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 (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness

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Azilis Harkwood
we hunt those who hunt us

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Messages : 1222
Pseudo : vae solis (paula)
Avatar : holland roden
Crédits : hepburns (ava) ; .endlesslove (signa)
Double compte : ola skrzdlewska
Image :
Âge : vingt-quatre années que le monde l'a vue naître - vingt-quatre années qu'elle vagabonde et qu'elle essaie.
Statut civil : elle sait que son coeur bat pour quelqu'un - mais pour qui, cela lui a toujours échappé.
Occupation : on la voit souvent vendre des fleurs et des plantes en pots, mais rares sont ceux qui savent que la nuit, elle sort et chasse ceux qui la chassent.
Armes de prédilection : les armes blanches ; elle ne sort pas sans un couteau à la cheville gauche, et lors de ses chasses, sans deux grandes lames dans le dos, parfois même accompagnées d'une épée à la ceinture. elle sait aussi manipuler les hormones et les parfums, comme le reste des membres de sa famille.
Date d'inscription : 10/01/2016

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MessageSujet: (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness   Jeu 3 Mar - 22:22



(∆∆∆)
walking into the wilderness
She hides a yawn behind the palm of her right hand as she and her brothers wander through the woods. As they were taught to, they are barely hearable, softly stepping on the humid moss. Their three silhouettes evolve slowly, discretely, almost gracefully. All of them in black, you needed great senses to actually notice them and the weapons they were carrying – even greater than the wolves’ senses. More worried than he ever was about his sister, Audric cannot help but turn around and check on how she was going. She rolls her eyes, exaggerating her exasperation. “I’m fine.” It’s been a month since she started stating this nonstop, after she came back from the last night of a full moon, with almost no blood left, scarcely enough to stay alive. So he raises his brows, because her I’m fine sounds too robotic, automatic to be truthful. And Azilis rolls her eyes again – this time because her brother’s worries really, honestly, deeply pisses her off. “She says she’s fine, Audric.” She glances at the oldest of her brothers, whose she could only see the back. He would always go first; he would never look elsewhere than straight in front of him. She silently thanks him, because thanking him aloud would hit her pride so much that she would probably collapse. They don’t actually need the torch lamps that they took with them, the light of the white aster showing them the lane to follow. Where were they going? They didn’t really know. They were led by their feet and their poor, insignificant human instincts. “Let’s put one here”, Artor says, and the two others nod in agreement. It was the very first time they were hunting all together. They probably would have done it more often if their father didn’t die at Azilis’ first hunt. But it was ok. Though she loved one of her brother and tolerated the other one, being at home and being in the woods were two different things. Ariana used to say that her cousin was actually two different women hiding in one single body; that the gentle, smiling, slightly funny Azi that everyone knew was killed every full moon so that the cold, heartless, cruel huntress could wake up and do her job. And to her hears, it sounded a lot like being a creature of the night herself. A shapeshifter – a soulshifter. Artor makes his bag fall on the ground, opens it, and the sound of the unzipping echoes in the darkness. He takes a huge, thick net out of it, and both of Alaric Harkwood’s sons start to climb in the tree they stopped by and knot the net around its branches. Soon the trap was ready, and the oldest brother looked very satisfied about it. “We should do that more often.” They both knitted their brows, not very sure about what he was on about. And as usual, neither Audric nor Azilis had to speak a word for Artor to understand them. “Hang out, the three of us.” She deadens a sarcastic laughter. “How cool, hanging out in the forest at ten in the evening. Like, exactly the kind of quality time we need.” Audric smiles, doing his best not to laugh, and Artor sighs at his sister’s scorn. And off they go again, in the same order than before. They go on walking for a few minutes before a feminine scream pierces the night. The three of them turn their heads in perfect synchronisation, and in their three heads, the same deductions: it was obviously not a wolf – even a female would have roared a little after being trapped in a net. It was either a sorceress or a human, but in both cases, someone had to go and check it out. “I’ll get it.” She said that on the same tone she would use if the phone had just rang, or if someone had just knocked at their door. Her brothers nod, tell her to be careful, and she rolls her eyes again. She was done with people caring about her, after all; though she knew she couldn’t take care of herself. Not anymore, by the look of it. She turns away, heading back to the net the Harkwoods left behind them. All alone in the woods again. Her heart couldn’t help but beating faster at the very moment she realized it. She made it to the trap, and saw this silhouette trying to get out of it. She just needed to take a couple more steps ahead to see her face and recognize it. “Clarissa.” A smile touched her lips, and she crossed her arms, looking straight into her eyes where the moonlight reflected. “Need a hand? Or do the Killingworths teach you how to be real hunters?”.

_________________
    i can admit, i am not fireproof if i told you that i loved you, tell me, what would you say? if i told you that i hated you, would you go away? now i need your help with everything that i do, i don't want to lie, i've been relying on you ©️endlesslove
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Clarissa Killingworth
we hunt those who hunt us

avatar
Messages : 747
Pseudo : ganseys (kat).
Avatar : zoey deutch.
Crédits : av/ faust, icons sign/ kush coma.
Double compte : isadora agallon, la reine de beauté.
Image :
Âge : dix-neuf années qu'elle partage avec sa fausse jumelle, ciara et qui s'écoulent brutalement. dix-neuf années qu’elle s’éloigne de la petite fille qu’elle était avant le drame, avant la trahison et la mort. les mains immaculées se souillent, le coeur perd l’espoir, la légèreté d’autrefois.
Statut civil : célibataire, elle fuit l'amour, préfère s’égarer le temps d’un instant bref dans des étreintes inconnues.
Occupation : jolie stagiaire aux airs naïfs, elle s'est confortablement installée dans le poste de police de glencullen et plus particulièrement dans leurs archives.
Armes de prédilection : mis à part son corps qui est une arme à part entière, clare a une nette préférence pour les armes blanches. notamment son tashi ainsi que ses karambits, qui, avec son agilité, forment une combinaison mortelle entre ses mains.
Élément : mémoire effacée, souvenirs oubliés, pouvoirs mis sous verrou, clare ignore tout de ce qu'elle est véritablement; la nature de son vrai élément instaure en elle une peur d'enfant, terrible.
Date d'inscription : 16/01/2016

