08-06-2008, 05:24 PM
[html]mall-caps;color:#660000;">there's no one here to tuck me in, so the shotgun will instead
Even now, in the darkness he could see how much his sister had grown into the near mirror image of Kaena. A Kaena devoid of scars and possessing both of her golden eyes. She was so beautiful, and yet he felt it was all those marks and scars that made his mother even more perfect. Just as his own face had become marked and scarred and torn apart by those he met, yet his were the wounds and marks of a whore, not of a battle-ridden prince, as he should of been. His wounds he could not bear proudly with his head held high and his arrogance gleaming through his demeanor. Samael had yet to do anything worthy of their mother's pride and affection, and this weighed on him. Even Ahemait, it seemed, had created some sort of legacy in the pups hidden in the shadows behind her. Bearing more Lykoi's into the world and spreading their madness like a plague.
Samael crept into the den at his sister's suggestion, allowing crimson eyes to briefly pierce the darkness in the direction of Ahemait's children—his nieces and nephews, it seemed. Gabriel had already sired children with that mate of his. But Samael was yet to produce, not that he was in any rush. The time would come when his own heirs would come into the world. And with their demon blood they'd be just as twisted and fucked up as could be, if their father had anything to do with it. Kaena had done a perfect job in raising this litter of children until she decided to replace them, then up and vanish with that little half-breed. And he'd see to it that he did just as well, if not better.
"Boredom," came his reply, seating himself beside his sister and curling his tail around his haunches. "But this apparent war threatens some amusement." Red eyes sparked bloodlust, hoping for a chance to simply tear into a few more wolves without any real reason or purpose. "I've missed you," he said after a pause, something almost genuine and soft creeping into his voice, almost unnoticed unless one knew it to be there. He'd always harbored a soft spot for his closest sister.
Even now, in the darkness he could see how much his sister had grown into the near mirror image of Kaena. A Kaena devoid of scars and possessing both of her golden eyes. She was so beautiful, and yet he felt it was all those marks and scars that made his mother even more perfect. Just as his own face had become marked and scarred and torn apart by those he met, yet his were the wounds and marks of a whore, not of a battle-ridden prince, as he should of been. His wounds he could not bear proudly with his head held high and his arrogance gleaming through his demeanor. Samael had yet to do anything worthy of their mother's pride and affection, and this weighed on him. Even Ahemait, it seemed, had created some sort of legacy in the pups hidden in the shadows behind her. Bearing more Lykoi's into the world and spreading their madness like a plague.
Samael crept into the den at his sister's suggestion, allowing crimson eyes to briefly pierce the darkness in the direction of Ahemait's children—his nieces and nephews, it seemed. Gabriel had already sired children with that mate of his. But Samael was yet to produce, not that he was in any rush. The time would come when his own heirs would come into the world. And with their demon blood they'd be just as twisted and fucked up as could be, if their father had anything to do with it. Kaena had done a perfect job in raising this litter of children until she decided to replace them, then up and vanish with that little half-breed. And he'd see to it that he did just as well, if not better.
"Boredom," came his reply, seating himself beside his sister and curling his tail around his haunches. "But this apparent war threatens some amusement." Red eyes sparked bloodlust, hoping for a chance to simply tear into a few more wolves without any real reason or purpose. "I've missed you," he said after a pause, something almost genuine and soft creeping into his voice, almost unnoticed unless one knew it to be there. He'd always harbored a soft spot for his closest sister.