Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Feb 7, 2016 20:51:30 GMT
Hoisting himself to his feet, Lasair walked towards the hallway in a mostly straight line. He needed to reach out and grab the wall when he rounded the corner to go through the doorway, but thankfully there was an opportunity to relieve the pressure in his bladder through said doorway. The door was left ajar from his own forgetfulness, but it didn’t matter for long as he turned to walk back to the previous room rather quickly.
Lasair stood, leaning on a wall as he looked around, a glossy film over his eyes. “Alright. You gave me a story. I’m willing to give you one of mine. It’s only fair.”
A mirror lay along the side, tiny, a little showpiece, that outlined the narrow corridor. It was against that surface that Savyahn watched the man teeter down the hall, but he soon disappeared, and so too, the hallway. Savyahn grasped the mirror. Held it, turned it in his hands. His complexion, fair; lips, pink. Yet his eyes, they were red. From the high? Perhaps. From tears? Unlikely —at least he hoped. Placing the mirror down he scavenged the top drawer for the lipstick he knew he left there. When Sayvahn’s fingers finally grasped the slender tube, he pulled it out, inspected the fine casing, at the little details etched into its side. Was near pulling the pigment, until he looked once more in that mirror, and at the familiar form approaching him. Placing the vile down, he didn’t turn to the other. Merely stood, body leaning forward against the counter, away from the man. Only fair? Sayvahn wasn’t aware that they were playing on fair terms. But, he would let the man amuse him. After all, if it came from the Firefox’s lips, it couldn’t be all that bad, now could it?
Turning his head, Sayvahn smiled at the man. He clasped the vile in his palm once more before dropping it back into the drawer from whence it came, the smile turning into a grin. “A story from the firefox?” Sayvahn started, closing the drawer. “I wasn’t prepared for such a treat.” Stepping forward, Sayvahn inspected Lasair. At that look in his eyes, so lost. Or could it even be called being lost? Perhaps more so distant, in another world. Funny how the man seemed to be more alluring when out of the world then it it, but perhaps that too, was because of being high. Sayvahn didn’t care. Holding out a hand, Sayvahn leaned it against Lasair’s cheek, letting the warmth gather at the point of contact. “You seem rather flushed, sweetie. Want some water as you spin your tale? Or anything else for that matter? We are in the kitchen, after all.” Sayvah inquired, hand still lingering on the man’s cheek.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Feb 13, 2016 20:09:21 GMT
His eyes flickered to the hand as it rested on his cheek, struggling to bring the fingers into focus. Why the touch? It felt so distant, so foreign, so cold. Not the actual sense of the word cold, but a mental one, a metaphorical one. His eyes lingered on it for a moment before he pushed himself away from the wall, away from the hand, and found a place to sit back down. He took a breath and brought his hands to his face, rubbing some of the intoxication around his pores.
“No, no water. But thank you. Just tell me what you want to hear. One story. That’s it.” His voice tasted sour on his tongue. He didn’t know what he was doing, or why, but it didn’t matter right now. He was doing it. That was it. That simple. He didn’t need any other reason to do something right now.
Only one story? The thought made Sayvahn smile, and he tilted his head, following the other back into the living room. A lot could be said with one story. But which one should he chose? What kind could he pick? It was all so tricky. A story of love? A story of loss? Of hate? Of betrayal? Of mercy? So much to chose from. Though frankly, there was only really one that the other could offer him that would satisfy Sayvahn’s desire. “If I can only have one story.” Sayvahn repeated, taking a seat as well. “Then I suppose I shall pick the story of man people call, “Firefox.” Sayvahn mused, leaning back into the sofa. “I hear he is a quite a dashing fellow, if only a bit lonely.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Feb 19, 2016 4:29:30 GMT
Lasar chuckled dryly, forcing a smile to the corner of his lips for a moment. He needed to force it for the story. “You’re not the first one to call me that, by the way,” he began, readjusting himself in his seat for a few moments. Then he took a deep breath, resting his face in his hands for a few moments and rubbing his face some.
Well. Here it goes. Clearing his throat, his depressed tone began to fill he silence. “This fox was the first born of two anders. His mom was a feline with hair like fire, and his father a fox with black hair that matched his blood. Their children ended up being an odd mix of these traits; the eldest with the mother’s hair and the father’s blood and the youngest with the mother’s blood and father’s hair.