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MessageSujet: Re: (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness   Ven 4 Mar - 21:09


✽ ✽ ✽
the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly,
so meaningless and feeble from being kept
in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
walking into the wilderness ft/ azilis harkwood

(play) She tries. She really does. But somewhere between being worried sick about her sister and feeling guilty of everything that ever happened in her life, it gets too much. She just… she just stops caring; She gets reckless. She spends too much time in the forest, hunting the ghosts of the people she couldn’t stop before. She eats a little, doesn’t sleep at all and the feeling of doom that weights heavy in the pit of her stomach becomes just another ominous reminder of what she’s running from. The bloody scream of her sister and Ciara’s unconscious body in her arms; Her never-ending sleep that slowly and deadly churns at her heart. It gets too complicated, too painful. Like a stabbing ache that she started associating with the people she loves, the people who always leave. It’s too much. She stops thinking. In her stupid and hasty and careless way of coping. Her parents would have been furious. But selfishly, she considers, they don’t actually understand what’s it like. To feel so miserable, so anguished, so hollow. It’s Misty’s death all over again. Except Ciara isn’t dead yet, and that’s exactly what gets her going in her every-day life. Functioning, but barely. The nights blur together in her mind; she doesn’t care. In the back of her head, Clarissa tells herself that at least, at least she’s no longer waiting and breathing and waiting some more for a tragic sentence to fall and break everything, break her. With her trembling hands and her quivering thoughts, which are hidden behind masks that she carefully crafted on years and years of experience and that she knows are now starting to shatter, to splinter, especially since her arrival here, in this godforsaken town that she hates. And yeah, it’s not perfect, but who can actually say that their life is perfect and mean it, really, no-bullshit mean it? No one. So she does what she has to. She wanders, she gets lost.

With the cold, black and red handle of her tachi as a constant reassurance between her fingertips, the fallen leaves and the humid grass under her silent footsteps. She forgets. She doesn’t pay close attention to every detail and every sound like she’s supposed to. She makes the mistake to fall for a trick, a stupid and deceptive trick that her tired brain plays on her. It’s a silhouette that makes her heartbeat stop and drop and then beat faster faster faster. It’s a scary vision but she’s not, she’s not supposed to feel scared but it’s here. He’s here. She doesn’t know who he is, but she can feel herself crumble under his judgmental and maniacal eyes, which aren’t actually here, but they are. Still, she can’t think, can’t think, so she runs. Runs with her heart in her throat and the pounding of a drumroll echoing in her ribcage, her ears, her head. The paranoia induced by this hallucination eating at her logic, which screams at her to stop stop stop and there’s nothing there, stop running... She doesn’t. Her feet get tangled in a knot and then everything snaps. Halts. A high-pitched shriek tears itself from her larynx before she can prevent it and then she’s panting in the darkness of the forest that surrounds her, her body upside down. Dangling only on a simple cord by her left ankle, a net surrounding the lower-part of her body. Foolish little girl. Of course it happens to her. Of course she’s stupid enough to get caught in a snare. Of fucking course. With the stillness around her, only now does the brunette realize how utterly alone she is. There was no one there. How stupid. The terror that inhabited each of her senses seconds ago vanishing, she closes her eyes for a moment. Just enough to think of a plan on how to get out of the trap. A very astute one, it seems. A hunter’s work, no doubt. Or so she hopes. It would be really her fucking luck to fall into an ambush set up by a wolf or a sorcerer, expecting an idiotic human to get trapped as their next victim. Ugh. And now she is that idiotic human, who isn’t careful enough. Really. A mixture of a sneer and a pout forms on her lips, as Clare tries to squint at the base of the trap, in the trees. To no avail, as it is too dark for her to see anything clearly. A sigh escapes her as she establishes a strategy. Putting all her lower-body strength in her upper-body, she starts swinging. And swinging. And swinging some more. “Clarissa.” It’s a female voice that stops her in her tracks. A voice that she recognizes, but she’s still surprised, nevertheless, so she wipes her head around, hoping to confirm the identity of the person that sneak up on her. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck.” Seeing more clearly, now, the vision of the other huntress makes her exhale sharply. “Need a hand? Or do the Killingworths teach you how to be real hunters?” With the mood she’s in, she doesn’t like her tone, Clarissa decides, even if there’s no bite behind it. “Oh Azilis, what a nice surprise!” And what a surprise it is. She continues without acknowledging her own pathetic attempts at getting out of this mess. “Nooo, don’t worry, I’m peachy. I just like hanging upside down. Y’know. It’s my favorite thing to do in forests, especially when it’s cold.” She finishes dryly. So maybe Clarissa’s not very happy to see the redhead, but can you blame her? She cannot not associate Azilis with her brother, which… ugh. She hopes Thaddeus isn’t around. That would be really the perfect way to top it all off. As if her day — her life — wasn't shitty enough already.

