Posts by ZEPHYR

    ✦ There was something about the Sanctuary that made most of its members kind in their patience boundless and effortless. Even war-hardened Chicagocrimes was capable of moments of weakness, warmth and niceties given to creatures in need, motherly instinct taking over for any child lost or afraid. The Ruiner on their border may have been hollering about a child, but she herself was not one. He padded forth to instead stare down the angry red eyes of a mother done wrong, fury spitting past curled lips and pearled fangs. She could tear out a throat with a glinting grimace like that; she shouted accusations with it instead. He glanced sideways at the impassive Sanctuarians beside him, noted Arya's annoyance toward them. Well, there was something about the Sanctuary that made Zephyr stand out: he was not inflicted with that belated kindness.

    "Seems your nose is mistaken," he said pointedly, staring with heavy lidded eyes, jaw clicking closed when his short words were finished. He was detached. He had no sympathy for a mother just wanting to be reunited with her son. It said something about him; not something particularly good. No willingness to investigate, or negotiate. Zephyr merely fixed Arya an unimpressed look.

    ✦ Defenses? Zephyr padded forth while his sulking stroll over the meadow had been interrupted, veiled interest clinging to his features while he glanced between those gathered, pointed ears perked. The Gaianthe had guards constantly watching the edges of their camped, always armed with the willingness to kill. (Though their efforts were more to keep creatures in rather than out). He cannot say that to the Sanctuarians present, however, so he only listened to what they brought up themselves.

    "That's... a good idea," he said, blinking toward Dethronedking. He wasn't sure what he expected, but Jack always seemed so apathetic that he assumed his suggestions would merely be sarcastic. Zephyr actually agreed with him, especially over the spirits. He was conflicted on whether to help or not, if protecting the Sanctuary would mean neglecting his work for the Gaianthe; yet, his work would be for naught if there was no Sanctuary to protect. He turned toward Jailbreak slowly. "Why not watch stations?" he said stiffly. "A couple every so often around the border, so we can have eyes on the border in shifts instead of just patrols."

    ✦ The creature is unfamiliar to the youthful eyes of the relative newcomer, yet the thin face half-covered by the ground seems to be one that those around him found in the reaches of their memories. Faintly, vaguely, but still there. The feline was brought forth on nimble paws as his perked ears searched for the murmuring near the meadowy border. As he neared close enough to peek past Dethronedking and Gore to see the figure slumped in the damp grass, he thought that they were examining a dead body. It might as well have been, with how gangly and bloody it was, but he could sense the weak breath sputtering from the raccoon's lips when he reached the scene finally.

    Did he particularly care for the stranger that had decided to faint on the border? No. But he knew that it would do him little good to let someone die while he was present. In fact, he found himself presently annoyed at the casualness of the duo nearby, so he turned to glower at them with narrowed eyes. "He won't be if you keep standing there doing nothing," he hissed. With that, he moved to crouch beside Delirious, lifting some of the unconscious raccoon's weight onto one of his shoulders. He peered back at Jack and Gore. "Someone help me carry him to camp," he said, though it was more of a demand.

    ✦ A meeting. They're weekly, he has been told. Regular, he has been told. Informative, he has been told, yet not entirely required. The thought of such freedom baffled him while he contemplated it, but to the Sanctuarians it seemed none too strange. Make the meetings when able, when healthy, when free; otherwise catch the next one. When was the last time he had been allowed to decide where he wanted to go? What he wanted to do? He couldn't remember.

    Yet he did remember Astrema's details on the rules and why they were in place, so he started to feel a little better. He needed the structure of discipline, not the freedom to decide. Now that he was older he was allowed to exercise his own decisions, but only for the betterment of the Gaianthe. It was how things were meant to be. Who was he to argue?

    The feathered feline approached the meeting despite being apparently allowed not to (the fear of being beat forgone), settled somewhere in the crowd to listen to Liquidgold's announcements. They sounded regal and poised, a leader if there ever was one. He even heard his own name mentioned in the scheme of the weekly events.

    Zephyr paused, blinked, though his face gave nothing away. He was being promoted. All the better to spread the word of the Gaianthe, they told him. When the Sanctuary's leader finished their announcements, he bowed his head. Out of respect, or maybe to hide the strange feeling forming in his chest that he was determined to squash. He needn't feel guilt. "Thank you."

    ✦ If the scenario had been clearer, Zephyr would have whisked away whatever projectile was headed toward him with a sliver of wind, but the situation was not appropriate for such a spectacle of ability in the eyes of the Rectoress. It was a split second realization that he had; not nearly enough time to move away. The glob of mud thwacked him on the shoulder, droplets of muck splattering on his pelt and face.

    He turned swiftly, fury curling on his features as his head whipped over to glower at whomever would confess to being his attacker. His posture, his soured expression -- it was all too aggressive to be seen as anything but willing to maim. But when golden eyes landed upon Spiritline, he managed to see the vulpine's playful expression, the shine of good-natured mischief. That gave him pause.

