Posts by EWAN

    Every meeting he had attended, Ewan had heard the name Mercy. Mercy was missing, and that struck a chord with Ver. Even someone as oblivious as Ewan could pick up on how fucking important this missing person was to Ver, and if anything, this just doubled down on that. Their leader had, in her own words, gotten carried away and possibly given another group motive to harm them. There was no real need to reprimand that. One, Ewan was in no way confident enough to tell off a leader for a bad choice. Two, it seemed she was already aware that she had, for lack of softer terms, fucked up. All for the sake of Mercy.


    Regardless, this call seemed to imply that there were two imminent battles. That was two more than Ewan had faced in his lifetime. Fights, scrimmages, territorial disputes on his own: those were things the dog was more than familiar with. Raids, however, wars, battles, were far more extreme and foreign. He had mused many times since his joining that he felt he was missing out. Not on the terrifying battles, of course. Ewan never wished for war. But there was a sense of loyalty and pride that came from the veterans in the Veil, something Ewan simply didn't feel. That, he felt, he was missing out on. And now was his chance, wasn't it? To prove some sort of contribution, feel he'd earned his place in the group for once?


    "I... well the Brigade pranked us and shit, right?" -though trying to sound smart he didn't care for amending his vocabulary- "so... what if we set something up that looks like we're just sending a petty prank back to them too? But it's like... an ambush, or whatever? Catch them off guard." The hound stumbled through his words. He held no anger towards the Brigade but he tried as best he could to leech off of the frustration and motivation of the others. What would make them feel the most satisfied? "Or set them up for their own shit. Like... we lay out the fuse and trick them into lighting it, yeah? That'd be dope."

    At this point in time, Ewan felt he had worn out his welcome. He had joined the Veil, he had done some tasks, he had thrown a party, he'd made maybe a couple of almost-friends, gotten a promotion for reasons that still seemed beyond him, and now he was here. Ewan was a known face, a known name- "known" of course, being a subjective term that, in this case, really only meant if someone went "Have you met Ewan?" most would reply "Oh, uh, yeah I know him". This did not mean people knew him. This did not mean he necessarily had people he felt close to, people who made the Veil feel like home. This was why it felt like he had outstayed something. Because Ewan was not a resident of the Veil in his mind, he was a guest that had just stuck around. The dog was an outsider who was loud enough to get people's attention.


    What this meant- the feeling that maybe everyone was getting tired of him- was that there was two possible courses of action. One, pack up and leave. Or, two, do everything he possibly could to have some semblance of home in this place. The first option was shit. Ewan had been alone quite a lot and it sucked, so fuck no would he do that shit on purpose. He'd rather lay down and take it then run away, anyways. He'd stay till he got kicked out. The second option, was alright, but could make the situation worse. Like a teacher's pet trying to prove their worth. But it was better than the alternative, so he went with it.


    This, this ridiculously too-deep train of thought, was how Ewan ended up where he was that morning, making a blanket. More accurately, he was shittily sticking pieces of scrap fabric together in an attempt to make one big backwards ass piece of Franken-scrap-fabric. Something that was uniquely his, to uniquely make his room in the Veil feel like... he belonged? Man this shit sounds dumb as fuck... he thinks, before promptly continuing his scrapbook of felt.


    Ver Million

    Traditions. Sure. That was new.


    Or, he supposed, it was not new at all. A tradition implied history, pride, coming together as a long-loyal group to partake in an event that had been done by generations past. These things were not new in the sense that they had never been done before. They were new in the sense that Ewan had never... had a tradition. Never had any reason to. Nor had anyone to pass them down to him. But he was here now, was he not? He was a Veiler, he was a somewhat high ranking. He was a part of the Shadow Veil, no matter how hard it was to convince himself of that fact. So these traditions, no matter how new, they were... his.


    That felt wrong. Appropriation is the word he'd use. He was taking someone else's culture and making it his own. This didn't feel like something he should be doing. Ewan felt like a bastard for wanting to take part in it.