_________________

and then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.

fragments:
 


Dernière édition par Clarissa Killingworth le Ven 25 Mar - 5:59, édité 9 fois
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Azilis Harkwood
we hunt those who hunt us

avatar
Messages : 1222
Pseudo : vae solis (paula)
Avatar : holland roden
Crédits : hepburns (ava) ; .endlesslove (signa)
Double compte : ola skrzdlewska
Image :
Âge : vingt-quatre années que le monde l'a vue naître - vingt-quatre années qu'elle vagabonde et qu'elle essaie.
Statut civil : elle sait que son coeur bat pour quelqu'un - mais pour qui, cela lui a toujours échappé.
Occupation : on la voit souvent vendre des fleurs et des plantes en pots, mais rares sont ceux qui savent que la nuit, elle sort et chasse ceux qui la chassent.
Armes de prédilection : les armes blanches ; elle ne sort pas sans un couteau à la cheville gauche, et lors de ses chasses, sans deux grandes lames dans le dos, parfois même accompagnées d'une épée à la ceinture. elle sait aussi manipuler les hormones et les parfums, comme le reste des membres de sa famille.
Date d'inscription : 10/01/2016

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Relations:

MessageSujet: Re: (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness   Sam 19 Mar - 18:13



(∆∆∆)
walking into the wilderness
She had no idea where this bitter, sarcastic tone was coming from. She was just in this kind of mood which made her careless of anything. Whatever if her brothers were worried sick about her and that she made absolutely no effort to reassure them. Whatever if she was wandering alone in the woods, which she never did before, on the night of a full moon on the top of that. Whatever if she just hit Clarissa’s pride, in the way she talked about her family. The thing is, though she only met two of them so far, she hated them – she loathed them. There was really no reason to – probably because the first preview of the House of Killingworth was the bloodthirsty creature her best friend turned out to be. So yes, she was careful. Yes, she was, mistrustful. But was she that wrong? She didn’t know shit about the brunette tangled in the trap Audric and Artor had set up. She just knew her name, a name that she could not help but despise. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck.”  That first sample of her voice made her giggle. Not in a silly way – this kind of a giggle which you can’t hold back, that doesn’t mean you’re amused but confused. “What the fuck me? What the fuck you! How on earth did you get in there?”  She was young, she knew that. She was sad, she knew that too. She just had to talk to her a little at that party to know that she got as many demons as Azilis, hiding behind her sweet face. However she was a huntress and a huntress didn’t get trapped in a goddamn net. “Oh Azilis, what a nice surprise!” She did notice the sarcasm in the voice of the girl, and she just answered by rolling her eyes, her arms still crossed under her chest. She had stopped moving by now, just casually hanging three feet above the ground, as if she couldn’t have been in a more normal situation. “Nooo, don’t worry, I’m peachy. I just like hanging upside down. Y’know. It’s my favorite thing to do in forests, especially when it’s cold.” The redhead cannot prevent a smile from appearing on the tip of her lips – a genuine smile. She had this little something which made the Harkwood unable to actually be as scornful as she wanted to. “Yeah well. You’re still ruining my goddamn trap.” And Azilis is so pissed off at everything that she doesn’t wait until Clarissa manages to get out of the mess she got herself into. She just wants to hunt like she always had, without having to swear to her brothers that she’s fine and deal with the other huntress. She was a killer, not a childminder – at night, at least. And so she goes, crossing the few steps between her and the other. She wants to say something, she want to annoy her. Voracious, unconscious need to make her pay for everything Thaddeus did to her. She had nothing to do with all this, the poor little thing. But she couldn’t explain why she automatically bounded the siblings, putting them in the same box – without even trying to get to know the young woman in front of her. Yet, it wasn’t who she was. Azilis may become this coldblooded person when the moonlight embraces the whole town and forest, but there was no way for her to get rid of the mother spirit that clearly defined her, to the eyes of her family and friends. She cared about people; most of the time, way too much, and she didn’t have to know someone for years to want the best for them. That’s why seeing Clarissa in such a situation, though she knew scarcely more than her name and occupation, made here willing to help her. She just couldn’t walk away, like ok then good luck, because it wasn’t ok. “Try to get, like, upside up. You don’t wanna land on your head, do you?” And she starts climbing. Artor always wanted things to be super-duper-well-made, and that implied hanging nets extremely high in the trees, so that you couldn’t really unset it. He did choose a very special spot, almost impossible to find if you didn’t know him well. But Azilis knew how he worked, and in a few seconds she found the knot. She first tried to take it off with her bare hands, but of course he had to tie it as hard as if it had to resist an earth quake and a tsunami. She swore. “Ok, this might hurt more than expected.” Because if she could have untied it with her fingers, she could have made it go down slowly, like a kind of lift. But the thing was, she couldn’t. She takes one of her daggers out of her belt, and gets started. In a few minutes, Clarissa will be free. Hurt, most likely, but free. “So. Huntin’ alone?” She’s been taught that lonely hunts could be dangerous – because there were no one to get your back if something went wrong. How many times would have the redhead died if it wasn’t for Ariana, or Audric, or even Adam once or twice? She didn’t know why she really cared about her – as said before, she barely knew the girl. But she couldn’t help but worry ; not surprisingly at all.

