I'm scared to death of light and silence

Misery · 03-08-2010, 12:23 AM

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MISERYIn the cool dark night, a vision had come to her. Laying in the bed that Larkspur had made for her - her vision had went clouded over. The spots that often danced before her gold-green eyes had taken all light from them. She had tried to speak only to find her voice forced into a horse, gasping whisper. Soon she had felt the tremors and trembles over take her body. Then there had only been a cold, quiet silence. Misery had seen all the truth then. Placing a gentle kiss on Larkspur's brow, she had grabbed her walking staff, walked outside, mounted the horse he had procured for her and taken off into the night.

MISERYThe Khalif had fallen into a hush at the sight of her. By the time she had reached that cold mountain peak, her fur was nearly pure white. Only the mane of hair she had - tangled and wild, well on its way to dreadlocking contained traces of silvery-grey and black. Misery D'Angelo, daughter of Sukan and Kylie, she was the heir. The blackness that had kept her what what belonged to her - it had been washed away. God had touched the old female, and wiped her sins away. It was with awed gasps and hushed whispers they had bowed before her. Bitter, dark laughter had escaped her throat. She had sacrificed Anzu the last time she had been there. Sacrificed his meaningless life - none of the bastards mattered, not since Damian, not since true love had been lost - for Larkspur. Her visions had made her leave him behind. A God, they whispered. Ankh, she who Walks-in-the-Light, the white furred Goddess of all that was Good and Pure, the Day Walker - she had saved that tarnished soul. Some even wept at the sight of her. With her fever bright eyes blazing, Misery had simply laughed until she fainted.

MISERY Robes of pure white adorned her form now. A simple, thick garment with the hood pushed back, her walking stick was tied to the horse, and bulging bags hung next to the saddle. Her hands held the reins, and she was humming a soft hymn beneath her breath. Her senses were not the greatest - her sight had gotten spotty more and more often, but her sense of smell was as good as ever. Larkspur, her sweet boy was here.The robes kept the cold at bay - she was cold all the time lately, and her bones creaked and ached. Arthritis was a son of a bitch and at her age it seemed inevitable. Still wasted and thin, it seemed since the day of Damian's death so long ago she had only gotten thinner and thinner. But there was a strange, maniac gleam in those bright eyes. A symbol hung around her neck, resting above the robe's cloth. A golden sun symbol - Ankh's eye. The Khalif had tried their damndest to follow the newly proclaimed leader and High Priestess, but Misery had refused, firmly and coldly. Little Wicca - Ahren and Matinee's daughter, she had found her way there, through some strange happenstance. For now, until Misery returned, she would lead them.

MISERYTak's eye followed her in the sky. Even though now, she was supposed to be a daughter of Ankh these days, the unformed dark God still felt so much more real to her. Though he was a cruel God, and that cruelty had chased her all of her days, she loved the Dark One. Tak was father, brother, son, he was so much to her. In the dark of the night the white robed woman cut a startling figure - and the soft song she hummed broke the stillness as she roamed the border. Her son was here - she would find him.

Larkspur D'Angelo · 03-08-2010, 12:38 AM

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The can tah whispered, and Larkspur woke from a dreamless sleep.

Both of his eyes, burning with that Jack-O-Lantern glow, snapped open in the dark. Less then two hours ago he had collapsed under the starlight, aching from fresh cuts and hating the smell of smoke. The Inferni coyotes had destroyed several buildings, but to Larkspur, the act was more then simply one of war. He had warned Haku, and warned him well, that what Gabriel de le Poer intended was not simply destruction. The Khalif’s teachings were powerful even here, and Lark understood what those fires mean. He was not alone in believing that the man who led Dahlia de Mai was a demon.

None of this mattered now.

White fingered paws carried him through the underbrush, stained by wet earth and ashy soot. He did not run, but his speed was great. Somewhere behind him the home he had taken, surviving the destruction for whatever reason, shrunk to insignificance. The voice of the eagle was low, but it was all demanding. If he had been commanded to run into hell’s mouth itself, he would have, so great was his devotion. But the wind betrayed what it had brought him, and when it did so he froze. She was here. After everything he had done, she had returned.

His heart swelled to the point it nearly burst, and then Larkspur did begin to run. He ran frantically, rushing forward, ignoring the aching muscles and fresh wounds gained defending the woman and her child from the Inferni coyotes. Though this was not his war, Larkspur needed to do what he had—to blend in, to appear normal. One day, Haku Soul would fall; if this came to pass, the D’Angelo needed to know he would not be dragged down with the beast. The wolf ran hard and ran fast until the scent grew exponentially. It was like a drug filled his brain and made his senses falter, but the signs were all around him.

