Date Turn 2761
10th Pass, 6th Turn, 6th Month
Senior Weyrwoman Talera of Gold Aerroth (Interim)
Junior Weyrwomen Melana of Gold Sularenth
Srunae of Gold Danovelith
Aleni of Gold Riyobith
Weyrleader A'zael of Bronze Fath
Weyrsecond B'rax of Bronze Gamath
Master Dragonhealer Zenelle of Green Verdath Weyrlingmaster K'ton of Bronze Sorth Assistant Weyrlingmasters Zi'lor of Brown Asriath
D'rew of Blue Sabanth Amaril of Green Jondalath Candidate Master S'bol of Blue Nesporth Assistant Candidate Master Haella of Green Tsulocanth
Those marked in italics are NPCs and are available for replacement by PC characters.
News While Mavros awaits the next gold to rise and take Karredy's place as Senior after her abdication, the Lord of Jask Hold celebrates his wedding with a grand gather and the Weyr attends for some much needed fun and relaxation, as well as to perform in dragon races as part of the wedding celebration.
Akira bolted upright the moment her alarm went off. She had decided the previous day that today was to be dedicated towards training. She got out of bed, and went to the restroom. She showered, changed into her normal attire, and grabbed her equipment. She was ready to go.
The previous day she had borrowed some money from her parents in order to buy an excessive amount of paper, ink, and brushes. That said, she had all the supplies she needed. In the back yard, she sat at a table, and began to sort out her plans. She had once seen a seal that was able to explode. She decided she would try to figure this out for herself. Akira opened her backpack and grabbed her book, "Fuuinjutsu and You." She opened it up and searched the index for anything that might relate to the subject. Success! Akira found what she was looking for and turned to the first page in which that particular seal was mentioned.
Akira dipped her brush into an inkpot, and set to work. While looking at and analyzing the seal displayed in the book, Akira began her process. Her first attempt to draw out the seal looked as though it was going well, when she accidentally smudged it a little bit. She frowned and put that piece of paper to the side to be recycled later. "That sucks," she thought to herself. So she tried another one. This one she got correctly, or so she thought. Little did she know, but she was a little off at the beginning. Regardless, she didn't notice the mistake and took the seal to a cleared out area. She got back a few yards and performed the release seal.
While the seal did have a reaction, it was not quite the one she had been hoping for. In fact, all the seal really did was spit out a few puffs of smoke. That was pretty much it. Nothing too fancy. Akira frowned. "What did I do wrong?" she thought to herself, and began to wrack her brain. Seeing as the seal hadn't actually exploded she able to retrieve it and see if she had messed up somewhere. She obviously had though, but just didn't know where. So she retrieved the seal paper from her blast area and went back to her table. That is, when it had finally stopped smoking. Akira sat down and put her failed handiwork side by side with the picture in the book. "Oh!" she exclaimed before slapping her palm against her forehead. She put that piece of paper with the one from earlier, and began to paint out another one.
It wasn't a very complex seal, but even the slightest of mistakes can screw things up when it comes to fuuinjutsu. She did her brush strokes, one up for several inches, and a few to the side. As she brushed, she hummed to herself. When she finally finished, she examined the two of them more closely together this time. "Looks about right," she told herself.
Akira picked up the seal paper and headed back to her designated blast zone. After placing the seal on the ground, she again took several steps back until she was a few yards away. Akira performed the release seal, and to her amazement the seal exploded. She judged it to be roughly the same force as an explosive tag, though she was not entirely sure to be honest. Happy with her handiwork, Akira tried it one more time. She painted out the seal on her piece of paper, then again placed it next to the picture in the book. She noticed that her lines were a bit too thick, so she scrapped it to the pile with the others. "Time to try again," Akira thought to herself. For the fifth time, she pulled over a piece of paper, and looked at the picture in the book while she drew out the seal. She dare not trace it, because even though it would work, she knew it was a bad way to go about doing it, and wouldn't learn how to properly draw the seal from that. When she finished this one, she placed it next to the picture and analyzed it for a while. Deciding the lines were a little fat but otherwise she was satisfied with this one, Akira put her brush down and took the paper to her makeshift blasting range. After retreating back a few yards as she had done previously, she made the release seals with her hands.
This seal sputtered a bit, but finally exploded after several seconds of delay. Akira could've screamed. What could've possibly went wrong? She decided that maybe her lines had indeed been on the larger side of the scale. More than a little frustrated, she went back to her table and began the process again. Akira made the brush strokes boldly, but hopefully not too much. She made the crisp ones the way they should be, or so she hoped. She compared it side by side to the demonstration picture in her Fuuinjutsu book. It looked to be spot on, but she continued to stare at it for any imperfections that may cause her troubles. She decided this one was good to go, and picked it up from the table to take it over to her makeshift blasting zone. She placed it gingerly on the ground, and retreated to her usual spot before making the release seals.
