07-20-2009, 09:57 PM
[html]
Physical illness had long since fled his body, however the coyote’s mind was long since plagued with mental affliction. He’d healed some, growing strong once again, even if reality remained skewed and distorted from how things truly were around him. Samael was the Deceiver and the Destroyer. He’d once believed the Angel that had come to him in all Light and beauty was a thing of Heaven, but he’d since learned better. Hellfire and damnation were the only things fit for the Prince of Hell, whom longed to become a King and reign on his own throne. Selfish desire rang through him as the bloodlust that turned him on everything, wolf and coyote alike. He was no mortal creature bound by a longing to reside within God’s house. Samael Lykoi was a monster and a blasphemer, and would die as nothing more when his time finally arrived. But such trivial things did not concern him, for this brief life was simply a charade—a momentary game before he returned to his true home within the bowels of Gehenna. He murdered, fucked, raped, and did whatever he saw fit simply for the amusement, spreading darkness and discord wherever he went as he had been commissioned to do by fate and prophecy itself.
But the woman who bore him and the bloodline she headed did hold immense affection for the beast, if such a thing was even possible. The Chaos star of the Lykoi family was branded onto his body and the name used alongside his most commonly spoken title. Thinking of the ashen woman, her name lingering on the edge of his thoughts, a scent broke through his consciousness. Kaena. Like a moth drawn inexplicably toward the flame which burns it, so Samael Lykoi followed his mortal mother’s trail. He’d believed her long since dead and gone, having vanished from her beloved clan without a passing word or a simple farewell, leaving the creature torn and decaying in his loss and misery. The wound had just begun to finally heal into a scar—a permanent reminder of a mark sliced deep, but no longer weeping despair. And yet here was a reminder, like a slap in the face, reopening cuts long since closed and scabbed over, wishing to be forgotten. His face twisting into a vicious look, pace quickening as he sought the source with an almost intent urgency, he wound quickly down the cliffside, nearly stumbling as attention distracted.
She wasn’t supposed to even be alive anymore. Why was she here? Was this simply a torment designed specifically for the beast; a trick of the mind to content his desire? The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, casting all into darkness. On the beach he stopped in his tracks as suddenly as if he’d been struck, spying the grayscale creature laying in the sands in absolute solitude, other than Samael himself, whose presence remained yet unknown. But his pause was brief, so quick it barely slowed his steps as he slunk forward in his smooth, serpentine manner. “Mother,” he uttered softly, so light it may barely of even been heard even by canine ears, stopping as he did so a few feet away from the woman. She was so beautiful even now, just as he’d remembered her—lovely scars and all. Oh how he’d longed for her and the day they might meet again, but he’d assumed such would have to wait until the afterlife. He’d waited so long in Inferni for her return, but she’d never come back. And then he’d lost his mind and wandered away, lost to the Angel and his brilliant Light.
“I missed you,” was all he said, crimson eyes holding a look of reverence reserved for so few.
Physical illness had long since fled his body, however the coyote’s mind was long since plagued with mental affliction. He’d healed some, growing strong once again, even if reality remained skewed and distorted from how things truly were around him. Samael was the Deceiver and the Destroyer. He’d once believed the Angel that had come to him in all Light and beauty was a thing of Heaven, but he’d since learned better. Hellfire and damnation were the only things fit for the Prince of Hell, whom longed to become a King and reign on his own throne. Selfish desire rang through him as the bloodlust that turned him on everything, wolf and coyote alike. He was no mortal creature bound by a longing to reside within God’s house. Samael Lykoi was a monster and a blasphemer, and would die as nothing more when his time finally arrived. But such trivial things did not concern him, for this brief life was simply a charade—a momentary game before he returned to his true home within the bowels of Gehenna. He murdered, fucked, raped, and did whatever he saw fit simply for the amusement, spreading darkness and discord wherever he went as he had been commissioned to do by fate and prophecy itself.
But the woman who bore him and the bloodline she headed did hold immense affection for the beast, if such a thing was even possible. The Chaos star of the Lykoi family was branded onto his body and the name used alongside his most commonly spoken title. Thinking of the ashen woman, her name lingering on the edge of his thoughts, a scent broke through his consciousness. Kaena. Like a moth drawn inexplicably toward the flame which burns it, so Samael Lykoi followed his mortal mother’s trail. He’d believed her long since dead and gone, having vanished from her beloved clan without a passing word or a simple farewell, leaving the creature torn and decaying in his loss and misery. The wound had just begun to finally heal into a scar—a permanent reminder of a mark sliced deep, but no longer weeping despair. And yet here was a reminder, like a slap in the face, reopening cuts long since closed and scabbed over, wishing to be forgotten. His face twisting into a vicious look, pace quickening as he sought the source with an almost intent urgency, he wound quickly down the cliffside, nearly stumbling as attention distracted.
She wasn’t supposed to even be alive anymore. Why was she here? Was this simply a torment designed specifically for the beast; a trick of the mind to content his desire? The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, casting all into darkness. On the beach he stopped in his tracks as suddenly as if he’d been struck, spying the grayscale creature laying in the sands in absolute solitude, other than Samael himself, whose presence remained yet unknown. But his pause was brief, so quick it barely slowed his steps as he slunk forward in his smooth, serpentine manner. “Mother,” he uttered softly, so light it may barely of even been heard even by canine ears, stopping as he did so a few feet away from the woman. She was so beautiful even now, just as he’d remembered her—lovely scars and all. Oh how he’d longed for her and the day they might meet again, but he’d assumed such would have to wait until the afterlife. He’d waited so long in Inferni for her return, but she’d never come back. And then he’d lost his mind and wandered away, lost to the Angel and his brilliant Light.
“I missed you,” was all he said, crimson eyes holding a look of reverence reserved for so few.