Post by Curiosity on Nov 10, 2007 0:49:02 GMT -5
Characters Involved:
Paoro, female cougar
LaVeaux, adol. male cougar
-- Snowy Highlands --
Snow covers the mountaintops in the dead of winter, the Amaranth matron padding back towards the mesa from the stone formations from the southwest. Having consulted the spirits once again, she is no less anxious about her intuitions. Her black-tipped tail twitches back and forth with her edginess, and her mind is swimming with thoughts and feelings. If there are others around in the empty whiteness, she does not notice their presence just yet.
A newcomer arrives shortly afterward. Whiskers fan forward as a familiar scent reaches his muzzle and he sighs, his breath fading in the chilled air. Slinking upward, LaVeaux makes his first appearance in almost an entire season. He had grown to the normal size for his age, his fur is thick, though considerably darker and tinted with a mute grey. Reddish-gold eyes flick toward the familiar female and a sad grin spreads on the creature's muzzle. His painted marks had faded from lack of upkeeping, though were stiill visible. "Hello." LaVeaux's voice had grown gravelly and soft.
Even a distracted mother cannot ignore the signs of her children. Paoro's ears prick forward and her head swivels around to pinpoint the sounds coming from behind her. The unmistakable reds of her mate's pelt, passed on into some of his cubs, are easily recognized by the matron, and her response is similar to the sad happiness of the male before her. "My son," Paoro intones in a maternal tone that's both awash with relief and disappointment. Her pale green eyes do not miss the faded markings, nor does her mind forget his prolonged absence, having missed the coming-of-age ceremony. "What has happened to you?" The words are almost stingingly harsh by themselves, so the matron follows up with: "Your scent has not been on these lands for quite some time."
His eyes do not move from hers; they are unchanging and cold. "Never you mind, Matron...." Long ago, he had called her "Mum". No longer. "I realize my absence has worried you, therefore you are the only member of the Clan whom I will personally deliver my news."
Paoro is not only a mother, but a mother with shaman blood running through her veins. It doesn't take much of either to give her an immediate sense of what her child is intending to say, especially with the omens the spirits have been delivering to her lately. Totem guides had been discovered for all of her children...but one. The glimmer in her eyes falls flat with her mood, and the aging female almost pleads for her son to not say what he means to say. But she has a responsibility as a matron, if not as a mother, to hear what news the Brother has for her.
"I suppose you know what it is," LaVeaux murmured, keeping his distance. "I do not belong here. Or in this body. But it's not like I have a choice for that." He has never listened for or believed in "totems", or "spirits". To him it's laughable.
"I can guess well enough, my son, but I only hope I am misguided in my assumptions," Paoro replies, her voice heavy with emotion. The light snowfall from the heavens filters down slowly onto their coats, turning the pair of them into white-speckled lions.
"I don't belong here," he repaeated dully, now glaring at Paoro. It wasn't her...it was her species... How he loathed them. "I realize that the ceremonies had passed. It was no coincidence or mistake that I did not show."
Paoro closes her eyes for several seconds, as if hiding the truth from herself. But as much as it tortures her to deliver the sentence to one of her own children, it must be done, lest the spirits remove her gift. "LaVeaux, you have let your marking of family and tribe fade from your body and your heart. You have..." She falters mid-speech, unable to deliver the rest without further knowledge, without some reason /why/ he wants to leave them. "What has caused you to stray so far from your home, my son?"
"I wandered outside of the territory," he began grimly, "And found myself too intrigued by the outside to go back. So I kept going, wondering just /why/ all the other creatures avoided me when I wanted to return. They would run before I could even ask them - so I kept wandering..." By now he was uneasily pacing, his eyes locked on his mother. "Then I smelled it... A strange scent, it was, Matron." A grin spreads over his muzzle. "These strange, hairless two-leggers. I kept my distance far, but continued to watch them..."
"Say no more, LaVeaux," Paoro orders, lifting a forepaw to cut him short. She wants to hear no more of his foolishness. "I have heard nothing short of horrors from those two-leggers you saw. Not even the spirits dare to speak often of them." Her sadness is briefly overcome with a flare of subdued anger at her son. "They will not hesitate to kill you with their black magic, despite any admiration you may hold for their unusualness."
