[AW+] [m] daylight sleeper, bloody reaper
#1

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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A "trial" of sorts for Messiah de le Poer, accused of betraying and endangering the clan! Come speak your mind -- has he creeped on you? Do you think he's innocent? Any member is free to speak their minds! The thread has a set "ending" but no goal for how to get there. :o This is All Welcome, with no posting order to keep it moving! Feel free to post a few times or just once!


Messiah!


The yowl echoed against the limestone of the caverns and startled a flock of starlings doing acrobatics over the moors. The swath of wings veered and twisted like a storm, breaking apart again as a very big, shaggy raven flapped through their midst. The creature landed on the shoulder of a small but scarred Luperci standing, upright but feral, at the mouth of one of the dens. Vesper's eyes were cold, her lips curled back from yellowed teeth, and her tawny fur stood on end against the cold and her frustration.

A scrawny, reddish coyote slinked from the depth of the cavern, blinking bleary eyes at the Centurion. Uncertainty dawned on his narrow features, and a tattered ear twisted before he emerged into the browning grass. He was in his Secui form and stiff-legged, ember eyes darting about as if anticipating an ambush of sorts. Other figures approached in the faint November fog, and Messiah threw a questioning and impatient look at Vesper, who curled and uncurled her hands and glanced at the coyotes gathering.

When Sparrow was one of the handful that came forward, something in Messiah's mind clicked, and his expression warped into something ugly and hateful. It was all Vesper could do to refrain from attacking.

What're you doing? Messiah yapped at her, at Sparrow, indignant.

Vesper curled her lip again. I wanted to ask the same of you, she growled, cold. You stand accused of betraying and endangering our clan. I've heard stories of you attacking and harassing your clanmates, and risking the ire of other packs by attacking their defenseless members, spilling unnecessary blood.



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#2
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Messiah opened his jaws wide in a startled cackle. It devolved into a snort, and he stamped at the ground with his front paws. Attacking enemies! he yapped at the scarred coywolf, his voice loud and high and carring, he hoped, to those curiously approaching. Wolves are not defenseless! They are our enemy -- Inferni is founded on spilled blood, the blood of coyotes murdered by wolves! If I wasn't a good soldier then maybe they'd be attacking us! Why tell me I can't fight our enemy! He'd thought Vesper battle-tested, heard the story of the rosary around her neck, the war she'd fought. But it was obvious she was weak.

Am I your enemy, Messiah? Sparrow asked, her voice even and soft. She held her hands at her sides, and they shook slightly. You attacked me and Micah.

Messiah's eyes flew wide open, and he screamed at her. Liar!

He pressed himself near flat to the earth, his fur hackled, his pupils fearfully dilated. He growled and cast accusing looks at the others, his eyes landing on Vicira who'd come to stand beside her aunt. I'm the one being betrayed! he shouted, and grinned when she flinched. He licked his chops quickly and shouted louder for the benefit of others, so they could hear the lies and slander thrown against him. I'm a soldier, a Bellum! I fight for you, and all you do is accuse me! You attack me because I'm the only one who tries to fight! He spat on the earth, wrinkling his lips. You're wolf-lovers! Both of you! You're half wolf, and you make excuses for half-wolves! Inferni is a shadow of what it was -- there are wolves and sinners everywhere!



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#3
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Many yowls and cries could be ignored, but not Vesper's - and especially not when it screeched a leech's name. Nathaniel emerged from the caverns, golden eyes trained on where the sound had come from. Had Messiah finally snapped? If he'd attacked Vesper, Nathaniel wouldn't hesitate to rip his bowels from his body and invite his skull to join the ones on the border.

However, that wasn't the case. Nathaniel drew close to the scent of Vesper and her sister, and he saw Messiah slink out of the caverns like a rat, face twisted and hateful. As he walked to stand beside his Clanmates, against this annoying worm, Vesper's words only served to incite him. He knew Messiah was vile - but harrass Clanmates? Aggravate the neighboring packs? Nathaniel couldn't help his face from twisting into a snarl.

Messiah's words boiled in Nathaniel's blood and his fur, and finally he could no longer control himself.

"Liar!" he roared, nails digging into the sand. "I am more than half-wolf -- and I am loyal t'Inferni! An' I always will be -- anyone who doesn' think so can challenge me now!" His anger towards the wolf-haters, his ire towards those would would think he was lesser because of his heritage - it boiled over now, spilled out from his mouth for the Clan to hear. It would end now. It would end here.

"You - you an' your brother do nothin' for this Clan but lie and hurt our own! Yeh don' deserve t'be here," he snarled, eyes boring holes into Messiah's. The gall that he had to hurt Sparrow - to hurt Micah - and then lie about it?! He did nothing for the Clan, nothing - neither did Stigmata, not in Nathaniel's mind.

Preaching was not work. Lying was not work. Sneering at long-standing members of the Clan who had proven themselves time and time again - that was not work. They both merely spat hatred and lies, and how he dared to spread mutiny against the leadership. Would the others of Inferni stand for this? Would the others of the coyote Clan allow two canines to come in -- and trust them over their leaders, over the ones who had always watched over them?

364 words

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#4
The shout echoed down the caverns and shook Wraith from her dozing mind. She hadn't been sleeping, but she also had not been entirely awake, either. The sudden noise startled her and she leapt to her feet, scrambling over her paws as she nearly tripped herself. She followed the shouting to a cave located along the northern edge, surprisingly not too far from her own. The noise hadn't sounded that loud to be this close by, but she supposed that was the fault of the caves. They echoed, but they also insulated sound to some degree.

She rounded one of the caves just in time to see Nate lay it on thick, and could follow the conversation reasonably well. She had heard most of it and couldn't believe it. Messiah had attacked Sparrow? And Micah? She didn't know who Micah was, but she liked Sparrow, and even then, why was he attacking his fellow clanmates?

Messiah might have been a member of the Bellum tier, but she had not authorized this. He might be one of her blood, one of the few descending from Talitha, but that did not make him family.

