bone eater
#1
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private.



He longed for Egypt. He also longed to destroy the world. How he’d go about this would require clever thinking and manipulation, as he was yet petite and small in build. He would have to lie and cheat his way to the top, striking in the darkness and sinking fangs into a back turned away, severing the spine before they’d even realized what’d hit them. He was the weigher of souls, to determine who deserved to live or die, and he was the god of darkness and destruction. His arrogance made his task more difficult, for in his eyes most of the world needed to be burned into ash—a challenge that he was quite ready to take on. The stars in the sky would bow before him, and he’d devour the sun, casting eternal shadow across the landscape.

He dreamed of fire and ash, bathing in blood and inhaling the heady stench of death. He saw dismembered bodies and screaming souls begging for salvation. He was life and death, picking and choosing who should attain eternal salvation or not. The rest he’d toss into the jaws of the bone eater where they’d perish forever. Until then he’d lay low and grow, learning and observing to discover how best to pry into the minds and hearts of his adversary. The plains were quiet and the weather cool. Always, he preferred to walk by moonlight, for he’d been raised to worship her. Rain came on and off, blocking out the silvery disk, but he rejoiced each time at its return, envisioning a world where she was never forced to flee by anyone.


table by sie.

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#2
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         Halo’s thought were not as chaotic as they usually were. There was conflict within her, but that was far from unusual. She had twisted and turned without finding unconsciousness in her bed, and so she had risen and left the Mansion’s large, towering shadow behind and walked through the tranquil lands, taking in the fragrance of ash and sea; Inferni. The trees mingled behind her and she escaped the forest and continued to walk, feeling soft grass and earth harden as she reached the moonlit plains. Light drops of rain clung to her auburn locks and coppery fur, but she ignored it. There was no reassuring weight on her back and she felt a mental stab pierce through her stomach when she thought of the sheathed sword leaning against the desk in her room. Her focus did not linger long with the cold metal, because cherry orbs had found something more rewarding to ponder at.

        She did not recognize the creature of silver and crumbling ash in the distance. Her stride lengthened and she extinguished distance between them quickly and wondered why she didn’t know about this. She had no right to stick her nose into what the leaders did, but she thought the security of the lands to be her responsibility, and did not at all adore the creature that had slipped into the clan without her knowledge. She had been around this male’s age when she had taken her first steps into the clan’s lands. ”I thought it was well past bedtime for children your age,” her toxic voice challenged as she glared at him. She knew exactly who this boy reminded her of.

Table credit: Mary Poppins
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#3
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(319)

        Samael may have hated his father for things he’d done, replacing the indifference he’d initially felt from birth onward, but he’d fallen right into his footsteps without even realizing it. Djeserit was the proof, as were her child standing alive and well with bizarre fantasies locked within their heads. Mkhai was a god—a god of destruction—and a prince of a royal line both here and back home. Crimson eyes fell on the female as she approached, noting immediately the blood-red star branded onto her breast. Her voice was all poison and hatred, with narrowed eyes and unfriendly features. Obviously, she didn’t know. Or else he didn’t know something that she did. “Physically, I may be a child, but I do not fear the darkness. The moon is my mother, my lover, and my goddess. To remove me from her would only cause despair,” he replied, turning his face toward the gleaming disk above as he spoke. Darkness was his mantle and he feared nothing that hid within the shadows.

        Even if they destroyed his body he would merely return again in another one. He was Apep, the god of destruction, and murdering him would only bring him back home. Again and again he was killed as he attempted to devour the sun in the sky, and again and again he would merely return again in full form. It was an eternal cycle only ending once daylight was completely destroyed and nighttime reigned infinitely. “You are a Lykoi,” he continued, allowing ruddy vision to again alight on her form. “Might I ask your name? I am Mkhai.” A small, sanguine smile stretched across his lips as he spoke, admiring what he could see of the woman within the monochrome light. Here, along with Kaena he’d finally found another of his line, and he was pleased. He had no patience for anyone else.
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#4
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Oh noes, my poor Poppins table Sad 300+


The child’s voice oozed with arrogance and a bizarre perspective on life. She could see the serpentine features of her uncle in the youth—loathed the little shit already. He was a child and nothing but a child. She wanted to rise up and rage against the smaller canine, and was more or less pleasantly surprised she managed to hold back from doing just that. A cream coated hand rose to rest against her chest—to feel the heart drum angrily against her sensitive fingers; roaring in its quest to overpower her senses and fill ruby red with wildfire. ”The moon is a dead object in the sky.” She wanted to pick on his words in a greater detail, but sought refuge in the last remaining pieces of her self respect. A child tainted by the darkest of black no doubt, but still a child.

