06-24-2009, 07:19 PM
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| http://digital-bonsai.com/katew/rp/kae/ ... tblood.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:248px; padding-left:25px; padding-right:25px; padding-bottom:10px;"> mall-caps;">In Character Kaena sorely wished she had some tale of heroics to give Rachias, some valiant, good thing she had done with herself instead of raising her children, but her only excuse was Eris, and that was a pathetic excuse, at best. There was nothing in her mind but lost time; time spent relentlessly tracking the dark coyote, following him through desolate wilderness. Time spent killing him, then recovering from her brush with the reaper. A long, spacey stretch of lost time, where Kaena wandered aimlessly, broken-hearted and ignorant to the route home. There was recovery from that, too, but the Outpost was too minor of a detail, and it had only been a vector to home in the end, anyway. The coyote wondered if Astaroth might have taken Rachias, Andrezej, or Arkham instead. Surely she would have pursued him just the same, but it would have ended with Astaroth, and she would have taken her time to recover with her child and then gone home. There would have been no interim, no searching for Eris, allowing the scent trails to grow stale and the memory of the way fuzzy. None of the others would have left her like Eris did; they would not have been swayed so easily by the serpentine whispers of the false devil. The Eternity child had begun to guess she was not wholly related to her littermates; she had asked Kaena one night, to which the hybrid had no answer. Rachias spoke, and the words brought something new to her ruined face, burning behind that sun-gold eye fiercely. It was hope—her daughter was not just passing through, then. The young hybrid wouldn't be gone in an instant like so many others, and though perhaps family did not bind her here like it did her mother, it still held some sway over her. She leaned into Kaena's touch, and her heart warmed, the rarest of emotions in the Lykoi matron, provoked only by her children. None of her lovers, none of her mates had struck that feeling in her heart as cleanly and true as her children could. Not even Zulifer, though by now Kaena was certain she'd idolized him to the point of flawless godhood in her memory, clear hyperbole even to the Lykoi who had known him so many years ago. The hybrid listened to her daughter speak, hurting for her. Laruku had been indifferent to his children, then. It was no surprise to the Lykoi; though they were certainly physically his children, he had no recollection of their conception. At least he had the decency to show them kindness instead of his fangs. Kaena was grateful for that, and she silently thanked the dead hybrid. She had never loved him, no—but he had given her Rachias and Arkham, and Andrezej, too. That forever cemented him in her heart. He had lived life as a wolf, but Kaena had been able to overlook that for his blood. He was the son of Arlo Xyl, a coyote Kaena remembered well, if only because he was the adopted son of Yasu Zarah. It was only fitting that Kaena would have had his children; it was merely Inferni reaching out to draw back the blood of a founding coyote into itself. Fate, perhaps, or maybe it was just the magnetism of blood. The hybrid didn't know what to say to Rachias. She didn't want to tell her that Laruku, in all likelihood, had never wanted them. Kaena had not planned them, no, but were certainly wanted children from the moment she'd learned of their existence. She smiled, but it was a sad one, tugging the corners of her mouth up slightly, though it did not touch her eye. That part of her face was lost, thinking of Laruku. She should have known him better—she should have made more of an effort to know him, instead of just consorting with Ryoujoku and dealing with Laruku when he stopped by to see the children, when they were very young. After considering a moment, she said, "I'm glad you knew him." The coyote was pleasantly surprised with Rachias' reaction. Instead of having to explain herself, there were no questions—her daughter merely stepped forward and pressed herself close to her mother, and Kaena did the same, resting her head lightly on Rachi's hazel-furred shoulder. There was a heavy exhale, a sigh of clear relief and elation, and Kaena held her tightly. Her hand reached for the back of her daughter's head, those same fingers that had eviscerated and maimed gently stroking her daughters hair, her other arm holding onto her tightly. The elder murmured her daughter's name again, turning it over her tongue and savoring its sound. "Rachias," she said, but her voice was filled with that same hope that had flashed across her face, all of the anxiousness and fear evaporated from it. |