Success! The seal exploded almost instantaneously to when she commanded it to, and with the same force as the previous successful attempt. Deciding that was enough for the day, Akira smiled to herself and began to pack up her supplies. She closed her ink pot and washed out her brush. Akira then took inside all the unused paper, and took the scrapped results to another room to place in recycling. "Next time I'll work on one with some combustion," she thought to herself.
Reason for Significance: First Fuuinjutsu Training Post Ever XD
Last Edit: Oct 24, 2012 17:51:09 GMT -5 by Deleted
A young, slate-haired child toyed with a senbon in the garden of the Chidoku compound. From the onlooker's view, she would be no more than an idle girl fumbling with pre-academy practices. A violet-haired toddler scrambled up to the young girl's side and took the senbon. Before the blue-headed girl could take her tool back, it was flung into a sapling with obvious ease.
So early in life were Takako's and Kotone's abilities shown, Satsuki mused as she sipped at her tea in the drawing room just beyond. From her sitting position, she could see Kotone's hapless, happy smile as clearly as she could Takako's frown. Satsuki knew her eldest daughter had been trying to get the throwing of the senbon down for months with no real progress. For Kotone to take a single needle and land it so deftly into the bark... Ahaha. Well, perhaps it was nothing more than a fluke.
Perhaps not, Satsuki pondered over the next few years as her health began to deteriorate. Takako still struggled with even the most minor of clan training while Kotone seemed to pick up everything with ease. Even something as simple as the girls' kendo practice, Kotone bested her older sister. And oh, how Takako grew so furious whenever her sister was doted on for it! But what did she expect, when she was only a faded, distant star in comparison to Kotone's burning sunlight? Satsuki fell into a coughing fit. “Mother?” Takako held a serving tray, complete with pitcher and cups. The girl had taken to caring for her mother for the past months, and had even taken leave from her team in order to continue the care of her mother; Satsuki couldn't see the reason in it – the girl needed the lessons that battle gave. If she cared so much for the body, she should've gone into medic-nin training.
“Ah, Takki. I'm sorry; it's nothing.” “You're ill. That's not nothing.” Takako knelt down next to her mother's bedding and poured a cup of lemon water. “This will help.” “Ah, Takki. You're always so kind to this old woman.” “You're the clan head, mother. It's what any Chidoku should do.” “Taking your cues from your aunts, I see.” “They're no more my aunts than yours, and I don't see the reason for the term.” “Ahah. Takako, you're always so serious, even with me.” “I have to be, mother. You won't always be around. As heir to the clan, it is my duty to -” “Heir to the clan? You're the oldest, of course, but it is my right to name heir, Takki.” “But Mother...” “You're growing older, my girl. You're seventeen, and Dokunochi still has not come for you. Kotone -” “Kotone. Always Kotone! Does Dokunochi demand rights over all? I've studied so hard! I've been the one learning the roles of the clans, the leaders, the countries. Kotone is flippant with everything but what she wants! She-” “Can protect herself and the clan. She has the bloodline abilities, Takako. You have the book skills and determination, but those only go so far. Takako, as far as Kotone is concerned, she has not been a disappointment.” “But-” “We are finished, Takako.” “I... I see. Of course, Mother. You're correct.”
Chidoku Satsuki died the next morning, and for all the medics in the village, it seemed she'd finally succumbed to the pneumonia she'd fought off for so long. Takako was named the new leader, for it seemed that Satsuki had never expressed her decision to the elders of the clan. Immediately, she sectioned herself off from Kotone, and allowed her younger sibling the use of the main rooms. Takako herself took up a sublevel towards the front of the main house, where the elders slept.
Reason for Significance: My roommate at the time had skipped town in the middle of our lease, and after a few weeks of feeling fairly betrayed, a friend online introduced me to a Naruto RP she'd been working on. It sort of became an outlet for writing after that. Really helped me get past that pain. <3
To the east, the blue-black of night was slowly spreading to engulf the sky in its reign of dark beauty while to the west, a different sort of beauty flared: the dying sun. A fiery ball of orange and red, its glow fading below the horizon with each every heartbeat. The sky around it paid it tribute, casting deep violets, bloody crimsons, and flaming oranges into the blue-black that continued to come, relentless that it would indeed hold its reign of a short few hours before a new sun was born to chase it away. Below, the waves of the ocean continuously crashed upon the shore in a mesmerizing rhythm one could tell time by, apathetic to the battle that raged above as it did every day. The ocean was all to happy to reflect the majestic scene above, to observe quietly as the sun was murdered yet again.
