10-15-2009, 02:28 PM
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War was a part of his blood. Gabriel had known murder at a young age, one born out of desperation. He had survived a drought, floods, fire. Without the ever present hand of his mother, Gabriel had learned through experience. That was what set him apart from the rest of his family. Even though he respected his mother, he had felt no qualm about speaking to Kaena the way he had. Once, a long time ago, she had done the same to him. Though he would never despise either of his parents, there were many times that he hated them both. Gabriel sat, gargoyle like, atop one of the large boulders that dotted the Waste. He was completely still, save for the occasional movement of his fur, brushed here and there by the cold wind. The temperature had dropped considerably with the rain, and with each exhale a small burst of steam hung in the air. Over and over again he found himself drawing parallels to the brother buried on the shore (the one he had not thought of in what months) and the one lurking in the shadows. One ear turned back, but aside from this he did not move. Someone was approaching. |