Posts by ShadeClaw246

(That's totally fine, thanks for letting me know though!)

Jack's bedroom was small, cluttered, and proudly wore the scent of wet paint. The walls were originally white, but had ever since been transformed into a sleek canvas. Charcoal pencils were scattered along the floor, and a half-drawn rose rest above them. Everything was in her room. She felt bad about the expenses of her tools and paints, but her father was very adament about making her feel as lavished as possible. Oddly enough, she tried to pay for her expenses as much as possible. Politely returning the wads of David's cash into his wallet after him slapping them into her purse. Whether he noticed or not was yet to be determined. Sighing gratefully to be home again, Jack let her satchel drop onto the floor and took off her boots.

(Perfect! Accepted, and I'll start us off in just a moment.)

A sleeping city. It almost seemed surreal in this bustling little port; and yet, here it stood. The streets, hollowed of tradesmen. The air, still thick with smoke and grease, but blessedly silent. Buildings leaned against the overcast night, stretching shadows across the alleys by candlelight. Nothing seemed special about this particular evening. Everything was still in its splayed clutter, and hung loosely in the salty summer breeze. Of course, except for one. A cat, it sat bonded with the frayed pricket fence where its claws kneaded the decaying wood. Its fur was no different from the average stray; a velvety black coat. Nor was its paws, ears, or tail out of character; no. It was the eyes that caught the butcher's attention. Those steel silver eyes that cut through the evening haze and bore into his flesh. Why wouldn't the damned beast look away? Was it normal for cats to look so... intrigued? Boren was a big man; with portly arms that hung heavily from his broad shoulders. His stomach bulged out to prominently hang over his tight belt and dense legs. He wore his heavy set brow, squared grisly chin, and oily thick mustache with dignity. Wearing his stained white clothes made him a beacon in this dead night, and his extensive amount of body was not helping him "blend in". Nerves grating his mind, he fidgeted under the moon's caress. Where were those forsaken hunters? Swinging his gaze around the docks, he once again could not ignore that particular black cat. Growing flushed and impatient with each passing second left vulnerable in the night, Boren blustered, "Be gone you foul creature, go off yeh', damned cat!" The cat blinked in the usual feline superiority, not moving for a healthy full minute before sliding off the fence into the shadows. Boren shuddered, and traced his chest with a symbol to ward off evil and its clutches. Feeling oddly satisfied with himself, Boren turned back to his original post. That was when the foot slammed into his bulbous nose. Reflex tears gushed to his eyes and he opened his mouth to yell, but found it immediately stuffed with dry wool. Gagging on the fabric, Boren was assaulted with yet another blow to the cheek. Reeling away from his attacker, he sunk to the ground; dropping his precious cargo with him. Rope was coiled around his wrists and cut into his ankles. Stunned, he opened his eyes blearily to see a different pair piercing back at him. The last thing Boren remembered were those hard eyes digging into him. An intense, icy gaze scrutinizing him from the safety of a dark lipped hood; lined with thick lashes. Why he looked to the eyes he never realized until on the rim on unconsciousness. "It was the silver." Boren thought sluggishly, and fell into the void.

(Hey, sorry for the very long 'moment'. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. I think you can assume in your next post that our dear friend Boren has awoken and is quite ready for rescue.)

Boren scowled as he tenderly rubbed his irritated wrists, inspecting his crimson nose before turning to Kai. "A she-demon. That's what happened." He spat, and crossed his chest once more as if to ward off the tainted presence of the 'demon'. Now this was no rare act of this grubby old butcher. As big and thundering as he was, Boren had a well-known superstitious nature. Even going to as great lengths as burning sage and other remedies for ridding of bad luck. He flinched as he touched his swollen face, then continued more gingerly to inspect his wounds. Paying Kai no heed as he took into full account of his physical attributes.

