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Post by Hunter on Sept 22, 2013 17:38:05 GMT
”Speech.”
”Natiiiriii!?”
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”Iiiri, where are you?”
***
”Iri?”
The big dog turned to examine the rustling bush, but nothing but a scared squirrel darted out from it as he neared its location. He grunted dissatisfied, the gesture making the burning scar on his face twist disgustingly, before he continued his search. He searched up and down, in many small places where a little ball of fur would be able to hide, but nothing was to be found. She didn’t come when he called, and no scent on ground or tree gave her away. A nagging feeling had started to take root in his chest as his daughter continued to be hidden from him. She was still so young, and without a trace of her, she could be anywhere. Perhaps he was worrying too much. Perhaps she was already back in their room inside the Mental Asylum. He should go there, see if she’d returned, before he started to worry too much about her.
The big Beauceron increased his pace as he trotted across Tooth Cliff, heading toward the Mental Asylum where he hoped to find his missing offspring. He wondered why he felt so slow while padding along the edge of the cliff, and why his eyesight at times seemed to be missing details if only glancing about. Maybe he was getting sick? It was still winter after all, the snow quirked beneath his big paws and massive body, but he still couldn’t imagine his immune system failing him. He was one of the biggest and strongest Soldiers after all! He might just be a little tired after this night’s long patrol.
The sun shone down on him, but the circle of light only had little power and therefore wouldn’t warm his body unless he moved. The Hound grunted and headed further away from the edge, just to be sure nothing stupid would happen with his eyesight failing him like this. Not many dogs were seen outside this cold afternoon, but a chocolate, young-looking figure caught his eye. He didn’t remember the canine that had his back toward Clegane, but perhaps he’d know something about his daughter Natiri. He was young after all, and even though he seemed older than Natiri, it could be that she’d crossed his way. “Hey there, you, youngster!” he called the young dog as he approached. He came to a halt a few meters from the dog, took in his fairly strong-looking frame. This one surely had potential if trained right. But this wasn’t the right time for such chatting. “I wondered if you’ve seen my lil’ girl Iri? She’s about this tall-” he raised a paw up to his knee to indicate his daughter’s height, “mostly black and white with a long coat making her look like a living, fluffy thing, and… and… she doesn’t look much like me actually. She’s a lot prettier than I to be more exact,” he said and ended with a brusque laugh.
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Post by Picasso on Sept 24, 2013 17:52:26 GMT
It hadn't been long since Brooke's death. The mood of the Tempest Pack had been sombre and sad for a month now as London paced around the territory. The chocolate canine stared up at the sky, glumly. He missed his mother dearly, and wished he could say so many things to her before she'd died. It was too late now. London tucked his tail between his legs and begun to walk back home. London took pleasure in hearing the satisfying crunch his paws made as they collided with the snow beneath him. As he walked along the cliffs, London suddenly pricked his ears at a distant noise. It sounded as though someone was shouting. As he got closer, London found The Hound, looking a little lost. London stared at him, confused. He'd never seen such a look on Clegane before, and he was hesitant to speak first. Perhaps he wasn't feeling well?
Then Clegane begun to speak, and he was talking as though he didn't remember London at all. They'd done many training sessions together, and Clegane had often recognised him in passing before. Iri. The name was familiar and London had to think back to the many rumours that drifted around the Pack. It was common knowledge by now that Natiri had left the pack after befriending a strange lion. London had found it hard to believe, especially after being attacked by an insane lioness a few months back. London felt a cold, sinking feeling as he gazed at his mentor. Natiri was older than London by at least a year, and yet Clegane had specifically mentioned her height. One that was shorter than himself, and London was now a fully-grown canine. He gulped as he stared up at the Hound. Was he going mad?
"Sir?" He ventured, looking around to see if anyone was nearby to help. The area was deserted but them, and London knew he would either have to tell Clegane the truth - and risk being yelled at or have Clegane have a meltdown - or humour him and pretend he knew exactly where Natiri was. His heart told him to lie. It would break Clegane's heart to know Natiri was no longer part of the pack and was a cat-lover. His mind told him it was only logical to tell the truth. What if Clegane regained his memory, or became lucid again, and found out London had lied to him? He'd be furious. Gazing out at the grey sea, London made his decision. Whilst it was cruel, he couldn't lie to his mentor. London was not a liar - he never would be.
