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Memory 8🌙 Distraction
Mar. 18th, 2021 05:41 pmToday, you are not a wolf.
Unfortunately, you have to interact with people, who live in a society, and it's not even for the purpose of destroying said society from the inside out. Your only solace is that you're not doing this for your own sake - you're doing it because your pack needs to track down a certain someone who has information relevant to your mate, who they want to "save" or whatever.
The trouble is this: none of you actually remember this certain someone. You've deduced their existence from the negative space in your collective memories - things you shouldn't know that you do, things you shouldn't have experienced that you did, interactions that are always just missing one specific thing...and the worst of it is you're all pretty sure whoever it is that's trying to be forgotten definitely planned for you to find out and arranged all of your prior interactions in such a way that you'd track them to this place on this day, knowing a trap is waiting but being all too willing to spring it.
The thought of it makes you sick. The premise is exciting, but the execution reminds you of some lost, dark memory drifting through the sea of your very being - a millenia old thought about the day when the sun set. So, here you are ignoring all of that, sitting in an inn full of jovial drunken caravanhands and young bright eyed travelers seeking opportunity and lovestruck fans of the local famous bard, pretending to drink while actually mostly just asking barb-filled and intrusive questions about everyone you speak to in a way that makes them think "Wow, what a cool guy to drink with! Put 'er there, buddy!".
Your pack let you hang behind while they do the actual investigating because you're their escape plan. They told you to not draw too much attention and not to do too much damage when and if the time comes, something you appreciate because it means they're starting to understand they can't very well tell a beast to destroy things and expect those things to not be thoroughly destroyed.
Still, the people here are kind and warm and strong - they have no need of mercy, as expected from the denizens of your homeland. The garrison, on the other hand...
You hear a voice ring out through the frigid air, louder than anyone by any rights ought to be - it's spoken in a tongue that's completely foreign to most people here, but you understand it as one of the command taught to you by your packmate, Muji. Roughly, it means:
"Up, girl! Take it!"
Your ears twitch under the headwrapping you're wearing to conceal them, and you laugh an ugly laugh that startles the young woman you were busy flirting with. Without a single word to her you get up and leave the inn, establishing your reputation as a cold heartbreaker for about ten minutes.
(That's about how long it takes you to walk down the street to the town walls, scale them, interrogate a guard about his personal life choices before ensuring he regrets them by tossing him over the edge and howling into the sky before following him down, which establishes your reputation as an actual fucking lunatic.)
On the ground you unwrap your ears so you can take stock of the positions of every member of the usurper garrison that's converging on you. As expected, once you're sighted you hear cries of "LUNAR!" and you can almost hear Xiwen's long-suffering scream from here.
Fortunately for your dear 'leader' you don't plan to leave any witnesses alive. Only one of the children of the dragons are stationed here, and that isn't nearly enough to beat you. All anyone will know a Lunar was here, and it'll be easy enough to implicate the local Silver Pact clans. Two birds, one stone! You are a very clever dog.
You shut your eyes and focus. Your ears keep track of your prey, and the shifting of the air on your skin (which, incidentally, is rapidly becoming covered in fur) makes their actions known to you. Once you're good and hopelessly, surrounded you strike out once with your palm - directly ahead - shattering the sternum of some poor pikeman, and from there don't stop moving for even a second. Every step is a dodge that provides momentum for an attack which is also a dodge, and every strike that isn't a killing blow for one soldier is a springboard to rain death on another two. You are a scythe carrying out the harvest, just as your Master made you. An overpowering silver light steadily grows around you with each and every fallen foe, and when the arrows come this light streaks across your lines of movement in brilliant arcs to deflect them. When finally your real opponent pierces straight through your body from across the plaza with a gust of wind conveyed through the thrusting of her spear, you simply pull the light into your body, making you whole once more. With a wild snarl you begin your dance once more, ending this time with a single punch that delivers Luna's protective light straight through the Dragonblooded's heart.
You take a moment to pay your respects to the fallen for a hunt well carried out, as well as to check that you're not glowing too much. Once that's done, and before any of the townsfolk hazard journeying out to witness the massacre, you finally fully become a wolf once more, tear the heart from the woman's chest, and race out into the woods hoping for good news and a solid pat on the head when you meet back up with your packmates.
---
NOTES:
- Muji apparently just gives them dog commands in Seatongue????
- ???hunting a mystery person nobody in this circle remembers exists???