"You attacked fellow clansmembers and executed attacks against members of other packs without Vesper or my knowledge? You might be descended from Talitha, but you're no family of mine," she hissed. "You bring shame to the Massacre and Holocaust names," she added. She couldn't believe it -- but she did. There was bad blood in the family.
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<div style="text-align:center;"><div style="font-family:cambria;color:#000;">I thought I felt a spark; thought I felt a flame <br/> when something changed in you, who took the blame? </div><br/>
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#5
She still wasn't sure what to do. The scarred hybrid knew she couldn't leave the Great Village, but she also felt like she had overstayed her welcome with Nathaniel and his family. She'd gotten up that morning, scrubbed her fingers through slightly too-long hair, and headed to her cave to think. Her duties could wait until she'd gotten her head on straight.

Well, as straight as it could be.

Her introspection was cut short several hours later by Vesper's shout. It was vicious and called for one of Inferni's own, though the coywolf had never met the male being summoned.

Delilah pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and slinked out of her cave. The scene set before her was unsettling, but not entirely unexpected; she'd heard through the grapevine that there were clan members who did not take kindly to any wolf blood in Inferni's midst. Despite curling up in the corner of a room full of fellow hybrids every night, she'd slept with her knight clutched tight.

She'd missed Vesper's initial accusation, but had gotten within earshot just in time to hear Messiah's rebuttal; the cocoa colored female bristled and hastened her steps. There were several spectators by the time she could actually see who had gathered; Vesper's sister Sparrow, the Centurion herself, Nate, and the crazy bastard were all in attendance.

She recognized Wraith when the woman arrived, though Delilah could not think of a single conversation had with the warrior.

When everyone had appeared to have said their piece, the female was furious. She trusted Sparrow, if only because Vesper and Nathaniel did. If the Tirones said she'd been attacked by the traitor being given an apparent "trial," Delilah believed her.

The scarred hybrid cleared her throat, stepped forward, and shrugged her cloak off her scarred shoulder. Nothing made the woman more willing to speak her mind than feral fury. Regardless, Delilah hadn't expected to start shouting. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Do you expect us to all drop at your feet — all us fucking sinners — and repent? You're insane if you think we're going to turn against our own like you, you prick!" Her voice shook and cracked in places, her breathing picking up sharply. "Vesper has a lot more self control than I would, you monster; you're a fucked up bastard who needs to get his head out of his ass and fucking run! If I can go through the hell I have, " Delilah smacked a hand against her scarred shoulder and then gestured between her legs to get her point across, "by the hands of wolves without tearing their throats out left and right, you could have fucking controlled yourself."

Breathing hard, the scarred hybrid wrapped her arms around herself tight. Whatever happened next happened; she was too fucking drained to say or do much else. Delilah could only watch.
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#6
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Still open posting order and anyone can join in, whether their character is just on the sidelines or not! :D (And powerplay approved by Mel.)


The shouting gathered others, but Messiah saw no sympathetic faces there -- only the snarling mugs of liars and sinners. His heart beat fast in his chest until he worried that it might burst from his ribcage, and his large Secui paws flexed on the ground, claws digging into the cold, hard earth. He flattened his ears and snarled at the big wolf who challenged him first. He'd known that the brute would turn against him someday! He'd said so himself!

You're just afraid I'm right, that everyone here will find you out, the willowy coyote snapped. I bleed for this clan and Stigmata speaks truth! He hasn't laid a paw on anyone. He just scares you 'cause he's right. His brother was innocent in all things, pure, chosen, the Voice. For Nathaniel to attack a simple preacher only further proved that he was ready to turn against the smaller coyotes of the clan. His eyes narrowed and snapped to another female, one he hadn't expected to hear from -- a cousin, blood of Hybrid, and real blood unlike Nathaniel. He hackled at her but didn't bother to answer.

Vesper watched the entire time, her eyes cold, but did not move. She was nearly a statue, and it was easy to ignore her in favor of the girls at her side -- Sparrow, the lying bitch, and Vicira who thought she was too good for him. He snorted, and pricked his ears as another stranger appeared, one who Vesper finally broke her stillness to look at, something hurt and frustrated in her features. The chocolate-hued coyote gestured to herself, made her pain clear, and Messiah began cackling.

See! You poor thing, you sweet coyote -- these weak Infernians let the wolves fuck you. I would kill them! They deserve to be ripped open, their bones broken. The wolves hurt you, they hurt Sparrow, they left scars on all of us -- and you don't think they're sinners? You don't think they're monsters who deserve to die? He lifted his chin, his whole body trembling with a queer excitement. I would have protected you. If you did something then it wouldn't have happened. There wouldn't be wolves to do these evil things to us.

He'd proven his point well enough, but his head still turned and nose still twitched to find more to back his claim. He spotted another coyote near the caverns, and glanced at the dark Marlowe watching from his den. His tail wagged, and he laughed and snorted. Look at Marlowe! He's a de le Poer. He's a soldier like me; he's a real decendant of Gabriel, he's killed wolves before. We're one and the same -- but you don't lynch him!



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#7
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+3


How could he not come, when it was right on his doorstep?

Marlowe lingered at the rocky mouth of his own cave, watching. He watched in a way that suggested he was waiting, as if sensing that whatever this furious noise was, it would grow. The glaze in his eyes and smoky smell in his fur were ever-constant, but he was far deeper than he wanted to let on. One of the tricks he had learned was to hide his scent, and the wolf's drugs hid under the stronger echo of tobacco.

He was high and drifting between himself, and the way his empty fingers rolled across the stone he so casually leaned on betrayed his lack of focus. Messiah was a loudmouth like his brother. Talk; that was all it was, talk, and because he could not accept that their Word was the word of Speakers, Marlowe resented what all that talk implied.

The boy (because he was a boy, wasn't he?) looked half-mad. He looked possessed.

Do you believe in demons?

