08-06-2009, 05:34 PM
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His views were always changing, like ripples on a still pond he’d never remain the same for long. Death seemed far less relevant when the life he took was one he cared nothing about. Empathy only went so far. The old man had been different; Jael feared death when he’d taken the old man’s life, regretting his rash action more than anything else he could think of. And yet when he’d taken another, accidentally murdering the hapless stray, he found himself far less concerned. Canines killed all the time—it was only the way the world worked. They killed to survive and death was nothing more than a common, daily occurrence in their brief existence. And yet when it was someone you cared about, death held a far higher relevance. Let coyotes and wolves do what they will, the nihilist was growing more and more apathetic with the passing of each day. He barely lurked around Inferni anymore, keeping to himself and his own thoughts rather than involving himself in the clan’s daily actions. Why should it matter if they killed? Or if anyone killed at all? They killed rabbits and deer every day just to eat and continue living. Jael himself had feasted on the poor, lost soul, draining it’s blood as a harsh, uncontrollable desire had grown within him the second the crimson liquid had first touched his lips. He was a monster, he knew, yet what could he do with himself? Small animals blood could barely sustain him, and yet he could not take down a full deer or grown elk on his own—it was ridiculous. Hunger had torn through his abdomen and he’d feasted, tearing the poor man apart still alive, drinking his blood like some horrific demon of fiction. Sitting beside a river, he rinsed his stained hands in the cool water, allowing the hare’s blood to slowly wash away. The corpse lay still beside him, useless now that he’d drank its blood. A soft crooning greeted his ears and the youth’s head turned skyward, watching the raven that watched him from a branch far above. It cried out again, eyeing the slowly decaying meat that rested at his side. Smirking, the vampire tore a piece of flesh from the carcass and held it out toward the bird on his fingertips. It continued to eye him with beady black eyes before spreading dark wings and fluttering down before him. Thick beak clicked as it contemplated the situation, knowing it wanted the uneaten meat, and yet unsure whether or not to trust this large predator. Finally, the sight of exposed flesh lured it onward and the raven snatched the strip, hoping quickly away to quickly pick apart its prize. Crooning in satisfaction, it again turned midnight vision on the pale wolf, obviously wanting more. He smiled again, tossing the entire rabbit toward the raven and watching it finish the remains. Ah, the life cycle of the forest. This bird was his clean up crew, making use of an otherwise wasted life that’d simply rot away into the soil, uneaten. |