_________________
    i can admit, i am not fireproof if i told you that i loved you, tell me, what would you say? if i told you that i hated you, would you go away? now i need your help with everything that i do, i don't want to lie, i've been relying on you ©️endlesslove


Dernière édition par Azilis Harkwood le Sam 26 Mar - 13:47, édité 1 fois
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Clarissa Killingworth
we hunt those who hunt us

avatar
Messages : 747
Pseudo : ganseys (kat).
Avatar : zoey deutch.
Crédits : av/ faust, icons sign/ kush coma.
Double compte : isadora agallon, la reine de beauté.
Image :
Âge : dix-neuf années qu'elle partage avec sa fausse jumelle, ciara et qui s'écoulent brutalement. dix-neuf années qu’elle s’éloigne de la petite fille qu’elle était avant le drame, avant la trahison et la mort. les mains immaculées se souillent, le coeur perd l’espoir, la légèreté d’autrefois.
Statut civil : célibataire, elle fuit l'amour, préfère s’égarer le temps d’un instant bref dans des étreintes inconnues.
Occupation : jolie stagiaire aux airs naïfs, elle s'est confortablement installée dans le poste de police de glencullen et plus particulièrement dans leurs archives.
Armes de prédilection : mis à part son corps qui est une arme à part entière, clare a une nette préférence pour les armes blanches. notamment son tashi ainsi que ses karambits, qui, avec son agilité, forment une combinaison mortelle entre ses mains.
Élément : mémoire effacée, souvenirs oubliés, pouvoirs mis sous verrou, clare ignore tout de ce qu'elle est véritablement; la nature de son vrai élément instaure en elle une peur d'enfant, terrible.
Date d'inscription : 16/01/2016

TO KNOW MORE
Relations:

MessageSujet: Re: (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness   Ven 25 Mar - 1:07


✽ ✽ ✽
the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly,
so meaningless and feeble from being kept
in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
walking into the wilderness ft/ azilis harkwood

(play) “Yeah well. You’re still ruining my goddamn trap.” A sigh escapes her as the girl looks up at the net that entangles her feet, the dizziness of the blood rush not setting in yet. She did always liked to discipline herself and her body, in the years of her training, and this wasn’t so different after all. “It’s yours, heh?” Trying to scold her tone and her face into something more sheepish, she continues while nibbling at her lip. “At least now you know if it works or not.” It could have passed as a joke, if only it wasn’t delivered with so much derision. Clare watches Harkwood as she begins to walk up to her upside down body and with the light of the moonlight and the other girl’s expression, which is somewhat hard to decipher, her heart twists in her ribcage. It’s not Misty. If at first, she could find similarities between the huntress and her dead sister (except their shared hair color), everything is gone now. It’s not Misty. And it’s ugly, it’s sharp how it finally registers and she wishes that it was. That Azilis did look like the older Killingworth, did have a similar mindset to hers, was her and was still alive. But she’s not. She’s not Misty. Misty is dead. The reality of it all almost makes her choke – like the first day, an awful, awful memory that is foggy in her memory and so poignant, at the same time – and she has to look away. Look at the moon, the accountable for it all, the beneficiary of her hate. And the pain runs it course. Something else, something dark (something light) (let me in let me in let me in) replaces it. Her heart is shaded. “Try to get, like, upside up. You don’t wanna land on your head, do you?” Clare doesn’t respond, doesn’t hear her words until she starts climbing up up up in the trees. And the brunette is grateful, she is. But her mouth fills with something sour, something akin to resentment. Why would you help me? You don’t even know me. Why would you do me this favor? I don’t want you to be nice. Be bitter, be spiteful, be mocking, be everything Misty was not. Don’t do this just because of my brother. I’m not him. You can hate me. Hate me and act on it, goddamn it. “Ok, this might hurt more than expected.It’s okay, I can deal with physical pain.” She obeys the first command that she ignored until now, attempts to follow the woman’s guidance by trying to get right side up. All of her force goes into the process.