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The thief, shrouded by the shadows of their cloak sprinted around the corner; and held in a weathered leather glove was the client's payment. This was like any other job. Quick, clean, and painless; for her at least. So when Velia heard the soft footsteps nipping at the echo of her own, naturally she was a bit vexed. This had been a long day of trailing the fat butcher all over the city, and this was supposed to be the cut-off of a very exasperating gig. It had seemed too perfect at first, a nervous widow who just simply had to have a new amulet. No matter the cost, she had promised a heavy pocket of gold for her troubles. Not only that, but she had even given the name of a man who'd recently purchased one of the rare trinkets. There was no doubt in Velia's mind that this had been perhaps the most drab twenty-four hours of her life. Boren had no children, no wife, and not even a mongrel dog for company. He lived in his slaughter house, where he enjoyed hacking away limbs of various farm-raised animals for a career. In the morning, he walked down to the tavern for a mug of mead; only to return shortly in the afternoon for another. He appeared to have an open phobia of cats, mirrors, and haggard widows. The man was about as interesting as a lame duck; so needless to say, she was a bit stiff from sitting around all day. Now she had an extraordinarily quick-footed pursuer on her tail, and no plan. "Stupid." Velia seethed as she picked up the pace, leveling her eyes to the nearing alley wall. This was not to going to feel pleasant. Tightening her jaw with concentration, she launched herself from the slimy alleyway floor. Blessing her acrobatic abilities, her bare fingers locked onto the fire escape. With a fluid heave, Velia slithered onto the platform; already beginning to grapple her way up. Her muscles burned, warming her skin; but it had worked good enough. Let her hunter try to clear that, she thought smugly.

Silver was happy for the little corner in which her cage had been placed. It gave her something to shelter in; a refuge from the pleading whines and horrified glares after a fight. These dogs hated her for being alive, for cashing in a brother, sister, friend, for herself. She was also lucky that she had had the sense to keep her back to the other dogs when she'd lay down. The last thing she needed was a pitiful pup whelping to her about how this couldn't possibly be true. It was stupid to wish that, and even crueler to whimper to one who bore the scars of this so-called "dream". Out of the water dish in her personal prison (a luxury not often gifted to others), the she-dog noticed her new neighbor stirring from his last docile slumber. She appreciated his slow ascent into this, how first his ears flinched; followed by a curious twitch of the nose. All this before finally opening his eyes to this new-found hell. "Hey puppy, welcome to Paradise." Silver remained motionless as Linx's bark rumbled through the rising chaos around them. She waited for the snickers of the other experienced fighters to stop before tuning in once again to hear the newbie's response. Words here could mean the difference of life and death. Even in spite of her over-active emotions, Silver could not help but hope that this stray didn't open his mouth. For his own sake.

Linx cackled in amusement, soon to be joined by the others. The black Doberman was clearly the ring-leader of this rough crowd. However whereas the experienced fighters looked to her with respect and even anxiety, Silver remained lying with her back to them, as if their sheer presence bored or offended her. Perhaps both. Linx appeared to openly ignore the slim she-dog, and continued with her taunting. "Well we didn't plan on stayin' here at all whelp!" She stuck her nose between the bars, leaning so close that her rancid breath enveloped his fur. "But if you haven't noticed, not everything goes according to plan here." Linx growled softly, her voice on the wavering line of menace and insanity. Already her eyes were swimming with hate, desire, blood-lust. "But just for you, as a special treat, I will personally make sure that you get out of here real soon you little-" Linx's curdled snarl was cut off by a sharp, but low growl. "Bite off Linx, leave the mutt be. He's got enough troubles without your half-wit threats." Silver had stood and was now glaring at the sleek Doberman in a dangerous sort of way. Her voice had not risen, nor had she barked; yet suddenly the air grew very very still. Even Linx froze, licking her chops in a nervous fashion; while hesitation swam in her hazed brown eyes. All muzzles were swung towards the two, watching the stand-off with antsy interest. Finally, Linx muttered something unintelligible under her breath, and paced away from the stray.