    There was no attacker that meant to incapacitate him with mud in his eyes just barely missed, just a clanmate playing games as if they were children. Something settled in his gut, twisting and heavy and wrong. Gaze flickering around, he slowly relaxed from his impromptu battle stance, straightening back into a casual yet stiffly awkward linger. His face was strangely blank, albeit a bit sheepish. Zephyr glanced back to Spiritline where his attention lingered, mulling. Then, he made a move to scoop up a pawful of mud himself and lob it at the vulpine.

    ✦ It was a meander on lean legs that the hybrid feline approached, always on top of the calls for attention that were thrown around camp. He was involved, interested, thrown through tireless sects of social interaction all as a mean for an end that he was so far from reaching. He was starting to struggle with why he continued in such lackluster manners, but he trudged on nonetheless. Zephyr merely stood alongside the offer for games and waited the answer to an inquiry that wasn't his, golden eyes peering toward the cards. It didn't really matter what game it was. He wouldn't know how to play.

    middle entry, page fifty four.

    some speak ill of the sacrifices of late. they say that they are becoming too much, too frequent, too brutal. but do they not see all that nature is? everything cannot be encompassed by gentle rains or sunny days; there are rging raging rivers, thunder strikes, earthquakes, forest fires. there exists extremity in nature, so how is it wrong to mirror that?

    it's still sad, they say. i know it is. but where does the weakness end?

    it is either kill or be killed.

    ✦ Had he prayed over deaths? Certainly.

    Some were small in their existences, fickle creatures more often eaten for prey than they were thought of, but sacrifices to the Mother were interwoven with his lessons and commonplace in his life. When children died, they prayed for that too. Yet death for Gaia was still a sacrifice, and he could remember being small as a child himself and staring at the soul-hollowed forms of those deemed too weak to serve purpose alive, being told that their deaths had meaning above that of just slaughter. It didn't matter if he believed it or not. It never really had.

    So he approached the ceremony for the small life lost and he did as he always had. Zephyr placed a token of moonstone near the other gems lining the body, lowered his head, and murmured blessings to the Gaia for the soul returned to her heart.

    ✦ The Gaia. He paused more fully at that. Leaned back on his haunches, less intense in his questioning, to stew with what he had been given. He knew well of the Gaia, or Mother Nature as he was more inclined to refer to her as. She was the catalyst to all things that blessed or cursed the earth; she was not the control over every instance, but she was certainly the source. For such a strange clan to believe in her truth was strange to him, definitely. Astrema had said that Agrelos had been taken over by creatures from distant realms, ignorant to their cultures, spreading like disease. Yet as he lingered underneath the blossoming tree named after the forces of nature itself, he contemplated the similarities. There were differences, of course; the idea of wisps made him weary. He just... needed to think about it. "Makes sense, I suppose," he said quietly, half heartedly. Yellow eyes peered toward the middle distance as he thoughtlessly uttered: "Thank you."

    ✦ Zephyr couldn't be considered a neat freak by any means, but he certainly preferred to be clean rather than a mess. He spent time in the mornings and evenings grooming himself, though he rarely bothered with checking any mirrors; he was presentable and that was enough. But to actively seek filth? He stared at Fireghost with a similarly puzzled expression as the duo beside him, attracted to the scene by the hollering, yet confused with the result. He'd not had the type of childhood to have experience playing in snow melt anyway.

    He stared while the leopard rolled in a puddle, sticking himself with muck. "Well..." he said skeptically, "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

    ✦ Creatures bound to consciousness for reasons all different, lurking in the shadows of midnight while comforted by the stars blanketing the vast sky overhead. They all found him, one after another. First the weary Jailbreak, their eyes tired with untold stories and mind haunted by memories past; then Fireghost, abrasive and energetic despite the sleepiness that lingered in the atmosphere; finally Chicagocrimes, fire and brimstone and gunmetal, someone that he struggled to remember was dead. They gathered hodgepodge and mismatched, settling among one another to peer at the infinite universe that engulfed them. There was something poetic about it, he thought.

    "Look," he said to Fireghost and Chica, shooting them a puzzled look from the corners of his eyes. He gestured at the collection of stars. "Those ones there form the head, and there they connect to the body, and then the legs." Jailbreak knew what he was talking about; seemed fond with the knowledge. It was calming over all. He felt, in fact, oddly content.

    ✦ He was summoned to the border of the picturesque landscape at the presence of a stranger in their midst. Granted, many were still strangers to him, but there was a difference between Sancturian residents and the unfamiliar lioness lingering around the dewy spring grasses. She smelled of distant lands, separating her quickly from the warm floral scents he was beginning to grow accustomed to. It was why Zephyr presented an immovable figure to greet her, glancing up and down the pale presence while carefully constructing an expression of friendliness on his face. It was stiff, but acceptable. "I've sent someone to fetch someone of authority. Can I get you anything in the meantime?" he said.

    ✦ The small life under his paw withered away to nothing while scarlet rivulets fell from its feathers, a calm and quiet death for a tranquil creature born of the wind. He acted it as a sign for Gaia in all her glory, returning her a life from the very element which she had gifted him upon his birth; perhaps with enough he would be able to make up for the sacrifice of his own abilities before one day retiring to the dirt. It was a fruitless idea, but he was compelled to demonstrate nonetheless. He just didn't expect it to draw in such a crowd.