"I'm so sorry sir, but Natiri isn't part of the pack anymore. She left last year," He replied cautiously, trying to gage Clegane's reaction to the truth, "Would you like me to walk you back home? Perhaps you need to rest on this." He begun walking, praying to God that Clegane wouldn't begin to argue with the truth. How could you possibly fathom that you've forgotten years of your life, and you're now living in a different time? London knew he wouldn't believe it, if someone had told him that.
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Post by Hunter on Sept 25, 2013 16:00:50 GMT
”Speech.”
Clegane saw the youngster’s greeting as being respectful, not confused, yet he still couldn’t miss the way the chocolate coloured dog looked around them, as if searching for someone. Maybe Natiri was nearby? No, she couldn’t be. He’d have found her scent if that was the case- how should he be able to miss the scent of his own daughter? Couldn’t be! There was just somewhere on the pack’s territory he’d forgotten to search, that had to be the explanation to why he hadn’t found her yet. As for walking out of the pack’s territory… no, she was too young for something like that.
But things turned as the young canine explained how his daughter had left the pack… more than a year ago. In the beginning, the big Beauceron frowned and growled, irritated with himself for being confused at the other male’s words, as well as being angry at this youngster who clearly had to be joking. “Can’t be, my little princess is still here in the pack – she’s too young to be wandering about on her own outside of the pack’s territory! I saw her… I saw her…” he hesitated and frowned even more, where after he shook his big head as he tried to regain his memory. When was it exactly he’d seen her? “By the ancestors,” he spat beneath his breath and looked down in the ground as if examining the white snow. The chocolate male was telling him the truth. Iri wasn’t here… she was an adult female, perfectly capable of taking care of herself. He and Nemesis had taught her everything they knew. He grunted for himself. Here he’d been walking around, searching for his daughter, while actually she had left long ago. He’d thought her a puppy. What was happening to him? Was he losing it? Forgetting memories? Was there something else he’d forgotten?
He looked up to gaze into the brown male’s eyes, and realized that he had. “London?” He shifted on his big paws and licked his lips, suddenly feeling wary. He looked around to make sure no one else was seeing this, took a deep breath and exhaled in relief when it was clear that they were the only two present. He had forgotten all about London, thought his daughter to be much younger than she actually was and forgotten that he didn’t go on patrols anymore since he was too old for that. What would be next? Would he forget more? Thinking of it sent chills down his spine. “Perhaps… Perhaps I should go home,” he said with a slightly shaken tone to his deep voice. He turned to walk, but he didn’t get far. Too many things were spinning around in his head, he wasn’t ready to go home to the Asylum yet. He couldn’t just sit there, in an empty room, and do nothing. He sat down heavily on his haunches and sighed. “I’m getting old London,” he concluded brusquely and stared out into nothing in particular.
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Post by Picasso on Sept 27, 2013 10:19:01 GMT
London almost couldn't bear to see the confusion etched across The Hound's face. He was getting old, and that was a feat for any Tempest member. Most dogs died before they reached the ripe old age of ten, due to sickness or war. However, as London looked at the poor dog in front of him, he knew that perhaps living too long was a curse, not a gift. "I'm sorry, sir." London offered hesitantly, glad that he wasn't on the receiving end of The Hound shouting at him. He just looked utterly lost and confused, and London desperately wanted to get out of this situation. He wished Natiri hadn't left; then she would be able to deal with her father and placate him. But no. She was gone and Clegane had no one to turn to. London wondered what had happened to his mate. London was unfamiliar with Clegane's life, but he had never seen them together.