This was actually starting to get fun... If only she were in the mood for such games. Now here was someone who could pose a challenge, and perhaps, even a threat? Velia almost grinned at the thought, reaching the top of the building and tearing towards the next. Her cloak hid her rich raven hair, as well as her female build. The hood sewn onto the top of the molted cloak enveloped her face in darkness, hiding her sharp features. As she leapt over the alley to the next rooftop, Velia turned her head to study the hunter. To her surprise it was a boy, young. Well, not very young, but certainly no more than a year older than herself. Her sharp silver eyes blinked, before snapping back around to face the approaching platform. Could she outrun him? He was fast, there was no question there. However so was she; but her stamina was not her strongest suit. In a fight she could take him... Maybe just a push from the roof would do it. Not a fatal fall, just enough to immobilize him while she slipped into the night. "Wait until he's airborn." Velia thought, purposely dialing her speed down to appear as if she were tiring. Just enough to get him to rush in for that final grab, to let him be just a step behind her before she made the next jump to the neighboring building.

Wearily, Jack slipped off her day clothes; crumpled and frayed from the day's hectic on-goings. Changing into looser, more hospitable ones. A simple old band tee-shirt with baggy grey sweatpants, to top it off Jack rolled her blonde hair into a half-effort of a bun. Staring into the mirror, Jack wished that she could stencil away her dark ever-present circles that hung under her eyes. To erase away the tired and fill the empty void with light. Defiant of her longings however, the same old face studied back at her. Soft golden tendrils dangling around her shoulders, and whispering against her rounded smooth face. Blue eyes, like ice. Pale lips with that dusty pink texture. It could definitely be worse, she should know better than to complain. Plastering a smile on in an attempt to look cheery, only added that sad little light in her eyes. Jack wished she looked more like her mom.

((I'm confident that between the two of us we will be able to whip up something fun for our dear canine friends. If you have an idea, throw it atem'. I love to see what different people come up with.))

Silver turned away from the Akita, and circled into the cold metal floor. Blowing out a soft but heavy breath, she sunk heavily back into her shady corner. Her golden paws tucked curtly under a tender chin. For a stretched moment, all that hung in the air was the dying whimpers and nervous growls of the others around them. It was in that moment that Silver rested her hard, weathered eyes. If only this broken peace would last a little longer, it was far better than it would be at nightfall; frayed. A way out of here... The she-dog almost couldn't bear to think of it. A whole lungful of that sweet, cold breeze that sometimes taunted them through the rickety building. Something not sticky with blood under her paws... She would be able to run, a real run. A proper run. Not that psychotic trot around the ring before lunging at some dog's throat. Silver snapped open her eyes, nearly belching at this sick reality that she lived in. That's right Silver, be shamed. It is a foolish thing to do; imagine the impossible. Pitiful. Weak. It does nothing. The she-dog tore at herself, dragging her mind back into check. Her walls once again raised, she steeled her voice. " Of course; the trash." Silver could already hear the No-Paws plowing through the sea of cages, the heavy scuffle of a black plastic bag being towed along the sharp floor. How many bodies would fill them tonight? It looked like she wouldn't be kept waiting for her answer much longer.

This stud was beginning to outshine his armor. Velia could hear his breathing turn haggard, greedily sucking in air to propel himself forward. "What the hell?" She felt annoyance prickle at the hairs on her skin; surging heat into her face."There is no way." Velia ranted, as she swiveled her head back to him again. He had slowed with her? That couldn't have been a coincidence. He would have faltered when he landed; when he needed that extra push to surge after her. Not now. Who was this boy? This was starting to get real, fast; and she did not like the way things were looking. Literally. Training her eyes back to her front, she was greeted by a solid metal slab sitting directly in her path. And she did mean solid. "Sh*t." Velia breathed into the night. Who even builds something like this? It was like a giant, thick, metal roadblock had been thrust into her face. Panic began to mix with boiling rage, this was impossible.
She need to clear her head. To sweep out all of the primal fears muddling her thoughts and do what she did best. Manipulate. Take hold of the situation and bend it to her favor; because right now luck was definitely not on her side. "Slow down..." Velia commanded herself, and began to falter to more of a canter. The fleet-footed steps were gaining, but the wall was right next to her. Nowhere to go... but up. "Think bird. Feathers, wings, talons." Closing her moonlit eyes, Velia focused on change. A new skin, different voice... It was working, but not quickly enough with her frantic state. She'd have to fight first; she'd be helpless between bodies. Gritting her teeth, she felt her skin smooth once again. To any bystanders, her falter in shape would simple seem like a trick of the light. Velia stopped running, staring up at the wall with her back to the approaching pursuer. Her shoulders tensed and as she whipped her head from side to side for any last escape routes, her slender fingers subtly slid a knife into her palm.

