Post by Sakao Kuro-Nihoto on Nov 19, 2008 19:54:07 GMT -5
(Stroke of muse wooooo)
It was customary in life for a young cat to venture from his or her family at the age of ending. The ending of childhood, the ending of innocence, the ending...of family. Atleast, such was the Akora code, at the correct age, an akora cat would venture into the forest at cease to be part of his or her family, and go off and start a new one. It was supposed to be a special time, one of jubilation and a cause for happiness.
Often times, a banquet would be held before they went off on their own; there would be singing, dancing, drinking, eating, and finally a good-bye ceremony, often this ceremony was used to pass items or things of great value on from father to son, or mother to daughter. Words of great wisdom, a secret, a riddle, or maybe a sword, a knife, a sheild, or even pieces of armor that have been passed down from generations of Akora.
"Owaru"
Sakao had looked forward to her own "Owaru", for a extreamely long amount of time, it seemed. Though instead, she was chosen to have a different ceremony. "Mamoru", instead of a banquet filled with joy and dancing. She recieved a ceremony, no music, no dancing, nothing. Instead, she was "gifted" with the promise of staying within the main Akora house for the remainder of her life, when such reached her ears, a very reckless, and life changing decision was made, and from that moment on, her destiny was carved out by the first thing she touched on her rampage.
The Yu-Bashuri.
Mamoru....Protect. What kind of ceremony is named that when it's supposed to be the passing of the guardian? Pfft... Fools. All of them. They're all dead now anyways..it doesn't matter to me no longer.
The black feline brushed the dead, fozen bark of a tree, watching it break withteh slighest touch, its frost enclutched bark was already peeling, and Sakao was just helping it along the way. Hunting was alright...the outlaws and smugglers had gone up since times got desprate, and people turned themselves into theives, bandits, what have you, in order to keep themselves alive.
Of course, this was all fine for Sakao, it didn't matter who she hunted alive, and who she killed in the process of taking them into custody, they were all the same, people who had lost it all, and were desprately trying to scratch it back together. With no avail, though. The black cat summed up that more and more people were just commiting logical suicide, as in giving up all common sense and acting on impulse and need. Stealing, killing, whatever they needed to, to stay alive and well. It was so primative. The animosity felt in the air of Westopolis was despisable, the frost bitten mittens held out for moneywas extreamely saddening, though to a hardened warrior like Sakao...well, it was still sad, but more as in a pathetic way of sad.
The soft crunch underfoot brought Sakao back to the forest. The frequent drops of snow thudded in the distance as piles of snow on tree branches grew to heavy for the limb, and so dropped it to the ground, adding to the sea of white. It traveled before it like an endless horizon, counting all the deeds she had done, all the sins she had commited, wiped clean by the purity of frozen water. No flaws indicated where creatures had stepped, or killed. Red liquid covered by by thick piles of snow covering up sins, treks, acts of kindness, you could name it all, and it had been wiped clean by the snow.
Could her sins be covered up? Could her footsteps in the pas tbe dusted over? Could the ribbons of her life be somehow sewn back together? By nature? By Lies? By Truth? No... She could never cover that up. In any case, there was no chance she could . She could never forget that night. The scars, the fur markings. All of it...they were all so she would never forget the past.
Sakao half closed her menacing eyes. The flame of determination flaring in those sickly green hues, she had no purpose, no reason, no allaby to forget the past other then that it was a painful thing she'd like to forget. The truths, and lies. The pain and sorrow. Mamoru.... Never bestowed the next guardian. It birthed a killer. Such was displayed, hidden in the snow. The dead body of a poor, probably innocent victim, whose face was plastered to a poster, reading "Wanted". Whatever he did. He was killed for it. Someone wanted him dead. All Sakao had to do was plunge her sword through him and it was done. All she had to do was kill him. All she had to do...was block out her feelings and withdraw inside her self. Such was her life.
That poor victim, though. Well. He probably had a family. However, he was dead now. Whitewind, would perhaps miss him,. His widowed wife would probably worry by the window, looking at the white landscape, wondering why her husband hadn't come back. When she found out he was dead... well...that was her problem.
Not Mine.
It wasn't the black feline's business to feel sorry or apologize for anything. It was to kill, and to kill only. The blood stained on her white cloak told the stories of the same. It wasn't her problem. Ragged ends showed signs of struggle, a particular tear in the side of her waist showed a bloody scratch, revealed. Sakao hadn't had time to patch up her clothes, like she had patche dher pants back up. Which explained the sloppy jobof patching, the messing strings of black recklessly attaching lighter colored cloth to her charcoal gray cargo's. Black and white shirt layering over her belt and waist of her pants were probably the only thing that didn't indicate anything. However, everything else did, the metal boots, the white sheathe, the camoflauge cloak, the bandages, sleeveless shirt, everything told stories about her character and personality, and you know what they all screamed?