The noise of Clegane uttering his name made London jump to attention. That was promising. Clarity appeared in Clegane's eyes, however it still looked as though he was doubting himself. London nodded firmly, to clarify that it was indeed him. He shared a small smile with him. London didn't want to lose Clegane yet. Whilst The Hound had been firm on him whilst training, he felt so much more confident in fighting now. Besides, he hadn't yet finished his lessons with Clegane. He was still but a pup in The Hound's eyes and had so many more lessons to go. London silently prayed Clegane wouldn't go yet. There had been too much loss from his mother's death, and he wasn't sure if he could let go of his mentor. London didn't have many friends, and he almost viewed Clegane as one. He took a deep, shuddering breath and discarded his thoughts. The Hound would go when he goes.
London trailed after Clegane, however a few moments later the canine lowered himself onto his haunches. The chocolate dog sat beside him, gazing out at the land. "Yes," He agreed, "But you're still an amazing, strong canine. You're The Hound." He beamed at his mentor, before averting his gaze. He didn't know what Clegane wanted from him, but he made sure The Hound knew London still looked up to him. He was an inspiration to so many Tempest members and it would be a hard and heavy loss when he finally went. London wasn't even sure how old Clegane was. His muzzle was speckled with grey; a clear sign he was elderly. His gait was slightly more hunched and weary than before, but London hadn't known Clegane for all that long. He didn't know what he was like in his prime.
"What happened to your family, sir?" The question left his mouth before he could control himself. London was undoubtedly curious, but he was horrified he asked such a personal question. He knew what happened to Natiri, but what about the others? Where had his mate gone? What about his other puppies? London winced, "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I should probably leave you to your thoughts." London made to stand up, silently cursing himself for being so abrupt.
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Post by Hunter on Sept 28, 2013 14:02:28 GMT
”Speech.”
The big, old dog chuckled darkly in satisfaction for himself as London mentioned his nickname. The Hound. He hoped that, despite of the years that’d passed by, his name still would send chills down the spines of the felines. He’d always hated those creatures, and he would continue to tear them apart for as long as he could. Perhaps he was old, but he wasn’t too old. His jaws could still brush bones, his muscles would still carry him into battle. When spring came, and the final battle would stand, he would make sure to be there. He’d give it all he had to make sure that it would indeed be the final clash between the two dominant sides of this city. And it should be a battle to remember.
“My family,” the Beauceron muttered as London asked. The young dog cowered a bit after the question had left his youthful mouth, but Clegane didn’t give it much notice. For a short while, he gazed up in the bright, cold sky, thinking, before he looked back at the chocolate male. “Nemesis, my mate, is still here in the pack, and my daughter Maevin too. They’re not seen often, I guess, but they’re here, and both very dear to me – in my own, peculiar way,” he chuckled. Nem and he had never been individuals to show love as so many others did, but they’d always known their ways of showing affection, and their puppies had grown up with it. All of them knew that their rough Soldier parents cared for them, wanted the best for them. But sometimes parents and offspring couldn’t agree of what was the best for them. Here he thought of Natiri, whom had wanted to share her future with the lion Denim. A thing her father still couldn’t approve of. "Natiri left at a young age because of different believes than ours. At first she just left the pack, but then she left the city, entirely. I haven’t been able to find her scent for a very long time now. Maybe it’s for the best that she’s gone, but as her old man, I suppose it isn’t wrong of me to hope seeing her one last time before I’m leaving myself,” he grunted. Death had never scared him, and it still didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to see his daughter again. “My son, Pendragon, left even before Iri. He was… a special individual. Often scared, insecure of himself, with a slight stutter. I guess he needed to go his own ways. I just hope-” he trailed off with a frown and didn’t pick up the sentence again. He hoped his son wasn’t lying dead somewhere, having suffered a death in misery of himself. He hoped Pendragon somehow had grown from his insecure personality, that he’d followed the advice given from his parents so he’d been able to take care of himself over the years. And perhaps a family too. All of his puppies were old enough to have a family by now. He hoped that at least some of them had one, or soon would get one. ”My daughter Victoria left a few months back. Off all of the three leaving, I’m most sure that she will be coming back someday. She said so before leaving. She said she liked this place, this pack. But she wanted to see more of the world too.” That he understood. He’d travelled a lot four years ago, when he’d gone from his birthplace to Hexasol, and though he too liked this place, he was also happy to have experienced something else. It was important to know, to understand, the world around you. It made you more capable to survive different circumstances in nature as well as personal.