Campion's voice drifted between his ears, and Marlowe watched.

The ire of the clan came down from it's superior officers, from it's members, and Marlowe heard all of these things. He heard them the way that the drugs helped him hear; the language of the apocalypse came in peaks of noise and familiar-unfamiliar words.

Until he heard his name.

Something happened—he didn't know what—and his feet were moving. He felt something rise up from his chest. It felt like fire.

Maybe this was what it was like to speak in tongues.

You little fuck, Marlowe snarled, advancing. You're not a soldier, you don't know shit about soldiering. You aren't fit to call yourself that! You aren't fit to call yourself a de le Poer! He met a wall of bodies and stopped, bristling.

You aren't like us, the coyote spat, and his right hand jerked, casting protection against the evil eye. The devil's in you, he further proclaimed, and held his ground like an exorcist.

The edge of his mouth was pulled back, like he wanted to smile.


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The whole question here is: am I a monster, or a victim myself?
Character WikiLa Estrella Roja | Player Wiki
#8
Her vow of silence — the quiet that would have let her breathe and recover — was broken the second the bastard began spouting more shit. She was unable to find the words, though, and simply snarled at him. Because within the promise of protection was blame. Delilah would not be blamed. Another nearby coyote was addressed before she could find her voice. A supposed descendant of Gabriel — who the coywolf had only ever read about in late night ventures to D'Neville's library — was now the target of Messiah's attempts at garnering sympathy. Delilah had seen Marlowe around, though they'd never spoken, and the fellow Bellum couldn't possibly give in to his shit.

He didn't. The male had turned ferocious in an instant, and Delilah laughed. He was held back, kept from attacking. As if that would change anything. If Messiah wasn't run off or killed, she was certain Marlowe would finish the job. She decided she liked the man; he was cut from the right stuff for Inferni's sake, or so it seemed.

She snorted again, a soft sound that was half-amusement and half-frustration. Her voice was cool, her fury freezing as he acted like she could have done something to stop her assault. As if Inferni could have done something to save her. "I killed the monsters that hurt me, you bastard. I killed the monsters that hurt me. I got rid of the danger and didn't cross any lines or slice any more throats than I needed to survive. You attacked your own. You're insane."
[Image: delilah-av_zps1aeeabea.png]
Delilah is in Optime form unless otherwise specified.
avatar by Suga, signature by Kiri
#9
[html]
someone save you

300+ snap's the chill one... probably cuz she's had zero personal experiences with the little creep


Snapdragon had heard of Messiah and his strange ways. She had chosen not to engage with the strange child, though he wore the name of Bellum like her. Very rarely did she become vocal about the rest of her Clans men, if she spoke of them she spoke of them in private and quietly. The small coyote could not afford enemies and unless they truly threatened the Clan, she would not confront them. She was a trainer, hard and fast with her work but she was no great mediator those she found herself interested by other packs, though she was never a war maker of any kind.


Her fellow clansman did not share her reservation in speaking their minds and did so loudly and passionately. And Messiah was quick to defend his actions from what others accused him of. Snapdragon felt no sympathy toward the lad, other than the thought that he had no mind fit for this kind of assault. Inferni rallied against him, screaming and cursing his name as he wailed and sought for a friendly face among them. Snap wondered if they would snap right now and simply attack him now, rather than wait for the word from a leader. The coyote knew it was inevitable but they wouldn't be the monsters.


"Let's not be like him." She called, her voice unfaltering but comparatively small among the dissent in the crowd. "Let him give his half-assed excuses and backwards ideology, and then he will be dispatched in an honorable way." Snap thought that was fair, though she doubted that the emaciated coyote had ever seen fair treatment in his life. Just as well, his last days would undoubtedly be filled with fear and trouble for him but she supposed some kind of easing would allow him to possess some kind of composure in time.


+3

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#10
[html]
300+
WORDS FOR
belial massacre

The call, the scream for a name, had bounced off all the rocks in the area and carried faintly through the rest of Inferni. It sounded like trouble, which had Belial lurching forward in a heartbeat. The name she called, Messiah reminded him of the time in the church – the time where they called all wolves out on their sins; the red-hued straggly coyote and his brother, Stigmata, that led the discussion. They tried to bring wolf-hate back into Inferni, but the effort was weak and those who led this pack were unwilling to follow.

Belial was neutral on the subject. He didn’t hate anyone in particular – he just killed. He killed for both the enjoyment and the sacrifice – to keep him prosperous. Wolf-hating wasn’t his thing, even though most of his victims wound up being wolves anyway. It was just a better excuse that way, he guessed. Inferni, the place he was supposed to call home, were wolf-haters at a time, and that meant he should follow in their footsteps right?

As he came upon the scene in his scrawny, four-legged form, the mottled coyote looked onto the action. He eyed Dahlilah, the woman who had rejected him so badly the other day when all he wanted was a little fun… He avoided meeting her gaze, if she would have even looked upon him. Right now, she was preoccupied with cursing Messiah out for his wolf-hating tendencies – or something like that. He had missed the first few minutes of the uproar, but as the trial progressed, he was beginning to catch on.

He had nothing to say – he remained quiet in this ordeal. Messiah was being accused of attacking others, killing wolves. Belial had done the same – but apparently, he knew how to pick his prey. He was not the one on trial – he was the twin law-breaker on the sidelines that no one would ever suspect. His orange eyes peered over to Messiah, trying to get a feel for his truth or his lies.

The others yelled back at Messiah, pointing accusing fingers and Belial was just glad that he was smart and careful.




[Form: Lupus | Date: --] Just watching for now!
This: Sammiie |Stock: Denis-Carl Robidoux | Textures: Sirius-sdz

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#11
All the yowling and yapping was certain to bring quite the crowd; young Kallistos was just disappointed he hadn't been near enough to be there for the whole thing. He had been too far away to get there as soon as it started, though.