The first childish thought that struck her when he introduced himself was that he had a retarded name, but she recognized the lack of maturity in her current train of thought. The hybrid woman had found that she had not managed to forgive Samael after all despite the amount of time that had passed. She knew that it was revenge that burned behind her chest. She wanted to punish the child for his genes, and it was not fair. Luckily, Halo had never had issues being an egocentric bitch. Soft copper ears resting flat against the deep auburn locks, she let her gaze slide away from his form—resisting the unswerving urge to discover more details that would link the young male to his sire. ”I’m Halo, your cousin,” she informed him, anger still colouring the melody in her usually soft voice.

She wondered under what circumstances the young male had been given life. For obvious reasons, Halo had issues imagining Samael settling down with a love. Had it been rape? The Hydra could not imagine carrying the tainted result and giving birth to the bastard's spawn afterwards. Thankfully, the Lykoi woman had been too young to conceive the day when Samael had broken her.


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#5
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hopefully the images will come back at the beginning of next month. ;[ (468)



         When he’d been a child Samael had been just as arrogant as Mkhai. He’d walked with his nose in the air as did his siblings, strutting about Inferni as though none could touch them. They’d been despised for this—their other siblings longing to take them down a notch, but not daring to touch them with their mother’s eyes watching. They’d been obviously the favorites—the only offspring of Kaena to have received their mother’s absolute attention until they’d matured into adulthood. Raised in seclusion, they’d known only her and Molochai for months on end until the time came to introduce them to the rest of the clan. Heads filled with dreams and tales, they’d believed themselves indomitable and had known full well their position above all the rest, as her dearest and most adored. And Samael had loved her absolutely in return, going beyond the natural love of all of his siblings.

         Mkhai had yet to see the world for what it truly was. In Egypt he was a prince, and here he believed himself to be a prince as well. He had no reason to question or doubt this. Yet Halo looked on him with revulsion, longing to tear him down in revenge for the deeds of the father he’d barely known. He only knew Samael’s touch on his mind through his mother’s hand, but not much else, and he felt the coyote was weaker than he was, so destroyed by the madness within his own head. Mkhai would not follow in his footsteps in this way, but he would burn the world to ash, killing all those that didn’t deserve the life granted to them. His eyes narrowed at her words, but he said nothing. There was no reason for him to rise to her bait, growing angry at what he’d taken as a personal insult.

         She was ignorant if she believed that the moon was dead, but he would not argue about it as it knew it would be worthless. Here he was only one soul, and he lacked the backing to descend upon the land and convert all to the moon’s faith, allowing them to see the light and remove the veil from their eyes. “Thank you, Halo, for allowing me the honor of knowing your name,” he said, dipping his head slightly. Obviously she hated him, and he couldn’t fathom why, so to make up for whatever she held against him he’d step lightly around her until he saw reason to do otherwise. The ploy would only last for so long until it grew tiresome, but until then only the politest aspects of his personality would show through. He had been raised properly after all.


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#6
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Mkhai and his father were not the only Lykoi offspring that had taken insane pride in their royal blood. Halo had been a proud princess parading around in the clan lands and the prince of fear had made her feel so special when he had gazed down on her the first time they had met. Later he had made her question the blood and what it meant. She had thought herself to be invincible and untouchable, but he had shown her just how wrong she had been. He had forced the girl to admit that she was mortal. Fingers brushed away a few loose strands of hair away from her crimson glare.

Surprisingly, she found it hard to remain angry. This was family, and though he was a silver version of the smooth and deadly father, Mkhai was not Samael. She couldn’t believe the pretty and polite words flowing out of him. There was intelligence in his vivid reds that shouldn’t allow her to act out on him like that. She let a sigh escape her chest and felt better at once. ”Why?” her light melody wondered. Why was it an honor knowing her name? She wanted to ask about Samael, but did not quite know where to start.