    Honeyed eyes turned to the curious gaze of Chicagocrimes, her drawl turned questioning instantaneously. A pause traipsed in his breath as a treacherous thought crossed his mind. It was the perfect opportunity to spread Astrema's word. But he convinced himself that he needed to establish himself further before he started his work. Better to not raise suspicions.

    He composed himself. "I used the wind," he said simply, rolling sore shoulders and smoothing his reactions, glancing back down at the small bird. It felt as though he were confessing to a crime instead of just revealing a part of himself. Maybe he was. "It's my gift from the Mother, my mastery over the air. I use this as recognition of her." Nothing untrue, or merely aggressive, as the word of their Rectoress. He didn't need to be coerced to believe in Gaia.

    The duo that soon were attracted to the scene struck a chord with Zephyr that quickly turned him bitter. First with Fireghost and their innocent yet abrasive ignorance, then to Kokuyru's skepticism. The hybrid feline's eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth dipping downward. "Of course," he said narrowly, bitten with halved offence. "Sacrifices are holy endeavors in favor of Gaia." He didn't need to be questioned about it. "I'm going to bury it," Zephyr added shortly. As if it were common knowledge.

    ✦ ahhh i looove inigo and fiore looks so cute !!!!

    i would love for them to interact but i am fresh out of ideas for anything particularly unique

    ✦ A bird fluttered through the blue skies cast in warm golden sunlight overhead, basking in the presence of springtime while its wings made quick haste to flap under the cotton candy clouds hanging close to the horizon. It was afternoon in the meadows of the Sanctuary, casting the rain dampened grasses in a shimmery hue. Birdsong was new to the landscape since the turn of the season, the finches and sparrows having retreated from the wintry cold for many past weeks; it was a refreshing change from the stagnant quiet of crow calls among the pillowy freeze of snow which once blanketed the rolling hills. Trees dotting the meadow were blooming with soft pink, white, and green flowers. A red breasted robin stretched its wings and escaped from its perch on the branch of a tall dogwood.

    Zephyr watched the little bird flit through the air. He mirrored it in strange juxtaposition; a feathered fiend wingless and stuck to the ground, owlish eyes and a body more feline than it was avian. He would never experience the bliss of flight. He could not escape his station with a flick of his keel or launch himself into the sky. He could not break free from the chains that he still felt rattling around his ankles, nor the bars which boarded the small window he once stared out of so longingly. He was not a small songbird capable of flight.

    But Zephyr had something that the birds did not. He remembered the eyes which would peer at him, the voices that would talk to him, telling him the meaning of his existence. He was blessed in a way unlike many others, and for that he was meant to be grateful. To show Gaia that he was thankful.

    He stared at the robin. He could not fly, and he could not sing with such innocent clarity. Zephyr, with little effort at all, had the ability to steal the wind from right underneath the bird's wings. He did so standing in the pretty meadow of the Sanctuary, leading the bird to drop at his paws. A prayer was on his mind and on his tongue; blessings to Mother Nature, giver of life. Pinning the robin with a paw, Zephyr cut a line through its neck and watched it weep red.

    litter: jamieson midday x npc

    slots: 3

    age: two years

    species: domestic felines

    relations: the midday family is an old family dating back to the days of the elite. they would be the first cousins to losteyes midday, a previous harbinger of war in the sanctuary, and half-siblings to aristotle midday, a former member of the wind haven.

    rules: realistic names. brownie points for greek/roman names!

    other: any mutations or powers are totally allowed!

    ✦ Nightmares. Zephyr knew what they were, had seen them beneath his eyelids as he prayed for a restful night to escape the tragedies that was the daytime, but he had never really had one of his own. The night terrors which had visited him were planted; they were manipulation tactics, forged by powers artificially, sent to haunt him. But since he had grown out of his training ages, he had yet to have a dream of anything at all, good or bad. His nights were bland and sightless. (Sometimes he wondered if that was by design, too).

    The kitsune that trudged beside him was a presence unexpected, but welcome nonetheless. He didn't mind company, even if it was from strangers that he was meant to dismantle. He turned heavy yellow eyes to peer at the Sanctuarian leader, sensing their vulnerability. Zephyr had chosen not to sleep; Jailbreak hadn't the luxury. The atmospheric exhaustion rolling off of them in waves infected him slowly. He somehow understood that they were in pain.

    He turned back up at the expanse of universe. "No," he said. A lie, yet so seamless that it sounded like truth.

    Fireghost was blunt in both his arrival and his inquiries, settling so close to Zephyr's flank that the hybrid feline felt compelled to scoot over in order to make more room. He glanced sidelong at the abrasive creature, mouth twisting for a moment. "Looking for constellations," he confessed pleasantly. He didn't bother trying to smile; it was so dark that his efforts would largely be wasted. "Like that one. The bear," he pointed at the sky with a paw.