By the time he arrived, there was heat coming from both directions. A stranger - a tattered fellow he had seen around but never met - was spitting venom at his Aunt Vesper and others gathered with her. Kalli felt his fur prickle, hackles rising in agitation. His upper lip curved backward to reveal sharp canines, though he was certainly no threat to any adult coyote there.

The boy walked up beside the first familiar face he saw, which happened to be one of his dad's. Nate looked pretty agitated himself, more agitated than Kallistos had ever seen him. For now, the young Moineau didn't speak and only observed. Though usually he was a mile a minute with the questions, something told him that this was not the time to start yammering away. So for once in his life, he held his tongue.

There was another shouting back at the stranger, a face also unfamiliar. This one was on the side of his aunt, though, so Marlowe automatically won points for the boy. He wasn't sure what was going on, so he merely pressed close to Nate and watched.
All image credits available at his Wiki!
#12
Kyrini was sleeping like a rock until she was awoken by the sounds of yowling and yelling from outside.

"Damn it... what's going on?" she grumbled and walked out of the mansion. She jogged through the fallen leaves and saw a group of her pack mates shouting at one coyote. She noticed the coyote that was being yelled at had a merciless face, and he seemed to be silent at the time.

"What's going on?!" Kyrini screeched, panting and waiting for an answer. She just wanted to curse since she was so grumpy from being awoken, but she decided to do so in Spanish. "Maldita sea, ¿qué diablos está pasando?!"
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avatar by hannah
#13
Holy shit there were a lot of other coyotes here now. If an angry mob was what Vesper wanted, that was what she had got. In fact, if Vesper or Sparrow didn't do something soon, Wraith thought that the many coyotes amassed would do something. The violence that Messiah had wrought, without Inferni's permission, might be returned to him in the exact same manner he had doled it out.

Although, Wraith had not expected for him to just ignore her. Who the fuck did he think he was? She was his goddamned blood and she would berate him and he would fucking listen, especially considering it was the last thing he'd probably hear. Inferni wasn't known for mercy and Wraith doubted they'd be learning new tricks now.

Even Marlowe, who was apparently a descendent of Gabriel -- Wraith really ought to introduce herself to him at some point -- seemed pissed off. He rebuffed Messiah's claim with as much ferocity as Wraith had earlier. Wraith liked it. Messiah needed someone to verbally spit in his face like that.

A brown coyote spoke up again and Wraith frowned. She didn't like what she was hearing. As much as she knew a lot of Inferni's members had rather horrific run-ins with wolves, it didn't make it less easy to hear. She felt bad, but quickly pushed the feelings aside. She'd deal with that later.

Another coyote piped up saying that they should kill him honourably, which made Wraith wonder. Did Inferni even have honour? Her father sort of did -- he honoured Inferni and Gabriel in his own fucked up way, but how could you kill someone honourably without honouring them? These were philosophical questions that Wraith was neither prepared nor equipped to answer.

A few more coyotes popped up, including a newer member, whose scent barely betrayed his membership in the clan. She turned to him and frowned. He was annoying; she didn't like annoying. She turned away. She wanted to see a mob.
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<div style="text-align:center;"><div style="font-family:cambria;color:#000;">I thought I felt a spark; thought I felt a flame <br/> when something changed in you, who took the blame? </div><br/>
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#14
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Annabeth knew nothing of what had happened; she was out of the loop as she had been in Casa, so she had been here. At least here no one had berated her for doing her own thing. Her father could not guilt her from where he was now. Not that she even wanted to see him or the rest of her family very much. Inferni was now home and that was how it would stay for her. Vesper had been very clear about that.


She joined the assemblage rather late, coming in quietly from the back. She had heard what they had accused the male of and her blood felt like it had congealed in her veins. Attacking their own? For what? For being a wolf-lover? And killing others? Wolves? She was half wolf, at least. What if she had run into him? She was not defenseless but she realized that the coyote-supremacists were not her friends here. She cared little for the racial divide and it set her hair on edge as the crowd grew rowdy.


She was hotblooded most often than not, but this was something different. She did not want to be here to yell and chastise the male, but she wanted him to suffer for these things. Anna was part wolf and that was what she was. Whatever else, she was still part of the clan. That was that, too. She was concerned, as it was etched on her face, as she looked at Vesper's angry expressions with a look full of concern.


000

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<div class="title">Annabeth de Fonte</div>
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#15
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Veine believed in the cause that Messiah was now in trouble for. It was hard to keep back the words, but then there would never be any words to say. Without a voice, she could not argue for the male, though his offense against clan went against her own views. Unless they did not believe in the cause themselves, then it was a different story. Veine stared at him, angry and hotblooded to defend his beliefs. She was the same, but she could not do anything to help. This was no time for a mute girl to whip out her writing board to protest of their treatment of him.


She knew nothing of the circumstances around the situation, but she did not appreciate the way they said he did not belong to the cause. Wolves were a mess of a species, all anger and hatred against coyotes, who were the more perfect of course. She had come without her writing board and chalk, so even if there was a moment, what could she say that would not indict her with the same. Messiah's fate looked to be sealed at that moment, and it was a lesson. Perhaps she ought to talk to Stigmata about all this, to attempt a more peaceful way than this other male did. He would know what to do.


000

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[html]<div class="veinesig1">
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<div class="lyrics">We've been searching all night long but there's no trace to be found<br>
It's like they all have just vanished but I know they're around
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#16
Kyrini saw another coywolf approach. She didn't mind coywolves, just full-blooded wolves blew her fuse. When she heard that Messiah was apparently on the wolves side, she shouted, "You shouldn't be on the wolves' side at all!" she paused for a moment. "¡Mataron a mis padres, hijo de puta!"

Kyrini felt infuriated at this point, not just because of the noise, but because of the coyote's alliance with the wolves. She had the urge to attack him, but that would just get her in trouble. She clenched her fists and snarled.

