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During the years she had lived here and raised the lovely little things with the long, naked tails, her interest in this hobby seemed to have gone in tall, dramatic waves. Or, well. Her interest had never dwindled, though her priority most definitely had. Inferni’s status didn’t always allow for her wilding rodents to roam as they should. Only a few, delicious moments had been spent watching the dear little darlings tear away at live wolf flesh. Most of the time the flesh was dead. Wild rats such as these had an extremely short life span; always being on the brink of starvation. She wanted them crazed and she wanted them bad, but was it worth it at all if they were never to be used? The woman sat in the cellar, crouched down close next to one of two cages that had housed her crazy rodents for many years. These were all young and mad, but they, like their parents, would too probably die before they would get to taste live flesh that screamed as they would dig their sharp little teeth into it. Such a shame. Halo had always loved the idea, but it seemed that was all she would get. It was sad, indeed.
But, these last months, she was slowly but surely being led astray by her own chaotic feelings. In a strange way, Halo was badly injured. A mere physical wound would have been eternally easier to deal with than the infected wound she was carrying around, day and night, inside her very core. Inferni still possessed her loyalty, but she knew that it was relative. There were few members she actually could stand. Her loyalty was not directly tied to Ezekiel as it had been to Gabriel de le Poer. But the doggish man had left them all, just like the rest. The world was full of heathens and weaklings, and she wasn’t allowed to throw the populating weed out of this precious garden. Fucking Ezekiel and his sense of leadership. Even his own sister had let him down, but still he persisted. She could give him that, at least. There was so much disappointment, and after lying around long enough, it was morphing into something darker, more dangerous. Perhaps she was just waiting for the final eruption. It couldn’t be too long now before she started spewing magma and ashes. It wouldn’t benefit anyone, but she had nowhere to direct the ugliness brewing within, so what were her options then?
Many small mouths grimaced at her, and she watched the mass of trapped rats mass on top of each other, hungry to get a taste of their master. But they never had and they never would. A clan-member had once found the reeking room with rat cages and let them out into the mansion, but the damage had not been severe. It was unfortunate that he had not been devoured in the process though, for the thought still had the ability to burn dimly within her if she circled too long around the thought. But he was dead now, wasn’t he? Just as good, for he had been so obviously weak that it had made her ill to think that he was a part of her clan. A man breaking into tears so easily had no place in this clan where existence should be a privilege. All were born perfect though dwindled as they grew into their innocence. It had to be killed off quickly so that eyes could open to see the terrible truth instead of pampered dreams and fairy tales. Halo too had suffered when her bubble was broken, but it had made her into something vicious and dangerous. A force to be reckoned with. She wondered if Ezekiel had still lived if she had been in her optime for that day. She thought not.
The mansion was still as she locked the door behind her and walked up the stairs leading her out of the cellar and into the ground floor of her home. It was more crowded than it had been and she didn’t know many of the members well. But Halo had never truly cared to mingle too much with her fellow Infernians. She was quick to judge and not a very pleasant woman to be with in general, so she knew that others avoided her as well. They were all doing each other favours, she guessed. It seemed to work all right for the Triarii at least. The ones wishing to excel at their warrior ranks often came to her though, and she was pleased with the current, though small, team of warriors. She had taken a strange liking to Helotes, and had no trouble with his presence. It had pleased her greatly to see Symera take up the rank of Hastati so early after abandoning her puppy rank. There were others she thought suitable for their roles, but she wasn’t about to go pushing people into taking roles they didn’t burn for. Being a warrior wasn’t title alone. Skill and dedication was necessary, and if the dedication wasn’t there, then it would only be a waste of time to try to teach an individual anything.
Instead of moving up to the second floor and check on her beauties, the woman found herself walking out the door and into the frosty morning air outside the front yard. The auburn woman inhaled deeply, and the cold air burned deliciously in capable lungs. The dark morning hours had already been spent training, so she was relatively free. The kids were early birds as herself, but she trusted Symera would keep an eye on them. They were big enough to go out exploring now on their own, though, and didn’t approve of big sister and mother following their every step. It burdened her though, to know that they sometimes managed to escape their guardians’ watchful eyes and go on exploring on their own. There were many dangers in the wild, but it was a necessary evil. She wanted them to grow up fierce and strong, of course, and had to be willing to accept the consequences it might bring. Too many children had perished by this clan’s borders.
And that was where soft cream painted feet led the red eyed woman. With children roaming within the lands, she would do what she could to up the security around here. Halo had slacked on border patrol lately, but it wasn’t really her duty to watch the skull-lined area either. But scouts and guardians had failed horribly in the past (obviously) and she didn’t trust the current members in the scouting tier whatsoever, so she figured she’d have to take matters into her own hands. It was good to doze off on auto pilot and just use time to sort through raw thoughts and feelings. Oversized ears swivelled on top of her head without a moment’s rest, and though her mind was occupied, her eyes hungrily scouted for potential danger to the clan and her dear ones. Her faithful katana rested against her slender, athletic back. Her dearest friend. She had to wonder about its missing sibling. Once there had been two swords in her possession, but one had been lost, potentially forever. Itachi’s smell had been all that remained, and she wondered if the sword was still with him. Was there a reason why he had returned to take the specific sword that belonged to his flawed mother? It had infuriated her then to know that the exile had returned to the lands to steal from the head warrior herself, but strangely, this anger had been quenched a long time ago. Scars never properly healed, but the strange motherly love still existed for her banished son. She hoped he hadn’t taken the blade only to toss it aside. She hoped it was as precious to him as it had been to her. Also, it was sort of… fitting, that mother and son would carry each their twin katana.
Symera seemed to be lucky, pulling in hostile loners from her patrols. Would the Triarii be equally lucky today? The morning sun had barely lifted enough to send a few, drowsy rays of light over the frosted landscape, and the silence was eerie and strangely calming. So quiet and empty. But appearance so easily deceived, and she would not be fooled.
Your faith walks on broken glass
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