strength in numbers

Micah Sunrise Lykoi · 06-06-2011, 10:44 PM

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Ezekiel! Arachnea's Revenge. Pre-dated to tomorrow?

His sisters' insistence, now a number of months ago, that their airheaded father still lingered the lands provoked Micah into an aimless scavenger hunt for the man from time to time. The brown-eyed boy always left Cercatori with no real plan in mind; what he would do if he were to come across the straw-eyed murderer, he hadn't the slightest idea. Micah had no means of combat, no training in stealth — and Razekiel was a murderer, that his son knew. If he had killed once, he could do it again. Already that man had the advantage.

Perhaps it was just his imagination taking him for a ride, but what he guessed to be Razekiel's scent dwindled about near the northern borders of one of the eastern coastal packs he wasn't familiar with. Micah dared himself to draw closer in, the scent only augmenting as he neared its source — only to be overwhelmed with panic and fear, and instantaneously the boy turned back and fled. He hurried north, deeper into the forest, and at one of the bright blue pools he stopped to catch his breath.

The boy leaned to roll up his khakis, chastising himself in trembling mumbles beneath his breath. Coward, Storm Lily hissed, his ghost of a sister shrieking her displeasure in his ears. Micah could not shut her out, could not simply ignore her. No, she was right. He was a coward. What could he even have done if he'd come across his father? Sighing, the boy knelt near the shallows and splashed water into his face, his tremors slowly subsiding though his sister's wails and complaints did not.

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