Post by Otherkin F WSM on Aug 30, 2013 21:07:53 GMT
I'm going to share this with you guys, but in rp, the wolves don't know her past unless she specifically tells her past.
Otherkin; a she-wolf with feathers tied in her strangely patterned pelt. She says the patterns were created by the spirits. Otherkin is called such because of her otherworldly experiences. Her head snaps back, her eyes half-lid and start trembling, she snaps her jaws, speaks in tongues, seems in pain...Otherkin has always been known as that name. Of course, she used to have a name before it all started. Aithne, they called her, meaning fire. The shaman of her pack called her such, saying there was a destiny to be fulfilled. Then, upon one winter's eve, when it was so cold, the wolves began to feel warm in their sleep. The five or six wolves of the pack had dreams of warmth and...pain. The pain began to sear their flesh and they awoke; the forest was alight with flickering tongues of flame and light.
Aithne was but a teen. She felt no pain, and she began to panic, grabbing her sister and throwing her out of the thatch den that was afire. "Mother, father!" she cried, and she saw their eyes, their faces, just as a great fir tree fell on the den in which her mother and father where exiting. No time to mourn. Aithne grabbed her sister and looked for a way out - there was none. The whole forest was alight with the searing pain of fire, and the thick forest that surrounded them was a wall of flame.
"Sister, we are going to die here tonight," Aithne shouted above the deep rumble and crackling of the flames. Her sister was sobbing. "Let us die together," she then held her sister close. The smoke began to make her dizzy, a lack of oxygen to her searing lungs. Her lungs were crying out in pain and desperation - or was that her sister. Sobs from the two teens, and coughs, carried under the roar of the flames. Aithne's sight went black, her body tingling from the lack of oxygen. She decided, now was a good time to sleep - but no - but, sleep...
Daylight.
Aithne opened her eyes, and was immediately faced with ashes. Ashes all around her. A pile of ashes, bones, and teeth lay where she knew her sister had died. She looked down at herself, expecting to see herself covered in burnt flesh - but no, instead her fur was intact, and was indeed changed. Black and white with strange shamanic markings like those her shaman had drawn on the dirt and rocks. Aithne looked around, her eyes wide and panicked. "Hello?"
Pain, light, and noise. Intense pain, bright light, and overpowering noise. Aithne felt her head pulled back by some force, felt her neck stretching to unprecedented angles. Her body clenched up like one massive cramp. She screamed through her clenched teeth, her mouth reflexively opening, then being forced closed again. "The otherkin...the otherkin..." she chanted. The otherkin was her pack's name for the spirits of the realm. Her bones felt like cracking, her teeth felt like falling out, and her ears felt like bleeding. The noise she heard was a thousand cries and whispers, pain, sorrow, happiness, anger, all blended together into one roar of white noise - a roar like fire. Her head snapped back down and twisted like a screw halfway turn. "Ó Otherkin go Otherkin, tá tú ag Otherkin!" she cried in the ancient Celtic language, Irish, falling down, her jaw hitting the ashen ground.
Aithne thought, and realized, she didn't remember her name anymore...well, she remembered her name, it was Aithne, but it wasn't her name anymore. She didn't know her name anymore. "Otherkin..." she thought, opening her eyes. She sat up gingerly - her very bones hurt. She looked down at the pile of ashes that was her sister and began to walk...
Otherkin; a she-wolf with feathers tied in her strangely patterned pelt. She says the patterns were created by the spirits. Otherkin is called such because of her otherworldly experiences. Her head snaps back, her eyes half-lid and start trembling, she snaps her jaws, speaks in tongues, seems in pain...Otherkin has always been known as that name. Of course, she used to have a name before it all started. Aithne, they called her, meaning fire. The shaman of her pack called her such, saying there was a destiny to be fulfilled. Then, upon one winter's eve, when it was so cold, the wolves began to feel warm in their sleep. The five or six wolves of the pack had dreams of warmth and...pain. The pain began to sear their flesh and they awoke; the forest was alight with flickering tongues of flame and light.
Aithne was but a teen. She felt no pain, and she began to panic, grabbing her sister and throwing her out of the thatch den that was afire. "Mother, father!" she cried, and she saw their eyes, their faces, just as a great fir tree fell on the den in which her mother and father where exiting. No time to mourn. Aithne grabbed her sister and looked for a way out - there was none. The whole forest was alight with the searing pain of fire, and the thick forest that surrounded them was a wall of flame.
"Sister, we are going to die here tonight," Aithne shouted above the deep rumble and crackling of the flames. Her sister was sobbing. "Let us die together," she then held her sister close. The smoke began to make her dizzy, a lack of oxygen to her searing lungs. Her lungs were crying out in pain and desperation - or was that her sister. Sobs from the two teens, and coughs, carried under the roar of the flames. Aithne's sight went black, her body tingling from the lack of oxygen. She decided, now was a good time to sleep - but no - but, sleep...
Daylight.
Aithne opened her eyes, and was immediately faced with ashes. Ashes all around her. A pile of ashes, bones, and teeth lay where she knew her sister had died. She looked down at herself, expecting to see herself covered in burnt flesh - but no, instead her fur was intact, and was indeed changed. Black and white with strange shamanic markings like those her shaman had drawn on the dirt and rocks. Aithne looked around, her eyes wide and panicked. "Hello?"
Pain, light, and noise. Intense pain, bright light, and overpowering noise. Aithne felt her head pulled back by some force, felt her neck stretching to unprecedented angles. Her body clenched up like one massive cramp. She screamed through her clenched teeth, her mouth reflexively opening, then being forced closed again. "The otherkin...the otherkin..." she chanted. The otherkin was her pack's name for the spirits of the realm. Her bones felt like cracking, her teeth felt like falling out, and her ears felt like bleeding. The noise she heard was a thousand cries and whispers, pain, sorrow, happiness, anger, all blended together into one roar of white noise - a roar like fire. Her head snapped back down and twisted like a screw halfway turn. "Ó Otherkin go Otherkin, tá tú ag Otherkin!" she cried in the ancient Celtic language, Irish, falling down, her jaw hitting the ashen ground.
Aithne thought, and realized, she didn't remember her name anymore...well, she remembered her name, it was Aithne, but it wasn't her name anymore. She didn't know her name anymore. "Otherkin..." she thought, opening her eyes. She sat up gingerly - her very bones hurt. She looked down at the pile of ashes that was her sister and began to walk...