We All Need Something To Live For // P AU

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    [fancypost bgcolor= #8D3147; border: #000000 7px solid; min-height: 250px; width: 350px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; background: url(http://photos.vanityfair.com/2…0a4fd_got_shoes_sansa.gif) center; background-size: cover; height: 170px; width: 330px; margin-left: -5px;][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; height: 25px; width: 351px; margin-top: 8px; margin-left: -16px; border-bottom: 5px double #8D3147; font-family: georgia; font-size: 20px; line-height: 25px; text-align: center; color: #8D3147;]SHAVRONNE BOLTON[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; height: 15px; width: 351px; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: -16px; border-bottom: 5px double #8D3147; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; text-align: center; color: #373737;]BIO [abbr=Formerly of House Dayne, Widow of Lord Bolton, Enigmatic]| INFO[abbr=Serval(White with violet eyes), Doe(Leucistic with violet eyes)] | BODIES[abbr=Probably all, but unknown] | POWERS[abbr= fαcαde] | TEMPLATE[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; width: 361px; height: 200px; padding: 10px; overflow: hidden; margin-left: -15.5px; margin-top: 5px double;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: inherit; padding: 0px; padding-right: 27px; overflow: auto][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; min-height: inherit; padding: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; color: #8D3147; font-family: georgia]Iustitia Bolton was her son and she considered him as such, though the young man was quite close to her own age. Shavronne had married young and it made things rather awkward for the already present children of Dominus. However, the former Dayne adapted quite quickly and treated the illegitimate children as her own but also with the degree of respect that all youngsters deserved. It worked out fine for her.


    She had been meaning to have a talk with Iustitia ever since arriving in King's Landing. Shavronne had sensed, with mother's intuition, that something was bothering the young man even though he acted quite normally. So, during the free time in the evening, the blonde woman made her way to Iustitia's chambers and knocked gently upon the door, hoping that the younger Bolton was inside.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; height: 8px; width: 351px; margin-top: 5px ; margin-left: -16px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; line-height: 8px; text-align: center; color: #8D3147; text-transform: uppercase; border-top: 5px double #000000;]A Naked Man Has Few Secrets[/fancypost][/fancypost]

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 375px; height: auto; margin-bottom: -32px;][size=16pt]★ IUSTITIA B. ★[/size][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 375px; height: auto; border-top: 26px solid #0C3B22; border-right: 2px solid #0C3B22; border-left: 2px solid #0C3B22;][size=4pt]don't post here[/size]
    [justify][size=10][color=#498063][font=times] Iustitia was, if not in his rooms pacing, doing something to keep himself busy. He would rather do menial labor, chores, or anything else, than try and live up to his now... son of a lady status. Because, to him, he was still nothing more than a bastard, and he could never truly shake that feeling. Biting his lip, he sat on the edge of his bed, a fur partially wrapped around his shoulders as he stared pensively at the floor in front of him. There was an ink stain, and what seemed to be remnants of blood on the old worn floor, which puzzled the Bolton not a little.


    His eyes were fixed on the spot which he had been staring at for quite some time, as he remembered his growing up. It was not the most... traditional upbringing, and he wondered absently what it would have been like to have been a normal child... with a family, and a home, and a father who actually cared for him. Just thinking about it brought a few tears welling up to the sensitive man's eyes. He wasn't Bolton material, he wasn't man material... he was just a guy, who seemed to fail at life.


    His hands were folded, and he broke his gaze from the floor to look at the intertwined fingers, most of them swollen slightly, and scarred beyond belief. Beating of the hands was a common occurrence of the times. Or at least, that was what Usti had told himself. He disentangled his fingers, and ran his right hand through his hair, letting it linger in the longer places. To him, he was just someone taking a whack at make believe, this life would probably end soon, and he'd be worse off than before.


    But Lady Bolton had been so nice to him, calling him her son and all, which was rather awkward because of their similarity in age. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands he wiped away the few tears which had spilled from his eyes, and looked up as he heard a knock upon the door. It was slightly open, so the tapping opened it still further, letting the light from the hall spill into his darkened room. He had no lights lit, what was the point... he could see just as well in the dark... well not just as well.


    As soon as he saw that it was Lady Bolton, he still did not have it in him to refer to her as Shavronne or even his mother or adopted mother, she'd always be "The Lady" in the back of his mind, he sprang to the door, and opened it all the way, feeling suddenly self conscious about his grubby clothing, especially because he was merely wearing trousers, boots, and a fur wrapped around his shoulders, covering most of the scars on his torso, but not all. "M-my lady." He stammered helplessly, unsure why the woman would come to his room.


