@SophieMacaulay for Alastor @ICUDO for Roy @CCDooMo for Sicily @WFengs for Eumenide @Andttsher for Riina @Sarqwolf for Chioni @MythicalKhaos for Ivory @Wolflover505 for Coden @Razzatazz for Basilius
I stood outside when the roof gave in You called from the wreckage you were lying in You were out of reach and were out of time But I took it all and towed that line You held my hand and pulled me down with you
It's torture I cower when you're near It's torture The scars born out of fear The horror Your soul so black and chilled It's torture I can't stop what can't be killed
So I was listening to this song when this image smacked me down. Just how it threw everything Herne's gone through, going through, and a lot of things he will go through, it knocked me on my backside it did so much justice to his story. Gonna be adding this to his playlist too~ Then ontop of that, got some story to go along with it, ^^ Curious for people's input on it!
The caracal's eyes blinked open... quickly taking in the realization that he was walking. Lightning ripped through the sky, yet it produced little to no noise most of the time. When it did, it was never loud. It sounded muffled... The caracal's face looked as if he were dazed, or not fully aware of what was going on around him. He glanced around, to acknowledge where he was in fact walking. He was in the streets of Massilia. How was I even in Massilia? he ran through his head. Then to take on another realization when he briefly stopped.
He glanced down at the ground. He quickly noticed his leg that was broken, was wrapped in a fabric, that was tied around him. Like a sling. So he was limping, but he felt more numb to any pain he should be feeling. Dirt and grunge stained the street where he stood. At first glance, he looked like a broken leg was the only wound he had. But his face, shoulder, and his posture let a lot stronger impression he had been through Hell.
He was standing in an alley at this time, not too far off from a primary street. The rain was pouring, soaking everything, bouncing off of whatever couldn't contain it, and building up in every blemish in the caracal's surrounding. He glanced up passed the peaks of the building he stood by, having rain hit him in the face. It stung. He almost gritted his teeth on how much it stung his face, making him look back ahead.
He let out a soft sigh, wondering why he was in Massilia. He must have been dreaming again... or another of his many nightmares. He entered into the main street, to look to his left, to see trees peering above the buildings' peaks. These trees were carrying pink and red flowers, or bushlets of leaves. There were other bushlets blowing through the air, and then stray strands of them blowing among the air. They would fall from the trees, instantly bee carried by the wind, fall the be snagged by the wind-tunnel labeled as an alley, and then bend and follow the main-street to the horizon.
The street didn't contain one crate, not one barrel, not one carriage. It was a barren land. The caracal knew he was in another dream. But what exactly did this one have in store?
The prior day, the caracal had broke. He spent months doing everything he could too keep sensitive information, or at least to him, sensitive, and certainly useful to Eumenide, but with even the weather ajarring its teeth against him. He broke and told her what he knew. Even showing on a map where things were. This wasn't something he wished to do in any way... but either he spoke, or he was going to die, either by further interrogation, or by the weather.
He had broken the security of the family he had, or stubbornly believes he has in the walls of the city. His biggest personal goal was to keep others safe. He had made a liar of himself, a fool, a hypocrite of what he claimed to stand for. But along with the pain and distained emotions pummeling his mind. Anger, frustration, betrayal, and abandonment also burned in his head.
He has the whole time he was a Hunter, and as a Lightning Empire Prisoner. He was loyal to the Hunters. He was also told Hunters looked after each other... even if the other screwed up. But... this is more and more proving to be a lie told to him. If that were the case... he would not be where he is now. Eumenide never would have broken him. Granted there was a good chance he would be in great trouble with the Hunters for his actions. Something he was more than willing to face, because he believed their uttered lie of never turning their back.
He now isn't even sure he wants to go back. But he wants out and as far from Lightning and her Leader far more than his broken trust with Hunters. He was told there was more to Hunters than being a Hunter. So far... he yet to see to anything more than blind hunting, other than the lie of loyalty, being drowned out by the hard-fact of being abandoned by them. Even who he saw was his brother, Roy? Didn't try much at all? It seemed like a petty attempt, where if anything... his brother ran!?
It didn't add up, it didn't make sense. Roy said he thought Empire Cats were scum. Then why the Hell did he run?
Why didn't he knock Sicily off right up front!
The caracal had also overheard part of what Sicily said to Estelle, who tried a lot harder than Roy did to save him. She too was unsuccessful. But she at least gave a Hell of a lot more to try!?! Could Roy have a relationship? ... with that cat? That seemed to the only validable reason as to why he didn't send her flying in an instant. The caracal knew he would have sent her flying if she was on Roy, like she was to Lira'Herne himself.
Roy lied to his face. He proved himself a liar to loyalty, both to family, and as a Hunter. The caracal knew what he was doing wasn't an approved action. He took the matter upon himself. He addressed it best he could, at the time, willing to accept the consequences... but now... the payment of his actions seem to be very far, out-weighing the action itself.
The only feasible thing the caracal could piece together about how far his punishment is going, is by taking the matter up himself. The recoil that the eight he helped was pulled from them, and dropped onto him, along with the recoil he alone had to deal with. Who knew what it was doing back in the city to those who do care for him? He couldn't imagine how they felt.
But on the flip-side they likely could not imagine what he was going through himself.
The caracal was completely helpless. He had no one to go to, no one to ask for help. Eumenide seemed to have some plans? What they were was a good question... likely involving him, especially now that he's opened his mouth. The fear of what will happen after he is out of information eats right through the caracal's chest. He can't just stop talking, but he also cannot blab blindly.
Lightning held the Ace's in this game, and Herne held nothing but deuces and jokers. The Hunters carried the Kings and the Queens, and all the other members were Jacks, and three-thru-ten. He would have to play the cards he held, however crappy they were. They were better then nothing at all. He would have to time them best he could, play them well, knowing everytime they would be beaten aside, but they'll buy him time if done right. His fate was not in his paws, but in either Lightning's or the Hunters... depending if Eumenide decided to let an Ace slide.
The caracal was smart, he knew the out-comes before he played, and he chose to take a play in the deck. Sadly like any game of war, no one knows the deck they will get in war. It was a gamble, and with where he was now... the gamble was dying out on him, and his cards were low. He just prayed he could hold long enough for someone to assist him, or he would get lucky and get a Wild-Card in his deck. +3EP for Word Count: 1286 +4EP for Full Picture +7EP to Herne
Again, please leave some feed back~ I encourage you to listen to the song linked too! Please, comment, favourite, like, subscribe, watch, share!
Artwork; Herne; Literature [c] FeatheredSeclude 2016 All other characters mentioned are [c] to their respectful owner.
