Asher
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
The world seems not the same, though I know nothing has changed.
Posts: 75
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Post by Asher on Dec 29, 2008 14:45:53 GMT
Music had always been cathartic to Asher, a way to unwind and let go of his troubles. Of course, before that terrible night, they had been few in number and easy to shift. Nowadays, they held more weight, were tougher to disengage and cast aside. It didn’t help that he thought of Maria every day, remembered her favourite colour, food, the way she smelled, the sound of her laugh. The littlest things would remind him of her, and he would tumble down into a dark kind of depression that seemed to claim him so easily and refuse to release him, regardless of his actions or efforts.
Music was the one exception. For years, since he had learned how to play, it had helped him to relax, and even since the loss of his mate, it still held true, still carried that same inexplicable power. Whatever it was that caused the music to work such wonders, Asher was not the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had never been that way. No, he would simply appreciate it, and count himself lucky that he could get any relief at all, even if only temporarily.
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Darien
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Every dream's a journey away
Posts: 32
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Post by Darien on Jan 28, 2009 6:21:57 GMT
For Darien, drawing or painting helped him unwind as easily as music did. The former two were usually reserved for those times when he felt the need to be alone for a while. It was easy enough to lock himself away in his room and spend an entire day lost in his own world, ignoring whatever was on his mind in favor of concentrating on his current project. He was lucky in that he could keep the memories of Eileen and his father’s deaths at bay most of the time, though when they came to the surface, he always seemed to lean towards darker colors when he was painting or pressed a bit harder when he was drawing. He could always tell when thoughts he’d prefer to keep buried managed to worm their way to the surface.
At the moment, though, Darien was thinking of nothing but the way his pencil skimmed over the page, leaving marks that were beginning to vaguely resemble… something. Stopping, he studied what he had done so far, connecting the various lines in his mind as a picture started to form. Giving a little nod to himself, he began to draw again, this time with an image in mind.
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Rosaline
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Drink like it's water, girl...
Posts: 108
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Post by Rosaline on Sept 16, 2009 4:02:05 GMT
POST TIME-SKIP
Boredom didn't suit Rosaline well. Not that she often found herself bored. Pensive, maybe. Relaxed, complacent, recumbent, occasionally. But outright bored? That was just bizarre.
Of course, it was something of a dangerous situation. Like many of her younger packmates, Rosaline had a penchant for mischief; what better time to find some mischief when one was utterly bored? The amount of damage that Rosaline could cause whilst in her state of ennui was limited only to the depths of her imagination, delightfully twisted as it was. Nothing serious or cruel, naturally; Rosaline didn't do cruel. Chaotic, well. That was another thing entirely.
Unfortunately (or fortunately?), Rosaline didn't have the motivation for anything of a chaotic nature. She was quiet, almost listless in her boredom, seated before the huge grand piano on the padded bench at the keyboard. Her small, slender fingers plunked at the ivories, though there was no music before her -- she couldn't read music, anyway, and she was perfectly content to throw together the few chords that her packmates had taught her. Rosaline gave a sigh, plinking out an E-7 chord. It was so quiet in the hotel. It was almost unnerving.
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Joshua
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
But I won't rot, I won't rot, not this mind and not this heart.
Posts: 19
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Post by Joshua on Sept 28, 2009 20:50:09 GMT
Boredom was not something that one Joshua Camden experienced all that frequently. For such a quiet male, he actually had a particularly busy mind, always one train of thought or another whirring madly away in that head of his, seemingly running their own course with lives of their own, independent little tangents that he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Besides, with the recent rush of dramatic activity, it wouldn't do to air such boredom; it seemed distasteful. Joshua was lucky he didn't experience boredom, really. He didn't have to worry about seeming rude or ignorant in any way.
It had been too quiet and isolated in his room and when he had headed outside of it with no real destination in mind, the somewhat shy male should have expected his roaming feet to take him somewhere random without his brain even realising where they were headed. Such was the peril of having his nose down in a book. A graphic novel, to be precise. Watchmen, more to the point. It was one he had read several times since first aquiring it, and he had had to replace it twice since that initial purchase because of dog-eared corners and unfortunate incidents with other people's pets and badly placed glasses of juice or mugs of coffee. Thankfully Joshua was not the type of male to be riled by such accidents, and when said pet owner had offered to replace the book for him, there was no way he could have even begun to be the slightest bit annoyed about it.
Those straying feet of his carried him impulsively into the music room just as that E-7 chord hit the air, lifting his nose out of the pages to which the novel was opened in his hands and he blinked, realising where he was and that he obviously was not alone. "Oh, oops. Sorry, am I-- am I interrupting something?" Even as he spoke, he released the book at one edge to gesture directionlessly behind him.
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Rosaline
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Drink like it's water, girl...
Posts: 108
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Post by Rosaline on Sept 29, 2009 15:13:14 GMT
Had she been paying closer attention to her surroundings, Rosaline might have paused in her musical endeavors, or at least been able to sense Joshua's approach by scent or sound. Even though the young male did, in fact, sneak up on her, Rosaline didn't start, thankfully. She turned her head toward the sound of her packmate's voice and smiled when she met his eyes.
"Don't be silly," the female said cheerily. "Nothing to interrupt."
