Teach Me Again [open]

[Hafalong Rambling]

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[atrb=background,http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a190/lilDiablo_/hafmid2.png] Teetering, tottering, wind stirring, floating, drifting... Falling. Spiraling, twisting, howling, dropping, wings tucked tight, tail streaming... Up and up and up! Wings, shot out, swooping, gliding. Flying! "Do you remember how to do this?" Mortus swirled about anxiously in the air. Beside him, Hafalong wobbled on the edge of a cliff, his wings half spread. "I could never forget." There was a chill in the necromancer's voice. His eyes were glassy. He was- Living in another wolf's head. The name. The name! Someone had spoken it. Someone who knew what could not be known. She had spoken the name of the demon. "Tiatsu." The Pretty Ami had spoken that name. She knew it. She knew the name. That meant... That meant that he existed. Somewhere. And the memories... The memories of flying... Learning how to spread his wings, how to turn, how to spin... Hafalong spread his wings further. Pebbles tumbled away from his paws as he balanced on the edge. His eyes closed. A soft breeze rustled his fur. Teetering... tottering... dropping... "No!" Eyes popped open, mind reeling, stomach dropping. Hafalong scooted away from the edge, wings tucked tightly against his sides. "I can't. I can't! I'm scared! Scared! Scared!" he cowered far from the cliff, paws over his muzzle, "I don't want to see it. I don't want to do this. It would... it would bring him back! I don't want him back!" Mortus drifted above the ground, the skull half of his face grinning, though the flesh half was crinkled with worry. "I won't make you. You don't have to." he said soothingly, "You've been on the ground for so long... it's understandable. I understand." Hafalong whimpered in response, not looking up. Mortus swirled about a few more times, then drifted off in a random direction. Tiatsu had loved the air. The ghost had spent some time poking around his companion's memories, and saw the day that he had learned to fly. A pup, who had always dreamed of the wind... How could he bring that back without destroying all that his friend had become? As a lupus and a ghost, he could do nothing for his friend. "There must be someone... someone who can help you..."

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[Charis Dermott]

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[atrb=background,http://i1104.photobucket.com/albums/h329/Whosie/charistablebackground-2.png] Do you mind if I join? I know Charis can't fly, but she might be able to help him, she's quite intelligent. The air was thick in the dry warmth that hung peacefully around her. An irritated frown crept up her face, but washed away like a wave on the beach. A light pink tongue tasted the air. The taste of it was enough to make her harbor a dislike for this place, but the warmth itself was enough. Charis moved silently up the cliff, avoiding the much rockier places. The heat was one of the things she despised most. The sky was a pale blaze, matching almost perfectly the intense shade of her eyes. She hadn't come out here with a purpose, and it showed in her slightly lost way of walking. She was just about to give up on this terrain and head to cooler ground when her ears caught the faintest wisp of sound from far ahead of her. She paused, head cocked slightly to the side. The words were too far away to make out, but there was definitely something ahead of her. She squinted, peering up the cliff, and sure enough, there was the outline of another wolf far up. Charis did not particularly like strangers, but she knew she was at an advantage here. The other would not have seen her or heard her coming, and since the wind was blowing off of the edge, to her right, her scent would not be carried to him. She had the element of surprise here, and she had half a mind just to leave him be. She wasn't a social creature, not particularly desiring any kind of contact with another unless necessary, and this certainly wasn't. But there was a kind of fear in his voice, so despairing and just out of touch, that she yearned to hear what he was saying. The intellectual, intensely psychological part of herself was curious to see exactly what could cause him to sound so distressed. The mind was of such a fascination to her that it caused her to push forward slowly, assessing the situation. From her current position, the wolf did not look too large. In fact, she, with her square, sturdy frame and thick, coiled muscles, seemed to be taller then he was. His black and white frame completely stood out in the warm surroundings. She had sharp eyes and even sharper ears, and as she had moved closer, she'd caught his ending words. "It would... it would bring him back! I don't want him back!" She wondered who he was talking to. Another wolf, maybe? She knew she would not be unspotted for long. Her coat, white and cream, mostly, with flecks of blue, would stand out amongst the gloomy browns, and her clipped gait was not exactly graceful. She would soon knock over a rock and be heard, or he would simply catch her out of the corner of his eye. Regardless, she paused for a moment when she was sure she was yet unnoticed, and surveyed him once more. He was cowering, wings tucked to his sides. A Keiyou, one with colors Charis had never seen in her life. But, wait ... her eyes squinted again, measuring, analyzing him. Some Lupus blood? She wasn't sure. Charis was a collector of secrets. Her immense, cavernous brain stored almost every conversation she had ever had into categories that were easily pulled up into her minds eye. This male should have a reason for being so upset. Maybe, if she wheedled it out of him, she might someday be able to use it. So she came up slowly, so he would not be surprised, until she was standing a respectable distance away. The way he was looking over the edge caught her attention as she watched him, positioning herself in such a way that would make herself appear smaller and slimmer, less of a threat. Something about the way he was looking caused her to say, in a most uncharacteristic way, "Do you hurt, stranger?" It was not asked in such a way that would imply she thought he was physically injured - more in a way that asked if his soul was aching. It was such a simple question, stated in her soft, polite vocals, completely void of inflection. Her face was smooth and unreadable as glass, and she showed not one ounce of emotion throughout her body, like she was incredibly good at. He would not be able to read her, but he was an open book.