He didn’t mention Ironhide. His lost son. The accident which had caused so much havoc in Nem’s and his life. It wasn’t that he regretted the accident, it wasn’t that he didn’t care, didn’t wish that his second son was still alive. But there was no reason to mention it. It was in the past – not forgotten, but left behind. It’d been hard, but they’d gotten over their loss. It’d taken almost two years before the wound had healed between Nemesis and him, but it’d ended with them being much closer than before even though he hadn’t thought it possible. Now he looked over London. Brooke’s son. He really was something. He hoped the youngster would participate in the upcoming battle. He still had much to learn, but Clegane was sure he’d do just fine against the felines. So many of them were below his skills after all. He just needed to stay clear of the bigger ones – unless he fought alongside a bigger group of canines of course. “I’m sorry about your mother. Brooke was a great alpha and she will be missed for a long time. Perhaps her death wasn’t one in a glorious battle, but I think that is for the best. Everyone can die by the help of feline claws, but only few have the privilege to stay alive and die in peace.” His voice was almost hoarse as he spoke. He hoped to die in peace like Brooke too. Away from stinky feline claws. He wanted to be a symbol like Brooke – to be one of those prizes that the felines could never obtain. One of those canines that couldn’t be killed. Not like Gravity or Baron who’d either been killed or died from a battle wound. Not that they hadn’t been great canines anyhow, because certainly they had! Baron, though, had died long before he’d come to Hexasol, but he still remembered Gravity. The big wolf who’d lead the pack when he first had joined it more than four years ago. In the beginning he hadn’t liked Brooke’s decisions much when she’d taken his place, but that had changed a lot during the time of her reign. It was a great loss to the pack that she now was gone but while also mourning her death, he couldn’t help but look interested toward the two young males now leading the pack. No one had ever been so young when taking the lead of the pack. Ryu, their new Warden, was only four years old which made him at least a year younger than Brooke, Gravity and Baron. And Bear, their new General, wasn’t more than three. He liked their decision about taking down the Iris Pride for once and for all, but he certainly wouldn’t leave this world before knowing that the two youngsters were perfectly capable of taking the responsibility of a whole pack on their shoulders. He respected Brooke’s choice to the bone, but he’d keep a close eye on the two new leaders and give them advice if he should be asked – or if they started to screw everything up.
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Post by Picasso on Sept 30, 2013 18:24:14 GMT
London listened with rapt attention. Who knew whether anyone would hear this again? He leaned forward, eyes pinned onto The Hound as he spoke about his family. He had vaguely heard of Nemesis, but had never personally met her. As far as London was aware, she liked to keep herself to herself. She was probably getting old, just like Clegane, and was no longer as fit as she used to be. It was a strange concept, to think of The Hound in love and to have a mate. Had London known any better, he would've thought Clegane as a lone type of dog. He would probably never see Clegane and Nemesis together, like they used to be. London couldn't understand why two mates wouldn't see each other often. He found the whole idea bizarre. Weren't they in love? Didn't they want to see each other? Perhaps they had been together so long they now needed their own space. London briefly wondered whether he, himself, would ever fall in love. The pup was still so young, and the concept was so strange and oddly funny. Love was the last thing on London's mind right now.
He had never met Maevin either. London hoped he'd meet her one day. She was still young and had her whole life ahead of her. He longed to know what the daughter of the famous Hound was like. Was she strong and tough like Clegane? He itched to go and find her and become her friend. He bet Maevin could easily beat him in a playfight. But he sighed in sadness when he noticed that Clegane had not seen Maevin recently either. How could a father not see his daughter? London bet he missed them all. It was a sad and depressing story. Clegane continued, talking about Natiri, Pendragon and Victoria. They all had the same story. They'd all left the Tempest and were not interested in the pack. London vowed to never leave. He couldn't understand why so many of them hated it here. Granted, London had often been curious about what it was like out of Hexasol. He yearned to see more of the world. But his home and his pack were here. He was fiercely loyal, and would never leave. Besides, London didn't have the guts to go anywhere.