Her snarl's sound was drowned out by the volume of the crowd. Even her shouting seemed like a mouse stirring. She howled to express her pure anger, and that seemed to have been a bit louder than the shouting, but only by a little.
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#17
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Word Count → 1011 :: Prophet's berries


Prophet had heard the call of her brother's name. She wasn't certain of the extent of his supposed crimes but she had to make certain that they didn't end up reflecting back on her. She had to keep herself and Stigmata safe from the insanity that her brother had brought on. The woman had come to realize that this place wasn't the same home as it had been for her ancestors. The members here had become stagnant and complacent. But it wasn't her place to say anything. She wouldn't have them turn against her. Her plotting and planning were done in secret. She made herself unassuming, and after this she would make certain that she kept her head low.

Still, she couldn't leave her brother to face this all on his own. But that didn't mean that she would come to his defense. She wasn't about to ostracize herself like that. He was family but keeping her head attached to her body was a much more important cause. The robed woman made to stop by her room for a pouch that contained white berries with a peculiar black spots in the middle of them. She had found them and given them to a wolf as a sign of camaraderie but they had had a mortal effect and so Prophet knew not to consume them herself. Any plant she didn't recognize she would test upon an unwitting subject just to see what side effects, if any, would come from consuming them. It was how she had learned which plants to add to her collection since she no longer had her mentor. Granted no one had her mentor any longer, he was no longer part of this world.

Her way was made slowly, as it always was, to where the group had gathered. By the time she had finally arrived there was quite a large number standing about and spewing venom. This wasn't what she had expected to find. There were more here than she thought there would be, plus the hatred that was shown wasn't expected either. What had Messiah gotten himself into? He had never been the most subtle of creatures.

The woman leaned heavily on her staff as she moved. She wheezed with the effort of exertion. A few times she had to stop and double over as a coughing fit overtook her and wracked her frail looking body. She made her noisy way towards the crowd and eased her way through them, panting out apologies until she could break through the ring and look upon her brother. She didn't approach him or speak to him, at least not yet, but turned her attention to Vesper instead. "Let me. He is kin." The words were soft spoken and slowly given as she wheezed.

Prophet hobbled her way to her brother and slowly knelt before him, looking to have trouble placing herself so low. A hand was reached up so that she could gently stroke his face. While her touch was sweet her words weren't quite so. "You have sinned, brother. You know what you must do now." The words were spoken so that only Messiah would be able to pick them up. "Reparations have to be made for straying from the path." She cupped her sibling's face in her hands and closed her eyes as she rested her forehead against her brother's. "You have strayed and you have caused Nephilim to stray. You have dishonored your name. You have dishonored Him." She nuzzled Messiah before lifting her head to look beyond him to where their addled brother crouched whimpering and whining.

No doubt her brother would understand her words without her having to come out directly and say it. She was looking to convince him to murder Nephilim then to commit suicide in the name of atonement. She had already spoken with Stigmata over this, not over Messiah's involvement, but how they might need to sacrifice Nephilim as he was a blight to their name. He suffered for the sins of their ancestors and so there had been talk of ending his suffering. Messiah had just given her the perfect out to keep the hands of Stigmata and herself clean.

Prophet reached for her pouch pulled out a few of the white berries into her palm. "These will help. Feed him and take some for yourself. Then you most do it swiftly. You most atone for your sins. He calls for you to make your own reparations. Give yourself over to him and you will be saved. You know this is the only way to make things right. You must do this yourself. Only you can ascertain the salvation of Nephilim and yourself." All throughout her speech she had kept her voice low so that only Messiah could hear her, though she still continued to pant and wheeze with a number of pauses between her words to be able to catch her breath again.

One hand continued to hold out the innocent looking berries for Messiah to take and she rested her other hand against his forehead while she closed her eyes once more. This time her words were spoken for all to hear as she prayed over her brother. "Forgive him and wipe the stains from his soul. Deliver him from the devils that had taken him over and tainted his spirit, purge them from his being. Wash him in your blood and make him clean again. He has done wrong. He knows he has done wrong. We pray that you will not hold it against him and allow for his salvation to make him whole again." The words were innocent enough but again she was confirming for her brother that expiation was the only course to take. He knew the cost of straying from the path. It was what any of them would do, they would have to pay for their sins through expiation and they should gladly give their own lives in service of Him.

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#18
Kyrini was shouting until the worthless coyote's sister appeared. Hell, another one? Was she guilty for something to?

Then Kyrini noticed she wasn't. She was speaking against other's protests and gave Messiah some strange berries that looked very unfamiliar to her. "What do you mean, 'Wipe the fucking stains from his soul'?!" she remarked while everyone was silent. "Messiah killed another coyote! He doesn't deserve his surname!"

Kyrini was just downright infuriated now. She felt like ripping Prophet's throat out. She wasn't always this angry and making threats in her mind. In a matter of fact, she had never done this shit before. Before she lost her temper, she walked away, clenching her fists.
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#19
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The devil.


I'm here to save you from the devil! the small, trembling coyote screeched. I am Messiah! His name was truth. He was meant to cleanse the world of the wolves who'd hurt these poor, misguided coyotes. They were all mad, shrieking at him, snarling, threatening him, when he'd done nothing wrong. Ears twitched high atop his head, and he licked his lips once, almost nervous, as the growling and arguments continued -- voices all around him, men's voices, women's. A dozen pairs of eyes watched him. They wanted to see him killed. Killed for doing what was right, what Inferni stood for.

He laughed, and the noise was a nervous giggle rising from his throat, punctuated by snorts. He whirled toward a new member, grinning at her even as she babbled nonsense. They're on the wolves side, you stupid bitch, he purred at her. Don't you see? I'm killing the wolves. And if I hurt any of you pathetic, traitorous coyotes -- you should thank me. Expiation, he hissed. Their blood for forgiveness. He'd beat it all out of them. They weren't pure -- there were wolves purer than them. The blasphemy quickened his blood, and for a moment he drew in a sweet, wolfish scent, remembering the touch of soft fur, remembering kindness.

