05-04-2010, 08:10 AM
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Samael had told him of his mother, and impressed the respect that he held for her onto his children—well, Mkhai at the very least. The woman that approached suspiciously resembled this image, but he didn’t yet part his lips to remark on such a thing—not until he saw the crimson mark branded onto her breast. Samael had shown him his, telling the boy that this was the symbol of his blood and his confidence rose, assuring him that just possibly he’d made the right decision in coming here. His blood-red eyes hadn’t left her tattoo as she spoke, and he’d barely heard a word that she’d said. If anything, he intentionally ignored her words as they were meant for a stranger—which he didn’t feel that he quite was. “That mark,” he said, finally allowing his vision to lift and meet her own. “You’re a Lykoi. You should know my father then, Samael.” Her mismatched vision was startling, but it did not perturb the boy. No, he announced his heritage with boldness, informing her directly of his father’s name, and thus indirectly who and what he was to her. His eyes were alive with curiosity and interest, thinking this creature instantly worthy of his attention, though not yet admiration. Neither his father, nor his mother’s, decisions were his to share just yet regardless of their impact on his existence, and he desired to think for himself before anything. He was a prince and a devil, and he needed to think carefully before aligning himself with anything or anyone. He was too precious a commodity, and his blood too refined. Instead, he’d wait to see firsthand for himself. |