[Hafalong Rambling]

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[atrb=background,http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a190/lilDiablo_/hafmid2.png] ((You're welcome to join~ it should be interesting~)) "Do you hurt, stranger?" Hafalong's eyes flickered around, catching sight of another wolf off to the side of his vision. Startled, he skittered back, a yelp building in his throat. "Hey, buddy, calm down. She's just a little thing, innit she?" Mortus spoke softly in his ear, and his racing heart slowed. The necromancer paused for a moment, allowing his mind to catch up with what the other wolf had said. "Hurt..." he spoke at last, "Pain... aching... Nay, I hurt not. I am perfectly fit." he thought back on the words, and then caught on to the fact that perhaps the stranger didn't quite mean physical pain, "Ah, but... my mind... does not hurt. Nay, it does not hurt, but it spins. Dizzy, dizzy... I'm dizzy..." he lowered his head to his paws, stomach churning. Behind his closed eyes, clouds rushed past, the earth sped forward to meet him, a voice that was his own but was not his own howled in glee, "Spinning... dizzy-a-daisy, I spin and spin, but who is spinning? Not I, not I." he lifted a wing and looked sadly at the other wolf, "See these, friend? I know not how they work. He did, once. He knew how to use them. I do not. They are useless to me. These paws will take me anywhere, but these wings are for naught." Hafalong's eyes roamed over the the other wolf. Having spoken, he took the time to properly assess the possibility of danger. Small, slight, and... "Blank" Mortus finished his thoughts for him, "I can't get anything out of her." "Like rain..." Hafalong murmured, "Rain that washed away his paw prints, hunting for Mama in the dark, wet forest. He no longer knew where he was going, or where he had come from." He didn't realize he had spoken aloud, nor would he have cared if he had. Conflicting thoughts sparked in his mind, but among them all swirled the only thought he could count upon. Such pretty eyes...

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[Charis Dermott]

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[atrb=background,http://i1104.photobucket.com/albums/h329/Whosie/charistablebackground-2.png] He skidded back soon after his blue eyes found her, but she made no movement, her eyes fixed on him as she waited for his reply. "Hurt... pain... aching... Nay, I hurt not. I am perfectly fit. Ah, but... my mind... does not hurt. Nay, it does not hurt, but it spins. Dizzy, dizzy... I'm dizzy... Spinning... dizzy-a-daisy, I spin and spin, but who is spinning? Not I, not I." He paused and lifted his wing, looking at her sadly, she didn't speak, but waited quietly for him to continue. "See these, friend? I know not how they work. He did, once. He knew how to use them. I do not. They are useless to me. These paws will take me anywhere, but these wings are for naught." She didn't fully understand what he meant. His body - he had shifted, not into a stance that could cause her alarm, but lowering his head to his paws. To her, it was not dangerous one. It showed her he was troubled. When he spoke, it was sad. At first, it was simple, simple enough to keep her waiting for more. And he supplied it, simply with another word, simple, simple, simple. Not giving too much up. Keeping himself cloaked in a mask of mystery. His name had not been revealed, and nothing useful about himself, either. Just that he spinning, dizzy and he couldn't fly, but someone whom he only mentioned as 'he' could. Useless, worthless information. Information she did not need to store because she would never need to use it. Unless ... family? Perhaps his words was one of loneliness, of wanting to return to his roots. Against her better judgment, she filed it away. "Like rain... Rain that washed away his paw prints, hunting for Mama in the dark, wet forest. He no longer knew where he was going, or where he had come from." His words reverberated off of her ears and she surveyed him silently for a moment, turning it over in her head. He remained just as blank as she, which, she assumed, meant he had something to hide. "Tell me," she said, letting the faintest trace of a purr soften her tone. "What happened? Why is it that a wolf of such beautiful coloring cannot fly?" Her words stopped abruptly, like they had simply reached the edge of a cliff and dropped off the end. She shifted her weight slightly, separating her paws just so that she had even, square footing on the earth. A rock threatened fall from under her paws, but she did not back away from it. She was preoccupied now.