Messiah fell silent for a few heartbeats, staring at his paws, when a weak, wheezing voice drew his ears up again. His eyes widened, and for an instant the violence left his body; he looked like the child he was, skinny, with too-big paws in his halfling form, uncertainty in his face. Vesper stared at the weak figure of Prophet, after some hesitation giving her a small nod, and then Messiah's sister approached him.

He shook as Prophet knelt before him, touching his face, gently stroking it. He leaned his cheek into her hand, surprised at the gesture, but then she spoke...

I... the ginger coyote began to protest, but he shut his eyes as the warmth of her forehead spread against his. Doubt struck him, and he pulled his face away to glance back at Nephilim, a twisted, pathetic figure at the edge of the crowd, close to him. His eyes widened again, and he shuffled his paws in the dirt. Sinner, sinner, sinner. Was this because of Olivia? She'd made him promise. He'd promised. He'd lied. His sister -- his sister called for his atonement, and behind her voice was the strength of Stigmata's, though his brother was nowhere to be seen. Stigmata was always right. He thought --

I thought... I did good, Messiah whimpered to his sister, his ears pinned flat against his head, and stared at the innocuous berries in her palm, concealed from the view of the others. He barely heard the others -- the screaming of the stupid coyote who thought he'd murdered another (never, never, never, he thought, I never did, the wolves all did, I killed the wolves), the murmuring of Vicira and Sparrow, the troubled command of Vesper for them to keep their distance. I thought -- I --

Prophet touched his head and prayed, and Messiah trembled, and suddenly the fear of Hell and the fear of his family was greater than anything else. I thought I did right, he protested, but he couldn't speak. He only managed, quietly, to Prophet, but mostly to Olivia, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry.

He lapped the berries from her palm, and licked her cheek, so the gesture would look only like that of submission and affection. He did not bite down on them, only held them hidden in his mouth. He knew that, if Inferni knew -- they'd hurt Prophet and Stigmata next. But he would save his family, and save himself. Blood by expiation. He could still --

The white baneberries were swallowed in a moment, and he ducked away from Prophet, whirling toward Nephilim. His ember eyes were wide, wild. He knew Nephilim would not eat them, could not, or they'd know; they wouldn't understand. Inferni had failed them. Inferni had failed its coyotes. But there might still be hope for them. He was a warrior, but Prophet and Stigmata were dreams and voices and spirits and soul. It would be pure again.

For their benefit, Messiah laughed one more time -- but while the cackles were mad, wild, crazy, there was a sorrow to them, and as they died and the echoes beat off the limestone caves, he leaped toward his half-eaten brother to kill him. Blood and juices from the berries welled against his teeth as he bit down, hard, and red dappled the dirt where Nephilim's claws scrabbled. But it was fast, quiet, and Messiah heard Vesper snarling, and felt her claws sink into his shoulders, but she was too late.

When the Centurion pinned him down and rolled him over, Messiah's heart had already failed.



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#20
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Aaaand that's it! Messiah is dead, apparently having gone crazy after Prophet said he sinned. He snapped and killed his brother and, apparently, his heart failed him. A frustrated Vesper has gone home where she'll be available to talk, but you guys are free to continue this thread with reactions; like normal it will be archived after a month of no replies.


Vesper stared at the blank, fiery eyes and pulled her claws from his skin, resting a paw on his chest. He was still, too still -- and the Centurion wrinkled her muzzle in anger, tearing her hands away in disgust and rising on two legs. Icy eyes swept over the corpse of the mad coyote, his boyish and hopeful smile matted with saliva and blood, and that of his odd brother in the final throes of death. Her fist curled, and she turned toward her clan.

It's done, she said. They'd been howling for his death, for his punishment, and Ves had thought, considered, that he would be too dangerous to exile -- but she hadn't wanted it to be like this. She'd failed, in a sense, to control this. Her hackles rose along her spine, and she lifted her bushy tail, staring at the coyotes who'd been arguing and shouting minutes ago, calling out the insanity of Messiah's pleas.

She did not show weariness -- could not -- but hissed through her teeth and made quick strides to Prophet, grabbing at the weak coyote's shoulder. What did you say to him? she demanded, but her voice was too soft to carry to the crowd. Irritation curled her lip, and she released the Sanitas a moment later, knowing that she wouldn't be able to sit and listen to an explanation in this state. She was angry, furious at herself. You and your brother bury them how you like, she stated, her voice cold. They have that right.

She glanced back toward her clan, still expressionless but for the curl of anger at her mouth. Inferni is a haven for coyotes, Vesper said. It's a haven from wolves. That's how it was and how it will be, until the last of our skulls drops from its stake and their hatred stops running -- but there is no excuse to spill innocent blood, wolf or coyote or dog. And there is no excuse to fight amongst ourselves. She lifted her chin. Messiah betrayed this clan. Now he's dead. That's it. She wanted to hear nothing more.

I don't want infighting, she warned -- and glanced at Prophet, knowing the words that Nathaniel had shouted about their brother. Her next words were low, but addressed at all the onlookers. You should go home. You know where to find me.

She walked toward her family, toward Delilah and Sparrow and Vicira, and when she'd attended to all of them with soft, worried looks and silent touches of reassurance, she walked toward the north, and when she thought no one could see her, ran.



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#21
She watched all the commotion, the shouting, and the cries for the traitor's death. She listened to Messiah's ramblings and defense, though they fell on deaf ears. She saw Kallistos; the Bellum didn't want the boy here, but he had every right. He was an adult in the clan's eyes. A kid in hers for as long as he lived, but grown enough to Inferni. That's what mattered.

Delilah felt her rage cool as more clan members crept onto the scene. Some yelled their confusion or outrage; others remained thoughtfully quiet. For the scarred hybrid, she'd said her piece; now it was time to watch. To wait for the final verdict. The woman had no place in the decision or the eventual execution; Messiah would not live, and that was all that mattered. Whether his death would have the blessing of Inferni was up for debate. There was always exile, but he'd be tracked down and slaughtered. Vesper wasn't that cruel; he'd die on the clan's territory by the clan's willing hand.