"I did nothing until I saw two of our own race slaughter their caged prey. I'd pieced this together...Everything avoids us, so are we only good for slaughtering and destroying what is not ours?" LeVeaux asks.
"We may not own those caged animals, but neither does Man!" Paoro replies, clearly upset, unbelieving that one of her own blood would even give thought to the idea that one is capable of owning another. "We are not the only ones who kill for food, my son. It is not a glorious thing, but it is what those of sharpened teeth are intended to do."
"I watched my own kind, a kind I had once believed to be respectable, break into another's territory and take from them. Our kind, I believe, is nothing short of evil, after what I saw." LeVeaux's voice is pained, though his face remains stoic.
Paoro shakes her head slowly as LaVeaux continues speaking, eyes downcast from shame and sadness - though perhaps also in a move to hide her tears from her now-disowned son. "I am deeply sorry that you have let these Men persuade you as to whom is truly evil in the world. You have forsaken your heritage, and thus your heritage will now forsake you," she continues, delivering the sentencing from before, effectively severing LaVeaux from the home of his bloodline. Speaking softly, half to herself as though LaVeaux were being shunned both mentally and physically, Paoro murmurs a eulogy: "My heart is truly broken, for I have lost my child today."
LaVeaux, in his own way, felt something lost from within him... But then again, he has never been around, so what importance should it be? He's been alone for too long to just return to this place. "I have come in person to tell you, and only you; I have just enough respect to let the Matron know. Spread the word, if you choose. And hopefully your other children will prosper. Hopefully." LaVeaux's eyes are cold; having been without emotion for so long.
Paoro gives no reply after her decree has been issued; her green eyes remain averted, staring down at the dull whiteness of the snow gathered around her paws. Two of her first litter had succumbed to famine, her eldest daughter does not yet feel satisfied with her home and the title that awaits her, and now one of her sons has discarded his own blood. The matron does not feel deserving of the motherly title in this particularly miserable moment.
"Goodbye to this miserable place," LeVeaux snarls, glaring at the Matron once more. "Do not bother wondering about me. I'm dead to you, and to the Clan. Good day, Matron." The male plods off into the eerie grey mist.
Paoro, female cougar
LaVeaux, adol. male cougar
-- Snowy Highlands --
Snow covers the mountaintops in the dead of winter, the Amaranth matron padding back towards the mesa from the stone formations from the southwest. Having consulted the spirits once again, she is no less anxious about her intuitions. Her black-tipped tail twitches back and forth with her edginess, and her mind is swimming with thoughts and feelings. If there are others around in the empty whiteness, she does not notice their presence just yet.
A newcomer arrives shortly afterward. Whiskers fan forward as a familiar scent reaches his muzzle and he sighs, his breath fading in the chilled air. Slinking upward, LaVeaux makes his first appearance in almost an entire season. He had grown to the normal size for his age, his fur is thick, though considerably darker and tinted with a mute grey. Reddish-gold eyes flick toward the familiar female and a sad grin spreads on the creature's muzzle. His painted marks had faded from lack of upkeeping, though were stiill visible. "Hello." LaVeaux's voice had grown gravelly and soft.
Even a distracted mother cannot ignore the signs of her children. Paoro's ears prick forward and her head swivels around to pinpoint the sounds coming from behind her. The unmistakable reds of her mate's pelt, passed on into some of his cubs, are easily recognized by the matron, and her response is similar to the sad happiness of the male before her. "My son," Paoro intones in a maternal tone that's both awash with relief and disappointment. Her pale green eyes do not miss the faded markings, nor does her mind forget his prolonged absence, having missed the coming-of-age ceremony. "What has happened to you?" The words are almost stingingly harsh by themselves, so the matron follows up with: "Your scent has not been on these lands for quite some time."
His eyes do not move from hers; they are unchanging and cold. "Never you mind, Matron...." Long ago, he had called her "Mum". No longer. "I realize my absence has worried you, therefore you are the only member of the Clan whom I will personally deliver my news."
Paoro is not only a mother, but a mother with shaman blood running through her veins. It doesn't take much of either to give her an immediate sense of what her child is intending to say, especially with the omens the spirits have been delivering to her lately. Totem guides had been discovered for all of her children...but one. The glimmer in her eyes falls flat with her mood, and the aging female almost pleads for her son to not say what he means to say. But she has a responsibility as a matron, if not as a mother, to hear what news the Brother has for her.
