07-29-2008, 03:06 PM
And yes, Andre will be coming back after this. ;D
ANDREZEJ
Night’s grip was all too much to think moot. Night brought with it the freaks and demons who played their games when it was ideal for the normals — if they could be called any resemblance of normal — to ignore their presence. Freaks and normal society had never got along. There was an unfair advantage for the normals over the freaks, and that was that freaks and demons had self esteem to deal with. Most sadists, masochists, and those dabbling with psychosis were able to feel a certain… Appreciation for their ruined self esteem. A sadist knew a ruined self esteem could become a torture device, and in doing so, could wreak destruction that tickled him until he pissed himself. A masochist could only be in love with lack of self esteem, feeling the ache of missing it deep in his breast and relishing it. Psychosis, of course, lost touch with it. It was far too impaired to allow any emotions in, or any out.
Two and a half of three stood on the edge of The Waste, basking in the sick scent of his half-brother’s urine that so strongly marked it, and the pikes that held wolf skulls. Petty warnings that could never mean shit to him; he had found her. Back before the fire, before he has disappeared into the wilderness and been taken under wing by a sadist just like him, who had given him the myriad scars and whom he had lost his virginity — how fucking innocent he had been, he snarled to himself — to. It had been the most pain, the most exhilaration, he had ever felt.
And she, she followed him. She was in him, was him, had taken him as strongly as the rogue had, had taught him and embraced him. She was no God, was nothing but desecration manifested, a voice that lingered in every act he committed. Painting the pentagram in a man’s blood had brought her wicked laughter. She was not alive, but she was not dead; she was nothing, and everything.
And that night a man, and a woman, a sadist and a masochist, a Satanist who cared about nothing but himself and his goal — for he had come to do what he had failed to six months ago — moved away from Inferni. He, and she, found the borders where the struggle had taken place and crossed into the wolf’s land, laughing wildly into the night.
TALITHA
Stars made up her stage. Stars, and an ocean that pounded across a coast unable to be forgotten, and unable to be harnessed. If the clan, made up of two families now, could raise the ocean, they could smash Dahlia del Mai, could take out the war and could continue to spy and sneak. Wolves were hostile: the first rule she had ever learned. The second she had learned was that the name she bore — Lykoi, one none of her family members that were immediate did — was true insanity at work. But she had been told, and firmly when she had cried to know the origin, cried to know Kaena and how her insanity could infect like a disease, that it was not the name that made the individual. It was the blood.
But it was not as if she was free from Lykoi blood. She followed God, but He did not smite the blood from her. Talitha was as insane as her ancestors, but she would never know how. Nor, she knew, would the world around her be caught aware. They would never even suspect the kind woman she was to be at all tainted with it.
She glowered around her at Dahlia de Mai’s territory. It was almost surreal, could almost be a nice rendezvous point to add to Inferni’s territory, but she was frequently beat into submission by Haku whenever she challenged him. She did often, and nothing — not the swollen eye, not the bruises, not the delicately broken finger he had almost caringly wrapped with mosses and fabrics — could deter her from fighting. She was Gabriel’s, and would never give up the struggle to get home. And it was from there, lying on the ground looking up through a hole in the roof of a fisherman’s shack at the stars and listening to the ocean, she planned to leave.
In the middle of the night they would not find her. Perhaps that would be true… If not for the hot pink tank top and the obnoxious purple pilates.
ANDREZEJ
Born a monster. Bred a monster. He had a father who was insane, a mother who was wickedly fucked up, and siblings who cared. Siblings, he knew, who could fuck themselves in their sleep and he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. Rachias was one thing, but he had heard rumours before he had disappeared out of nowhere that Arkham had perished. He had only ever cruelly chuckled at the thought; the weak died and the strong lived. Once, they had all plotted together, had escaped the den together. Then, something had gone terribly wrong and he had turned on them.
And one by one, he had tried to pick them off. Tried, and been foiled by Gabriel, whose throat he still would have some day. Andrezej was a very large coyote, taking after the wolves even though he scorned and hated them more than he hated anything, and was fully confident in his abilities. On his person he wielded multiple hidden knives, a dagger built for swift kills, and, more conspicuously, a bow with arrows that, before he shot them, he tipped with poison. The poison was clear, and nobody ever suspected the gourd he carried to contain it.
She was here. He didn’t understand why — she’s betrayed my son, screeched the maniacal voice of Kaena in his head, even though it wasn’t her speaking to him (it was the madness itself, using her voice to manipulate him further) — but he didn’t care. The grin he wore at knowing she was not protected by her precious daddy was all too knowing. He had become a stealth artist in his time away and, with the silence of night itself on him, he crept into the town with his dagger drawn and held at the ready in case something happened.
