beyond the trees, over the clouds

Shandom Qi'Vaex · 01-03-2012, 08:28 PM

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Babbly post is babbly. :| Literally, only the last paragraph is important! / +1058

His dreams had always been strange, ever since he left Etienne under the guise of night and murder. It was not to say they were nightmares, but instead they were horribly lucid and realistic, often forcing him to wake amongst deep, haggard breaths and slightly panicked eyes. It was a strange shift from one reality to another, to get his mind accustomed to the harsh newness of consciousness. Shandom sometimes wondered if it was an alternate life he lived that he could only visit under the cover of sleep, and sometimes, times like these, he found he quite enjoyed that particular sensibility much more.

He was in a land much like this one, though he did not have the ability to shift. Noone here knew his last name - Qi'Vaex - and he had not gone by it for a while. Night-slayer, the title he was slapped with after his crimes, was simply his calling now. But it arose great suspicion from the others - for there were others, and plenty of them - and he sometimes found himself explaining his heritage more than he would particularly enjoy. Dark, shining eyes often followed his footsteps, their gazes mingled with fear and grudged respect for the high ranking man. Questions among pack members were not uncommon - what right did he have to hold such a rank, when he committed such a horrible crime? - but they were answered often satisfactorily, based on unwavering logic and a reminder that they too were flawed, and many were criminals. It appeared Shandom Night-slayer surrounded himself with wolves of tainted pasts and, yet, he found no problem with it.

The rank of Gamma was not actually that high, as Alpha and Beta were obviously more prestigious. Shandom answered to his superiors well, and did his job with unwavering confidence: the white man demanded respect, but was not cruel. Often, his scar did the talking for him; trespassers were not inclined to infuriate a man with such a hardened battle wound, though they did not know the actual source of the injury. If they had, they certainly would have taken issue with it. But Shandom was not one to tell his stories to those who lived outside the lands he called home. And he loved those lands! Etienne was a distant memory, though slightly painful when he touched upon it, and this - this land was home. Shandom knew the dips and valleys and grasses and forests and caverns that populated the Canadian territory, and he loved every inch of it. And within those inches lived his mate, a beautiful woman he loved more than the world and the stars and the sun and the sky put together; she was his lifeline, his reason for breathing, his own personal, unwavering sunlight.

Shandom never understood how he got so lucky. When he walked with her in companianable silence, as he did not, the scarred male would often turn and get a glimpse of her grey, brown, and black mottled coat. She was not traditionally lovely, but he'd never been attracted to that sort of creature. No, this woman was strong and proud, carrying herself with utmost dignity. She was his mate and the Gammess, as was tradition in the pack where he lived. Mated pairs populated the upper ranks, male and female, and they were the ones with children. Lower ranks did not bear pups and were punished accordingly if they did so; Shandom saw nothing wrong with this particular system, as it still afforded him children and acted in accordance to his traditional values. He was, in many ways, a conservative; he lived as other wolves sometimes strayed, and was a model for respect and hierarchy. The male had seen much in his life, and did not want to stray from what he already knew. What he had learned was what he would do - his values were correct, and those who were not in accordance with him were just blatantly wrong.

His mate, of course, saw him as a bit silly, and she told him so. The woman who walked next to him was the only one he deferred to - with the exception of his Alphas and the Betas, of course - and he treasured her opinion. While he got her to be less stern, she encouraged him to loosen up. And this was the foundation of their relationship, and it was something wonderful. Shandom did not understand how anyone could live any other way. It was such a wonderful feeling, to love a woman and be loved in return....

Like all dreams, it had to end. But it did not sit well wish Shandom, and he felt empty inside as he stood and stretched. It was early, by the rising of the sun and the bite in the air. He was not particularly cold, warmed under a thick blanket of fur, but he was grateful for the warmth of his new pack mates. It appeared most were still sleeping, and he was sure to tread quietly out of the communal den. The male found it to be a relief to live in one large group again; while the Hotel had technically housed most of the Miracle canines, they were separated by thick, human walls. Shandom had never liked that; he remembered walking like a specter through the strange formation, wondering how anyone could ever idolize the strange creatures that desired such separation from each other. Shaking his head, the white man sighed. Such folly, to abandon the nature of one's ancestors! He did not like the path wolf kind was taking. As for the Dogs... They were a different nature all together. In the legends, hadn't they been described as "Man's Best Friend"? It was unnatural.

He caught the scent of someone just outside the cavern, and eagerly trotted to its source. A young male presented himself, and Shandom wagged his tail eagerly. This was not a higher ranking pack member; the pair were on equal footing, and so the older man kept his stance neutral, but polite. A wide, friendly smile stretched across his black lips, and Shandom politely approached the younger boy. You are certainly up early! he whispered, determined not to wake the rest of the pack. I am Shandom Nightslayer. Who, may I ask, are you?

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