"Killer"
It was customary in life for a young cat to venture from his or her family at the age of ending. The ending of childhood, the ending of innocence, the ending...of family. Atleast, such was the Akora code, at the correct age, an akora cat would venture into the forest at cease to be part of his or her family, and go off and start a new one. It was supposed to be a special time, one of jubilation and a cause for happiness.
Often times, a banquet would be held before they went off on their own; there would be singing, dancing, drinking, eating, and finally a good-bye ceremony, often this ceremony was used to pass items or things of great value on from father to son, or mother to daughter. Words of great wisdom, a secret, a riddle, or maybe a sword, a knife, a sheild, or even pieces of armor that have been passed down from generations of Akora.
"Owaru"
Sakao had looked forward to her own "Owaru", for a extreamely long amount of time, it seemed. Though instead, she was chosen to have a different ceremony. "Mamoru", instead of a banquet filled with joy and dancing. She recieved a ceremony, no music, no dancing, nothing. Instead, she was "gifted" with the promise of staying within the main Akora house for the remainder of her life, when such reached her ears, a very reckless, and life changing decision was made, and from that moment on, her destiny was carved out by the first thing she touched on her rampage.
The Yu-Bashuri.
Mamoru....Protect. What kind of ceremony is named that when it's supposed to be the passing of the guardian? Pfft... Fools. All of them. They're all dead now anyways..it doesn't matter to me no longer.
The black feline brushed the dead, fozen bark of a tree, watching it break withteh slighest touch, its frost enclutched bark was already peeling, and Sakao was just helping it along the way. Hunting was alright...the outlaws and smugglers had gone up since times got desprate, and people turned themselves into theives, bandits, what have you, in order to keep themselves alive.
Of course, this was all fine for Sakao, it didn't matter who she hunted alive, and who she killed in the process of taking them into custody, they were all the same, people who had lost it all, and were desprately trying to scratch it back together. With no avail, though. The black cat summed up that more and more people were just commiting logical suicide, as in giving up all common sense and acting on impulse and need. Stealing, killing, whatever they needed to, to stay alive and well. It was so primative. The animosity felt in the air of Westopolis was despisable, the frost bitten mittens held out for moneywas extreamely saddening, though to a hardened warrior like Sakao...well, it was still sad, but more as in a pathetic way of sad.
The soft crunch underfoot brought Sakao back to the forest. The frequent drops of snow thudded in the distance as piles of snow on tree branches grew to heavy for the limb, and so dropped it to the ground, adding to the sea of white. It traveled before it like an endless horizon, counting all the deeds she had done, all the sins she had commited, wiped clean by the purity of frozen water. No flaws indicated where creatures had stepped, or killed. Red liquid covered by by thick piles of snow covering up sins, treks, acts of kindness, you could name it all, and it had been wiped clean by the snow.
Could her sins be covered up? Could her footsteps in the pas tbe dusted over? Could the ribbons of her life be somehow sewn back together? By nature? By Lies? By Truth? No... She could never cover that up. In any case, there was no chance she could . She could never forget that night. The scars, the fur markings. All of it...they were all so she would never forget the past.
Sakao half closed her menacing eyes. The flame of determination flaring in those sickly green hues, she had no purpose, no reason, no allaby to forget the past other then that it was a painful thing she'd like to forget. The truths, and lies. The pain and sorrow. Mamoru.... Never bestowed the next guardian. It birthed a killer. Such was displayed, hidden in the snow. The dead body of a poor, probably innocent victim, whose face was plastered to a poster, reading "Wanted". Whatever he did. He was killed for it. Someone wanted him dead. All Sakao had to do was plunge her sword through him and it was done. All she had to do was kill him. All she had to do...was block out her feelings and withdraw inside her self. Such was her life.
That poor victim, though. Well. He probably had a family. However, he was dead now. Whitewind, would perhaps miss him,. His widowed wife would probably worry by the window, looking at the white landscape, wondering why her husband hadn't come back. When she found out he was dead... well...that was her problem.
Not Mine.
It wasn't the black feline's business to feel sorry or apologize for anything. It was to kill, and to kill only. The blood stained on her white cloak told the stories of the same. It wasn't her problem. Ragged ends showed signs of struggle, a particular tear in the side of her waist showed a bloody scratch, revealed. Sakao hadn't had time to patch up her clothes, like she had patche dher pants back up. Which explained the sloppy jobof patching, the messing strings of black recklessly attaching lighter colored cloth to her charcoal gray cargo's. Black and white shirt layering over her belt and waist of her pants were probably the only thing that didn't indicate anything. However, everything else did, the metal boots, the white sheathe, the camoflauge cloak, the bandages, sleeveless shirt, everything told stories about her character and personality, and you know what they all screamed?
"Killer"