((I inferred as much; judging from the Half-Life username. As for the media-inspired ideas, you have a loose leash. I trust your judgement as to what you deploy into the plot.))

Silver sighed, this was one persistent stray. Perhaps her tone had been too flat; it tended to go lifeless these days. She supposed that this life could lead to a very withdrawn personality. It sure was easier to pretend like you couldn't feel, like a machine. A crumbling, rusting hunk of inanimate metal who's sole purpose was to function. Either way, her attempt at wry humor had gone far off-track from its predetermined ending. "No, unless you are dead. That's the only way out; it's easy enough. You even already seem to have a couple dogs who'd be willing to help." The mutt shifted her forelegs; finally concluding that there was no getting comfortable tonight. She pressed against the floor with protestant paws, sliding onto her haunches. Sitting lone in her cage, the she-dog stared at the warehouse-wall. No, not at, through. Silver stared past the wood, her gaze traveling through that small rotten crack. Her nose quivered at the tiny breeze that tickled it's senses. "Trust me, there is no escape from the Pit. I should know."

((Mildly. Most from the gushing of my little brother, but I get the gist of them. I think that most of them would add nicely to the plot. It also might be fun to do a few alterations on the common-day animals around the city based off the Metro mutations. Go ahead and try them out, it'll be intriguing to see what will pop up.))

Silver let her eyes indulge the trickle of moonlight through the wall; before tearing her gaze away. For the first time, she faced this over-optimistic mutt; and was secretly pleased to see that this was no hopeless case. He was big enough to not be used as a meat-bag for the other dogs to beat up. Yet not too large as for the No-Paws to give him any "extra attention". Though he was lean, his dense white fur would act as a soft armor from broken claws. Her face its usual expressionless mask, Silver studied him thoroughly, but had analyzed him in a mere stretched second. "No one escapes from here. Dogs have tried, and died in the process." Like a sharp splinter, guilt flooded her conscience in the form of a sleek black she-dog. Clamping down on her tongue in a harsh attempt to draw her thoughts elsewhere, Silver recomposed. Though memories threatened to flood her mind. That piercing metallic glint piercing in her eyes once again appeared, "Even if there was someway out, the No-Paws take extra care to ensure our security." Almost nonexistent to the un-concentrated eye, she flicked a glance to the multiple locks and chains fastened custom to her cage door. Among the sea of crates, her's held the unique pride of having the handful precautionary metal devices permanently fixed upon her personal prison. "Besides, the ring will be opening soon. Tonight has already been taken by the fights, escape will have to wait in line."

((When do you want to time-skip to morning?))

Ripping her gaze away from the mirror, Jack trekked back over to her bed. She blew out a puff of air as her body fell back into the comforter; which enveloped her hospitably. After a moment's pause to squirm and nestle her way snugly into the various pillows, she revealed a worn leather book from inside her head-rest. Opening it brought the scent of pastels and charcoal wafting up to greet her nose. What to draw? She pondered as her fingers deftly flew through the pages in search of a blank space. After finding one, her palm pressed into the rough spine of the book to further flatten her dry canvas. Scrawling the date onto the corner of the page, Jack brought the pencil up to her cheek in thought.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she flicked an icy leaf from her dark hair. So it was true, she did love it here. However lately her home was feeling a little, tight. The willows, whose frost coated tendrils caressed the dusted ground no longer inspired her. All of the wind's screams failed to make her shiver. This white was beginning to be a little bland to Cleo; especially to one who craved excitement. Even all of the travelers had learned to avoid her neck of the Gale Woods. All of these factors left her extremely, utterly, desperately bored. And it was not to be ignored that "bored" was a dangerous word for Cleo.

