Random roleplay
Thread Topic: Random roleplay
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As dawn breaks over the mountain, Cheyenne undergoes a gradual transformation from wolf to human. The process is painfully slow; her fur falls away, revealing her skin, which gradually regains its hue. However, her injuries persist in her human form, and she is observed limping toward a group of assistants who quickly rush to tend to her wounds and provide her with clothing.
Adrianna, her assistant, hurries over. “My lady..” she pants, breathless from the search for her superior. “..Hah.. are.. you alright..?”
Cheyenne spits out a little bit of blood, but she smiles. “Ha. My ego is more hurt than anything. I’ll be fine, though.”
“Well.. not all is lost, my lady… Moonstone.. hah.. took some.. considerable losses as well… I’ve been logging all the losses from each pack.”
“Oh?”
Adrianna unfurls a scroll filled with hastily scribbled notes and presents it to the alpha. Cheyenne scoffs upon glancing at the document, struggling to decipher the chaotic handwriting. She turns to her servant with a look of disapproval. Deep down, Adrianna feels a pang of disappointment, having hoped that Cheyenne would recognize her efforts despite the demands placed on every Blood Moon member to fight during the battle. Given the circumstances, neatness was not a priority, yet [i]that[i] was what she wished to emphasize? Adrianna swallows her own pride per usual.
“Ahem. Right then. I can fill you in verbally on the way back as well, if that is what you wish. Shall we, my lady?” The woman extends a hand toward her alpha, who hesitates before taking it. Other members of the Blood Moon pack also gradually begin to transform back, and the pack begin their leave.
(would you like to do a timeskip to setting of ur choice?) -
"its not your fault Cheyenne wasn't trustworthy." Astrid recognized the pained feeling metus was having for the forest "I'm sure the forest will heal soon." Astrid sighed heavily, standing up." until then, we should probably go home and get our wounds treated."
(I'm fine with it if eggaly's good with it) -
"I'll go with you, in a minute." Metus said. They stood up and shakily walked to the closest tree. They took a carving knife from their pocket and scored a small stub on the tree where there was once a branch. A reminder to the forest of the fight that had occurred there. Metus liked to do this whenever they saw fights in the forest. Metus didn't understand it themselves but it felt important to them. They liked to believe they learned it from their dad, Barry, but Metus remembered very little of Barry. Metus put the knife away and walked back to Astrid.
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(alr, timeskip to after funeral processions & negotiation meeting!)
A biting chill enveloped the landscape on this bleak winter day. The sun struggled to penetrate the thick clouds overhead, casting a somber dark grey hue across the sky. Snow clung to the branches where vibrant leaves once thrived, but a fierce gust of wind sent flurries cascading down, creating a delicate snowfall over the soldiers marching below. From her office on the top floor of her mansion, Cheyenne observed the scene unfold.
The soldiers, bearing undecorated, sleek black wooden caskets, moved in a silent procession down the mountain, their demeanor devoid of any ceremony or reverence. Rather, they all seemed intent on finishing their task swiftly, avoiding any delays from the deceased's friends or family wishing to bid farewell. To the alpha, this was an embarrassment, and partially the deceased's fault. Therefore, she has decided that the fallen soldiers will not receive an honorable funeral and will instead be quietly moved to a small graveyard in Blood Moon's plains with no tombstones. After all, who would want to remember the losers?
Cheyenne observes closely until the final figure vanishes from view. At that moment, Adrianna arrives with a steaming pot of coffee, perfectly complementing the alpha's cherished glassware set. The delicate china produces a soft clink as it meets the boss's desk, capturing her attention. She turns just in time to see Adrianna brush off her apron and exit silently. Cheyenne settles into her luxurious leather swivel chair with a sigh, the leather emitting a slight squeak under her weight. Leaning forward, she examines the bowl of sugar cubes on her desk, savoring the ritual of choosing the perfect one.
The milk beside her remains untouched, as Cheyenne prefers her coffee with just a single sugar cube. She delicately plunges a perfectly manicured finger into the cup, locating the cube and shattering it with a sharp, claw-like nail. The cube crumbles into fine grains as she stirs slowly. With her eyes closed, she takes a deep breath, the rhythmic ticking of her grandfather clock echoing in the silence. It feels like a haunting déjà vu, as the three of them find themselves back at the beginning, yet this time, Cheyenne is acutely aware of her diplomatic disadvantage. She wonders how the meeting will go this time. -
As the moonstones pack finishes the funeral services, built on honoring the fallen soldiers instead of defaming them, Astrid feels a sense of grief of losing members of their pack.
getting ready to proceed to the meeting, a nurse changed her bandage on her stitched up shoulder
"thank you, Akira." she says to the nurse. Akira nods and finishes rapping asrids shoulder up before fetching a sleek black dress with white stockings that had lacy suspenders.
"be careful putting that on, I'll help you. your shoulder should heal in two-ish weeks" Akira said, presenting the outfit.
after getting ready, she left the room, not doing her hair. as per usual. she then proceeded to metus's location to ask if they were ready to leave. "metus, are you almost ready to go?" -
Metus was carving small wolf figurines in their room when Astrid walked in. It was another one of their small, silly traditions. They carved figurines for each member of the pack that died. Metus remembered exactly when that tradition started. They looked up from their carving and set the knife down. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Metus mumbled. They wore a deep blue suit with a bowtie. Metus hated wearing suits, but they understood the occasion.
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