The elder was a fox, learning from his father the ways to communicate, impress, and occasionally even trick the minds of others. The younger brother, he was quieter and enjoyed spending time with his mother. But there was something in this younger kitten, a thirst for freedom, adventure, excitement among his dull life. He fulfilled those desires at the tops of trees, feeling as thought that was his place in the world.
The fox was happy with his feline younger brother; the fox enjoyed protecting the kitten from the mean dogs of the city. And when the kitten wanted to climb the trees of the outskirt forest, the fox was sent with to protect him.
But the fox couldn’t protect the kitten from the shadows that call the forest home.
The parents were saddened when the weeping fox returned home, deep in sorrows for its lost kitten. But the family remained together, they tried to pull through it. But the young fox, he couldn’t stand the house anymore. The room that was once shared with the kitten. So the fox started spending more time away from home, out in nature, out in the fields. It was here that the fox learned how to play with fire, his first magic, and where it was added to his name. But soon, even the fields weren’t far enough. So the firefox left all of Lodan, he went traveling across the world, promising to return one day if he were able.
And he traveled the world, using and perfecting his foxy ways. He made friends, gathered memories, harvested smiles and laughter, he simply wanted to make the people he met enjoy their time with him. It was a way to cope with the sadness, with the responsibility he felt over the lost kitten. The firefox traveled the world for eight years, absorbing its knowledge all the way. There were good times, and there were bad times, but at the very least, over all that time, he always remembered that he had a home waiting for him to get back to.
When he returned home, he was a changed man, but he felt that he had changed for the better. He was a bigger firefox, a stronger one, a wiser one. And his parents welcomed him home with open arms, crying for joy to see their fox come home, not with tears, but with a smile. The city was changed too, but that was okay. He liked it. He made himself at home there and quickly repeated his process of reaping joy from other people. It was what he did best, after all.
The plight of anders bothered him, however. He had been away from it for so many years that returning to it left a whole new pain in his heart. So he found the group that wanted to change that. He devoted his life to them. He gained a position of power there, and then he gained The position of power there.
And then the firefox was happy. He had a plan. He felt right with the world. Things looked good.
But then everything changed. You were there, I don’t have to go over it, do I? Now his home is gone, that one place he could always return to, it can no longer be called his own. Now he no longer shares the joy he calls up in others, so why bother planting it? The pain of the firefox, it’s too great for even a whole city of smiles to overcome. Now he simply focuses on his work, on the people who work for him. Because without that, he’d really have no place left in this world.”
Lasair lifted a hand, wiping away the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes and didn’t fade away. That was it. His story. A lot of details were removed, but then again, this was supposed to be a short version, right? It felt so long all spread out like this though. He took a shaky breath, trying to dispel the emotions that have risen from the depths of his pained being.
Listening, Sayvahn rolled his head, as if to hear the other’s voice. He wasn’t used to his guild leader speaking so much, at least, not when it came to something like this. Indeed, the redhead’s voice, it was captivating in a sense. Solemn, but enamoring. Yet, that sadness, that guilt, that emotion. It was not difficult to hear, nor see. Not as Lasair wept, not as the wall around the firefox at last crumbled. Sayvahn desired to touch him; to caress his cheek, to wipe away the tears— but that was such a dangerous thing, such a dangerous path to take. Pursing his lips, Sayvahn stared at the seams of the couch, unsure of what to do, unsure of how far he could go, of how far his guild leader would let him go. He traced the seams, pondering, thinking, waiting.
“Why do others have to be happy for you to be?” Sayvahn asked, voice level, voice, distant. “You talk of planting, Lasair, but isn’t that a form of manipulation? Are you just pretending, faking your happiness for the sake of others? What was the point of that? What >is< the point in that? Who needs their smiles?” Sayvahn inquired, tilting his head. “Maybe you don’t need a city of smiles. Maybe you only need your own.” Glancing at the table, he looked at the glasses of wine. He took one— the one that only had a little left. Inspected the bottle, grunted, and took a sip from the flask, not even bothering to poor it out. He highly doubted it mattered at that point anyway. “I’m sorry about your brother, about your parents. I understand your loss, perhaps more then you realize, but—.” Taking another sip, Sayvahn sighed. “While they might not be here, you’re already occupying your vacancy. You would still be something even without MI, because I’m fairly certain you would find something to occupy your time, your interests.” Side glancing the anderswelter, Sayvahn smirked.