Silver sighed, "The fight ends when one dog is unable to continue. For the nobodies, the new-comers, that usually means that they will die in that ring. If you have a name for yourself though, if the No-Paw's know you put up a good show... Well, then you are more likely to be pulled out half-dead. Bad, but better than all-dead." The noise in the room swelled, as yips and cries piled upon each other. No-Paws were striding purposefully across the floor, three of them to be exact. However from the overwhelming stench and rumbles from outside the warehouse, a whole pack of them was waiting by the ring. In each fleshy hand, they carried a long glinting pole with hard wire looped out one of the ends. The Wishful Nooses, they were more commonly referred to. For the design of the Wishful's was so closely similar to the hangman's noose that would so blessedly end their captivity. Silver eyed the No-Paws warily, her splattered fur already beginning to prickle with apprehension. "They take the dogs in those, the Wishful's. Or Wishful Nooses if you prefer. One noose per dog, unless you've got a reputation for trouble." The No-Paws were getting closer, cutting directly towards their row of crates. Before she went though, something was itching in the back her head, abrasively persistent. Turning back to the he-dog sharply, Silver took one last good look at him. "What's your name?"

The she-dog turned away, wordless. This dog was most certainly not going to make it here. He was too easily miffed, and already preoccupied with his emotions. Squeezing her jaw in frustration, Silver sat still as the No-Paws began to fumble with her cage. Why did Issac seem…well, different from the rest? It boggled her that she might actually be considering helping him. Maybe she was being unreasonable though; how could she know that he of all the dogs, was worth the risk?
A second No-Paw filed in next to her own, beginning to work with Issac’s cage. Silver’s restraint snapped once that lock clicked open. She sprung to her feet, a slightly aggressive tone to her words. “Listen, Issac. And hear well, because this could be your lifeline tonight.” Her iron gaze pierced into his own, and her body stood rigid. “They will put you up against the new-dogs first. Fight well, but not exceptionally. If they think you are too good, you’ll head straight to the experienced fighters. If you’re no challenge, you become a warm-up tool against the best. These people want a show; put on a performance, then sink into the background. You don’t want attention, stay average.” The door swung open with a protestant screech, wafting a dry current of air to ruffle her fur. Silver pressed, “If you are put up against Linx or the other seniors, that’s when you fight with everything. A done round with one of them, and you’re done for the night; either way.” The cold wire slid around her neck, followed by a second slightly large one. They nestled into her fur, beginning to tow her out of her prison.

((Let's try to draw out this confrontation scene a bit longer. The conflict here will really be the kick-off of their future relation; starting everything out in the "loathing" phase. xD ))

Well if this wasn't perplexing she didn't know what was. Only a second ago, just mere moments; her dagger had been pressed snugly into her hand. It hadn't been slick with sweat or dusty with street-grit, but held its usual reliable texture. Now it lie at her feet. Or so that's what she saw. For when Velia went to curl her bare fingers into a fist, its familiar cold blade nestled into her glove. This conflicted with her memory of the knife sliding out of her palm, and her ears recording of the metallic clatter as it hit the ground. Of course for the dagger to be in two separate places was impossible... but yet not quite. Who was this boy? Then came the word; like a razor through the air. It shattered Velia's doubt about this young-man, and suddenly things became very real. "Katorin."

Her figure stood still facing the steel wall. No muscle twitched, and even her cloak seemed reluctant to sway in the ocean's salt ridden breath. Then slowly, so painfully stretched the moment was, Velia lifted up her hands in surrender. Quietly she turned around, and let her hood slip off her head. The girl under the fabric was seemingly less than worried, despite her obviously helpless situation. Everything about her was sharp, striking, fierce. Even her presence radiated intense energy. From her scalp fell straight black hair, as dark as fresh tar. It hung in soft luxurious tendrils, cutting down her face at a crisp angle. It caressed her defined cheeks and teased the very tips of her shoulder-blades. Tactical, piercing silver-grey eyes peered through her diagonal bangs. Startlingly clear, they had a natural tendency to dig into their acquired targets with stunning force. They had the luminosity of moonlight, as well as that pure clarity. However small almost unnoticable flecks of different gray hues swam around the irises. The face that held all of these features was angled, and spread with healthy plush skin. Her lips were one of the few things of Velia's that were curved. They were the color of a dusty rose, and had a gentle rounded outline. Even when curled into a coy grin; as they were now. Velia was dangerous, unpredictable, feral perhaps; and every bit of her looked to part.