    But, he'd shown his face. And was it more wrong to do something he felt wasn't his, or make an appearance and quite obviously turn it down, like an insult. Like he was above this. Fuck. This is why he stuck to the two-dimensional topics. This was why he missed being inebriated.


    The newly-appointed nightwatcher would quietly grab a stone, a pitch black rock, and drag it to a spot not too distant as to be antisocial but distant enough to not be... questioned? Did he expect to be questioned? On it he would engrave some chicken-scratch. Or chicken-shit. Eye of the beholder, right? Whatever it was, it was purposefully unintelligible so that, even if found by others, only he should know the meaning. Only Ewan should see the complicated design that encapsulated the overarching theme of his mediocre self.

    People went missing at an above average rate here, didn't they? At least, it seemed, most came back. Even if it took ages, as was the case with Abbi, based on the context clues Ewan had gathered.


    Adara had returned, facing a punishment, despite Ewan not quite seeing why. Perhaps it was the lack of attachment. By the time she had gone missing, Ewan had never spoken with her, and had very little reason to worry. Thus, her waltzing back to camp in the middle of her own search party didn't seem that irritating. Though, thinking on it now, maybe it was that worried kind of anger. The worry so strong that you can't help but be royally pissed at them for making you feel like that. That was a worry Ewan had only felt a brief few times. Unfortunately, another went missing in her place. There'd be more search parties. It was heads or tails on if they'd be found.


    The way Ver was able to flawlessly transition between tones during meetings was honestly a talent. There was a solemn air around everyone at the words of missing Veilers, but their Shadowkeeper found a way to switch topics and bring that energy right back up. Or, maybe it was just Ewan in his own little world, filled with a sudden exuberance when his name was called.


    A promotion. Again. A second one. Even just getting one had been odd, he'd never thought of himself as the productive, promotion-worthy kind... so to get two? Wack. Awesome. A grin spread across his face, one he'd share with the others who's names had been called to step up in the ranks. Though he'd never speak it out loud, there was always part of him that felt he wasn't actually a member of the Veil. He was there, he talked to people, but was he actually a Veiler? Did he matter in this little world? Did he make any impact at all? Those questions would remain unanswered, but at least for a moment they could be pushed aside with the brief recognition he was given.


    "Thanks, bro," he calls out, and continuing his need for inclusion, for importance, ends his comments by saying "and, uh, I'll take one of those ascension quests."

    Ewan had never had any experiences with the Brigade, at least not until now. The world outside the Veil was mostly a mystery, save for the few days he spent lingering around the Ruins. Other than that, Agrelos was mostly undiscovered territory, and groups he hardly knew the name of. Frankly, he liked it that way. Ewan obviously loved to enjoy the attention and companionship of as many people as he possibly could, but he wasn't about to travel to a million different places. He was content here. Who cared what other groups there were?


    His mindset would be presumably be different if he had the experiences some older Veilers had with other groups, of raids and turmoil and injury and death. However, for Ewan's time in the Veil, no more than brief talk of raids past had occurred. Again, at least not until now.


    At Orfhlaith's call, the shepherd appeared at the scene, eyes slightly widening at the stark new color of the waters. Following the same Path Orfhlaith had taken, he then finds the carving, the signature. No clue who Rue was. Clearly not a Veiler. Though someone familiar with the Veil at least, or someone who was just lucky enough to get just the right shade of red to represent their Shadowkeeper.


    "Huh," was the first thing that left Ewan's mouth, followed by, "I dunno, I think it looks kinda cool."

    Ewan felt he knew nothing of this type of loss. He knew of loss, to go through life with the lingering thought of what every experience would be like with those lost by one's side. But none of his loss was real, none of it counted like this. His grief was not carried to the grave, simply into another path, away from his own. Ewan had lost people, people he would never get back, but not to the horrifying weight of death. And though, the rational part of his brain knew that loss was loss and grief was grief, the part of him that couldn't stand the sight of even a stranger's grave felt that it would never compare. So, when the hound saw two figures at the site of graves that's history had always been unknown to him, cleaning, tending to them... for a moment, his heart ached.