After a few moment's silence, London jolted at his mother's name being spoken. He glanced up at Clegane mournfully. It wasn't fair. "So many of your family have left you. The ones who haven't, you rarely see. And yet what I would give, just to have a few precious more minutes with my mother. How could they leave you?" London shook his head in disbelief. He just couldn't fathom why someone would leave their family. Clegane would probably never see Natiri or Pendragon or Victoria again. Perhaps they would come back to Hexasol in a few years time, and realise it was too late. Clegane, and possibly Nemesis too, would have passed away. They had lost the chance to speak with their parents one last time. London closed his eyes in grief. He loved his mother, and their last moments together were etched in his mind. He wish he'd told her how much she'd meant to him. How much he'd loved her. Gritting his teeth, he opened his eyes and glanced up at his mentor.
"I don't know what to do with myself without her being here." He admitted softly, pinning his ears to his skull and gazing out at the landscape. He almost considered Clegane his friend. He had so much knowledge and London was actually enjoying his company. He was so interested in the rest of his life. He wanted to know what Clegane was like at London's age. Did he always know he was going to be a tough Tempest dog, or was he playful and cute? London was compelled to ask, "What were you like? I mean, when you were younger. A pup. Like me." He stuttered, wondering whether Clegane would disclose such personal information.
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Post by Hunter on Oct 4, 2013 17:55:18 GMT
”Speech.”
How could they leave you?”
London’s voice was mournful to the point where Clegane wondered why it didn’t pitch. Poor boy had lost his mother too early – might be the lad was a year old, old enough to be among the Juveniles of the pack, but it was still too early to lose a parent. A puppy needed its mom and dad, a fact Brooke and Bane perhaps hadn’t thought through when they chose to get their second litter. But it was always so easy to know better than anyone else when looking at the past. It was too late to do anything about it now. At least London hadn’t lost his mother too early because of some filthy feline.
“Puppies grow up,” the big, old Beauceron said to answer London. “And sometimes the place you’re born into isn’t big enough for you anymore.” He sighed, perhaps a bit more heavily than intended, as he once again thought about Natiri. They hadn’t been on the best terms when she’d chosen to leave. She hadn’t said goodbye like Pendragon or see-you-later like Victoria. One day, she’d just been gone, and Clegane had soon known what her absence meant. He’d always known she was a bit of an outcast among the other Tempest members because of her different behaviour, but it hadn’t been until later, however, that he learned she was spending time with the lion Denim…
He looked down upon London as he confessed his insecurity. On that part, he reminded a bit about Pendragon, but the two of them were still so different. “The pack will always be there to guide you if you should need it, London. But you’re not alone you see. You have your brother, Zeevi. Remember him, and stay close while you have the chance.” He could see the grey on his muzzle when looking down, and Clegane knew very well that other parts of his face, ears and body had started to grow dark, grey hairs instead of pitch black. At least where he had an intact coat – his burning scar looked as ugly as ever, as if time on that part of his face had frozen had lost its influence. London was lucky to have a brother to rely on. The big dog remembered all too well his own brother, a nasty beast as big as himself and the one who’d given him his scar. He should’ve beaten his brother up and made sure he was trapped in the burning barn as he had the chance. He hoped something else nasty had taken his brother’s life in the past years now when Clegane hadn’t done it himself. Then there was his sister, Scythe. He shortly wondered how she was. If she was dead by now, or old and grey like himself? Had she gotten a family, a mate and puppies to fend for like him? Had she had happy years after they parted or had her life been full of grief and sorrow? No. Scythe had been a quick and smart girl, strong of mind as well as body. He couldn’t imagine anyone dominant enough to take down her wild spirits. She’d have done well. As for their mother? He hoped she’d found peace knowing that at least two of her puppies had grown into fine, independent dogs.
