Post by Never on Dec 17, 2008 22:46:05 GMT -5
It's the making of our story
A passing dead and gone
Fairy tales wait in mystery
And monsters sing in song
Even though these lives have ended
Their memory will carry on
A passing dead and gone
Fairy tales wait in mystery
And monsters sing in song
Even though these lives have ended
Their memory will carry on
Name
Never
Age
46 moons
Gender
Tom
Personality
Long ago, Never might have been a bit more talkative and easy going, finding pleasure in the simple joys of life, but he has now become withdrawn from the world. He seems bored with life, and merely just exists. This grey tom is rather solemn and somber, and can be rather difficult to have a conversation with. It is not because he is depressing, as he is not, it is because... He just doesn't talk. He won't attempt to speak other than responding unless interested in the topic. But when he does, one can discover that Never is actually quite the gentleman, as he is very polite and kind.
Never merely wishes to watch life go by, event by event. It's not in his place to interfer with the flow of things.
Description
Never is a silver somali, with a thin figure and gangly frame. He has long legs, which look odd on his body, and a lengthy, feathery tail. Stormy grey-blue eyes are settled in his skull, surrounded by very light grey fur. Under his skin are muscles of a decent strength, though one could hardly call him a powerful feline. He can, however, run, and run forever.
His body is, however, a map of his life.
There are little cuts littered over both ears, and the tip of his tail was fractured, though never healed properly, giving his tail a permanent curl at the end. Of course, there are scars scattered across him, having lived a feral life in the wild. But the most interesting wound on his body is the one he earned as a kit. He had managed to get stuck on a thorn bush, and when he was pulled free, it made a thin slice across his stomach. As he grew, this scar shrank to now only be settled in a line down his ribcage.
History
Many many moons ago, a young tom was padding along, searching for a late afternoon meal, when he came across a pretty little female. She was lost, having tumbled down a cliffside and into the awaiting river. She was swept far from where she used to live, and was now utterly lost, but fortunately uninjured. The young tom, being the gentleman he was, offered to try to show her back to the lovely home she described to him. She accepted with a smile.
They had set off on their way, heading in the direction the tom knew the river came from, as he'd been to that waterfall before. However, their plans were foiled as it soon began to rain. First, it was merely a light trickle, then slowly progressed to a what one could describe as 'raining buckets'. The two young felines danced between drops as they hurried to find shelter. They eventually scrambled up a tree and sat under the leaves, watching the rain fall.
"My apologies, Miss, but I have forgotten to ask you of your name."
"Oh..! It's Angel."
"What a lovely name. It fits you rather well, Miss Angel."
And so it began.
Never took to courting Angel after returning her home, and she was positiviely flattered by the young tom. After a little while, he eventually won her heart, and gave her his in return. Angel didn't feel she was ready for kittens, so they had none. Never had calmly accepted that fact, and waited for the day she felt she wanted to be a mother.
However, this is a love story of tragedy.
The young tom came across a sparrow, and it was a fat, slow thing, hopping around in a fashion that would suggest it was stupid. It was an easy kill, and Never took a few bites before realising the bird didn't taste right. He stopped, looked at it, then spat out what he had in his mouth and scurried off to the nearest puddle. He drank deeply, then sat back, feeling dizzy, a sense of weightlessness coming over him. The world span, and he fell to his side, his vision fading to black.
Angel came across her mate a few hours after, having gotten worried, and gasped as her heart skipped a beat at seeing him laying there, motionless. She almost tripped over her dainty paws as she hurried over to him.
He was dead. He was dead he was dead he was dead...
She couldn't hear his heartbeat, and his body was cold. Angel shook, collapsing next to him and burying her muzzle in his fur. She groomed him one last time, taking her time to clean his entire body, before slowly standing, looking at the bush just a few pawsteps from him.
A death berry bush.
Angel committed suicide to be with the one she loved.
But the one she loved was not dead.
Never woke two days later, half dying from being in a coma with no food or water. The bird he had eaten was about to pass away before he caught it, having made the mistake of eating deathberries itself. He had eaten the tainted meat, and slipped into a coma-like state. His heart slowed to the point of being barely audible, and his body grew stiff and cold. But now he woke, and looked to his side.
Angel lay dead next to him.
Horror moved through his body. She was dead. The remains of the black berries were still in her mouth. His heart ached.
But suddenly there was a timid voice in his mind.
I'm so sorry....
It was Angel.
I thought you were dead... I'm so sorry... I love you.
.... Angel?
Never! You can hear me?
Yes... But aren't you... De......... Dead?
I... Yes... I am. I... I'm confused, Never...
As am I, my love.
Never continued to hear Angel's voice from beyond the grave, and although he wanted to join her, she convinced him to live, for the both of them. He longs to be with her once more, however...
Other
Angel killed herself out of love for Never, and now her spirit is bound to his. She sees everything he sees, and hears everything he hears, but only he can hear her soft voice. She comments on things in life, and talks to him, but cannot hear his thoughts.
A beautiful nightmare will begin
And our hero's will stand strong
There is a place only the dead know
Real corpses dance and are true to heart
It's the making of our story
Where in death we do not part...
And our hero's will stand strong
There is a place only the dead know
Real corpses dance and are true to heart
It's the making of our story
Where in death we do not part...