    Was this yet another moment he was encroaching on? Another piece of personal history Ewan should feel bad for even wanting to push himself into?It felt that way. There was a great pain in the air, and Ewan was no more than acquaintances with both those at the scene. Every bone in his body was telling him he shouldn't be here, that he had no right to be here, and then turning around and mentally hitting himself for making the situation about himself in the first place. But, nonetheless, he approached.


    On soft steps, he appeared among the two living and the various dead. He had no words of condolences to share, no comforting actions or thoughts. "Do you need help cleaning up?" was what he finally settled on saying out loud. The only perceivable thing he could say to help.

    Ewan didn't consider himself weak as shit, but he also wouldn't say he... wasn't weak as shit. And despite that sounding completely contradictory, it made sense in the dog's own mind. He was strong, and capable, but perhaps his strategies weren't as up to par. So... yeah, he wasn't weak as shit in all regards, and that might be enough to qualify for Cherrypaw's statement.


    Though Ewan lived among two groups, he'd yet to see a single raid or battle among either, therefor there was no need to even fine tune his fighting skills. In fact, at first, he wasn't even quite sure that's what Cherry had meant when he called out- the idea of fighting and practice was so unnecessary to him. The privilege and luck to feel such a way was beyond him, in the mean time.


    "We fightin' over here or something?" Ewan asked upon his arrival, a clarifying question to make sure his assumption was correct.

    Ewan had been entertaining himself outside of camp. Most everyone seemed to either be off doing something important or generally not up to giving the dog any attention. How rude of them. It wasn't long into his trek into the pines, however, that he smelled a stranger. Not only that, but a stranger's blood. The hound's eyes squinted at the smell, trying to identify any familiarity. None was found until the voices of Ver and Enjolras were heard.


    Dark paws carried the canine over to the gathering group, approaching softly as to not frighten to injured stranger. Seemed most of his questions had been asked already anyways, so he chose to remain silent till the other spoke.

    @ twitch sure!! would u like a thread w them :0c


    @ kira yessss they should plot, i am terrible at coming up w plots but i would be down to brainstorm sdjfhg

    "Blades of grass could be interesting, could combine patrol and grass-counting" Ewan hums his response, before hearing Adara's own suggestion and visibly brightening. "Yes! Someone start a fight. That'd spice things up around here." Though this was not as productive as Junepaw suggested he might want, it was the most interesting he'd heard so far.

    Ewan, unsurprisingly, was bored, and decided to demonstrate this by flopping down dramatically in the middle of camp and excaliming "I'm bored."


    - am tired, its the holidays, have a one-liner thread (which can be more than one line just. yknow. short posts)

    Ewan didn't know Adara. She'd already been missing by the time he'd arrived in the Veil. Regardless, he'd seen how much the others cared, the worry on their faces- the frustration, fear, anger. The Veilers cared about this Adara figure, and despite not knowing her, this made Ewan care. He picked up on the feelings the others had and he wanted to fixit. He wanted to help them, to make his clanmates feel better. Finding Adara would be the only way to do so. And thus, he cared.


    The canine bounded over at the call of Riptide, his normal air of casualty being pushed aside in consideration of the weight of the situation. "I'll join, if that's fine," he offered.

    Ewan knew of Abbi, though not in the way some others might. He hadn't known this was a former leader, hadn't known of any relations, any past, any context that would at all be essential to knowing Abbi as an individual. No, no Ewan only knew of Abbi from greeting him at the border of the Ruins. Seeing him at the border was no more interesting than any other stranger. Maybe mildly entertaining, granted the responses, but Ewan remained neutral. "Hey, dude," Ewan greeted with a casual air that was sure to leave as soon as Ver or another who knew Abbi well arrived, "what're you up to here?"

    Ewan's own journey to the veil had been sparked by his everlasting need to engagement. The hound simply wasn't built for the life of a wandering loner, in which one only rarely found others to spend time with. If he'd had other loner friends, maybe he'd have stayed put, but even then, that would get quite boring, wouldn't it? A group made the most sense. Things constantly happening, new events every other day, people constantly joining and leaving, new faces and old faces... For anyone who even slightly disliked the concept of 'alone time', a group was the way to go.