London’s stuttering voice brought him back to the present, and a seldom smile tugged in the retired Soldier’s lips. “That’s a long time ago now,” he laughed brusquely but continued nonetheless. He didn’t know why London suddenly was so interested in him, but it didn’t matter. It was like when one of his puppies had asked him questions when younger, and the Elder would lie to himself and everyone around him if he claimed he hadn’t taken London a bit under his wing. It wasn’t for nothing that he’d chosen to teach the chocolate male before time. He liked London. Like a son? He wasn’t sure. He would neither confirm nor deny the question. He’d lost a son once, and perhaps, somehow, gotten a new one though this one wasn’t his of through flesh and blood. ”I was a wild one. My sister, Scythe, and I were everywhere at once. But I soon learned to follow my mother’s orders or she’d make hell break loose on me,” he said with a smirk. His mother had been harsh, but that was what was needed of her to raise three wild puppies on her own. ”At the very beginning I must have been a sight for the ancestors. With both of my parents being big dogs, my legs were too long for the rest of my body. It took at least seven months before the rest of my body properly followed my height and I started looking like the big brute I later came to be,” he told, still with a smile on his dark lips as he recalled the memories which he hadn’t dug in since his own offspring had been young and curious of their father’s puphood. It was a strange feeling to recall so many memories at the same time. It made him feel… old. So many years had he lived, so many things had he experienced. He missed his family. The one when he’d been a pup, but most of all the family he had gotten himself here in his time in Tempest, with Nem. But he didn’t just feel old. He also felt… happy. Some memories were sad, but so many of them were good, full of warmth, strength and happiness. Love? Now he was being sentimental. But yes. He might not be strong as in his prime, but he still felt like he had so much to give to the pack. His experience. His knowledge. He wanted to pass it all on before he left this world. And most of it, if not all of it, he would give to London. Just as he’d done with his offspring. He’d make him ready, like he’d made them ready; to take on the world and get as much out of life as possible.
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Post by Picasso on Oct 10, 2013 17:10:57 GMT
HunterClegane's simple statement made London's heart ache for him. Everyone grew up in the end, as much as some tried to fight it. London was already so different to the cute, hyper puppy he had been a few months ago. Whilst he liked the "New London", he was already missing the days when he'd been naive and without a care in the world. The older he got, the more responsibilities he would hold on his heavy shoulders. Perhaps it would be different if he chose to leave the pack and become a loner, but London was a social butterfly. He loved the company of those around him. He would grow insane if he didn't have the daily conversations of his pack members. He always found the strangest pack members to be the ones who didn't like company. It baffled London when he saw a dog who hated to speak to anyone, and kept themselves to themselves. Why be in a pack, if you don't want to speak or communicate with each other? His siblings had somehow drifted. Zeevi was perhaps the one he saw most often. He did hold Zeevi very close to his heart, despite his strange quirks. River and Coriann, on the other paw, had not been so much part of the pack. London had thought that one day River would become Mistress of the Tempest Pack, but it appeared she'd lost interest and pursued other interests. Coriann, however, wasn't one for the pack life. London had noticed that from the start. She wanted to please, despite not liking or enjoying the things she did. She yearned for approval and praise, which she so rarely got. London wouldn't be surprised if she would one day leave. The pack wasn't for her. She didn't want to fight, that much was clear. He sighed, and gazed up at Clegane. "I will make the most of what I have. Who knows when I will lose him? Or any of them, for that matter." He replied wisely. London wriggled forward as Clegane begun to speak of his own puppyhood. His eyes wide with fascination, his ears perked with interest, London was keen to hold onto every word. He laughed and wagged his tail, trying to imagine The Hound as a puppy, wildly playing games and getting up to mischief. It was hard to imagine Clegane as anything but the stoic, serious canine sitting before him. However, as London watched his face, it he almost looked relaxed as he reminisced on the olden days. A weight was taken off his shoulders, and a smile played on his lips. London cocked his head, amazed at the subtle change in Clegane's demeanour. "It sounded like a fun puppyhood." He stated after a moment's silence. Not every puppy was graced with such relaxation like London had had. Some were brought up with awful parents, or no parents at all. London had parents and a pack that loved him. "I hope to be as successful and wise as you when I grow up," London stated with a wag of the tail and a glint in his eye. He should be careful what he wished for, he shouldn't be wishing his life away like this. London knew, but he didn't care. There were many limitations on being a juvenile, and he longed to be accepted as a fully fledged member of the Tempest Pack. |
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