TALITHA
The ocean’s serenade was unbroken as she rose from her spot on the floor, the floorboards beneath her feet creaking, eliciting a wince from the Lykoi girl. She had not been forbidden from walking, but she knew if Haku caught her trying to escape, she would be in for it. And if she did escape, which she would have planned to if she hadn’t known better, he would follow her to Inferni. As long as she was here, the war had no reason to progress at a faster rate than it already was. Subtlety had never lent her his hand, and so she moved loudly across the floor and out into the town on the coast.
Being near the ocean reminded her, at least, of home. Never would she forget Inferni’s own beach, which pounded louder and harder than this, reminding the coyotes that they forever were not in control. Nature bound them to their tyranny, and they were mere puppets to life. But even knowing that, she wanted to lose acceptance: If they were puppets, then why were they under attack? Someone had rebelled; someone had broke the cycle. But that someone was not an Inferni coyote. It had been a wolf, dishonourable and unable to accept that coyotes were as much beasts of Earth as they were, who had put a toe over the line in defiance of Mother Nature and of God.
They were all, truly, monsters in their own right. Genetically modified by a virus… And it had given them all they stood for.
ANDREZEJ
He could smell her now. The woman cackled madly as he closed in on his prey; she wasn’t hidden from view. Dark, and grown enough to be considered womanly, but still tiny. Andrezej had set out to kill her when she’d been born, to strike the hardest blow he could against Gabriel, and Inferni. The bitter hybrid had failed, been chased off by Faolin who had, if he recalled correctly, slammed him to the floor on a mountain in that old place when he was little. He hated her, too. His siblings had loved Faolin, and for a very short time she had tried to win his appeal.
But his appeal didn’t exist. It was squashed, and very unceremoniously, beneath a barrage of anger and fire. It had eaten away at his very soul and taken from him the most basic sense of decency. He still wore those khaki shorts, grown well into them now, with his chest bare to the world, but even that wasn’t done for the decency of covering himself up. He was not a kind man.
And she would not find it to be true, either. Talitha, he breathed as he sped up, remembering the name by sheer luck, and moved in his seductive and sultry, masculine manner toward her. Oh, he would not kill her now. He had nothing to gain against Gabriel now that he was probably large enough to take on the Inferni leader, the cause of explosion in his brain that had given birth to pseudo Kaena. He supposed, and only briefly, he had Gabriel to thank for bringing Mother to him.
For she was the only one Andrezej even remotely wanted. Like Samael before him, his infatuation was nothing short of wicked desire; but he didn’t know of his half-brother’s tendencies, either. He came upon her and, with a throaty, hoarse growl, grabbed her.
ANDREZEJ
Night’s grip was all too much to think moot. Night brought with it the freaks and demons who played their games when it was ideal for the normals — if they could be called any resemblance of normal — to ignore their presence. Freaks and normal society had never got along. There was an unfair advantage for the normals over the freaks, and that was that freaks and demons had self esteem to deal with. Most sadists, masochists, and those dabbling with psychosis were able to feel a certain… Appreciation for their ruined self esteem. A sadist knew a ruined self esteem could become a torture device, and in doing so, could wreak destruction that tickled him until he pissed himself. A masochist could only be in love with lack of self esteem, feeling the ache of missing it deep in his breast and relishing it. Psychosis, of course, lost touch with it. It was far too impaired to allow any emotions in, or any out.
Two and a half of three stood on the edge of The Waste, basking in the sick scent of his half-brother’s urine that so strongly marked it, and the pikes that held wolf skulls. Petty warnings that could never mean shit to him; he had found her. Back before the fire, before he has disappeared into the wilderness and been taken under wing by a sadist just like him, who had given him the myriad scars and whom he had lost his virginity — how fucking innocent he had been, he snarled to himself — to. It had been the most pain, the most exhilaration, he had ever felt.
And she, she followed him. She was in him, was him, had taken him as strongly as the rogue had, had taught him and embraced him. She was no God, was nothing but desecration manifested, a voice that lingered in every act he committed. Painting the pentagram in a man’s blood had brought her wicked laughter. She was not alive, but she was not dead; she was nothing, and everything.
And that night a man, and a woman, a sadist and a masochist, a Satanist who cared about nothing but himself and his goal — for he had come to do what he had failed to six months ago — moved away from Inferni. He, and she, found the borders where the struggle had taken place and crossed into the wolf’s land, laughing wildly into the night.
TALITHA
Stars made up her stage. Stars, and an ocean that pounded across a coast unable to be forgotten, and unable to be harnessed. If the clan, made up of two families now, could raise the ocean, they could smash Dahlia del Mai, could take out the war and could continue to spy and sneak. Wolves were hostile: the first rule she had ever learned. The second she had learned was that the name she bore — Lykoi, one none of her family members that were immediate did — was true insanity at work. But she had been told, and firmly when she had cried to know the origin, cried to know Kaena and how her insanity could infect like a disease, that it was not the name that made the individual. It was the blood.