Upon the sands, only inches away from those waves that broke and stretched their farthest up onto shore, sat a boy of 16. His shoes and socks had been removed and were sitting to the side while his feet were plunged into the cooling sand. The bottoms of his baggy jeans were also somewhat buried in the sand, which would annoy him later. He sat directly on the sand, he hadn't wanted to carry a beach towel and neither did he think it was necessary; what was so wrong about sitting in sand? Beside his shoes was a small cooler with a couple beers in it, though he probably wouldn't drink them all. In his lap was a sketch book, open to a newly started drawing, one that, if anyone else looked at it, you couldn't tell what it was going to be from the lightly drawn lines and sketches. It was to be somewhat morbid, this time, however: a man which may or may not take on the features of his father, crucified, covered in blood, while two faeries, which may or may not start to look like his mother and sister, sprinkled faerie dust on him.
Drake had no idea what sort of muse had struck him to draw this, but he figured she must be a pretty messed up bitch. Regardless, he liked where it was going and couldn't wait to finish the basic pencil lines so he could color it. Coloring his drawings was his favorite part of the whole thing; color adds the vibrance of life. He leaned back on one hand, watching the sun set with a smoking GPC Ultra Lite between his lips. For once, his shades were no where to be seen; he had left them in his car since the sun was soon to set. He figured he'd finish his cigarette before he started on the drawing again, he didn't want any ash to fall and ruin it or anything. Taking a beer from the cooler, he popped it open and puffed out a cloud of smoke before downing some. Beer and cigarettes, what more could he ask for on a balmy night in California? The fact that he was underage didn't faze him at all, and he wondered if it fazed any teenager, really. If there wasn't a law specifically stating that those under 21 couldn't drink and those under 18 couldn't smoke, he didn't think half the kids who did it would ever think about doing it. Rules are made to be broken....
The sun was pretty much set now, and he couldn't really see much of anything, so he reached over and flipped on the battery powered lanturn he'd brought with. It was safer to do his drawings in the dark of the beach than it was at home, that was for sure. It wasn't the best light, but it would do. He didn't want to go home yet... he hadn't been home since about noon and he was still sore from the beating his father had given him earlier in the day. He was home alone with his father for the week; his mother had taken Tala to visit their grandmother Victoria in New York. His father wouldn't let her take Drake with, he was too afraid she wouldn't come back. Touching his face lightly, he winced, knowing there would be a good sized bruise there by now. Luckily it was too dark for anyone passing by to notice, not that anyone would suddenly stop to ask him where it had come from. He didn't really have any friends, and people he talked to on occasion probably wouldn't notice or care. Even if they did, he'd just make up something... like he fell out of bed or something... that could work. He puffed another cloud of smoke and flicked the excess ash away before taking another drag, waiting for it to dwindle down to nothing so he could get to work on his drawing.
Probably one of my very favorite posts ever, from one of those high school RPs... lol. I just like the description of the sunset and of his drawing... it amused me greatly XD
Weyrleader A'zael - Bronze Fath || Wingrider S'fin - Green Rusath Weyrling No'va - Brown Alduntulath || Weyrling M'kal - Bronze Draveth Weyrling Mizao - Brown Wendiloth || Weyrling Sk'lar - Blue Ikkamath Candidate Kisoraz || Candidate Yvinka || Weyrbrat Azora Captain Treyjen || Lord Holder Candidate Podrell
The silence. Again with the lack of sound. Bodily gestures could only be read so far, the lights in one's eyes could only convey so much. Caillen appeared to have reached his end in terms of conversation, his tired expression, his unsure action, the desperate look in his eyes. Overall the poor fellow looked defeated, hurt, lost. Reminiscent of a lamb out and away from his family, liable to be snapped up by any predator available without so much as a glance. She debated with herself on what to do. What to say. What had driven her to wait for him as long as she dared use Alaine as a cover to stay around. Chocolate tail swished agitatedly a moment before becoming stark still, as if held down by an invisible weight. Caillen was still staring at her.