"I suppose you know what it is," LaVeaux murmured, keeping his distance. "I do not belong here. Or in this body. But it's not like I have a choice for that." He has never listened for or believed in "totems", or "spirits". To him it's laughable.
"I can guess well enough, my son, but I only hope I am misguided in my assumptions," Paoro replies, her voice heavy with emotion. The light snowfall from the heavens filters down slowly onto their coats, turning the pair of them into white-speckled lions.
"I don't belong here," he repaeated dully, now glaring at Paoro. It wasn't her...it was her species... How he loathed them. "I realize that the ceremonies had passed. It was no coincidence or mistake that I did not show."
Paoro closes her eyes for several seconds, as if hiding the truth from herself. But as much as it tortures her to deliver the sentence to one of her own children, it must be done, lest the spirits remove her gift. "LaVeaux, you have let your marking of family and tribe fade from your body and your heart. You have..." She falters mid-speech, unable to deliver the rest without further knowledge, without some reason /why/ he wants to leave them. "What has caused you to stray so far from your home, my son?"
"I wandered outside of the territory," he began grimly, "And found myself too intrigued by the outside to go back. So I kept going, wondering just /why/ all the other creatures avoided me when I wanted to return. They would run before I could even ask them - so I kept wandering..." By now he was uneasily pacing, his eyes locked on his mother. "Then I smelled it... A strange scent, it was, Matron." A grin spreads over his muzzle. "These strange, hairless two-leggers. I kept my distance far, but continued to watch them..."
"Say no more, LaVeaux," Paoro orders, lifting a forepaw to cut him short. She wants to hear no more of his foolishness. "I have heard nothing short of horrors from those two-leggers you saw. Not even the spirits dare to speak often of them." Her sadness is briefly overcome with a flare of subdued anger at her son. "They will not hesitate to kill you with their black magic, despite any admiration you may hold for their unusualness."
"I did nothing until I saw two of our own race slaughter their caged prey. I'd pieced this together...Everything avoids us, so are we only good for slaughtering and destroying what is not ours?" LeVeaux asks.
"We may not own those caged animals, but neither does Man!" Paoro replies, clearly upset, unbelieving that one of her own blood would even give thought to the idea that one is capable of owning another. "We are not the only ones who kill for food, my son. It is not a glorious thing, but it is what those of sharpened teeth are intended to do."
"I watched my own kind, a kind I had once believed to be respectable, break into another's territory and take from them. Our kind, I believe, is nothing short of evil, after what I saw." LeVeaux's voice is pained, though his face remains stoic.
Paoro shakes her head slowly as LaVeaux continues speaking, eyes downcast from shame and sadness - though perhaps also in a move to hide her tears from her now-disowned son. "I am deeply sorry that you have let these Men persuade you as to whom is truly evil in the world. You have forsaken your heritage, and thus your heritage will now forsake you," she continues, delivering the sentencing from before, effectively severing LaVeaux from the home of his bloodline. Speaking softly, half to herself as though LaVeaux were being shunned both mentally and physically, Paoro murmurs a eulogy: "My heart is truly broken, for I have lost my child today."
LaVeaux, in his own way, felt something lost from within him... But then again, he has never been around, so what importance should it be? He's been alone for too long to just return to this place. "I have come in person to tell you, and only you; I have just enough respect to let the Matron know. Spread the word, if you choose. And hopefully your other children will prosper. Hopefully." LaVeaux's eyes are cold; having been without emotion for so long.
Paoro gives no reply after her decree has been issued; her green eyes remain averted, staring down at the dull whiteness of the snow gathered around her paws. Two of her first litter had succumbed to famine, her eldest daughter does not yet feel satisfied with her home and the title that awaits her, and now one of her sons has discarded his own blood. The matron does not feel deserving of the motherly title in this particularly miserable moment.
"Goodbye to this miserable place," LeVeaux snarls, glaring at the Matron once more. "Do not bother wondering about me. I'm dead to you, and to the Clan. Good day, Matron." The male plods off into the eerie grey mist.