But it was not as if she was free from Lykoi blood. She followed God, but He did not smite the blood from her. Talitha was as insane as her ancestors, but she would never know how. Nor, she knew, would the world around her be caught aware. They would never even suspect the kind woman she was to be at all tainted with it.
She glowered around her at Dahlia de Mai’s territory. It was almost surreal, could almost be a nice rendezvous point to add to Inferni’s territory, but she was frequently beat into submission by Haku whenever she challenged him. She did often, and nothing — not the swollen eye, not the bruises, not the delicately broken finger he had almost caringly wrapped with mosses and fabrics — could deter her from fighting. She was Gabriel’s, and would never give up the struggle to get home. And it was from there, lying on the ground looking up through a hole in the roof of a fisherman’s shack at the stars and listening to the ocean, she planned to leave.
In the middle of the night they would not find her. Perhaps that would be true… If not for the hot pink tank top and the obnoxious purple pilates.
ANDREZEJ
Born a monster. Bred a monster. He had a father who was insane, a mother who was wickedly fucked up, and siblings who cared. Siblings, he knew, who could fuck themselves in their sleep and he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. Rachias was one thing, but he had heard rumours before he had disappeared out of nowhere that Arkham had perished. He had only ever cruelly chuckled at the thought; the weak died and the strong lived. Once, they had all plotted together, had escaped the den together. Then, something had gone terribly wrong and he had turned on them.
And one by one, he had tried to pick them off. Tried, and been foiled by Gabriel, whose throat he still would have some day. Andrezej was a very large coyote, taking after the wolves even though he scorned and hated them more than he hated anything, and was fully confident in his abilities. On his person he wielded multiple hidden knives, a dagger built for swift kills, and, more conspicuously, a bow with arrows that, before he shot them, he tipped with poison. The poison was clear, and nobody ever suspected the gourd he carried to contain it.
She was here. He didn’t understand why — she’s betrayed my son, screeched the maniacal voice of Kaena in his head, even though it wasn’t her speaking to him (it was the madness itself, using her voice to manipulate him further) — but he didn’t care. The grin he wore at knowing she was not protected by her precious daddy was all too knowing. He had become a stealth artist in his time away and, with the silence of night itself on him, he crept into the town with his dagger drawn and held at the ready in case something happened.
TALITHA
The ocean’s serenade was unbroken as she rose from her spot on the floor, the floorboards beneath her feet creaking, eliciting a wince from the Lykoi girl. She had not been forbidden from walking, but she knew if Haku caught her trying to escape, she would be in for it. And if she did escape, which she would have planned to if she hadn’t known better, he would follow her to Inferni. As long as she was here, the war had no reason to progress at a faster rate than it already was. Subtlety had never lent her his hand, and so she moved loudly across the floor and out into the town on the coast.
Being near the ocean reminded her, at least, of home. Never would she forget Inferni’s own beach, which pounded louder and harder than this, reminding the coyotes that they forever were not in control. Nature bound them to their tyranny, and they were mere puppets to life. But even knowing that, she wanted to lose acceptance: If they were puppets, then why were they under attack? Someone had rebelled; someone had broke the cycle. But that someone was not an Inferni coyote. It had been a wolf, dishonourable and unable to accept that coyotes were as much beasts of Earth as they were, who had put a toe over the line in defiance of Mother Nature and of God.
They were all, truly, monsters in their own right. Genetically modified by a virus… And it had given them all they stood for.
ANDREZEJ
He could smell her now. The woman cackled madly as he closed in on his prey; she wasn’t hidden from view. Dark, and grown enough to be considered womanly, but still tiny. Andrezej had set out to kill her when she’d been born, to strike the hardest blow he could against Gabriel, and Inferni. The bitter hybrid had failed, been chased off by Faolin who had, if he recalled correctly, slammed him to the floor on a mountain in that old place when he was little. He hated her, too. His siblings had loved Faolin, and for a very short time she had tried to win his appeal.
But his appeal didn’t exist. It was squashed, and very unceremoniously, beneath a barrage of anger and fire. It had eaten away at his very soul and taken from him the most basic sense of decency. He still wore those khaki shorts, grown well into them now, with his chest bare to the world, but even that wasn’t done for the decency of covering himself up. He was not a kind man.
And she would not find it to be true, either. Talitha, he breathed as he sped up, remembering the name by sheer luck, and moved in his seductive and sultry, masculine manner toward her. Oh, he would not kill her now. He had nothing to gain against Gabriel now that he was probably large enough to take on the Inferni leader, the cause of explosion in his brain that had given birth to pseudo Kaena. He supposed, and only briefly, he had Gabriel to thank for bringing Mother to him.
For she was the only one Andrezej even remotely wanted. Like Samael before him, his infatuation was nothing short of wicked desire; but he didn’t know of his half-brother’s tendencies, either. He came upon her and, with a throaty, hoarse growl, grabbed her.