“ Perhaps you would be a host— a bartender. An entertainer? I can see you stealing the hearts of many. Maybe even quite literally.” Placing the drink down, Sayvahn shifted a bit to get a better look at the man. “Or perhaps an assassin, of sorts? A fox, attracting the attention of its foe, only to strike when its defenses are down?” The feline laughed. “I feel as though that would be an interesting sight. Or on the extreme contra, what if you were a solider? One in uniform, whose temper, who’s hatred toward Sveden led him to fight? I’m sure that a Lasair in a uniform would be quite the sight.” Indeed, it would be. A dangerous one, at that, but one that Sayvahn might not mind if it were his last. But again, that was a dangerous thought better left alone. "But regardless. Instead of focusing on others, maybe you should think more about yourself. Tell me, Lasair. What does the firefox truly desire?"
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Feb 22, 2016 4:57:38 GMT
“I said one story,” he growled, looking up at the other with a steely gaze; the wall quickly reforming around the general ander. “You ask too many questions all at once to expect a drunk man to answer them. Earn another story, or ask a singular plain question, and then maybe I can tell you more.” He shifted in his seat, his eyes slowly turning red as all the substances (and emotions) continued to take their affect on him.
He shifted his eyes towards the floor, taking another deep breath. His thoughts were a mess, a muddy mess. He couldn’t keep anything straight anymore. Why did this have to be happening to him? Why did he have to dig up those memories again? “Got anything else you want to share?” he struggled to say, eyes still down, voice on the verge of cracking. The wall was being built back up, yes, but that only meant that the flood behind it would start pushing on its borders again.
It seemed that Sayvahn had caused the man to retreat into his shell once more. But the proposal of another story heightened Sayvahn’s interest; though, that, like his senses, were already quite heightened. The feline could feel the quiver—the pull away of Lasair. Sayvahn dared to look, to see the hint of red in the other’s eye. It dragged him in. Like Lasair’s blood. It was calling to him. Little voices in his head telling him to find, to dig, to search, underneath the others skin. Sayvahn wanted to get underneath Lasair’s skin. Was that their relationship then? Of story tellers, bargaining for a little bit more of each other? Until they pulled each other apart, until they exposed that blood? How quaint. The drugs must have been settling in. That, or they were already beginning to fade. Sayvahn rolled his head, letting out a sigh, waiting for that silent crack of his neck, the flexing of his jaw. “Depnds.” He replied to his leader’s question. “What do you want to know?”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Feb 25, 2016 3:15:14 GMT
Lasair continued to sit there, the film over him slowly getting thicker. There was a film on his tongue, numbing it to any lingering tastes he had enjoyed. There was a film over his eyes, causing the colors of the world to slowly fade away. It felt like there was a film over his skin, over his head, over all of him. If he sat still long enough, maybe it would thicken into a cocoon and give him time to cope with everything, not to mention give him protection from the outside too.
But there was no cocoon. No, there was an aged feline ander instead. And the ander had asked him what he wanted to know. “Dunno,” the general replied and his voice, too, felt like it had a film over it.
The firefox was fading on him. The way he looked, even the way he spoke, that single word, it was all faded, coated in a haze, in a held breath. Sayvahn perhaps had at most half of the man’s attention, and even that, was limited. The vulnerable state of the general anderswleter would have been deemed a sight of weakness by the red head, but Sayvahn lingered at the idea. The idea that Lasair was in a weakened state in front of him. Either that showed a level of comfort, or even more likely, how far gone the guild leader was in his grief. Raising his chin, the feline pondered at the silent offer given. Another story, with no bounds. Another tale. Another look, another glimpse into the inner workings of his self. “I suppose that gives me free reign then.” If only there was more of that liquid, that nectar that pulled the words from his mouth so much easier then his own consciousness did. But another bottle wouldn’t help. It would only worsen this state, if he thought about it. He had to be careful, had to be cautious. Leaning back, Sayvahn sighed, trying to think.
“It’s said that a cat has nine lives. It makes me wonder then, how many lives does a feline anderswelter have? Are they too, gifted with many lives?” Leaning further back, Sayvahn waited for the couch to swallow him. “If a feline anderswelter were to have nine lives, Lasair, tell me, how can all of them be by their own choosing? Nine lives in one body? How does that work? Does another life course through a body, then die, then be brought back again? And by the matter, how can one say if the life was always male, or always female? The heart cries out for what it desires, what it needs, but the body may not always be there to respond.” Sighing, Sayvahn closed his eyes. “But alas, you did not ask for more questioning. Only a story.”