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#7
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(346)


         Her anger was slowly seeping away like rainwater into the ground. “A name is a personal thing,” he said as though surprised she would even question his response, assuming that he even knew what she was questioning in the first place. Her single word had been an ambiguous answer, so he went with it cautiously. Mkhai was nothing more than a personal nickname of sorts, granted by his mother as he grew. He’d been a bratty child, rough-housing with his siblings until they might squeal in pain and annoyance, thus earning him the nickname of “fight” in their native Arabic.

         It was the only title he would grant to those not extremely close to him, for one’s name held power and the jackal didn’t wish for those unworthy to hold any sort of power over him. The secret name of things had been what the gods had used to bring the entire world into existence, and it could be used just as easily to erase it, or to control aspects of it, such as himself. “If you knew that we’re cousins just by looking at me, then I assume that you know who I’m related to,” he said, returning to her previous statement. Was he that obvious in appearance or demeanor? Did something about him just scream Samael despite the plethora of likely enough Lykoi running about?

         Vaguely, he knew that he resembled his sire—but the extent he’d yet to learn. Their face, their gestures, their movements—he was a younger version of the serpentine devil in monochrome grayscale with matching blood red eyes. Of course, housing a different soul there would always be differences, and Mkhai could not be blamed for the sins of his father despite their mirrored visages. “Do I carry a legacy I’d be better off without?” he asked slyly, wishing to get to the bottom of her previous aggression. A coy, curious expression had crept into his eyes as he watched her, playing the part of the innocent boy only wishing to learn.


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300+


She did not agree with what he said. Her mother had been foolish to try that a name could set her little baby girl right. Her name spoke of innocence and dignity. ”My name lies,” Every time someone called her name they lied. She was glad her wolf mother was not here to see the roles her offspring played in Nova Scotia. The hybrid remembered little of her mother, but she had remembered the softness of her ivory pelt and the gentle soul behind silvery eyes. The woman could not have survived it had she known how much suffering her not-so-innocent children had brought to the lands. It was impossible for her to love the woman that had given her the gift of life because of the bad genes. Although Halo’s perspective in life had widened, she still followed the narcissistic ways of her Lykoi family—though forever angered by her unworthy blood.

A grim grin stretched across the dark haired beauty’s youthful face, fuelled by irony. She had believed Samael had left them, but part of him had returned in this young male. She did not find it strange at all that she detested what was connected with the uncle. During the months of his absence, the hate only seemed to grow. She couldn’t stand the thought that this young male was of his very blood. She studied Mkhai, determined there could be no other sire than the most fucked up being she had ever had the pleasure to meet. ”You look very much like Samael,” She openly admitted as her ruby orbs deserted his silvery form.

She pondered about this legacy the boy wondered about. Perhaps there still was some jealousy left in her there. She had failed the gold and black coated man. The thought made her sad, though her uncle had never had any right to ruin her that way. The gratefulness for her own life was long forgotten. The girl could only remember death and the crimson stained form pumping against her. ”No, not really,” she eventually decided. Samael was one of the monsters of the family. She realized she still wished to harbour the desire to destroy the world. Samael was one of the individuals designed for such greatness. ” Most would think otherwise. He is a particularly cruel man.”

She could not hold back any longer. ”Do you know where he is?” Eager to rush forward, the girl wrongly assumed the bastard’s child had answers.

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#9
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(452)

         Even if the meaning of a name didn’t suit the soul it was attached to, over time it became a part of that soul, ingraining into the very fiber of it. Even if one changed that name later, always, that title would remain an integral part of who they were no matter how they tried to run from it. Simply calling out to one using their name was an expression of this power, causing the other to desire to lift their head and seek out who’d called, becoming a slave to their whim. When one lost their name a part of their being became lost as well, feeling hollow and forsaken until that information was regained. Arakiel would remain close to his heart, and to wolves and other scum he’d be something even less—something spur of the moment intentionally created to deceive them. None would learn to hold power over him, he would ensure. “Even so, the power remains,” he said, calmly assuring her of his beliefs. Even if she denied this he wouldn’t press further. It was her choice whether or not to take his word for it, and he knew this.