    He didn't really get any visitors, and truthfully didn't want any either. He was happy to just let all be quiet, and stay alone with his thoughts, much as though he was under lock and key... a concept that he was, sadly, not foreign to. Breathing in deeply, he swung the door open wide, and made a gesture for her to enter, if she willed, the blanket of fur slipping from his shoulder and exposing his upper arm. With an alarmed movement, he quickly covered himself back up, though it was dark, and she might not have caught sight of it.


    "What brings you to my humble chambers?" Saying the word chamber in its plural form was odd for the young man, he would much rather live in a small cottage, or hunting shack, perhaps with a person he loved, though that was a take it or leave it concept. Earning money for clothing and drink by singing, and hunting in his spare time to provide for himself. It was the simple life that he craved, doing all his own work, singing while he did so... but he would never have that life.


    [erm. sorry, i have some muse for aus]

    [fancypost bgcolor= #8D3147; border: #000000 7px solid; min-height: 250px; width: 350px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; background: url(http://photos.vanityfair.com/2…0a4fd_got_shoes_sansa.gif) center; background-size: cover; height: 170px; width: 330px; margin-left: -5px;][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; height: 25px; width: 351px; margin-top: 8px; margin-left: -16px; border-bottom: 5px double #8D3147; font-family: georgia; font-size: 20px; line-height: 25px; text-align: center; color: #8D3147;]SHAVRONNE BOLTON[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; height: 15px; width: 351px; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: -16px; border-bottom: 5px double #8D3147; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; text-align: center; color: #373737;]BIO [abbr=Widow, refer to spoiler for more details]| INFO[abbr=Doe] | FORM[abbr=Probably all, but unknown] | POWERS[abbr= fαcαde] | TEMPLATE[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; width: 361px; height: 350px; padding: 10px; overflow: hidden; margin-left: -15.5px; margin-top: 5px double;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: inherit; padding: 0px; padding-right: 27px; overflow: auto][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; min-height: inherit; padding: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; color: #8D3147; font-family: georgia]/blasted by ur muse lmao


    She was rather pleased to see that her son was around but she was rather startled by the fact that he wasn't fully dressed. But that shouldn't be a problem, would it? She was his mother after all. Though she didn't fully raise him from a baby to a man, Shavronne somehow found some excuse to make herself feel less awkward about it. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" It seemed like it to her, after all, he wasn't completely decent. Had he been expecting another visitor?


    "Usti, my dear," the blonde woman began after catching a glimpse of the younger Bolton's bare skin, "aren't you cold? It's getting rather cold, I wouldn't want you catching a cold." It seemed like her sharp mind managed to find a plausible excuse to address his partial clothedness. "I wouldn't mind waiting if you would like to put something else on," Shavronne added, waiting by the door way.


    But from what she noticed, he was rather startled. Maybe she should have sent a word ahead that she wanted to talk to him but oh well, it was too late. "Oh, I'm here to discuss a few things about you," the widow continued, passively adjusting the folds of her clothing, "about your well being, you seem to be rather down lately. Are you unsatisfied with life?" She was speaking too much and not giving him a chance to actually get decent, "Of course, we can discuss after you get yourself comfortable."
    [/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#000000; border: none; height: 8px; width: 351px; margin-top: 5px ; margin-left: -16px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; line-height: 8px; text-align: center; color: #8D3147; text-transform: uppercase; border-top: 5px double #000000;]A Naked Man Has Few Secrets[/fancypost][/fancypost]


    INFORMATION | UPDATED; 1/3/17

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 375px; height: auto; margin-bottom: -32px;][size=16pt]★ IUSTITIA B. ★[/size][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 375px; height: auto; border-top: 26px solid #0C3B22; border-right: 2px solid #0C3B22; border-left: 2px solid #0C3B22;][size=4pt]don't post here[/size]
    [justify][size=10][color=#498063][font=times]Iustitia looked down, and realized that he was shirtless.. he shouldn't have had to realize it, he should have known, but simple things like that tended to slip his mind a lot of the time. He had other, more important things to think about than weather or not he was wearing a shirt or tunic... though when he ventured outside with one, he soon realized his forgetful nature. Frowning, the man turned quickly dropping the fur, and exposing his faded scars, before dawning a loose fitting grey tunic. It had no sleeves, but it really wasn't all that cold at the moment.


    "Sorry my lady." The man exclaimed looking down at the ground and bowing. He almost never forgot the formality which was basically required for someone of his position. He must show deference at all, especially to the lady of the house. At her concerned words he shrugged, sure he wasn't wearing sleeves, but he'd put a shirt on for her, that was as far as his gentlemanly kindness would go, it was warm in his room, though it might be attributed to the fever he had.


