12-17-2013, 07:43 PM
Thunder's Cry Echoes From the Sea tends to come up to tell stories like he's caught in some unseen electric pulse, the sense of energy humming just under his skin so intense it seems like you could taste ozone and feel the prickling sense of a lightening strike. Even when he was deliberately engaging people, there was the sense that under all those words he could not wait to slip back out of a human skin and go rushing off to hunt.
This story, he doesn't tell like that.
Instead, for this story, he slips into homid and walks up to speak with a few deliberate, even steps. The moon is full and both Siren of Persephone and his alpha are in the process of riling everyone up, so this isn't calm. This stillness of the surface of water with lurking currents beneath and possibly a sea monster or three is something else entirely.
"I have learned that the nights Dances with the Hurricane, Still Waters, and I meet are nights I will be telling stories about soon enough." His eyes do not search out either Dances with the Hurricane or Still Waters, but then he never seeks them out. Fate might throw the three of them together, but outside of those meetings they are ghosts to each other. Some shared experience doesn't lend itself to anything but silence.
"And so, when the three of us met outside a warehouse, I think we all expected that something would happen even before Still Waters set her gaze into the Umbra and saw the banes and before Dances with the Hurricane led us creeping past boarded up windows silent as drifting fog." He does not stalk through the cleared space tonight and his gestures are clean, elegant things. Tonight is a night of minimal movement, of letting his tone and his words carry the story more than his body does.
And his eyes. Tonight he looks at those gathered around him. Never for long, and he directly meets the eyes only of those he is closest to, but his eyes are directed at the crowd more than the ground or the sky or some open space.
"Dances With the Hurricane found us an entrance and picked the lock. Let the door open to reveal a massive bloated creature. It gave a gurgling cry and came forward. Dances With the Hurricane did not hesitate, not at the sight of it so gorged already that it seemed to waddle more than it walked, not at the unnatural wailing, not distracted by the man who fled the room. She bade the Theurges, Still Waters and Over Sea, Under Stone to distract it while she flanked it.
"As they distracted it, Dances With the Hurricane rushed forward and sliced deeply into the creature's ribs. It tried to catch her with its tongue, long and covered in sticky ooze, but failed. Desperate, it tried to summon some other Tainted power, but it failed, and the dying thing collapsed to the ground.
"Just as it crashed to the floor there was the sound of a gunshot, close by, and then silence. We searched through a hall of rooms, most of which could only be opened from the outside and most of those rooms held the bodies of those who had only suffered partway through their transformation into monsters before death claimed them. In one of the rooms, a shrine rather than a prison, we found the body of the man who had been attempting to create them. With his only guardian creature destroyed he knew that like those he had experimented on, his only hope for escape was death and he had chosen bullets over our claws."
Victory. Siren of Persephone conjured up the certainty that they would have it by bringing them all in for a crashing refrain, Echoes the Lost drives them all to hunt, but this is something hushed and calmer for them to echo over and through. Certain and patient. Lakes instead of oceans and rivers.
This story, he doesn't tell like that.
Instead, for this story, he slips into homid and walks up to speak with a few deliberate, even steps. The moon is full and both Siren of Persephone and his alpha are in the process of riling everyone up, so this isn't calm. This stillness of the surface of water with lurking currents beneath and possibly a sea monster or three is something else entirely.
"I have learned that the nights Dances with the Hurricane, Still Waters, and I meet are nights I will be telling stories about soon enough." His eyes do not search out either Dances with the Hurricane or Still Waters, but then he never seeks them out. Fate might throw the three of them together, but outside of those meetings they are ghosts to each other. Some shared experience doesn't lend itself to anything but silence.
"And so, when the three of us met outside a warehouse, I think we all expected that something would happen even before Still Waters set her gaze into the Umbra and saw the banes and before Dances with the Hurricane led us creeping past boarded up windows silent as drifting fog." He does not stalk through the cleared space tonight and his gestures are clean, elegant things. Tonight is a night of minimal movement, of letting his tone and his words carry the story more than his body does.
And his eyes. Tonight he looks at those gathered around him. Never for long, and he directly meets the eyes only of those he is closest to, but his eyes are directed at the crowd more than the ground or the sky or some open space.
"Dances With the Hurricane found us an entrance and picked the lock. Let the door open to reveal a massive bloated creature. It gave a gurgling cry and came forward. Dances With the Hurricane did not hesitate, not at the sight of it so gorged already that it seemed to waddle more than it walked, not at the unnatural wailing, not distracted by the man who fled the room. She bade the Theurges, Still Waters and Over Sea, Under Stone to distract it while she flanked it.
"As they distracted it, Dances With the Hurricane rushed forward and sliced deeply into the creature's ribs. It tried to catch her with its tongue, long and covered in sticky ooze, but failed. Desperate, it tried to summon some other Tainted power, but it failed, and the dying thing collapsed to the ground.
"Just as it crashed to the floor there was the sound of a gunshot, close by, and then silence. We searched through a hall of rooms, most of which could only be opened from the outside and most of those rooms held the bodies of those who had only suffered partway through their transformation into monsters before death claimed them. In one of the rooms, a shrine rather than a prison, we found the body of the man who had been attempting to create them. With his only guardian creature destroyed he knew that like those he had experimented on, his only hope for escape was death and he had chosen bullets over our claws."
Victory. Siren of Persephone conjured up the certainty that they would have it by bringing them all in for a crashing refrain, Echoes the Lost drives them all to hunt, but this is something hushed and calmer for them to echo over and through. Certain and patient. Lakes instead of oceans and rivers.