[Hafalong Rambling]

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[atrb=background,http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a190/lilDiablo_/hafmid2.png] "What happened?" It was a question Hafalong often asked himself. He pondered this, tapping his paw on the stony earth. "I know not." his response came at last, "I simply... forgot how to fly. I remember... the feeling of flying... they are his memories. He who is without being." he shook his head, "I'm sorry... I ramble. Like I said. My mind is spinning. I know not why, or how." He tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes half closed. His tongue lolled between his teeth. "Black and white... black and white... which is he? Which am I? I know not. I know not... can you tell me why I spin? Why my head is always dizzy? Why I can never seem to stay still? Why my wings do not work? Why..?" All around... the snow falls, the rain falls... falling... falling... "When I close my eyes, I can see it. My stomach... it's falling, I feel like... sick... dying... the ground... rushing... howling... crying... I fear... I fear... I know naught but fear. Fear is my body, my mind, my soul. It freezes the wind beneath these wings, fills my limbs with ice. I cannot fly... I cannot... I cannot..." Mortus swirled around Hafalong. "Calm down, buddy. Calm..." he murmured. Hafalong whipped his head around to face the ghost, eyes wild. "Calm? You tell me to be calm?! You ask me to be calm when my mind is not my own and my body is being stolen from me? Mortus, you speak without thought!" his words ended with a snarl, which faded as he turned back to the stranger. "Calm is a word that I do not understand. I'm sorry. I must... scare you."

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[Charis Dermott]

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[atrb=background,http://i1104.photobucket.com/albums/h329/Whosie/charistablebackground-2.png] The rock that threatened to fall early gave away and Charis lost her balance. With a faint surprised yelp she jumped sideways, but readjusted her balance and her passive face quickly. Lucky for her, she had kept a distance from the edge, but the rock tumbled away, down the edge. It was a while before her trained ears heard its end. That was a long way down, she thought as her icy-blue eyes scanned the males duo toned figure once more before gathering her haunches under herself and watched as he thought. "I know not. I simply... forgot how to fly. I remember... the feeling of flying... they are his memories. He who is without being. I'm sorry... I ramble. Like I said. My mind is spinning. I know not why, or how. Black and white... black and white... which is he? Which am I? I know not. I know not... can you tell me why I spin? Why my head is always dizzy? Why I can never seem to stay still? Why my wings do not work? Why..? When I close my eyes, I can see it. My stomach... it's falling, I feel like... sick... dying... the ground... rushing... howling... crying... I fear... I fear... I know naught but fear. Fear is my body, my mind, my soul. It freezes the wind beneath these wings, fills my limbs with ice. I cannot fly... I cannot... I cannot..." She listened as intuitively as she had before, sucking in every one of his words, trying analyze it and find the best answer, but it was unlike anything she'd ever dealt with before. He was different in a way, something was terribly wrong and she couldn't place it anywhere, at least not just yet. Her head had been turned down to look at the rocky ground, but she pulled it back up in one swift moment as he spoke again, "Calm? You tell me to be calm?! You ask me to be calm when my mind is not my own and my body is being stolen from me? Mortus, you speak without thought! Calm is a word that I do not understand. I'm sorry. I must... scare you." She raised a brow at his first words. He hadn't been looking at her, but who then? Charis cleared her throat before she started to speak, "Don't worry, you do no scare me, but who where you speaking to before?" She cleared her throat again and pulled her tail to curve around her lithe figure, "I'm sorry, stranger, I cannot see what you do, and I want to help you, but I don't understand the full story here." She paused and let her head drop to the side in a thinking matter, "Why don't you sit down now and take a deep breath ... now close your eyes and lower you head as if you where looking at the ground and tell me what you see."