stopped inches away from her sister’s neck, her brother’s paws gripping her own smaller wrists and not releasing. “Let me go! Let me go!” she struggled, twisting and turning to find some way out of the hold.

Raziel easily overpowered her, tossing her back into the muddy ground. “Relinquish your hate, before it destroys everything we care for!” He shielded Yosuke by placing himself before her, watching Sakume warily. “If you loved our parents, you would do what’s right, and let it go!”

The argument, mixed with occasional blows to both sides, continued until later that night. Raziel may have been stronger than Sakume in werewolf form, but as a human, his fighting skills were rather lacking. Also in addition, he had no weapon, whereas Sakume owned her twin claw blades. His golden eyes widened as he saw his doom…the moon was becoming covered by clouds. The glow was cut off, and both of them returned to their original forms. Instead of a large werewolf, in its place was a young man, with dark blue hair, and rags for clothing. “I told you, Sakume…let it go, before you do something you’ll regret!” he shouted.

The woman hissed at her brother, picking up her weapons and brandishing them in attack mode. “I’ll never regret this. I only regret…being your sister!” With those words, she ran towards him, crouching at the last minute so she slid under his legs. A gasping choke from Yosuke told her that her attack had hit, straight into her heart.

Raziel tried to stop her, but it was too late. He fell to his knees, taking Yosuke in his lap. The blonde looked up to her sister, and gently smiled. “Sakume…I still…lo…ve…” A trickle of blood began to leak out of her mouth, and after a few violent jerks, the young woman slipped into the peaceful slumber of death.

Raziel’s heart was filled with hate, beyond anything he had ever felt. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Do you? You killed her! You killed your own sister!” he shouted, tears beginning to fall down his chin. His voice cracked, and he gripped Yosuke’s hair, holding her as if she was the only thing left in the world. “You killed her…”

Sakume couldn’t move for a moment. Her heart, once pounding, was now slow enough that she feared it would be heard by the whole world. “I…I did what was right…I did what was right…” She repeated the words constantly in her mind, and looked down to her palms, which were stained with her sister’s blood. Her brother’s words swirled into her soul, echoed there for eternity. “No!” she shouted, sprinting at top speed for some comfort, any comfort, anywhere…later that night, the moon had once again peered out, bestowing the curse upon Sakume. In her natural wolf form, Sakume padded up to the top of an outlook, her ears flattened in grief. Taking a deep breath, and gazing down at her sister’s body in the valley, Sakume displayed her ultimate sorrow with a sign all would know…the howl of a wolf.