01-06-2010, 08:07 PM
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On any normal night Samael Lykoi was not armed any more than with his fangs and claws. Normally, he killed for his own pleasure on his own capricious whim without any distinct purpose whatsoever, but war had since begun, and with the looming threat of death and chaos he’d taken to carrying around a pair of knives. Dark-wash jeans clothed his narrow hips, supporting his blades and granting him a less than feral appearance that contrasted with his usual bearing. His hair had been cleaned and pulled back—tied with a loose band at the base of his neck. War brought out the best in him, and bloodlust shone in his eyes. But this war was about more than killing wolves and screaming victory. This war was about revenge, and avenging his mother’s tarnished honor and torn soul.
She’d been harmed and wronged, and Samael would see to it that Haku Soul died at his own hands in the most prolonged, painful way imaginable. He stayed around his mother in the shadows, watching her and ensuring no harm would again befall her. Others did the same, but Samael was far more loyal and devoted than any of these mongrel bastards. None were like Samael, and none adored Kaena as he did, so he stayed in the shadows, watching her like a guardian demon when not performing his rounds of the borders. She had requested this of him before he’d ever heard of her attack, and he would not fail her now. No wolf would slip past the borders on his watch.
He would castrate and disembowel them without a passed word or questioning tone. Blood-red eyes gleaming in the darkness, he saw Halo as she wordless tracked him, intent on punishment for his actions. Standing tall, one hand resting on his beltline, Samael turned toward her—vision lingering only briefly on the unsheathed, deadly weapon in her hands. Would she have the guts to strike him down now where he stood before her, or would she again show herself a coward? Fangs bared in a serpentine grin, exposing snow-white teeth that flashed in the dim light. “Do you honestly think you have the audacity, or will you again show your true nature?” he asked coolly into the night, almost willing her to raise her sword and thrust it into his flesh.
He longed for the continuation of beauty, not fools and cowards, and to see the young woman lunge at him with rage and force, clawing out his eyes and tearing out his soul in revenge for his actions, he would be pleased. A weak woman would pretend to forget his violation, falling prey to silent demons that slowly devoured her and never acting on the pure, terrible emotions welling up within them.
On any normal night Samael Lykoi was not armed any more than with his fangs and claws. Normally, he killed for his own pleasure on his own capricious whim without any distinct purpose whatsoever, but war had since begun, and with the looming threat of death and chaos he’d taken to carrying around a pair of knives. Dark-wash jeans clothed his narrow hips, supporting his blades and granting him a less than feral appearance that contrasted with his usual bearing. His hair had been cleaned and pulled back—tied with a loose band at the base of his neck. War brought out the best in him, and bloodlust shone in his eyes. But this war was about more than killing wolves and screaming victory. This war was about revenge, and avenging his mother’s tarnished honor and torn soul.
She’d been harmed and wronged, and Samael would see to it that Haku Soul died at his own hands in the most prolonged, painful way imaginable. He stayed around his mother in the shadows, watching her and ensuring no harm would again befall her. Others did the same, but Samael was far more loyal and devoted than any of these mongrel bastards. None were like Samael, and none adored Kaena as he did, so he stayed in the shadows, watching her like a guardian demon when not performing his rounds of the borders. She had requested this of him before he’d ever heard of her attack, and he would not fail her now. No wolf would slip past the borders on his watch.
He would castrate and disembowel them without a passed word or questioning tone. Blood-red eyes gleaming in the darkness, he saw Halo as she wordless tracked him, intent on punishment for his actions. Standing tall, one hand resting on his beltline, Samael turned toward her—vision lingering only briefly on the unsheathed, deadly weapon in her hands. Would she have the guts to strike him down now where he stood before her, or would she again show herself a coward? Fangs bared in a serpentine grin, exposing snow-white teeth that flashed in the dim light. “Do you honestly think you have the audacity, or will you again show your true nature?” he asked coolly into the night, almost willing her to raise her sword and thrust it into his flesh.
He longed for the continuation of beauty, not fools and cowards, and to see the young woman lunge at him with rage and force, clawing out his eyes and tearing out his soul in revenge for his actions, he would be pleased. A weak woman would pretend to forget his violation, falling prey to silent demons that slowly devoured her and never acting on the pure, terrible emotions welling up within them.