- what the fuck is wrong with sidereals
- what the fuck is wrong with lunars
- or at least this lunar specifically
- you ever just casually murder a town's entire guard force as a "distraction"
- you ever just casually steal their leader's heart
- sashay silfda does and they are getting SUCH a good grade in dog for it
Unfortunately, you have to interact with people, who live in a society, and it's not even for the purpose of destroying said society from the inside out. Your only solace is that you're not doing this for your own sake - you're doing it because your pack needs to track down a certain someone who has information relevant to your mate, who they want to "save" or whatever.
The trouble is this: none of you actually remember this certain someone. You've deduced their existence from the negative space in your collective memories - things you shouldn't know that you do, things you shouldn't have experienced that you did, interactions that are always just missing one specific thing...and the worst of it is you're all pretty sure whoever it is that's trying to be forgotten definitely planned for you to find out and arranged all of your prior interactions in such a way that you'd track them to this place on this day, knowing a trap is waiting but being all too willing to spring it.
The thought of it makes you sick. The premise is exciting, but the execution reminds you of some lost, dark memory drifting through the sea of your very being - a millenia old thought about the day when the sun set. So, here you are ignoring all of that, sitting in an inn full of jovial drunken caravanhands and young bright eyed travelers seeking opportunity and lovestruck fans of the local famous bard, pretending to drink while actually mostly just asking barb-filled and intrusive questions about everyone you speak to in a way that makes them think "Wow, what a cool guy to drink with! Put 'er there, buddy!".
Your pack let you hang behind while they do the actual investigating because you're their escape plan. They told you to not draw too much attention and not to do too much damage when and if the time comes, something you appreciate because it means they're starting to understand they can't very well tell a beast to destroy things and expect those things to not be thoroughly destroyed.
Still, the people here are kind and warm and strong - they have no need of mercy, as expected from the denizens of your homeland. The garrison, on the other hand...
You hear a voice ring out through the frigid air, louder than anyone by any rights ought to be - it's spoken in a tongue that's completely foreign to most people here, but you understand it as one of the command taught to you by your packmate, Muji. Roughly, it means:
"Up, girl! Take it!"
Your ears twitch under the headwrapping you're wearing to conceal them, and you laugh an ugly laugh that startles the young woman you were busy flirting with. Without a single word to her you get up and leave the inn, establishing your reputation as a cold heartbreaker for about ten minutes.
(That's about how long it takes you to walk down the street to the town walls, scale them, interrogate a guard about his personal life choices before ensuring he regrets them by tossing him over the edge and howling into the sky before following him down, which establishes your reputation as an actual fucking lunatic.)
On the ground you unwrap your ears so you can take stock of the positions of every member of the usurper garrison that's converging on you. As expected, once you're sighted you hear cries of "LUNAR!" and you can almost hear Xiwen's long-suffering scream from here.
Fortunately for your dear 'leader' you don't plan to leave any witnesses alive. Only one of the children of the dragons are stationed here, and that isn't nearly enough to beat you. All anyone will know a Lunar was here, and it'll be easy enough to implicate the local Silver Pact clans. Two birds, one stone! You are a very clever dog.
You shut your eyes and focus. Your ears keep track of your prey, and the shifting of the air on your skin (which, incidentally, is rapidly becoming covered in fur) makes their actions known to you. Once you're good and hopelessly, surrounded you strike out once with your palm - directly ahead - shattering the sternum of some poor pikeman, and from there don't stop moving for even a second. Every step is a dodge that provides momentum for an attack which is also a dodge, and every strike that isn't a killing blow for one soldier is a springboard to rain death on another two. You are a scythe carrying out the harvest, just as your Master made you. An overpowering silver light steadily grows around you with each and every fallen foe, and when the arrows come this light streaks across your lines of movement in brilliant arcs to deflect them. When finally your real opponent pierces straight through your body from across the plaza with a gust of wind conveyed through the thrusting of her spear, you simply pull the light into your body, making you whole once more. With a wild snarl you begin your dance once more, ending this time with a single punch that delivers Luna's protective light straight through the Dragonblooded's heart.
You take a moment to pay your respects to the fallen for a hunt well carried out, as well as to check that you're not glowing too much. Once that's done, and before any of the townsfolk hazard journeying out to witness the massacre, you finally fully become a wolf once more, tear the heart from the woman's chest, and race out into the woods hoping for good news and a solid pat on the head when you meet back up with your packmates.
---
NOTES:
- Muji apparently just gives them dog commands in Seatongue????
- ???hunting a mystery person nobody in this circle remembers exists???
- what the fuck is wrong with sidereals
- what the fuck is wrong with lunars
- or at least this lunar specifically
- you ever just casually murder a town's entire guard force as a "distraction"
- you ever just casually steal their leader's heart
- sashay silfda does and they are getting SUCH a good grade in dog for it