Sylvie stared back, long and hard, terribly aware of a weight akin to an iron ball settling in her stomach. She felt almost as if she was naked in front of a crowd. A strange will to feel shameful shot through her, but was quickly suppressed. That was something that had set off the male before- and Sylvie was not interested in seeing it again. His voice split with a stutter, large frame moved closer. The weight in her gut was nothing compared to the ache in her heart as he stopped a long, perilous meter from her, one large hand lost in his sunshine locks. Ivory fingers clung tightly to the faded checked scarf folded in her lap, betraying her nervousness. What should she do? At a complete loss for the situation, the lilac and white collie girl simply stared, amaranthine sights locked on cerulean counterparts. Her face was stuck on unsure, the shadows in her eyes betraying her worry while the bright glints spoke only of her hope. "Feel free to... to have a seat... carrot top." She said, a slight grin and attached giggle breaking through her facade.
That was a name she hadn't used on him often as a child, but it served to lighten the mood, if only for a moment. Her travels had done little for her in terms of relationships, but it had at least given her a new lease on situations without heavily weighted atmospheres on them. Her expression settled into a mildly somber quirk of the lips, alabaster hand patting the bed beside her as she shifted positions. Within a moment she sat sideways, one leg off the bed while the other folded under her, the foot slipping beneath the free limb in a makeshift Indian's seating style.
In this position she was completely facing him, able to turn her complete attention to the fellow without any chance to look at her feet... though her hands might take their place as her diversion. Steeling her courage, whether Caillen had taken a seat or not, Sylvie took a deep breath before taking the ball and running with it. "Caillen, I... Caillen, I love you." She said blatantly, a full body blush overtaking prickling skin, causing her fur to stand on end in some places. Startled by the sudden rush of heat, Sylvie was made to pause a moment, eyes widened slightly in surprise. "That is... I... well."
She glanced to the side nervously, taking a long second to recover. "I... I can only imagine if you have... um... if you have felt... the same... but being away from you..." She struggled to find a way to describe it, to accurately explain the pain, the worry, the torment of not knowing how he was, what he was doing... who he was doing... the absolute torture of seeing a couple on her travels and wishing their situation could be hers. It was strange enough for the terribly logical whelp she once was to grasp the idea of such a thing, of the forces inexplicable that so easily drew two people together. Even now, though she understood love was that force, she still didn't quite grasp how a simple thought could cause so much pain...
"It was... painful, to say the least. My reasoning to willingly cause such self-injury at the time... makes little sense now." She felt pain to be with him, especially while things were as heart-wrenching as they were now... but it hardly compared to her woe when missing him from such a distance. For a moment, Sylvie appeared to be a child again, her cares whisked away by the traveling wind and great company, and then she was just as tired as he was, eyes directing themselves to the bedspread, lacking the feet they had grown accustomed to seeing. The silence seemed to drag on for a moment, and then... "I'm sick of running..." She whispered finally. Sick of running, and sick of denying. The ball was once again in Caillen's court, and his response would make or break the lilac young lady. If he said no, she would be gone again, escaping his life to hope that perhaps, he could move on better without her there. If he said yes, well... She would probably faint.
"I'm sorry..." She completed her rant of sorts with a likely misplaced apology, as if confessing herself in as poorly a manner as she had was a sin that warranted it. She truly did feel sorry, however, for wasting his time as she had for nearly a year. To vanish on someone you loved... if the anger, the guilt, the pain caused by that was anything like being the one to leave... Sylvie vastly understood why Caillen had been so... so angry. Her dreamer was gone, replaced by a maturity she never thought the slate and ivory male was capable of. And what was she? Still as stuck in the mud as she had been before... with a little more confidence in herself. A little more understanding of the ideas of goals, of plans, of dreams. She had grown to understand why she was so empathetic, and what it meant. Sylvie had matured in a new direction from her already matured childhood. She had learned what it meant to live... even if she had learned it in the most drastic of manners.
Once more fingers twitched and twirled at the fabric in her hands as violet gems took a long, painful look at the new scarf adorning her beloved's throat. She wondered absently what it could mean... and then looked down at the one she had essentially commandeered from the large hybrid. Her next questions would involve the faded old thing she held for certain- especially if his responses warranted an end to them as a pair.
-sighs- There was a time in my life where I was truly a very descriptive, very talented fantasy writer - and much of it was because I was severely depressed. My only outlet was this wonderful literate RP site called 'Souls that I had joined with a friend from another RP. It was a Werewolf RP... but it was so much more than just another Werewolf RP. This is where I learned to roleplay for real... and it was one of the ways I found myself. <3 This was my last post on the site, before I became unable to continue to play there due to internet issues, job issues, school issues... It went on without me, naturally, and is still very active today. I have considered many a time to try and return, but any characters I make there would never have the same feeling as Sylvie- especially when she was with Caillen.
Srunae of Gold Danovelith || Link Weyrbrat Ataria || Link