Fayble adoptions <\'.'/> Busy busy busy! Closed.

[CaptiveLegacy]

Oh, i'm in love with number 2 and 5 (: You might see going for one of them, so tempting x)

[Winterfaux]

Oops.. 1 is a girl and 2 is a boy =p

[CaptiveLegacy]

I had this question come to mind awile go, is there a role that a fayble has after they are cursed? I understand that they have a 'babysitter', the raven, which watches over them, but are they cursed to help the curse? What I was picturing was that there was seekers, then tormenters. Such as seekers help find other foxes that should/need to be cursed and have a watcher, and then tormenters are used for foxes to fear the curse/carry on their bad deeds. But that might be just me, all I know thats what came to mind (:

[Winterfaux]

Wait.. What?

[CaptiveLegacy]

Like, do faybles have a job after they are cursed? Or are they just deemed unworthy to walk the earth alone and have to have the raven as a watcher/babysitter? Sorry if it sounds comfussing (:

[Irish Pirate]

Username; Irish Pirate
Fayble number; 5
Fayble name; Fiachra (gaelic for 'Raven')
What breed of fox you think it was; Silver Fox
What will you use this Fayble for?; He'd be primarily a major character, in fact, my only character now. This guy really spoke to me and I plan on writing many stories about him and creating art and a shrine in his honor. I don't have a character page on here just yet but I'll make one if I get him.

And now the kingdom comes
Crashing down undone
And I am a master of a nothing place
Of recoil and grace

Cursed. Forever cursed is he with the wings of crows. Black wings as dark as coal, laid backwards upon his back, to match his cold heart. His mind is cunning, sharp and his eyes are soft when he lies - frequently those soft eyes got him anything and everything he wanted. There is no love in his heart, no compassion...nothing to convey the illusion that he even has a soul but he is intelligent. Perhaps too intelligent for his own good, as some might say. He is the raven. He is Fiachra.

His coat is dark; a deep grey accented with black with the classic white-tipped tail. His eyes are pale; a cool blue that is frequently seen in the cold depths of winter. Oh those eyes are beautiful, aiding him in his deceitful ways. Tattooed over his lithe but strong fox frame are various tribal styled markings in a deep red - a new addition, and one that he happens to be quite fond of. And just above his tail, on his lower back, is the stark white crow or raven skull with eyes as red as the markings - his 'watcher' as they had called it. This watcher was there, perhaps in attempt to give him a conscience. Sort of like the angel on the shoulder, telling you to go down the good path - do good, be good, no more deceitfulness. Knowing Fiachra, however, he was not as apt to listen to such ideas as others might. It was far more to his liking and to his advantage to ignore those thoughts and continue getting anything and everything he wanted.

What is his story, you ask? Well, it's rather simple. It wasn't just one transgression. In fact, it was one after another until all had lost count (including himself). He had taken to stealing from those less fortunate (usually food to fill his endless pit of a stomach). Tricking others into helping him out of sticky situations and letting them take the blame or suffer the consequences while he continued on to do what he always had. They had gotten fed up with him and his nasty ways, years of dealing with his inability to feel bad for anything that the had done. Fiachra felt no remorse for any of his deeds. In fact, he frequently went to bed with an overly full stomach. He slept well, ate well, and none of it was rightfully gained. It is all past now, however, and nothing has changed. Absolutely nothing has changed.

The raven boy, cold as he is, woke up looking the way he is now - dark red markings, raven skull, and black backward raven wings - and merely continued along; proud. Proud as the raven.

And in your darkest hour
I hold secrets flame
We can watch the world devoured in its pain

[Winterfaux]

Everything after their creation is up to you ^^ As well as their past.
Awesome story Irish pirate =3

[hellevi]

Username; Fig Newton
Fayble number; #3
Fayble name; Corvus Fox
What breed of fox you think it was; Unknown
What will you use this Fayble for?; I will make it a character, get plenty art of it, and make a backstory

[iBrevity]

Username; iBrevity.
Fayble number; #5.
Fayble name; Red.
Fayble gender; Male.
What breed of fox you think it was; Silver fox. cx
What will you use this Fayble for?; As a character. I love the ideas he inspired with me, and honestly I love this breed themselves. I hope my story conveys just how much Red means to me. <3 I would also get lots of art of him, as I have a tendency of spoiling my characters. xD