“So. Huntin’ alone?” The change of subject makes her spine stiffen. She feels oddly vulnerable under the inquisition and the force of the redhead’s gaze, from a place so up in the trees that she cannot see it, but she does feel it. And she hates herself for it. Hates herself for this weakness that so easily puts her on edge. Clarissa is tough. She is, because life taught her that. But the image of her twin in her hospital bed, her smile and her endless dreams and the stars in her eyes – gone, almost brings her to her knees. Yet, it fuels her hate for the supernatural, more, it feeds her animosity towards creatures (abominations), more, it gives her reasons to fight sorcerers harder and slay wolves mercilessly, more and yet. Yet, she just can’t fathom the possibility of Ciara not waking up, not now, not ever. “Yes, well my hunting partner is not available at the moment.” She justifies herself without knowing why, her voice thin and yes you do, she thinks at the same time, dimly. She does. She could always ask the Order for someone to back her up on her hunts; she could always call one of her cousins, her parents, anyone. But this, this is her choice. This loneliness that she clings to, desperately, like a ravenous leech that latches onto an exposed patch of skin. It seeps into her very bones and grounds her, makes her understand that she’s better of alone. There is a reason for everything that the brunette does, and her predilection towards isolation is not unjustified. Clarissa can’t afford another betrayal. Won’t afford one. In reality, she was done with backstabbings the first time around, a little girl, losing her big sister to her brother and his madness. She learned her lesson since then and yeah, yeah, maybe it’s better to have a back up, maybe it’s safer but she’s done with fucks-up. And her life isn’t about being safe and out of harm’s way, is it? “And you? Where is your sidekick? Aren’t they afraid to let you go on your own, since you hum...” She retorts drily, stops for a moment, lifting her chin just a little – very awkwardly – and unable to help herself; her temper’s her least attractive quality, Clare knows, but she’s so eager to fight back – even if the battle is only in her head. Azilis is friends (Clarissa may be new here but she’s not blind, they are friends) with Thaddeus and she doesn’t like the redhead. The female Killingworth just can’t understand anyone – a hunter, at that! – getting along with that son of a bitch, and being his friend even less. What is she? Stupid? Naive enough to think that just because they’re buddies, he will not try to kill her (again)? Yeah, right. “…You kinda have this thing with being stabbed by ensorcelled daggers, now and then?” It’s low on her part, to remind Harkwood of that particular evening, but she’s not a saint okay? Plus, the girl’s first remark on her capacities nicked her pride sorely. She may not be the best person out there (and let’s be honest, she is far from Mother Teresa) but Clarissa’s good at what she’s been taught, good at being a huntress – conceiving the opposite is unthinkable for her. What is she, without her skills? What is her life, without the very foundations of it? A sigh escapes her as she realizes that she has gone too far. “That wasn't...” She almost says it. Sorry and that was mean and uncalled for and you don't deserve it, although it’s what I think. However, her voice dies in her throat as a curious noise can be heard from somewhere ahead of them both. She can’t see anything in her peripheral vision, as it is too dark, but the clatter is easily identified as non-human. Fuck. Fuck. Can you hurry up? Please?” A little impatient, the girl thinks about her weapon of choice, dropped during the hazard and then she peers at the other girl’s work, and then the forest – before, behind, everywhere around them –, and then Azilis again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay. Listen, if it’s just an animal..” They both know it’s not. “..Then we’re good. But if it’s something more up our alley…” More supernatural. “I’ll appreciate if you could undo the damn trap as fast as you can.” Please. “Meanwhile, do you have a gun? I don’t use one often and I don’t think a dagger will do much from up here.”


hrp:
 

_________________

and then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.

fragments:
 


Dernière édition par Clarissa Killingworth le Sam 2 Avr - 13:27, édité 1 fois
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Azilis Harkwood
we hunt those who hunt us

avatar
Messages : 1222
Pseudo : vae solis (paula)
Avatar : holland roden
Crédits : hepburns (ava) ; .endlesslove (signa)
Double compte : ola skrzdlewska
Image :
Âge : vingt-quatre années que le monde l'a vue naître - vingt-quatre années qu'elle vagabonde et qu'elle essaie.
Statut civil : elle sait que son coeur bat pour quelqu'un - mais pour qui, cela lui a toujours échappé.
Occupation : on la voit souvent vendre des fleurs et des plantes en pots, mais rares sont ceux qui savent que la nuit, elle sort et chasse ceux qui la chassent.
Armes de prédilection : les armes blanches ; elle ne sort pas sans un couteau à la cheville gauche, et lors de ses chasses, sans deux grandes lames dans le dos, parfois même accompagnées d'une épée à la ceinture. elle sait aussi manipuler les hormones et les parfums, comme le reste des membres de sa famille.
Date d'inscription : 10/01/2016

TO KNOW MORE
Relations:

MessageSujet: Re: (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness   Mar 29 Mar - 15:59



(∆∆∆)
walking into the wilderness
“It’s yours, heh?”  Even though she knew she couldn’t have seen any of it, she shrugs. “It’s my brothers’.” You souldn’t climb with us, Azilis. What if you fell? Who knows, maybe your ankle is not really ok yet. And your injuries, are you sure you completely healed? To their eyes, she was still the little Azilis who came hunting with them for the first time, six years ago. Did the boys notice that she grew up, that she was, indeed, able to take care of herself without necessarily having to have her two brothers on her back? Probably not. “At least now you know if it works or not.”  She didn’t know how to take the tone she just used, so she just remains silent. Before she deadens a small, almost quiet laugh and shrugs one more time. “Of course it worked. It’s my brothers’. She leaned forward as she repeated that last fragment. She couldn’t help but proudly smile at this statement. Her brothers, they were good hunters. Very good ones. Now closer to Clarissa, she stared at how unconsciously desperate she looked, trapped in there, seeming so not about to get out. So she climbs, grinning at the thought of what Artor and Audric would have said, seeing her like this. You should get down, it’s dangerous. Yeah, well, they could piss off with their words of warning and wisdom. She was a woman. She was a huntress. Her conscience could not just let the Killingworth stuck in this mess. She swears at her oldest brother’s talent at setting a net when she realizes how tight it was, and that her bare hands would not be enough to unset it. If only he could be rubbish at everything, maybe she could have hated him as much as she wished she could. But no. He had to be the best of Alaric’s children.