The newcomer, a feeble-looking hybrid, was Messiah's kin. Her words to him in near-silent whispers made the coywolf's blood run cold; something about the scene had gone terribly off-kilter in seconds. This was no longer a simply "trial;" it was something more. Something darker. Bristling slightly, her ears perked at the female's words. Spirit, devils, pray, salvation. What salvation could he ever deserve?

Another bout of shouting from the "trial's" resident loudmouth barely registered in Delilah's brain. She was too busy mulling over the disturbing range of expressions she'd spied on Messiah's face.

Then he lunged toward another in the crowd, and the Bellum found herself scrambling after him. Her gaze wasn't feral and her cool rage was an echo in the back of her mind; something was wrong. The accused's guilty cackling sounded broken.

She froze and swayed unsteadily on her feet when Vesper passed her; she had no place in the grisly scene unfolding, in Messiah's last murder. A choked sound crawled up Delilah's throat, though she wasn't sure why. The traitor was dead, but the Centurion had not been his killer. If anything, that was what most disturbed her. The feeling of wrong was heavy in the air. It made her heart beat too fast and her breath become ragged. It was like a nightmare, a macabre display of what was worst in the world.

She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her feet as she tried to get closer to the rest of the crowd. To Nate, to Sparrow, to Kallistos, to Vicira, to anyone she could trust. Away from the bodies and away from the death.

Vesper words pierced her brain as she hit the ground ass first, just close enough to those in the crowd she did not fear to not scramble back further. The Centurion had approached gently and offered reassuring touch before leaving for the north; the Bellum almost wished she'd have found the words to beg the older woman to stay.

It was a few more seconds before Delilah pushed herself to her feet and turned her back on the grisly scene; she moved to stand awkwardly close to Nate and Kallistos, hoping she'd be able to request they accompany her home. Scrubbing her fingers through her hair, she took one last look at the crowd and then whispered to Nathaniel, "Can you please walk me home? Please?" It was the first time the Bellum had ever referred to the Great Village as home; she'd have time to dwell on that later.
[Image: delilah-av_zps1aeeabea.png]
Delilah is in Optime form unless otherwise specified.
avatar by Suga, signature by Kiri
#22
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The small opening swiftly became crowded with others as they craned in to watch, to see what Messiah had to say. The coyote was babbling mere nonsense now, and voices raised - Nathaniel could see the starts of an angry mob, licking at the heels of Messiah's descent. He stood still, orange eyes burning; the rest of the Clan did not stand for the coyote. They knew he was wrong.

Yet the scrawny canine continued to rebuke them, to deny them, until his sister - Prophet, Nathaniel knew - stepped forward. He himself had stayed his distance from the woman, knowing that she was of his ilk; however, low words were murmured in Messiah's ear, and the red coywolf watched as his face transformed from one of indignation and defiance to one of slow, horror-filled realization. Perhaps only his family could pacify him, could help him see what he'd done.

Then, the clearing exploded. Harsh shouts filled the air as Messiah suddenly flung himself at his brother, drawing blood as quickly as he had shouted his innocence to the Clan. Nathaniel's eyes grew wide with shock, and he bunched his haunches to leap after the coyote - Nephilim had done nothing wrong, even if he didn't exactly do anything right, either - but he was beaten to the punch by Vesper.

She was too late, however; Nephilim and Messiah were both dead by the time she reached them, and Nathaniel felt a hollow sensation in his chest. Nephilim, while strange and ultimately useless, was still one of them - he had followed Messiah around like a leech, but had never harmed another. He had been one o their Clan - Nathaniel had fought for him when the wolves tried to drag him away - and now he was dead to his own brother's hands.

Vesper spoke coldly, almost harshly, and the red coywolf merely gazed at her, look indecipherable. She held no mention of Nephilim, lumping him together with his brother as their siblings' problems; she spoke of how Inferni was a place to hide from wolves, gave a short order to not erupt into chaos, and abruptly left. A cold stone settled into Nathaniel's stomach, and with an uneasy glance, he turned towards Delilah as she spoke.

"O'course," he murmured, stepping between Delilah and the crowd as he did so. He gave a small flick of the tail to indicate Kallistos come along - of course, he was old enough to stay should be wish, but Nathaniel was unsure why he'd want to see... this. Without another word, he turned and began to guide them home.

428 words

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#23
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The noise was like a whirlwind, and Marlowe felt evil slip in.

It was subtle, like a needle, but sharp and irritable all at once. He watched because he had to watch—because whatever else he was, Marlowe was a warrior and a commander's order to hold was most important.

So he did nothing, in the end, and this was the most evil thing of all.

Marlowe's coin-colored eyes watched as death came two-fold, and like Vesper, he recognized something had happened between the dead boy and his sister. He could not hear the words because Prophet did not want others to hear, but there wasn't a mark on the boy besides his brother's blood, and now both were dead.

Like a good soldier, Marlowe felt nothing.

He lingered because he lived here and could not run from this. Slowly, and because he could not define the obligation for what it really was, he crossed himself.

Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae, he murmured, and the words felt like fire against his tongue.

Then he approached Prophet, as if his blood-tie to her meant more than the scarce words they had passed in the Greenhouse. He did not touch her.

You should find your brother. I'll watch them, he promised, though he did not say why.


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The whole question here is: am I a monster, or a victim myself?
Character WikiLa Estrella Roja | Player Wiki
#24
Violence exploded in the area and despite his fancy adult title, Kallistos felt very much like the child that he was in that moment. His body pressed against Nate's as he listened, then saw what transpired. His eyes got wider at the blood that splattered the earth, two clan members dead in less than two minutes.