    Wiping his forehead, he sat down on the edge of his bed, and looked up at the lady, it was never a good time to discuss his feelings. "It is a good time right now my lady." He murmured, looking up at her, and extending a hand to the chair beside his bed for her to sit if she desired. "Life is much more than I could expect for my station in life." Iustitia explained frowning slightly, he wasn't sure how Lady Shavronne would take the words... but he hoped well, though he feared he was in for being chided... or chastised.


    "I... I just wish I could do the simple things I enjoy, I don't want to be... a noble in name." He admitted, as a noble he could order people around, tell others what to do, be commanding. All he wished was to live a simple life, in a small house, and be happy. He wiped sweat off his brown and breathed deeply, he felt as though he was burning up with the shirt on, and he began to air himself by rapidly moving the front of his shirt to let air flow.


    [guess who has the flu, bc i feel like giving him the flu.]

    [center]

    [font=georgia]
    Scars weren't a new sight to the Lady, on herself or her family members, but she never realized how bad Iustitia's situation. That was worrying, but the situation was slowing improving in her opinion. Dominus was still dead, he couldn't do diddly squat to her children. As she watched him, a look of concern would cross over her face before he addressed her again, "please, Usti. Mother is fine." She understood he still felt uncomfortable about it but he wouldn't grow in confidence if he addressed his own mother so highly, "we are family after all." She wanted the best for him and though it would be difficult to adjust to, it will be useful to him in the long run.


    After another moment of observation, she noticed a strange hue that the sick usually had, especially when they were hit with the fever. Shavronne, being an attentive mother, recognized it quite quickly. Instead of taking the seat that her son gesture to, she would approach him and attempt to place a cool hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. "Usti, love. You don't look so well," she commented as she looked over him again, he must be sick. Maybe from over work or exposure, she knew her son liked to do menial labor after all. As for his comment about his life, she would look at him sharply with a worried frown adorning her blemish-free features, "please don't say that, love. You are much more than you think."


    Simple things in life? Not a noble in name. That was fine with her, as long as he didn't renounce the house name, she would be happy to let him do whatever he wanted. Actually, she would still love him even if he was no longer a Bolton. He was her son and someone she loved for so long, it would be weird for her to just stop caring for him. "Usti," she began again, opting to sit next to him on the bed rather than the chair as it was more intimate, "if this life doesn't suit you, I encourage you to go out into the world and find your true calling. By no means are you a prisoner of the Dreadfort, you are a Bolton but also a free man. As long as you don't harm yourself, I'll stand by whatever choice you make, love."


    A NAKED MAN HAS FEW SECRETS

    INFORMATION | UPDATED; 1/9/17

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor;borderwidth=0px;bordercolor=;text-align:justify;width:455px;][size=12][font='Times New Roman,Times,serif']Iustitia stared at the ground, Mother was not fine, he had a very hard time even calling her his adopted mother... usually Lady Bolton was the name that he called her in his head, and occasionally Shavronne, though only on exceptionally rare occasions. He nodded awkwardly, not sure what he was supposed to say, wiping a touch of sweat from his brow, the beads of moisture flew across the room, and landed on the floor, though Usti didn't much care, it was quite obvious he wasn't feeling all that... well. The way that Lady Bolton spoke to him, made him feel cared about, like he wasn't a total waste of space, someone who's every breath was something which another so much more deserved.


    As the woman spoke again, the man sighed, she had brushed aside his invitation to sit as though he had not made it, though the reasons were quite understandable, it was still a bit on the sad side. When she called him "love" he stiffened, no one had ever said something so kind and affirming to him, well except for Lady Bolton. Raising his elbow to his mouth he coughed as quietly as he could in it, which was not at all subtle, and felt his body rattle with the cough that came. The woman was so... thoughtful, and found his self deprecation sad... it, on this occasion at least, made Usti want to be better... not be so hateful of who he was.



    As the woman felt his head he pulled back from her seemingly icy hands, and shivered, he was rarely cold, but today everything was just off, either he was sweating, or freezing... there was no in between. It was why he was in these chambers, and not his own small house. Though food, his food was probably burnt, what a waste of a good coney! "Thank you Lady Bolton." Usti murmured bowing his head, still unable to call her mother, he rarely called his true father by that name, so how could he call the beautiful woman who had so thoughtfully taken him in as mother? It just seemed.... too hard. It would be like sullying the word with the association with Dominus. "I..." His voice broke as he started coughing, a hacking cough. "I sing my lady... I love to sing, to strum, to create... I know it is not what Bolton's do." He flinched away from the woman as if he expected her to start beating him.


    There, he had said it, though had he been in good health he might have left it a secret... he was too tired at the moment. Pushing himself further up on the bed, he leaned his back against the headboard with a few pillows up there, all this talking, all this light, it was giving him a headache.


    //sorry this sucks.