    Those who did enjoy moments of isolation could of course find peace within a group as well. Especially the Veil. The dark and impeding pines were easy to get lost in, he found, easy to lose yourself in as well. For those who longed for freedom like Wild, there were clear routes to take for momentary peace away from the group life. Not that Ewan much cared for it. He'd rather live constricted by laws than be on his own, in silence.


    This would explain why Ewan found himself near the slowly growing group at the border. Walks alone were boring, deafiningly quiet, and thus when he heard the voices of others he nearly leaped over to the group, aching to be a part of everything and anything.


    "Hey-o!" he's exclaim at his arrival, both to those he knew as well as the stranger.

    "Nice!" Ewan exclaims after witnessing Cherry's catch. Ewan, though holding no relation to the new kids running around the Ruins, loved them. Kids were cute! And hilarious. Some of the things pups did and said could get Ewan rolling with laughter. And of course, Ver and Nadine would make extra funny and extra cute little dudes. So maybe he was just a clanmate, but he would act like the most supportive clanmate out there.


    The hound fancied himself a bit of a hunter too, though he hadn't had the need to much lately. This little friend was almost inspiring. Motivating. Whatever word. And at this rate, Cherrywine was sure to be the finest hunter out there, so he needed to step up his game if he were to keep his position as 'relatively good hunter'.


    Ewan's ears perked at the words of the other kid, turning to Mint Julep with a small smile. "Sir Scaly would still be cool for a girl lizard," Ewan offers with a light nudge to the kid's shoulder.

    Regarding the statistics Ren had found regarding his fellow Ruiners, Ewan seemed to be the outlier. In fact, Ewan had never been in a raid, therefor he had been hurt significantly more times through genuine accident than by raid. He would conclude that no one should ever give Ewan credit for being a little smart or anything of the sort. At least, not in the 'common sense' style of smarts. The common sense would pass his brain, and he would immediately shove it aside.


    Nonetheless, Ewan found himself rather relieved that he hadn't needed to wander about aimlessly looking for the physician. The healer was drawn to injuries it seemed, like a sixth sense. It was scent... so... still one of the five senses, but that was less fun than the metaphorical draw to healing that Ewan had come up with. He would stick with the fantastical idea that Rentarou was simply magical and instantly knew when anyone was hurt within a ten mile radius.


    "Well, uh," the shepherd barked a stammering reply. He was not one to be embarrassed by anything he had done. The fear was more of reprimand rather than judgement, and surely a healer would be a little strict over his theatrics. Or maybe he'd welcome it, like more chances to do his job. That seemed unlikely in the hounds mind, however.


    "Y'know the ice pyramids, yeah?" he continued, "well that's a dumb question, course you do. Anyways, uh, yeah, ice pyramids. Turns out they're not very climbable." Ewan would settle for only implying what had caused the small gash on his head, letting the other work out the details of the event that led to him sitting here. No need to hash out the fact that it hadn't worked. Nor the fact that he was planning on trying again rather soon. "You'd think they would be like a natural icepack. No injuries cause the ice is right there. But nah. Opposite in fact, think it hurt worse on the ice."


    As Ren reached for his satchel, Ewan would relax onto his haunches momentarily, allowing his tail to flop lazily around himself for some sort of stabilization. "Whatcha got in there?" Ewan chirped. He knew little to nothing about the ways of medicine and healing. He knew some had healing powers, others used plants and stuff, but either way it went entirely above his head. Might as well inquire while he's here, yeah?

    Ewan appeared just as Arya left in a huff. Though the hound was not the closest to either of the mother's, the idea of a whole bunch of new little pups was far too cute to pass up. The instant his eyes locked on the bundle of babies, he nearly melted. A giant smiled crossed his face, and he crouched down as to not intimidate the little dudes (despite knowing they couldn't see him). Though perhaps it was also a way to not cross the boundaries of the growing family. He was an outsider in this case, of course, a simple Ruiner just here to admire the new life, or whatever. So he'd stay on the outskirts. "Oh, they're so f-," he cleared his throat, censoring himself in real time, "they're so cute... Congrats, guys."