He felt his father tense beside him, coiled and ready to spring forward. His aunt was there first, though she too was too late. The coyotes lay dead, one of them he wasn't sure why. Poison, he thought, looking around for Snapdragon. He remembered she had taught him about that, about dying without being touched. Sickness that hid and hid and then suddenly struck. The boy had not seen the berries, did not know the truth, all he had was a sick twist in his stomach that told him there was no other way. Why else would a perfectly healthy coyote suddenly be lying there dead? Maybe it wasn't poison, maybe the coyote had just gone insane.

The boy jumped a bit when Delilah came over. He had been staring at the corpses, at the aftermath of the violence and the suddenness with which life had left his clanmates. Nate easily agreed to walk her home and a flick of his tail suggested Kalli follow. There was no hesitation from the young Moineau, he eagerly followed Nathaniel toward their home. There was nothing here to see anymore.
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#25
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Word Count → 512 :: ooc


"You were doing good. You were doing the work of Him." She assured her brother in low tones that only he would be able to hear. She kept her touch tender and her voice low. "You strayed. We prayed over it and still you strayed. You didn't make amends at the time you left the path and now look what has happened. This is His wrath. You know what He wants. You have left the path and you know what is expected of any of us should we stray. We should give ourselves willingly over to him." Her voice was calm as she spoke, persuading him to do what it was that she couldn't without receiving scrutiny herself. She was trusting in Messiah's loyalty to his family and their faith to prevent causing others to start watching over every little thing that she should do. She couldn't afford those prying eyes.

She watched her brother do as she told him to do and even feigned shock by reaching out as if she meant to stop him.Of course she used her plight of others knowing her to be too weak and slow to be of any use in holding him back. Vesper moved in her stead to try and stop him but it was all over before it could truly begin. What she didn't expect was Vesper to turn her wrath upon her. She winced as she was grabbed. Before she could open her mouth to begin defending herself the woman had moved on. Vesper would simply make her way later to plead the case of her brother.

She paid no attention to the gathered crowd but had bowed her head once more. Her lips moved in a silent prayer after she had crossed herself. Her hand reached to clutch at the neck of her robe, not really holding onto the material but to what was hidden beneath it. Her ear twitched at the sound of the voice. She recognized it as a prayer even if she couldn't understand the entirety of it. "Mary... Death..." She murmured the two words she was able to pick out and tried to work through what the rest could mean.

The female's gaze was lifted to Marlowe as he approached and actually offered to watch over the bodies so that she could find Stigmata. They had scarcely spoke any words to each other and so his offer completely shocked her. She looked to the bodies of the deceased before looking back up at her kin. She gave a nod of her head before struggling back to her feet once more, using her staff to support her weight as she drew herself up. The robed woman took a few stiff steps towards the exit of the caverns before she turned her head to look back at the other. "Pyre or burial?" She decided to get his opinion on the matter. Should she burn the bodies or seek to find a place where the ground hadn't hardened from the coming cold.

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#26
He had heard and seen, but remained away, apart. He was afraid of what he might have done. Killer or not, Messiah was his brother. There was Truth and there was truth -- and Stigmata was afraid of which his tongue might choose, faced between brother and clan. He had never faced such a choice before, and unprepared, he had opted not to decide instead.

It had been a decision, though -- he'd been close enough he heard the thud of bodies, the snatches of voice carried to him now and again by the wind over the Waste. He'd known, when the life went.

The hybrid rose from his crouch, his young limbs uncurling seamlessly. There was no stiffness or hesitation; he took off at a steady trot. The gait slowed as he approached, however, and now it did feel as though his legs had gone wood-stiff. His feet were logs, and each weighed a hundred thousand pounds. Even the tips of his ears felt weighted. The mass of coyotes, some dispersing, milled about before him. He hesitated, stopping his advance altogether. He did not have to worry about his tongue betraying him; for once, it had failed him altogether.
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#27
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In his lifetime, which was not very long at all, Marlowe had seen great horror done in the world. He had done it himself, and he had not been mad and writhing. His mind had been calm—it had been calm because it had to be calm. Sometimes, when he felt twinges of fear or doubt, he thought on the Spirit.

Marlowe did not pray, but he measured his time, calculated, and then chose. He was not a warrior the way his sisters were warriors, and some part of him was aware of that.

The woman whispered something, and she rose like a shadow of the earth. Her faded clothes and no-color fur were out of place here. Her red eyes were not.

He was considering her question when he saw Stigmata, lingering nearby. He looked back to the woman. It occurred to him to warn her—to tell her that ashes might not be mutilated, and that the true cleansing of the Spirit came through fire—but these strange, dark cousins of his claimed to know God. Something akin to disdain settled in his coin-colored eyes, but they closed as he turned back towards the corpses, shrugged, and said nothing.


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The whole question here is: am I a monster, or a victim myself?
Character WikiLa Estrella Roja | Player Wiki
#28
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000
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belial massacre

The events that unfurled before his eyes were nothing like he had imagined to go down here. He expected Inferni to have some kind of trial, for Messiah to spit against his superiors, and be killed in a notorious way. However, what went on here was nothing like that. Belial positioned himself at the back of the crowd, looking on to the commotion up ahead. He had seen the coyote cower and had heard what he had done - and Belial half-expected the scraggly coyote to attack when no one had suspected it; however, he was surrounded and apparently he wasn't as tough as he seemed to be when he was killing wolves.

His sibling, Prophet, approached the coyote like a cloaked ghost. She knelt before him and spoke in hushed tones. Hushed calm tones. Messiah cowered, but he listened. Prophet had given the sinner white berries, which he later recognized as Baneberries. Belial’s senses heightened as he watched the sinner take the berries, but at the last minute attack and kill his pitiful brother, Nephilim.

There were a few gasps, but after the deed was done, the few that remained watching fell silent. As much as Belial was nosy, he no longer felt the need to remain. Everything was done; the deed was over and two coyotes were dead.

The Massacre laid his eyes on the two corpses once more before he turned and left the scene.




[Form: Lupus | Date: --] Last reply for me
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