08-06-2008, 11:31 PM
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He arrived at the time and place Soro had specified. So why wasn't Soro standing there in front of the church, calm and calculating, his eyes fierce and his voice silent, the same person Asmodai had been traveling with for the last year and a half? Why wasn't there a hostage trapped behind locked doors? Why wasn't everything as Soro had said it would be?
Why was Soro a bloody heap of dead flesh before him? The big werewolf had frozen in place, knowing before he approached what he would see, but unwilling to forgo the sight of his cousin's final state. His brown eyes took all of it in...the matting and discoloration where terrible blows had come down on the GreyClaw warrior, the puffing up of the face which had happened before death in response to the repeated collisions, the damage on the forearms which he rose to protect his damaged face, the vicious marks where his enemy's claws had dug into the neck, pulling upward and severing the carotid arteries. The pool of blood was already coagulated, sticky and dried on the ground. The grass had drank well this day. Asmodai's gaze did not leave the ruined body of his cousin for a very long time.
"Soro," he said, knowing full well that there would be no sarcastic or brooding answer to greet him.
"Soro," he spoke up again, his voice a bit more stern, even though he knew quite clearly that this would lead no where.
"Soro," a crack in his voice, a crack in his armor, a dull and dejected acceptance. Emotions wanted to well up inside of him, but he had a job to do...he couldn't be overcome with grief, not yet...not yet.
He arrived at the time and place Soro had specified. So why wasn't Soro standing there in front of the church, calm and calculating, his eyes fierce and his voice silent, the same person Asmodai had been traveling with for the last year and a half? Why wasn't there a hostage trapped behind locked doors? Why wasn't everything as Soro had said it would be?
Why was Soro a bloody heap of dead flesh before him? The big werewolf had frozen in place, knowing before he approached what he would see, but unwilling to forgo the sight of his cousin's final state. His brown eyes took all of it in...the matting and discoloration where terrible blows had come down on the GreyClaw warrior, the puffing up of the face which had happened before death in response to the repeated collisions, the damage on the forearms which he rose to protect his damaged face, the vicious marks where his enemy's claws had dug into the neck, pulling upward and severing the carotid arteries. The pool of blood was already coagulated, sticky and dried on the ground. The grass had drank well this day. Asmodai's gaze did not leave the ruined body of his cousin for a very long time.
"Soro," he said, knowing full well that there would be no sarcastic or brooding answer to greet him.
"Soro," he spoke up again, his voice a bit more stern, even though he knew quite clearly that this would lead no where.
"Soro," a crack in his voice, a crack in his armor, a dull and dejected acceptance. Emotions wanted to well up inside of him, but he had a job to do...he couldn't be overcome with grief, not yet...not yet.