“ There was once a boy whose heart cried out for a specific desire, from birth even, but his body would not listen. Every year he turned more and more into a man when all he wanted was to be a woman. Scandalous, isn’t it?” Sayvahn tried to laugh, but he sunk deeper into the couch, hoping that it, to, would cover him in a film. Maybe then the truth wouldn’t hurt so much. “Indeed. A boy wanting to be a woman. How forbidden. But then, one day he was asked to be one. Hs sister, violated and killed, had rendered his grandmother immobile. And so, as a plea, she begged him to dress, to dance like the lost sibling. For closure, as it were. Well, it became more than just closure.” God, he needed to smoke, so the feline leaned forward, taking a blunt, and lit it; feeling the heat run through his fingers. “It became more than closure. It became a want. A way. So he dressed the way he wanted until he no longer was a he, but she. The feline danced, lived the way she wanted, and at most, played.” Fingers too near the flame got burned, but there was no pain.
“Funny, how things change a person. How a simple tilt in the hips can cause men to whistle, or how inflection can make a voice soft, or harsh. But it didn’t last long.” A puff, a held breath, trapping the smoke in his lungs before release, but the true release never came. It was held back, stifled. “Although the heart cries out, the body can’t deny what it is, or what it wants.” Indeed, there were many things that Sayvahn’s body craved. Many terrible things, but that, that was for another time. Still, the thought of dragging the clue along, already, so much revealed, was too tempting. “But that story is for another time, dearie. Perhaps when you are more sober.” And more willing, Sayvahn purred in his mind, once more taking that smoke into his lungs.
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Mar 1, 2016 5:56:38 GMT
A discord between the body and the mind. It was an interesting idea; Lasair could understand it in his own way. While he didn’t feel the pain of wanting to be a woman, he did feel the pain of wanting to be someone other than himself right now. It was not a perfect relation, but it was a relation nonetheless. He could ponder the deeper meaning of these words on a different night, when he was more sober, just as Sayvahn had said.
“Have you ever been in love?” The question left his mouth before he realized what it was saying. It was like his tongue decided to ask it without his head’s approval. His face showed the confusion for the brief moment, but then it was gone. Now he got to sit there and face the results of his thoughtless question.
Seeking comfort in the fact that the man did not press any further into the question of lives, Sayvahn was caught off guard by the subject change. Love? What an interesting subject, what an interesting question. Part of him guessed that whatever answer he gave, it would not influence the outcome that much. Another story was on the horizon, and this one, far too good for Sayvahn to give up with sly words. Crossing his legs, Sayvahn sighed, leaning back to exhale. “ Sadly, yes. Yes, I have. And you?” Placing the blunt to his lips, he breathed in. “Have you ever been in love?” Though, judging from the firefox's expression, he had. And it had not ended well, it seemed.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Mar 1, 2016 6:36:08 GMT
Oh. He hadn’t realized that Sayvahn might ask the same question back to him. It wasn’t something the red head expected and it forced him to think about his answer, rather than ponder the one given to him.
After a handful of moments, quiet ones that were filled with Lasair’s looking confused by his own thoughts, he finally sighed heavily and forced the words out of his mouth. “I don’t know.”
Maybe the firefox hadn’t meant for the question to be relayed back. Perhaps he expected another story. Sayvahn furrowed his brow at that, leaning forward slightly. He inspected the redhead— the golden ringlet, the light scar on his cheek, the sapphire jewel on his brow. The guild leader must have gone through much in his life. Love, surely, had to have been one of them. “How much did you care for them, then, if it was not love?”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Mar 5, 2016 1:27:12 GMT
Another question he didn’t know how to answer. Frowning, Lasair pushed the thoughts through his mind once, twice, and then thrice over. But they didn’t make any more sense after each time. “It’s complicated. And it’s a story I don’t want to share. He—,” the words caught in his throat, forcing him to swallow before continuing. “He’s dead now. A casualty to the war with Sveden. It happened before the Battle of Castamere. I—I couldn’t protect him.” It felt like tears were going to come to his eyes again, but they remained dry. Why? Was he so numb, so far gone that it didn’t matter anymore? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
“Can we talk about something else?” he asked from behind his hands, which now shielded his face. This was one sore topic too many for tonight. Gods, when would this night end? He wasn’t sure how much more of it the general ander could take.
"All you need is love." -John Lennon
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