She decides to change the subject, because she loathes silence – especially when it’s that heavy, pushing on her shoulders as someone would do to make her drown. The darkness around them and the moonlight make it even more unbearable. And, as she realized a few minutes ago, she didn’t know anything about the young lady down there. Her true nature was suddenly stronger than the cold Azilis of the woods, and she got weirdly interested in her. She was still sawing the thick string while waiting for the brunette to say something in response, and she glanced at her, unable not to check if she was ok. “ Yes, well my hunting partner is not available at the moment.” She pinches her lips as the answer strikes her. She definitely knows what she means. She knows what it’s like, to end up alone because the creatures of the night ruined your duo, trio. Lys remembers the body of her father collapsing on the ground, the skin of Ariana being damaged by the sharp teeth of that wolf they goinf were after. “Sorry I asked.” Because, oh how she knows of how such a question could hurt. Whatever if it was friends or family, a hunting partner becomes more than a partner, even when you just started hunting like Clarissa probably did. Young hunters did not go in the woods with a stranger, at the beginning of their ‘carrier’. As she’s been repeated, over and over, when she was still an apprentice, the Order was so much more than an organization, but a true family ; its members linked by something less important, yet so much more powerful, than blood. “And you? Where is your sidekick? Aren’t they afraid to let you go on your own, since you hum...” She stops sawing, closes he eyes, and releases a strong sigh from her lungs and heart. So now, even people she didn’t know looked at her like a fragile little bird, not strong enough to go out in the woods without her brothers or someone to look after her? She couldn’t stand it – she couldn’t get it. Maybe she was weak, after all. “Go ahead.” She knew what’s happened to the ginger the last full moon. And above all, she knew who did it to her. So, what was holding her? She spotted her moving, and so she looked back at her, both of their sights meeting from afar. She was the one looking like the lost little girl they all saw in Azilis. “…You kinda have this thing with being stabbed by ensorcelled daggers, now and then?” She would have smiled. Really. If that wasn’t coming right from the mouth of his sister. She was inexplicably confused, didn’t know how to respond or how to act after what Clarissa just told her. She stays still, trying not to get completely crazy about all this. She wishes she could explode – she wishes her body was not able to put up with all the things she hears and undergoes. She wishes everything could blow out of her and make her lose her temper, once and for all, so that she could finally be peaceful.  “That wasn’t…” “Oh, please, shu…” Neither of them get the chance to go on with their sentences, interrupted by a noise ; noise that Azilis doesn’t need to analyse to recognize. It was way too familiar to her hears for her to doubt any second about what it was – and what made it. Fuck. Can you hurry up? Please?” She rolls her eyes, hopefully without being seen – but does hurry up. Her knives goes faster, however not deeper. She frowns and sighs, so not ok with struggling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay. Listen, if it’s just an animal..” “Can you just stop swearing, for the love of God?” “..Then we’re good. But if it’s something more up our alley… I’ll appreciate if you could undo the damn trap as fast as you can.” “And I would appreciate it if you could stop teaching me how to do my job.” She did shout the last bit ; because that was it, she couldn’t deal with this situation anymore. In her words, she wanted the younger to understand that she was so, so new at all this. She was probably not that much. But there was this bizarre feeling, deep in her chest, of being the oldest, being the responsible one, being the one supposed to protect her. “Meanwhile, do you have a gun? I don’t use one often and I don’t think a dagger will do much from up here.” She sighs. Again. She doesn’t answer, gives up and jumps from the tree, landing on her two feet. She turns back, grabs one of the swords stuck in her back and hands it to the brunette. “Here, get sorted with the net.” Artor is gonna kill me, she thinks, when I’ll give him back a ruined net. But they don’t have much time. Now that Clarissa is armed, she can throw at the wolf up there a cocktail of her own – a mixture of powdered wolfsbane and hormones. Just to gain a few seconds before fleeing. There was no way of taking care of this beast, no. fucking. way. When the Kilingworth is finally standing on the floor, Azilis just takes her hand. “We gotta go. And hear me out : you make one move to go on your own and I swear I’ll come and find you and kill you. I’ll even call your brother to help me out if I have to.” She just wants her safe, as crazy as it seems.

_________________
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Clarissa Killingworth
we hunt those who hunt us

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Messages : 747
Pseudo : ganseys (kat).
Avatar : zoey deutch.
Crédits : av/ faust, icons sign/ kush coma.
Double compte : isadora agallon, la reine de beauté.
Image :
Âge : dix-neuf années qu'elle partage avec sa fausse jumelle, ciara et qui s'écoulent brutalement. dix-neuf années qu’elle s’éloigne de la petite fille qu’elle était avant le drame, avant la trahison et la mort. les mains immaculées se souillent, le coeur perd l’espoir, la légèreté d’autrefois.
Statut civil : célibataire, elle fuit l'amour, préfère s’égarer le temps d’un instant bref dans des étreintes inconnues.
Occupation : jolie stagiaire aux airs naïfs, elle s'est confortablement installée dans le poste de police de glencullen et plus particulièrement dans leurs archives.
Armes de prédilection : mis à part son corps qui est une arme à part entière, clare a une nette préférence pour les armes blanches. notamment son tashi ainsi que ses karambits, qui, avec son agilité, forment une combinaison mortelle entre ses mains.
Élément : mémoire effacée, souvenirs oubliés, pouvoirs mis sous verrou, clare ignore tout de ce qu'elle est véritablement; la nature de son vrai élément instaure en elle une peur d'enfant, terrible.
Date d'inscription : 16/01/2016

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MessageSujet: Re: (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness   Jeu 7 Avr - 18:49


✽ ✽ ✽
the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly,
so meaningless and feeble from being kept
in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
walking into the wilderness ft/ azilis harkwood

(play) “Go ahead.” She doesn’t wait for her approval to spit her poison; it leaves her lips like a bittersweet melody, and she doesn’t regret it, she tries not to. Clarissa doesn’t care about others’ feelings, never had, never will; but the redhead certainly doesn’t deserve this. To be hurt in this way. Or maybe she does. It’s not like the brunette really knows her or anything about her, beyond the appearances, beyond the things she assumes from someone who has ‘a thing’ with Thaddeus. She clearly saw the tension between them; and now that she isn’t drunk, and isn’t so stupidly happy, so blindly euphoric, she understands that they must have a past together. Something that left them both wanting more and full of regrets. And oh boy, does Clare know about these things, these stupid feelings. The anguish that resurfaces when nothing can be changed, when it’s all over and you’re left with the hollowness of a story that really doesn’t have an end; that never will have something akin to an end. Clare thinks about Misty. She thinks about Dorian. Oh, Dorian. It’s a fresh wound that she meticulously avoids reflecting on. Her childhood friend’s name makes her hate the world, the supernatural, and herself even more; and it breaks her heart at the same time. It twists, hurls, and grasps at the weakness she so rarely lets herself feel.

