malleus maleficarum

Larkspur D'Angelo · 05-08-2010, 11:04 PM

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The stink on her was overwhelming. She smelled like sex and blood and dirt. She smelled like false magic and prophecy, but it was one that she had no part of. Larkspur sensed that she was not a beast whose blood belonged to the darker parts of the world. Perhaps she fancied herself chosen, perhaps not. For him, she was just like the boy. She was young and stupid and carrying only potential.

But someone else had seen that and taken it for him. Haku Soul’s scent had been emblazoned on Larkspur’s memory—the man had shown him kinship first, and granted him sanctuary without question. Though they were not blood, and not friends, Lark believed the two were kin in some way. There was never a time that had made him consider Haku at all worthy to understand the Khalif, to understand Tak. All they had understood from each other was their collective path; full of dark shadows and the smell of blood. His upper lip curled, tongue tasting her scent on the air. There was no malice on his face. Instead, he looked almost as if he was smiling (if you could call that thing a smile).

Orange eyes narrowed at the question. She did not recognize him as Haku had, or as the boy had. Maybe his blue-eyed brother had been wrong. “Why’d he pick you?” The deep voice rumbled from his chest. It was a question, but one that could have been a demand.

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