By the time he broke the borders, he found the horse wandering away from him. With one loud bark, he announced his presence and rushed forward, tail wagging frantically, eyes wide and gleaming with the same fever-bright devotion that he had always had to the woman that had saved him from certain death.

Misery · 03-08-2010, 12:54 AM

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MISERYMisery could feel him coming. It was painful to slide off the horse as quickly as she did - Lock was his name - but she did so, gently brushing a thin hand across the fellow's neck as she slid down to calm him, and turning to Larkspur. She stumbled a bit getting closer to him, but soon her thin arms were wrapped tightly around him. She had missed her boy but it was not God's will that he go with her on that journey. Not yet anyway. One day she would hand it all to him, oh the plans she had for him in her fevered, darkly intelligent mind.

MISERY "You've done very well Larkspur, very well." Her voice was warm and nearly breaking - dear god, she had missed the boy so very much. It felt surreal to see him again. She knew he had done well - Larkspur knew only her words, her commands. His reality was shaped by the words spilling past her black lips, words and actions coming from her dark heart. He had done well because he could not fathom doing anything other than her will. It made him a good tool, and a beloved son. Samhain had turned on her with his mistrustful eyes, Jude taken so young...and Rift, sweet little Rift had never been made to survive. Such a sad, sweet boy he had been. The younger ones were nearly forgotten to her - Anzu had been unworthy. Gin, the boy she so loved - she had given him up to protect him. His innocence would never be taken - at least not by her. Sometimes it felt like giving him up had been the last pure action she had performed. Now she had Larkspur - he reminded her so much of Ahren at times. She missed him, thinking of him often left her weeping softly. The son she should have had, Damian's heir. Her scrawny arms simply tightened around Larkspur, her voice a soft, sweet whisper. "I missed you so much, Lark." Her voice felt weak with emotion.

Larkspur D'Angelo · 03-08-2010, 01:01 AM

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She fell into his body as if she was a ghost, and he returned the embrace, lifting her up as easily as if she was made of glass. He held her as if this was truly the case. All of his hair had grown out, though the tips betrayed they had once been bleached, and were it not for those tell tale white patches he might have been a shadow beast come to take her away with him. Larkspur’s eyes glowed in the moonlight, rivaling the gleam of his exposed, grinning teeth. He had not shown such emotion since they had come here and likely would not again. Behind him, his tail continue to wag furiously, but his feet remained planted still in the earth.

Even if his fur had not changed, he knew she could see he had done well. He had survived with minor scrapes and cuts and thrived. Soon, too, there would be others. Naniko was his pathway—she was his door. “I missed you too,” he replied, burying his nose in her fur, sucking in her scent as if she might vanish out of his very arms. With time he had grown powerful, but he was as docile as a kitten around this frail, mad woman.

Misery · 03-08-2010, 01:18 AM

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MISERYThere was power beneath his strong arms. He was the perfect soldier - not only was he loyal, but he loved her. With a fanatical devotion that rivaled her own to Damian, her Crimson King. She had saved him, and for that, his life was for her. Forever and always. She had so much to do now. Her mind was racing with all of the possibilities - Misery had always loved the possibility of him. She was content to hold him for a long moment, before gently pulling back to reach into one of the bags that hung off the horse. She had loaded Lock up with as much as possible upon leaving the mountain.

MISERY "I have so much to show you, Lark. You've done so well...one day, soon, you'll be a son of Ankh." A son of the light. Free from persecution and the hatred that came from being a son of Tak. She would change him, she would shape him. But first she had to teach him. His education had fallen apart when she left - she had regretted that from the moment she walked away. All of her other children had been so poorly educated in God's way - he would not be. From the bag she pulled a thin silver chain - much like the golden one around her neck. The charm hanging from it was a silver eye - crafted by one of the finest Khalif hands. They had always been good at making their symbols. "I went home. This, this is for you. It will protect you - mark you as his for now." But your mine, little Lark, you will always be mine. The thought was fierce within her - he was her boy. But for now Tak must have him, Tak must guide him. "I have a story to tell you Larkspur - so very many you need to know." She was excited, and intent on restarting the blessed boy's education as quickly as possible.