         “You don’t like Samael,” he guessed, stating it as a fact rather than a question. It was obvious in her distaste for him based on appearance alone, and in the way her eyes roved across his form, taking in the similarities between him and his sire. He had been cruel to her, he assumed, learning from her words and the subtle accusations hidden there. Mkhai wouldn’t push further, for he’d learned all that he’d needed to know. He didn’t need to know the explicit details of the crimes that his father had committed despite any burning curiosity. Too much desire without learning his place would lead him into trouble and cause him to look foolish, which he couldn’t have. “He is with my mother, being looked after as though he deserved it.” Mkhai’s own distaste was present in the gentle venom tainting his words, for he saw the man as being weak, not all-powerful.

         A devil didn’t bleed, yet Samael had been soaked in blood when he’d first met the man who’d sired him. He wanted a great demon to have fathered him, not a mortal man drowning in delusion. She could take what she wanted from him, but he’d do the same in return, draining her like a vampire’s victim for information without her knowledge even. His expression remained friendly, open and welcoming toward the girl. She’d not learn the darker aspects of his nature until circumstance called for it.

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#10
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500+


Lips wanted nothing more than to twist and mar her beautiful face. She controlled the heavy emotions though—recognized that it would be overly foolish to go all out on the innocent child for his genes. Perhaps one of the larger issues was the horrible fact that he was a new, beautiful generation of Lykoi without the heavy taint of wolf. He was small and lithe, and as the woman knew nothing about jackals, she recognized his features as pure and fortunate. She was unworthy. Once she had sat down and tried to calculate the different percentages she carried in her genes, and it had crushed her when she realized that she formally had too much wolf in her to be a worthy member of the clan. That truth stung more than anything. She wished for nothing more than to be a part of this precious family, but it all felt a lie. And here this young male was, worthy and pure and his father had gotten away with his crimes.

She merely snorted at hi words—wondered where the hell he got this from. Names meant nothing—she was no wolf! How could nature have formed her this way if it had not been her destiny to live with her Inferni family? Ears continued to lean back against those soft auburn locks, but she let the topic rest—found little interest in it anyway. Instead she let her clouded mind grow darker as she contemplated his statement about Samael. It was true that she did not adore Samael, but she remembered shortly after the incident that her feelings had been far more conflicted. Then she had hit a wall and chosen to pour all her energy into one single emotion, and that one had been hatred. She had locked away as much as she was able to about that incident in Halifax, but it was impossible to deny that the male had brought her to a shivering climax she had not experienced before or after. It filled her with shame, but the ugly truth was that it was a part of her had enjoyed it.

The young male had an answer, and she was surprised to feel puzzled rather than angered. Mkhai’s choice of words and sound revealed a layer she had not expected to see. If he had been a product of rape it would have been one thing, but if the beast stayed with the mother? Her gaze fell and she knew she would give in and ask. She didn’t understand why the spawn was here and not the father. Had not Samael known his legacy and beautiful blood better than anyone else? ”I don’t understand,” she mumbled silently, resisting the urge to flee from the young male’s crimson gaze. ”Why are you here?” Her voice rose and attempted to be court again. She resented the young male for the way he made her feel—like an inferior, though nothing he had said or done directly hinted this. Once she had wished for nothing more than to follow close behind Samael in his madness, but Samael was gone and this child was purer and greater than her.

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#11
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         His arrogance was a learned behavior—a learned emotion taught to him along with many other things. Had he been given a different upbringing he would have been different, despite his genes and any terrible predispositions that he may have possessed. Yet even now he was still learning and growing. Every conversation, every meeting, and every action taken taught him something through sheer cause and effect. The world was his teacher, and even if he wished to close his eyes to that fact he couldn’t block everything out. Remove the eyes and the other senses heightened. Until the end of time—or, at least the end of his existence anyway—he would grow and change and evolve into tens of thousands of different monsters.

         Even if he followed in his father’s footsteps to a tee he would never be exactly the same as him. His genes were different, his thoughts were different, and his experiences would be different. He was not Samael, no matter how closely they looked alike. Even if his father looked out through the crimson of his eyes, it was still within Mkhai’s head that they rested. “I’m here because I wanted to meet you,” he said, answering honestly. “All of you. Samael’s family was supposed to be around here somewhere, so I sought you out to find out for myself. I wanted to see what you were like.” If his family back home in Egypt didn’t wish to accept him, then he’d have to find somewhere else to belong. But if these people weren’t worth his time, then he wouldn’t bother.
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