----------

And then the world was black.
It was as black as if I had shut my eyes but was powerless to open them, and it lacked even the imagination of light. It was colorless. Merciless. And it swallowed me and suffocated me and I crawled to the surface where I sucked in a mouthful of black, for I had not escaped anything but merely blundered into another lake of sin.
The nightmare transformed into the rupturing of soot black wings facing backwards and the cruel laughter of a crow who watched me from afar. I stood on a landscape of bleak colors, bleeding from the earth like sores, pooling around my paws in flares of brown and black and gray.
A hooked beak flashed and somehow pulled into a grin too inhuman to belong even on an animal. That laughter chased me out of my nightmare and I came to with the morning sunlight dappling my fur and the softest songs of birds in the trees overhead.
For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe. I closed my eyes and inhaled, taking refuge in the mundane scents of the grove. The dreams slipped away from me and returned to the tangled mess of my mind, lurking there until I lost the war to exhaustion and fell to its lethal tactics again.
"Just a dream." I murmured, and I opened by eyes then and looked up at the birds, but all that perched above me was the ugly black form of a crow with a crooked beak and a malicious smile.

When I really woke, it was accompanied with screams. The songbirds exploded from the trees like scattering memories, and I sucked in air and leaped to my feet. The cackling in my ears eventually began to fade, but I remained there, legs spread, chest heaving, panting through my open mouth and swallowing back my overwhelming fear.
My voice was shaky when I whispered, "Just a dream, Red. Just a dream."
So ever so gently I lay down again, soft and quiet, and when I stretched out my paws, I was momentarily stumped by the black, oily liquid that clung stubbornly there. I stared at the stuff, willed it to go away, prayed that my mind wouldn't connect it to the dreams.
"Things like that aren't real." I chuckled, but it was too raspy, too dry, too scared. "Not real."
I was almost on the verge of believing it when the crow's ringing laugh echoed through the trees and I lifted my chin to the ebony-eyed bird that looked down at me with a smirk.

Sometimes if I let my dreams grow too wild, I would wake and, momentarily, believe myself normal again. It was a pleasant safety net, a trait I had developed in trying to desperately to keep a grip on my sanity. My crow watcher found great amusement in this, and although I could not truly understand him, I had gotten fairly talented at reading the brief emotions that flickered through his ceaseless eyes.
So I rose to my paws and ignored him as I always did, diving through the nearby underbrush. My thoughts were impossible to decipher this morning; they rolled in the same black pool of sin I had just climbed out of, and while they dwelled on darker things, I was lost to the passion of my dreams.
No, my nightmares. I didn't dream anymore; I had lost that ability when I had been cursed with backwards wings of the softest, most velvet black.

I still remember when I was cursed, when I was granted the idea that I would become this evil creature to roam the trees. I hadn't believed the stories as a child, mistaking the truth for a story to scare pups into slumber, and I had overlooked the warnings and the limitations and I had lived as no one should; without restraint, but most primarily, without mercy.
It was only fair I would become the demon they saw me as. I had started as a petty thief; robbing from anyone I came across, whether it was food or space or vixens, it mattered little. I wallowed in being better then them, in being skilled enough that I could take whatever I willed.
But my greed swallowed me hold and choked on me on the way down, for I began stealing much more then silly items; the first time I took a life I had been stunned. That feeling of blood soaking through my throat fur, dampening my tongue... it is a vice I will never forget. But the problem was, that back then, I didn't want to forget. I loved this.
My crimes got larger and I lost control of myself, and I lived for blood and blood lived to be taken by me. Being caught no longer mattered; I was a demon hellbent, and no one who stood in my way would impair that journey.
But I had never seen the Faybles coming, and they had yanked me into their dark world and made me what I had never believed I was; but now as I stood and peered down in the crystal rain water I could see it clearly. Their wings, their burnt tattoos, and the skull that ruined my hide; it was merely a physical warning to those that I passed.

That I was not like them.
That I was not safe.
That I had long ago forgotten the definition of mercy.
And most especially; that I was a thief, and the thing I was most skilled at taking were lives themselves.

[Irish Pirate]

Thanks, BK! It's been a long time since I've done any writing like this (college got in the way, then work, then more college, then boyfriend... you get the point) but he inspired me to get back into it. Needless to say, I'm a little rusty but all my old characters have since moved on. I have an old print of Aesop's Fables, too. XD I sat down earlier today to read them again. They are love <3