07-21-2009, 06:35 PM
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aw, secret spilled already. let's see if she gets it. >__>;
Darkness had fallen around them, but Samael’s attention was far from the stars and moon—rather the scarred woman before him. His approach had gone unnoticed until his voice spoke out, breaking the white noise of the secluded beach. Kaena whirled around as quickly as though she were expecting an attack, single golden eye widening in obvious surprise at the identity of the intruder. Naturally, the Prince of Fear was oblivious to the rumors of his own death spread by Gabriel to his mother, yet he was unsurprised at her tensity. A woman of her existence could only expect attack by wolves and other, ready to meet their fangs at every waking moment. Samael knew plenty out there would desire his death and be pleased at tales of his demise, but such did not concern him. He’d bare fangs in a mad smile in the face of death, believing himself above such foolish mortal things. Waves crashed against the shore; the sound lingering in the silence between their words. His name was uttered and a mimicry of his own statement, intentionally avoiding outright shock at the fact the other was alive and not yet among the dead.
She moved forward, closing the distance between them and gazing at his scarred, mutilated face. Gabriel had been the first to mark him, but various wounds had since grown since he’d last seen his mother—half inflicted by the Prince himself. Her fingers touched his fur and the coyote’s eyes half closed, lids partially falling across blood-red gaze. Her touch made him want to scream, recoiling and tearing angrily at his own flesh until the blood streamed down his body in brilliant red streaks. He wanted her more than anything; he loved her more than he could stand, but he was not worthy of her affection. Kaena may have been a twisted monster, but she was nothing like the Prince of Hell. Her love was pure and untainted while Samael’s screamed of black incest. He would die if she ever embraced him in the manner he desired, gaining all that he wanted from his world, and yet wanting only more. That touch would be his death, fully consumed by the flames of his lust and need. He’d long since dreamed of her nearly every night, awakening stained and alone, covered in his own blood and sorrow.
He was a lost little child, longing for his mother, but in the manner no son ever should. He leaned closer toward her, dark nose seeking the warm pelt of her neck and a soft whimper growing in his throat, barely audible above the crashing sea. Kaena’s son wished for her arms around him, holding him close and shielding him from everything save herself, utterly enveloped in her absolute affection. It was more than he could take, standing so close and wanting so much, with her fingers just barely caressing his fur. Her scent was in his nose, drowning out all else as Kaena’s presence completely consumed him. The Prince jerked violently back, stepping away so fast the motion could barely be registered. Head lowered and averted, gaze fixed on something invisible in the sand, Samael’s breath caught in his chest. Finally, he lifted his eyes again, taking in the reaction of the ashen woman. “I love you, Mother,” he finally whispered, a strange, strangled pain lacing his words.
Darkness had fallen around them, but Samael’s attention was far from the stars and moon—rather the scarred woman before him. His approach had gone unnoticed until his voice spoke out, breaking the white noise of the secluded beach. Kaena whirled around as quickly as though she were expecting an attack, single golden eye widening in obvious surprise at the identity of the intruder. Naturally, the Prince of Fear was oblivious to the rumors of his own death spread by Gabriel to his mother, yet he was unsurprised at her tensity. A woman of her existence could only expect attack by wolves and other, ready to meet their fangs at every waking moment. Samael knew plenty out there would desire his death and be pleased at tales of his demise, but such did not concern him. He’d bare fangs in a mad smile in the face of death, believing himself above such foolish mortal things. Waves crashed against the shore; the sound lingering in the silence between their words. His name was uttered and a mimicry of his own statement, intentionally avoiding outright shock at the fact the other was alive and not yet among the dead.
She moved forward, closing the distance between them and gazing at his scarred, mutilated face. Gabriel had been the first to mark him, but various wounds had since grown since he’d last seen his mother—half inflicted by the Prince himself. Her fingers touched his fur and the coyote’s eyes half closed, lids partially falling across blood-red gaze. Her touch made him want to scream, recoiling and tearing angrily at his own flesh until the blood streamed down his body in brilliant red streaks. He wanted her more than anything; he loved her more than he could stand, but he was not worthy of her affection. Kaena may have been a twisted monster, but she was nothing like the Prince of Hell. Her love was pure and untainted while Samael’s screamed of black incest. He would die if she ever embraced him in the manner he desired, gaining all that he wanted from his world, and yet wanting only more. That touch would be his death, fully consumed by the flames of his lust and need. He’d long since dreamed of her nearly every night, awakening stained and alone, covered in his own blood and sorrow.
He was a lost little child, longing for his mother, but in the manner no son ever should. He leaned closer toward her, dark nose seeking the warm pelt of her neck and a soft whimper growing in his throat, barely audible above the crashing sea. Kaena’s son wished for her arms around him, holding him close and shielding him from everything save herself, utterly enveloped in her absolute affection. It was more than he could take, standing so close and wanting so much, with her fingers just barely caressing his fur. Her scent was in his nose, drowning out all else as Kaena’s presence completely consumed him. The Prince jerked violently back, stepping away so fast the motion could barely be registered. Head lowered and averted, gaze fixed on something invisible in the sand, Samael’s breath caught in his chest. Finally, he lifted his eyes again, taking in the reaction of the ashen woman. “I love you, Mother,” he finally whispered, a strange, strangled pain lacing his words.