Larkspur D'Angelo · 03-08-2010, 01:28 AM

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By all accounts, even though the past few months had given him complete freedom, Larkspur’s purpose had been lost. He clung to the whispers of the can tah and the dreams, but they did not teach him. The Khalif had not taught him either; he was destined to die and so he had been abused and ignored for virtually his whole life. Without guidance the orange eyed wolf had nearly collapsed unto himself. Instead, he had survived by the same willpower that had kept him alive for four years.

Both of his hands released her, and he dropped his head to eye the charm presented. It gleamed in the moonlight, radiated power. It meant something wonderful. There was no fear, no doubt, for he trusted this woman more then he did anything else. To become white, to become a chosen one, nothing would mean more to him. Haku did not understand. Misery did. She understood his path was chosen for him, and that the way to enlightenment was through shadow and flame. Wide-eyed, he stared into her face. It was incredible, to know he was as old as he was. Around her, he was a child. Larkspur said nothing. She was here to teach, and he was meant to learn.

Misery · 03-08-2010, 01:58 AM

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Misery would spend no more time on greeting him. She had held her boy and told him she had missed him, and that was enough. She simply handed him the charm, her other hand unconsciously holding and stroking the sun symbol at the end of her chain. It comforted her, Ankh's strange symbol that had never been meant for her. But time had changed her - though it still felt like her heart was consumed in darkness, the Khalif believed she had changed. Sometimes even she could be fooled that she walked in the light - the sun, strange as it was, did seem so much kinder than the dark moon. She took a slow breath before motioning him to sit with her - standing for too long got her bad leg going, and the horse ride wasn't exactly easy on her old frame.

Misery didn't wait for long before she began her story.
"Long ago, on the mountain we call home, three Gods touched down. In the bright light of day, a white Goddess came from above. Her eyes were the color of sunlight and her fur glowed with a brightness that struck down the darkness and lit all that they saw. Her name was Ankh." A soft, sweet smile favored her boy. "Ankh told them of what she was, a Goddess of Light, the keeper of the White Ones, it was her touch and guidance that would bless all that were worthy. When the sun began to set, Ankh looked to the dimming skies, and soon, her silver coated sister came from the skies. In those moments between sun and moon, Rah'khir came from the sky." Misery paused just a moment, her gold-green eyes studying Larkspur. Did he understand her story? He was not the brightest of boys - but at times he had a wicked intellect.

""Rah'khir was nearly as beautiful as her white sister - her fur a sleek silver, touched with cinnamon and earthy brown, a coat of many colors. Rah'khir would hold the hearts of those that did not belong to Ankh. The sisters soon grew quiet though, as the moon crept higher and higher in the sky. It was then the Khalif's fell silent, as did the Goddess sisters. Tak, they whispered in a hushed unison, Tak, the Dark One. From the bloated moon above - a terrible, infected moon bathed in dark shades of red and orange he came forth." Her words had fallen into a chilled hush - Tak was a most terrible God.

"His coat was as dark as sin, his eyes a terrible silver - a silver that sometimes seemed to fall into the color of blood. His touch was cold and his power great, and the sinners amongst them all fell and showed their bellies before the terrible God. In the dark, Ankh was weak, as was her silver sister. But as Tak lorded over them, soon the day began to fall. Rah'khir turned to the dark God and began to chase him - biting and gnashing at his heels. His body ate the ground as he ran - tearing up distance and time, it seemed as if he would get away. But when the sun rose once more, Ankh's white body was a blur. Faster than the devil, she took down the dark one. They were safe. The white wolves - the good ones turned to their dark companions." Her voice had gained a fevered pitch now - deeply into the story, falling into the truth only they knew.

"How dare you grovel before the dark devil! they cried. Horrified, terrified of their dark brethren, the lines were drawn. The Goddess bade the wolves farewell - wolves that soon were dividing up into their proper places. The White wolves claimed Ankh, the White Lady as their own. Those not worthy of Ankh - but not so terrible as to fall to Tak - they claimed the Silver Lady. Tak was thrust upon those that had crawled beneath him - the dark coated sinners of the pack. And so...we began."

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Larkspur D'Angelo · 03-08-2010, 02:09 AM

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The peculiar necklace was hooked around his thickly furred neck, and fell to the point formed between the white patch on his chest. It hung below the eagle, as if it was meant to be. Of the two, it was the can tah that had the power, not this sign. Larkspur belonged to the shadow and to the unseen path, and he believed that Misery would understand that. At her motion, he sat on the ground and kept his eyes on her face. Every word was illustrated in his mind, which was haunted by nightmarish visions and full of dark places.

