Reflections...

[Shadow_Twisted]

The world I knew had turned its back on me, but not in a way cold or unloving. All I had known were the lies and secrets that one could easily associate with evil, and yet those that I had been surrounded by were not devious back-stabbers. They were the family and friends that I would never know outside of their midst…or so I thought.

My life within the order was anything but beautiful, but by the age of 15, I was a deadly weapon trained in various forms of silent take-downs and quick kills, but you wouldn’t guess by looking at me. Samuel Dunn had no enemies; he was the sole heir to his family’s wealth and lived the life of the spoiled, entitled aristocrat. But that wasn’t who I truly was. The true face of the polite, spoiled young aristocrat was cold and cruel. The conflict between who I was and that lie that I told the world was a constant war upon my soul. I knew that I didn’t want to be that murderous death machine, yet what choice had I?

Some had asked why I had taken such disdain with guns. They were effective killing tools, but a poor choice for one in my line of work. For one, they were loud. Making a lot of noise is a big mistake for someone like me. There were also reliability issues. One could run out of ammo or end up with some other malfunction. Even though I never really used them, they still made my tasks difficult. High importance, high risk missions usually meant guns, lots of them. People that knew to expect danger from some mistake or other often had guards. I was one of the best in getting through a mission with only one or two shots getting fired. Demolition, however, was a slightly different category. A good explosion could be an effective distraction and a well placed, well-timed explosion could cripple a defensive team to leave a target very exposed.

Still, not every occasion can call for an explosion, so that leads to my two favorite tools: throwing knives and my father’s blade. There was no possession I had that I cherished as much as that sword. However, with its bloody legacy at an end, I have chosen to use it merely as an accessory. For my business with Miss Scorpia, I had chosen to switch to blunt instruments. I no longer wish to spill blood, merely incapacitate. What the others would do with them; that is their burden.

Long have the thoughts of my past tormented me, and I had come to spend a lot of time in the cellar. The cellar to the manor would have made a suitable wine cellar, but the comforts I seek there are to be hidden from the rest of the town. The glow of the candles in the bleak darkness guides me to the mahogany and marble altar. Every day I kneel and ask for the forgiveness of my past. I know now, though, that I am asking forgiveness from the wrong person. It is within me that my struggle lays, and within that it has found a face.

That sneering, arrogant face torments me. Though he is no longer in this world, he has still found a way to interfere with my life and eternalize the struggle within for forgiveness. The old raccoon has become my constant pain and the one thing within me I feel will never die. He is the embodiment of my guilt and it is because that he is the cause of all of it. I had never asked for any of it, but it was all I was to be given. Now, I still find no peace from what I had done and perhaps I never will.

[Shadow_Twisted]

I suppose I should have left this a little more open to discussion. Well, I guess it just helps fuel my feeling like a useless background character on the forums.

[xivk]

Is it a continuing story or were you looking for people to rate your work?

[Shadow_Twisted]

It might be a continuous work, but I wouldn't want to keep going if no one would read it. To write something without any reaction... it kind of makes you nervous about writing more. I wanted to start a bit of character development, but still get some critique for increasing my overall literary skills.

[Caroline]

((Shadow_Twisted, I don't tend to comment on peoples art posts... be they actual art or literature. I really don't feel qualified to do so. It doesn't mean I don't read them, just... *shrug* I dunno, I guess I don't feel like I have the credentials to do so...

...and... when I tend to comment on stuff, I tend to nit-pick, and be critical about things. Even stuff I like, I tend to nit pick, and be critical about. Anyhows, most people, when they post stuff on line, don't want constructive criticism even if they ask for it.

so... *shrug* I know, lame. It's just what tends to happen when people ask for comments, and I post my comments.))

[xivk]

Well sure people would read your work. just as caroline said some dont say anything as not to offend, just enjoy the read.

[AlainDaishar]

xivk I wouldn't say that its simply not to offend, Some people just aren't that vocal. Myself, for instance, I rarely talk around people I don't know, and if some of their art shows up I don't exactly know what to say or how to say it. But, yea, Shadow, just because people don't comment on it, doesn't mean they didn't read it or didn't like it.