She pulls away from her thoughts and the past, as a ringing sound can be heard in the distance. “Oh, please, shu…” The alarm is immediate and she lets herself fully feel it, soak in the sensation of panic. It always made her more precise, more determined. Ignoring this emotion would be stupid; reckless on another level that Clarissa hasn’t reached yet. Pure profanity escapes her mouth, as she alternates between watching the other girl and the forest; warily waiting for something to happen. “Can you just stop swearing, for the love of God?” Speaking of God, what is she, a nun? Her mother? It’s ridiculous! Clare ignores her and continues, while rolling her eyes. And the response is almost immediate. “And I would appreciate it if you could stop teaching me how to do my job.” Her nostrils flare. The shouting on the last bit of Azilis’ phrase is so so unnecessary and so damn foolish. “Wow, that’s really smart, Azilis. Make them know exactly where we are. Really, is that the way the Harkwood teach you how to be real hunters?” The wording from earlier is repeated in her mouth, like a bullet from a gun. She must be really incompetent to let her anger get the best of her, thinks Killingworth, especially when every move, every word, every breath is important and could reveal itself to be treacherous. This is another reason why Clare doesn’t work with partners, except her sister. While her twin is aware and cautious, others tend to fall prey to their impulses. They reveal themselves to be a burden. It’s ironic, because –on the field– Clare is the first one to attack, and then think about the plight. But maybe that’s why it isn’t a good idea to associate her with somebody else. If the person is as reckless as the brunette is, there’s no balance, and without balance, there’s no control.

It all crashes down.
Like right now.

The young woman asks for a gun, but instead of receiving one, she gets something else. Something better. “Here, get sorted with the net.Thanks.” The sword feels amazing in her hand; she always had a predilection towards white weapons. They were easier to get used to –when you know what you’re doing and because of her lessons, she did–, smoother, finer for someone who isn’t all about the killing but for the pleasure of it. Wait. What? Where did that came from? The concept is more than disturbing, and to snap out of it, she does exactly what she’s supposed to; She tries to get into the best position possible, so it hurts less when she falls, before slashing the web. The results are immediate. And the floor is very, very hard. A muffled but perceptible grunt leaves her throat as Clarissa’s back collides with the ground, which she doesn’t let herself dwell on. Steeling her spine while the pain throbs everywhere on the rhythm of her heartbeat, she still joins the older huntress’ side after getting up too quickly. Her fingers are soon within Azilis’ grasp and she leaves them there. The contact is nice, and without meaning. “We gotta go. And hear me out: you make one move to go on your own and I swear I’ll come and find you and kill you. I’ll even call your brother to help me out if I have to.” At that moment, Clarissa doesn’t see that the Harkwood is trying her best to protect her, threatening her just so she follows her lead. No, what she sees, instead, is someone trying to steal the control of the situation from her. Thaddeus is just another low blow, which gets her even madder. “My brother? What the f… Okay, her emotions are a little bit all over the place, because the simple mention of the motherfucker, as she calls him in her head, makes her so so angry, boiling with a long-lasting rage that she repressed all of these years. “What does he have to do with anything? Oh my god, please. Do you seriously want to run, right now? Are… Are you scared? It’s oka…” ..y, you can go, I can take of myself. She doesn’t say it, as a gasp breaks away from her lips. She almost falls to the floor again, the vertigo making everything spin and sway in a miasmatic manner. Ah. There. The blood rush from her head belatedly sets in. Only the redhead’s hand that holds her own keeps her at the top of her legs. Doubling over, she rests her free fingers to her forehead, eyes tightly shut. “We can’t let the beast go and attack people, Azilis. It already probably killed tonight. Innocents. We're not supposed to run. This, this is what we do.” Her words are nothing more than a whisper in the deadly night. “We have to stop it.”

_________________

and then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.

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Azilis Harkwood
we hunt those who hunt us

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Messages : 1222
Pseudo : vae solis (paula)
Avatar : holland roden
Crédits : hepburns (ava) ; .endlesslove (signa)
Double compte : ola skrzdlewska
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Âge : vingt-quatre années que le monde l'a vue naître - vingt-quatre années qu'elle vagabonde et qu'elle essaie.
Statut civil : elle sait que son coeur bat pour quelqu'un - mais pour qui, cela lui a toujours échappé.
Occupation : on la voit souvent vendre des fleurs et des plantes en pots, mais rares sont ceux qui savent que la nuit, elle sort et chasse ceux qui la chassent.
Armes de prédilection : les armes blanches ; elle ne sort pas sans un couteau à la cheville gauche, et lors de ses chasses, sans deux grandes lames dans le dos, parfois même accompagnées d'une épée à la ceinture. elle sait aussi manipuler les hormones et les parfums, comme le reste des membres de sa famille.
Date d'inscription : 10/01/2016