She blinked at Rune in a condescending fashion, her gaze unworriedly flicking away from his gun. Her shoulders were slack and her expression was a mixture of boredom and mild amusement. "I am most certainly flattered to be pegged as interesting by such an able gentleman such as yourself." Velia's voice was smooth and feminine, but laced with a sly intelligence. She cocked her head slightly, an easy white grin peeling back her lips. "I too, find myself to be quite the impressionist. However even one as remarkable as I, is unworthy of the Katorin relation." "Myths are simply too hard to attempt to live up too."

Jack had long ago concluded that fairy tales were stupid. They were so unrealistic, it was to a comical point. Perhaps the greatest mistake of these seemingly harmless stories was the concept of 'beauty sleep'. The fair women all appeared to fall into slumber gently and peacefully, only to wake up bright, poised, and refreshed the next day. "That," Jack thought to herself wryly, "-was complete blasphemy." This morning she's woken up, cheek smeared with charcoal, hair in mattes, and with dark rims under her eyes. She'd fallen asleep drawing, and now was late to school. So much for a clean-slate experience.

Silver let the wire guide her out of the cage. The cramped space was certainly not going to be missed; and the she-dog felt pleasure tingle at her paws as the door slammed shut. Her victory was short-lived though, as the No-Paws began to over-enthusiastically tow her towards the steepening noise just outside the building's walls. A small urge- no a large urge, coaxed her to want to snap at them. Perhaps send a toothy snarl to nip at their heels, and see how they liked being driven like brainless cattle. But she knew better, and kept her displeasure silenced at a soft growl. Then his voice rang out, Issac. Silver had almost been too lost in her thoughts to catch his words. Blinking those signature sea-green eyes towards him, she managed to tilt her muzzle over her shoulder one last time. "They call me Silver."

The ring was as it usually was. Dusty, bright, and loud. Silver still could barely help but cringe as she padded into the large room. There were flashes of stunning lights, the music was so cranked-up that the base-line vibrated her ribs. Then there were No-Paws. Their odd, flat faces pressed against the metal dome fence; flesh protruding through the diamond-shaped gaps. Mouths curled into sneers, open with a wild howl, barking at the sheer chaos of the Pit. Silver did her best to ignore them, keeping her burning eyes downcast. As if afraid that she would spill the simmering malice in them for if she turned. They slammed the steel door shut behind them, and the she-dog began to feel the familiar adrenaline surging through her veins.

"To keep them packaged and travel-ready for people like you of course. I know how stressed your type is on time." Velia countered cooly, her eyes analyzing his next move under the cover of their bored film. Though her manner was nonchalant, every fiber in her body was charged with sparking adrenaline. At the slight of her pursuer's deadly hand, she'd already be gone. Though her feet itched to pace, she refrained. Pacing would only make her giddy, and enhance the feeling of being trapped. Which she so clearly wasn't. Plus, the last thing she needed was her opponent to be even more on-edge. She'd laid the bait, and even poked fun at his obvious profession. Privateer, a fancy word for the rebellious to indulge in. All the same, they worked under the same supervision as any other government enforced job. The royal's mangy dogs; henchmen. Now all that was left was to wait for his reaction. Velia shifted her weight from one knee-high boot to the other, and huffed a lone strand of hair out of her face. "Now normally I would take a couple hundred for the preparation work. But since you asked so politely," She rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation, "- and manners are just so hard to come by these days- I'll accept your gracious surrender as substitute."