yuubie
life is an uno game and i just got +10
Setting this up as a place to store writing samples! Each post after will be dedicated to a specific character ^w^
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yuubie
life is an uno game and i just got +10
"smoking in the presence of our creator is a blasphemous thing." greyson's eyes lifted from the flickering flame of her lighter, hand cupped around it to shield it from the wind of the evening. she let the cigarette hang in her lips, a soft chuckle escaping her. "i'm not doing it in the church, father,-" she watched with mild interest as the woman's hackles raised at the tone of voice, wings puffing up around her head, "so i don't see the cause for concern." a soft scowl settled on soleil's face at greyson's seeming imprudence, which got her a sharp smile in return. "regardless, taking on such a profane act is... there are places for such indulgences, but this is not one of them." of course, the holiest place. the towering cathedral, with its tinted windows and fading exterior of paint.
soleil's role in this city wasn't some coveted secret ⸺ the head of the ash family, caretaker and guardian. the father of the city. sure, father was a traditionally masculine term, but its seen its fair share of the feminine. perhaps mother was too intimate a term to call someone who seemed so detached ⸺ burdened by the weight of people's sins, to hear and absolve them of these things. truly a father's role, to be the overseer. the one who hears and knows all, but never truly intervenes. of course, the lady soleil was no exception. "miss rosaria's worried about you." the lady's dear sister, the sweetheart of their people. the softer, gentler double of the siblings. the one who, in soft desperation, pleaded greyson to watch over her sister. attempts on the lady's life was no surprise, given the power and position she held ⸺ but the thing that the people didn't know about their dear *sweetheart* was the beast that sat in wait. a gentle exterior, but something violent lurked beneath. ready to tear apart anyone who dared raise a wrong hand towards her beloved sister. of course, she couldn't just go about and maim every person who wrongfully crossed their paths. hence, the need for the bloodhounds. those who weren't afraid to get their hands a bit dirtied, for the benefit of the family. the hounds loyally placed at their side.
but, all that aside, greyson could make the claim that she still has some good in that dark hollow that was her chest. a small, caged thing. but, it was enough to compel the woman to tuck the unlit cigarette behind her ear. even as her tongue itched for the sickly sweet draw of smoke, but perhaps there was something else to fill that need. soleil's eyes were fixated on her, liquid-gold and fiery. as if she were about to ordain some sort of furious judgement upon her eternal soul, or however that ordeal with. "i've never seen a bloodhound who was so disheveled and careless. they've served the family for ages, and yet, you disgrace their visage." greyson almost felt a bit hurt by those words ⸺ even if she knew they were partially true. she wasn't the ideal bloodhound, lacking the pristine image they tended to keep. even with the blood that coated their hands, it was partial that they retain the image of the family. for the sake of the common folk, she supposed. to keep their minds at ease, where they never saw the dirtier underside of their beloved world.
what stole her attention was the stance soleil took. a small sparrow, who thought itself an eagle, squawking and flapping its wings up at the wolf who looked it down. a creature who thought itself larger than it truly was, as if it had the means to defy the nature placed upon it. and maybe, she could. the power she held was undeniable ⸺ the people thrived in her presence, singing beautiful harmonies under her guiding palm. but that left one to wonder what laid beneath that facade, designed for the people's benefits.
soleil's role in this city wasn't some coveted secret ⸺ the head of the ash family, caretaker and guardian. the father of the city. sure, father was a traditionally masculine term, but its seen its fair share of the feminine. perhaps mother was too intimate a term to call someone who seemed so detached ⸺ burdened by the weight of people's sins, to hear and absolve them of these things. truly a father's role, to be the overseer. the one who hears and knows all, but never truly intervenes. of course, the lady soleil was no exception. "miss rosaria's worried about you." the lady's dear sister, the sweetheart of their people. the softer, gentler double of the siblings. the one who, in soft desperation, pleaded greyson to watch over her sister. attempts on the lady's life was no surprise, given the power and position she held ⸺ but the thing that the people didn't know about their dear *sweetheart* was the beast that sat in wait. a gentle exterior, but something violent lurked beneath. ready to tear apart anyone who dared raise a wrong hand towards her beloved sister. of course, she couldn't just go about and maim every person who wrongfully crossed their paths. hence, the need for the bloodhounds. those who weren't afraid to get their hands a bit dirtied, for the benefit of the family. the hounds loyally placed at their side.
but, all that aside, greyson could make the claim that she still has some good in that dark hollow that was her chest. a small, caged thing. but, it was enough to compel the woman to tuck the unlit cigarette behind her ear. even as her tongue itched for the sickly sweet draw of smoke, but perhaps there was something else to fill that need. soleil's eyes were fixated on her, liquid-gold and fiery. as if she were about to ordain some sort of furious judgement upon her eternal soul, or however that ordeal with. "i've never seen a bloodhound who was so disheveled and careless. they've served the family for ages, and yet, you disgrace their visage." greyson almost felt a bit hurt by those words ⸺ even if she knew they were partially true. she wasn't the ideal bloodhound, lacking the pristine image they tended to keep. even with the blood that coated their hands, it was partial that they retain the image of the family. for the sake of the common folk, she supposed. to keep their minds at ease, where they never saw the dirtier underside of their beloved world.
what stole her attention was the stance soleil took. a small sparrow, who thought itself an eagle, squawking and flapping its wings up at the wolf who looked it down. a creature who thought itself larger than it truly was, as if it had the means to defy the nature placed upon it. and maybe, she could. the power she held was undeniable ⸺ the people thrived in her presence, singing beautiful harmonies under her guiding palm. but that left one to wonder what laid beneath that facade, designed for the people's benefits.