Still, he understood the story was one of the Khalif, for the names were familiar. Ankh and Rah’khir were those which had chosen the holy. Not him. Not Larkspur, who had been cursed since birth. His eyes grew impossibly wide, a child seeing the story spilled out. Tak, the dark one, came and chose the wicked from the world. Even though Misery was speaking in a broad term, Larkspur still whined, hearing once again that he was evil. It hurt him, so much, to be reminded of the hundred voices that had cursed him since birth. “Y'don’t…y'don’t think I’m evil, d'ya?” He asked her, his deep voice rising to a hushed, childish whine, the thick and peculiar accent loudly pronounced now.

Misery · 03-08-2010, 02:18 AM

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Should she think him evil? It was obvious to anyone who looked upon him that from birth, Tak had wrapped cruel arms around him. But she loved him - and his heart seemed good. She reached a hand out to him, wanting to hold his.
"All that I have been taught says you should be." She would not lie to her boy, she spoke softly, and gently. "But sometimes - blasphemous as it is, I truly think the Gods make mistakes. That is why I am going to change you - why I am going to take you from the darkness and bring you to the light." So much love filled her voice. She pitied him, she would deliver him from evil. "You are good, Larkspur. You are a faithful boy, you are devoted to your family...and you see God in all that is around you." She spoke firmly to him. Sometimes he doubted the good about himself - she had to make him see how very serious it all was. "Our Gods would not have delivered me to the mountain to save you, if you were only evil, Larkspur."

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Larkspur D'Angelo · 03-08-2010, 02:30 AM

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Her tiny hands took his own, white fingers holding onto one and another. His hands were scarred and turning white, and this gave him hope. After all he had suffered for—the simple fact he was born with the coat he had—things were changing. She was helping him change. This he believed, as surely as he believed that the sun rose and fell after fighting the moon each night. Madness, as powerful and fever bright as her own, shown in his Jack-O-Lantern eyes and made them cruel. Not for her, but for the fate he was fighting. If he was meant to follow Tak or destroy him, he would do so. Whatever she saw fit.

He felt power radiating from that small figure, and knew what he had known the day she had come and saved him from death. More then anything in the world, he loved this woman. “My life for you,” he whispered, believing that no matter what else might come his way she would be worth dying for. She would find his purpose. The can tah whispered, and echoed this devotion—it too had been brought to him through the crone.

Misery · 03-08-2010, 02:56 AM

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Misery's own hands were scarred. She'd been fond of playing catch with a knife given to her by Skoll - blade out, clenching down on it. That had been shortly after Damian's death - the image of a heathen cross was burned into one palm as well. She had made it a long time, but she had not made those years unscathed. She would do her best to see that no more scars - at least not ones from anyone but her. Soon she would begin to mark him - carve the tattoos and symbols into his flesh that always should have been his. They were denied to the Tak children - the devil already had them, what point was there in trying to protect them? She gently stroked his hand - so much larger and powerful than her own.

"God has told me of many plans for you Larkspur." Tak whispered to her often of her boy. So did Ankh. In the time before she fell asleep, often it seemed Rah'khir spoke to her as well. Her gentle grip on sanity had slipped away - further and further it was falling.
"One day you will have a child and it will be of a most blessed nature." A conspirator's words, soft and hushed in the still of the night.
"And you will find others of our kind, and deliver them unto me. And I will teach them and you of the faith...we will bring back the D'Angelo's to this land, and wipe out the unworthy ones."

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Larkspur D'Angelo · 03-08-2010, 03:09 AM

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They were both scarred—she had begun marking him as they made their way to Souls. His arms bore white letters that spoke of Tak and the white. She had not explained fully what would be put on his skin, but he trusted her judgment and trusted the pain that came with it. Each cut was one step closer to salvation, something that he sought desperately. If his path meant he would be her tool, be her dog, he would do so. No living creature deserved more then she did.

He had been spoken of; he had been chosen. This very fact made his eyes twinkle, the sensation of ego foreign and unwelcomed. Larkspur felt important, as if the voices she heard might validate his existence. For him, they did. That soft voice, as familiar to him as the can tah’s, reassured him of his place in the world. At her side; charging into battle for her if she so asked. “I have found one,” his voice rose, nearly frantic to tell her of his accomplishments. “A girl, who lives in this pack. She said there’s another, a woman named Naniko, and that she has children. I haven’t been able to find her yet,” he admitted sourly.

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