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MessageSujet: Re: (clarizilis) walking into the wilderness   Mer 13 Avr - 13:48



(∆∆∆)
walking into the wilderness
“ Wow, that’s really smart, Azilis. Make them know exactly where we are. Really, is that the way the Harkwood teach you how to be real hunters?” Lys, she cannot help but swear, letting the entire disregard she had for this young lady escape from between her teeth. “I’ve been taught they have high senses, idiot. They hear everything, the smell everything. Don’t worry, I didn’t need to shout for them to know where we were. So now, shut. the hell. up. Jesus.” How did she get so unlucky? She should have told Artor to go and check who got stuck in the trap he and Audric settled, and she should have gone on with her brother to do what she wanted to : observe, listen, follow, capture. Because that was what she did, that was in her blood ; blood which didn’t tell her to help little foolish girls to get out of the mess they got into by their fucking selves. No, that was far beyond blood and education. That was character. Oh, how pissed off she was. She could literally feel anger and scorn running through her veins. Her brows were frowned, and she didn’t even notice. This was not how it was supposed to go. Why did everything have to go wrong every time she went into the woods, these days? Why did every full moon night she spent have to suck? She thinks about her first one. About the massacre it was. About her father and boyfriend’s corpses lying next to her ; about the number of hours she had to wait until her brothers and Ariana came to find her. Maybe because this particular night was a disaster, all the following ones had to be the same. She sighs, gets down, and sacrifices one of her favourite weapon to give it to the unarmed little soul next to her. Once the beast troubled by what Azilis just threw at their face and Clarissa out of the net, she doesn’t take the time to make sure that she was ok. She doesn’t pay attention to her twitchy breathing and her dizziness. She doesn’t really care, actually. All she wants is to go away. Go away from all this. They had no way to take this one down. Whoever that was, they were an Omega, and according to the way they stood, the way they ran, the way they roared, they clearly had no clue about what they were doing. They are the most dangerous. The Alphas, they know a lot about controlling themselves and not letting the beast take over their conscience. The Betas, they have their Alpha to help out when they’re losing their shit. But the Omegas, they are alone, just responding to the wild instincts and urges, only acting under their influence. Azilis does not listen to what she’s jabbering about behind her, only focusing on her feet and the way to take. She knows the woods perfectly. Often she feels like she spent more time between all those trees than anywhere else on this earth. It’s false, but that’s just how she feels. It doesn’t feel like home, though. Just a place she knows as both peaceful and unfriendly. Clarissa suddenly stops talking, and the ginger turns her head to check out on her. Their fingers were still bounded, but there was something in the way she ran that told her that if it wasn’t for this tie, she would probably have fallen a few meters back. She slows down a bit, giving her time and chance to get back to running in a proper way, and then goes back to the initial speed. And, for a reason that will remain unknown for the rest of her life, she listens to her, both focusing on behind and ahead of her. “We can’t let the beast go and attack people, Azilis.” “For now, they’re after us. The people they wanna attack, that’s us. Just run. “It already probably killed tonight. Innocents. We're not supposed to run. This, this is what we do.” She doesn’t respond. She knows, what they do. They hunt. They kill. How many years had passed since the day the Harkwood killed for the last time? She takes down, but then her brothers or cousins do the job. Because though she hates those creatures, deeply, she always remembers that somewhere beneath their skins, beyond the horrible things they do – both wolves and sorcerers – they were humans. Maybe not by nature, but at least by culture. She had a glimpse of both of them. She loved both of them. She just can’t pretend not caring about the lives they take every time her and the rest of her family go back to the forest, every month. She knew they had to be stopped – and that meant, they had to die. But she could never kill herself. “We have to stop it.” “We can’t. As you said earlier, a dagger won’t do much, and neither will swords and knives. We’re just the two of us, with no one around apart from an savage, unexperienced Omega. We need guns, we need arrows. We. Can’t.” She recalls, Azilis, the last time she went after a wolf with her knives, her cousin and her bow and arrows – it did not go well. At all. Her cousin was bitten and forced to die. She got her knee broken and had to stay at home for three months. There was not a day where she didn’t let herself drown into a pool of what if’s and should have’s. What if Audric and Adam came with them? What if the two women had not been stupid and stubborn? They should have thought about it more. They shouldn’t have been that reckless. And maybe Ariana would still be alive. She glances at behind her, making sure Clarissa was still on her two feet. But because her eyes are looking away, they cannot see the hole in which her left foot gets stucked. She doesn’t have time to think about it that she’s already lying upon the mossy floor, her hands grazed, her forehead bleeding because of the roots which scraped it. She could feel the pain spreading in her foot and ankle. She swears, she screams a bit, because she’s done with this night. She wanted it over, as quick as possible. But the wolf would probably not agree with it. She manages to stand up, and as a good old friend, the wound on her stomach wakes up, violently saying hi. As if it was missed. “Ok. I’m over this.” She swears again, both at the cut and at Thaddeus, wipes the dust on her clothes and melted her eyes in Clarissa’s. “Let’s take the son of a bitch down.” The second sword is soon between her fingers, and she stares at the one the brunette is holding. “D’you know how to use this? Don’t take it the wrong way, just making sure you’re not gonna stab yourself.”

_________________
    i can admit, i am not fireproof if i told you that i loved you, tell me, what would you say? if i told you that i hated you, would you go away? now i need your help with everything that i do, i don't want to lie, i've been relying on you ©️endlesslove
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