01-05-2010, 08:20 PM
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http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb17 ... Angelo.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">Word Count: 415
For all of his ignorance (and it was much, in truth), Larkspur could read the man before him as easily as the men he had seen before. The Khalif were simple—they knew blood, lust, and the madness of devotion. All of these things existed here, and he knew this. Misery had tried to explain the ways of the world and told him, oh so many times, that the Khalif were not exactly wrong. Tak was indeed dark and terrible, and his great clawed hands reached wide over the world. All of the devils that had come from his hands sunk into the earth, and into the men that roamed them. Even if Haku was not black, as Larkspur was, a great devil lurked in his body. He bore no signs, and this made him twice as dangerous. Larkspur came with his flags on display, his holy words on his arms and the can tah around his neck radiating power.
But there was no fear in Haku Soul, and this was what Larkspur respected. He might have been a monster (and by all accounts, he was), but monsters were not unfamiliar to the blackened wolf. Four years of torture, as serving his family as omega, ruin, as something less then dirt, had left his mind shattered. It was his body that had suffered less, stealing food, fighting in order to survive. Four years spent praying for a stranger to cross their midst, to be chosen in order for him to live, and by Tak it had happened through some miracle, he had survived for so long, then in the fourth year there had been no strangers. Only an empty pyre and his body to serve the greater good.
Misery had saved him, and for that, he had given her his life. She had left him with only a vague task, and one he intended to follow until he fell dead or found her again. “It is my purpose to educate her,” he explained, finding the phrase alien. It was his aunt-mother that had told him this, when they found the rest of their family, to tell them the truth of the Khalif, of their heritage, and of the madness that they needed to embrace in order to survive. Black fur had to be cleansed. Larkspur was making himself holy. “As with the rest of my family. She will come to no harm—this I can promise you.” His eyes, focused with intensity, spoke no lies.
For all of his ignorance (and it was much, in truth), Larkspur could read the man before him as easily as the men he had seen before. The Khalif were simple—they knew blood, lust, and the madness of devotion. All of these things existed here, and he knew this. Misery had tried to explain the ways of the world and told him, oh so many times, that the Khalif were not exactly wrong. Tak was indeed dark and terrible, and his great clawed hands reached wide over the world. All of the devils that had come from his hands sunk into the earth, and into the men that roamed them. Even if Haku was not black, as Larkspur was, a great devil lurked in his body. He bore no signs, and this made him twice as dangerous. Larkspur came with his flags on display, his holy words on his arms and the can tah around his neck radiating power.
But there was no fear in Haku Soul, and this was what Larkspur respected. He might have been a monster (and by all accounts, he was), but monsters were not unfamiliar to the blackened wolf. Four years of torture, as serving his family as omega, ruin, as something less then dirt, had left his mind shattered. It was his body that had suffered less, stealing food, fighting in order to survive. Four years spent praying for a stranger to cross their midst, to be chosen in order for him to live, and by Tak it had happened through some miracle, he had survived for so long, then in the fourth year there had been no strangers. Only an empty pyre and his body to serve the greater good.
Misery had saved him, and for that, he had given her his life. She had left him with only a vague task, and one he intended to follow until he fell dead or found her again. “It is my purpose to educate her,” he explained, finding the phrase alien. It was his aunt-mother that had told him this, when they found the rest of their family, to tell them the truth of the Khalif, of their heritage, and of the madness that they needed to embrace in order to survive. Black fur had to be cleansed. Larkspur was making himself holy. “As with the rest of my family. She will come to no harm—this I can promise you.” His eyes, focused with intensity, spoke no lies.
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