in a real death waltz

Razekiel Lykoi · 05-29-2010, 12:25 AM

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She had softened, that stiff wall and barrier lowering quickly. The compliments of her beauty, as much as he had meant them, had been of no use—perhaps it was her persistent belief that she was dead, that was possible&mash;but with questions of her homeland and the mention of his love for her foreign tongue, this Lolita began to show her true colors. He hated to believe that any outside his vast family line could be as cold as the blood that ran through each Lykoi, and Razekiel was pleased to know he had yet to be proven wrong. His ears perked at the mentioning of gypsies—many of those in Juniper Peace chose to label themselves just that, though he had never liked such use of constricting terms—but this Alaskan land was far different than his old clan of earth-loving treehuggers. "The group I once called family, man, they were many cultures," he recalled, a reminiscing smile at his lips. "A Russian, I remember, and a pair from Sweden. The rest, not one came from the same place. We were all just wanderers touring the Great Mother, man, it was groovy. To move together like a family, living in Her sweet embrace, man, it was nothing else."

She bleached as she spoke of Inferni and what they had done to her, and Razekiel did likewise. His smile, once dreamy as he remembered the wonderful Juniper Peace he had ruined single handedly, now shifted to blue as his lips sank. Inferni was a terrible thing, he knew; their ideals were misguided, their members bloodthirsty and violent. "I am a man of peace and love," he admitted, showing signs of a small but hesitant turn of the lips. "I am Inferni by name, man, not morals. The Great Mother hasn't given up on them, love, but they try so hard to push her away..." For a moment, the light in his straw eyes seemed to break, oppressed by the thoughts of the place his mother had founded. They were filled with such hate; how could so much terror that was Inferni and the Lykoi name sprung from the same sunshine that had mothered him so lovingly in his youth—the very same woman who mothered his hell of a brother as well, of course.

When she asked of Mother Earth, however, his ears perked and life again blossomed in his eyes. "Mother Earth, man! The Great Provider, the Beauty of All, Herself!" He lit up like all the stars of night, arms outstretched as if he were to embrace all that was living. "She is all around us! Breathed life into us all, shaped us from the clay of the soil! She is the provider that allows us to live! The song of the birds, the blue of the sky, the bugs in the earth—the Great Mother, man!"

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