another madman done struck again.

Reaper Hallow · 09-23-2011, 12:08 PM

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Form	Info Date: 16 Sept Time: Late Afternoon Words: 760

Drifter Bay

blarp. O:

She was dead. There was no denying that -- she was dead, dead, dead. He had not been gone two days, heading south with Dusk to scavenge in the city and bring home dinner. Well, he'd brought home dinner, and he'd left the deer's neatly sliced meat, the steaks and strips, next to Penance, unable to face eating or burying her. Reaper had only taken the necklace, unhinging the thing from her bloated, stiff neck with some difficulty.

He had run after that, and though he had not eaten since felling the deer, he retched anyway, bringing up nothing but stringy saliva and the faint beginnings of foam. Now he gazed emptily forward, in the general direction of the ocean. He could not look back. She was back there. The necklace clutched in his hand, Reaper slowly stood, sniffing the air. The thick stench of decay -- her decay -- was upon the air, but there was something else there, too.

Reaper's pale eyes widened. He had not missed the absence of his son and daughter, but he had lamented Penance more. She was his life's light. He had known her for such a pitifully brief time, and yet he had attached to her wholly and completely, in fact loving his children only because he loved her. She had been his strength -- it had been her idea to get Dusk, her responsibility to care for the mare. She had done the raising of the children, and he had only tottered around at her ankle, utterly and completely devoted to her. Now she was dead, and he was lost again. Or -- perhaps not.

Small pieces of Penance still existed in this world -- two of them, in fact. Enigma's scent was stronger than Shrive's -- he took this to mean the girl had been taken with the initial attack, and the boy had been left to die. But now -- where was he? The pale-eyed man whimpered softly in his chest, and leapt nearly to the sky when Dusk nuzzled his shoulder. The horse sighed her amusement and bumped against her owner again, wishing to move away from the scent of death. As usual, the silver dapple was utterly unperturbed, even at the death of her master and caretaker.

Alright then, he said, softly, and turned toward the horse, sliding up onto her saddle. It was a small, pathetic thing, really -- one of the cheaper models obtainable in Freetown. It had taken them long enough to gather up the trade clout to get the horse in the first place, and they had little to spare on such expenses as a saddle. Penance had not even needed one -- she had wanted it only for Reaper's ease and convenience. This thought lingered uncomfortably long, and Reaper awkwardly squeezed his legs together. The horse started forward, moving away from the scent of death and toward the coast.

Enigma's scent was barely palpable from his perch upon the equine's back, but it was not altogether lost to sharp-nosed Reaper, who followed the faint scent trail eagerly. Engima was Penance, and maybe his sister was even with her; maybe Shrive hadn't been carried off in the initial attack. If she had, Reaper's chances of finding her were near to nil -- there was virtually no scent left of her whatsoever. She was long gone. He wondered why the attacker would take the girl, and he realized it with stunning indifference: she was, after all, a girl. She would be impressionable in her youth, and she was likely headed for the slave trade, or otherwise careening toward some end that involved spread legs.

These thoughts did not bother Reaper as they might have a normal canine. He had become attached to Penance, and now that attachment was slowly beginning to transfer to his son, Enigma. These attachments were less love and more deep obsession, hardly copacetic; they were unhealthy at best and terrifying at worst. The first to hold this sway over him and the one to train him toward such inclinations was his brother, Bastion. He still ached for the man, ached for his sister, but he had been able to stave off those aches with Penance. He had been able to forget about them, at least for a little while. Now, the old thoughts and needs came flooding back to him, and he trembled softly in his seat. The mare seemed to pick up on his sudden anxiety and arched her neck back toward him, issuing a soft nicker toward her companion.

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