Of course she wouldn't mind company. Unless, of course, Joshua objected to shoddy musicianship. Nonetheless, Rosaline would try not to assault his ears too harshly.
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Joshua
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
But I won't rot, I won't rot, not this mind and not this heart.
Posts: 19
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Post by Joshua on Oct 2, 2009 3:07:31 GMT
Distraction was a common thing in the hotel amongst its residents recently it seemed. With everything that had happened, it was no wonder that they were all so scattered, physically, emotionally, mentally; the leaders and fighters and older wolves in general were better at concealing how lost or confused they were in terms of what had happened but Joshua was not among those wolves, the ones who could rein everything in, shut it down if it was unhelpful, and stick to his guns. He was just as thrown and bewildered as the rest of those beneath a certain century mark in terms of age.
Joshua had been born into this pack, had been with it every day for his two-hundred-and-twenty-three years, and like any long-term member he had seen his fair share of ups and downs, violence and surprises. Still, there were times when everything seemed to happen at once and it took on a whole new level of absurdity in terms of just what was going on and to what intensity. Now felt like one of those times. That was what made Rosaline's cheeriness, as out of place as it might have seemed to outsiders looking in, so refreshing.
"Oh, okay. That's good. You know, because--" Joshua had had that problem his entire life, stumbling through sentences that should have been coherent and straightforward. As best as he was able, he mustered an apologetic, crooked smile, and slipped his index finger in between the pages of the novel so he wouldn't lose his place, despite knowing the entire story and a great deal of the dialogue off by heart by now. "I, uh, I didn't know you played." The piano, that was.
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Annelise
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 153
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Post by Annelise on Aug 5, 2011 0:28:55 GMT
POST TIMESKIP
In front of the piano wasn’t a place she belonged, what with her complete lack of musical talent and no knowledge of how to play even the simplest of songs on the thing, but she needed something to focus on right then and the room had been empty, so she had allowed herself to gravitate towards the instrument. Adam had played a bit, when he had gotten the chance, and perhaps that was why she was there. It was time to really, honestly let him go and she knew it, so perhaps sitting at the piano of all things, all things considered, wasn’t exactly the best way of doing it, but she had been holding on for so long that it seemed best to go step by step, one day at a time, one thing at a time. Her necklace- the one she had never taken off before- was lying on her bedside table rather than around her neck. She hadn’t been able to put it away yet, but she had finally taken it off, the clasp fighting her the whole way, almost as if it was trying to convince her to change her mind, to leave it where it was, saying that it belonged on her rather than on her bedside table. Eventually, maybe she would even be able to move it to her jewelry box, to the safety, to the darkness, out of sight but never out of mind.
Shaking her head, the fighter dragged her way up from those thoughts and jabbed at the piano keys, making the poor thing sound like she was murdering it. She could practically see him grinning, practically hear the good natured laughter that he would have tried to stifle had he heard her attempts at the piano…
That wasn’t working at all… She jabbed at the keys again, roughly, trying to focus on what she was doing rather than the things that had been impossible for so long. Moving on was damn hard, as it turned out, but she had already known that. She had had to do it before and she would do it again. This time, she just had to figure out how to do it on her own.
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Natasha
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter-in-Training
Oh, I cut his hair myself one night, a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light.
Posts: 2
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Post by Natasha on Sept 18, 2011 14:27:52 GMT
Over the years the Hyperion Hotel had become something of a mother to Natasha. The sounds of the pack moving within like a heartbeat in the veins of a huge being and they all lived, safely in its belly. Years of walking the halls had left her able to navigate them without a cane as she had once had to rely on, though her blinded eyes could not see where she was going she knew that if she continued along the hallway she was on she would come to the music room. Having brought Nerys a flask full of tea to keep her going while she moved into her new office she had set off for the music room with her ballet flats in one hand and a CD in the other.
As she approached she heard the hammers of the piano strike the strings and wondered who it could be in there; she sorted through the mix of scents but as usual it was just too difficult to pick out the very most recent in a building where sixty wolves were always coming and going. Once inside, though, it was easier.
"Oh, Annelise," Natasha stopped where she was, her unseeing eyes gazing off through the wall behind the blonde's head; she could place the fighter without needing to see as others did, she knew where the instrument sat. "I didn't know you played the piano."
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Annelise
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 153
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Post by Annelise on Sept 28, 2011 23:43:10 GMT
As she had been jabbing at the piano keys, she had, in the back of her mind, been hoping that she wasn’t disturbing anyone with her horrible attempts at the piano. It was surprising that no one had come in and asked what the poor piano had ever done to her to deserve such treatment. Really, she shouldn’t be allowed near the music room unless there was someone there to make sure she didn’t abuse the instruments. It wasn’t like she purposely abused them. She didn’t smash them or anything, but really, she probably shouldn’t have been allowed to touch them due to the fact that the sounds that came from them when she did was anything but easy to deal with.
She had been so lost in trying to keep her mind occupied that she very honestly hadn’t noticed Natasha’s presence until she spoke. The fighter stopped torturing the piano and looked back, thinking that it probably was about time she gave the poor instrument a break. “Calling that playing is being generous,” Annelise told her. “I’d call it torture, personally. Poor thing doesn’t deserve what I was doing to it.”
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