[Shadow_Twisted]

If once I could say that I had found love, it would have been that sweet Melissa. Forever, now, though I bear the scars of woe over what could have been. It was my life that had to take me away from her, but she would not be there when I returned. I had searched many places, high and low. Yet there would be no sign of her.

[Shadow_Twisted]

I really, really want to post something, anything! But now my mind is quite much like mush. So many memories are coming back to me all at once and added with my writing projects, it's quite a lot. In a way, it makes me feel like I've grown a lot more as a person. Still, I'd almost give anything to have a chance to get them all back. Before the rumors and lies ripped us all apart.

[Shadow_Twisted]

It all began one fateful night at the opera. I don't remember much of the performance, it wasn't quite the style I preferred. I just couldn't punish myself further, so I went out to the balcony for some air.

"You know, it is rather rude to walk out on a performance." Her voice soft, sweet and innocent.

She seemed to be a bit younger than I was, but she was a sight. Her fur was soft pink with little violet stripes here and there. Her eyes were a soft icy blue and her hair something of fuchsia. She walked right up next to me at the balcony's edge.

"I think it was rude of my friends to suggest a performance that I wouldn't enjoy. Sometimes I wonder if they even appreciate opera." I explained as I gazed down at the street below.

"At least Miss Mayflower has an enchanting voice. You should return to your seat if you don't want to be considered rude." She told me sternly, then winked.

"Haven't you heard? I'm the young upstart that only does as he pleases, damned the consequences." I retorted decidedly, before falling into a bout of laughter.

"Perhaps I should accompany you, so you won't feel like you have to suffer" She was definitely a charming young lady.

"What of your company? Surely they would disprove." I replied.

"I'm here alone, papa doesn't care for the opera and my mama, well, she can't come anymore."

"I see. Well then, it would be rather irresponsible to allow you to endnger yourself, to my booth!" I exclaimed in a display of corny showmanship as we giggled the whole way back to my booth.

She was right about one thing, Miss Mayflower's voice was perhaps the one thing that saved me from death in the performance. That and the presence of a certain young lady's hand on my own. I knew then that I would have to find more time for the opera if it meant more time with that sweet little angel.

[Shadow_Twisted]

Dear Samuel,

Sorry to interrupt your writings, but I feel I owe you an explanation, as I am not long for the world and may not see your safe return. I should have told you about Darius, your uncle. I knew him as Brute, but that is neither here nor there. I suspected that there were issues with him when your father died. However, I had no idea where to find him, as he left the Order shortly after and went underground. It seems he resurfaced with the slavers and when we turned down the contract, he knew where to find us.

I always knew making appearances would eventually lead to my demise, so I never did. I had a stand-in, who acted as my messenger. You thought I only got my name from being a raccoon, as did everyone else. I couldn't tell you the amusement that brought me, but I digress.

Your uncle was the one that brought the torment down upon you, as he was only your father's half brother and was always treated as an outcast and bastard. I thought that he would have died after this long, but I suppose I was wrong. I tried to reach you in Bon Bon and explain, but you went off for the trap before I could reach you. I was closest to finding you in Miss Fortune's mansion. Now I fear what plots may be moving against us. The fury of the men seems to drive many of them to wanting to go on the rescue mission, yet I am certain this would be a folly, as there are surely plans to attack the manor when the main defences are gone. I will try to be in touch with some of the others to have a surprise force on hand for the manor's defense, but I can't make promises.

I must at last apologize for all that has befallen you from my actions. You were filled with promise, and I used it to my advantage, now you will hopefully find a second chance at life, and feel free to place all the blame of your past on me. I was the one that was blinded by greed and subjected a young boy to the rigors that rarely befall a grown man.

My deepest sympathy,
The True Mask <'^'>

[Symphony]

I know it's been quite some time sicne you last updated this thread, but I've been digging through other people's stories, and I noticed my fursona's name in here.

I'm not terribly familiar with your fursona's past, so I won't claim to fully understand everything that's going on, but I like the way you write. There's a bit of noir style in your posts, which is something I happen to enjoy.