[M] Alban Hefin

Larkspur D'Angelo · 06-29-2010, 11:38 AM

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Many nights, he did not sleep. He tried now and again to battle his nature, but this was futile and left him exhausted. Larkspur was a creature damaged, ruined by pain and neglect. The Khalif might have been more merciful had they killed him. Now a man who did not understand the world lived in it, functioning because he adapted so quickly, functioning because he was a follower and because the can tah around his neck whispered and spoke and told him what to do. This pack, this place he was supposed to call home, it was made that way because darkness willed it. Though his fur had begun to turn white, he felt his soul darkening each day. Something had changed in him since that night with the green-eyed witch, something he could not pinpoint and could not name. He had been close, though. He had been very close to looking into the eye of the ini and he had fled, as always, because he feared it.

Yet he did not fear shadow, nor the scream that tore apart the night. It instead drew him, like a moth to flame, further into the blackened boughs of the forest. Under his large scarred body muscles carried him deeper in, ears forward and eyes wide and holding the devil’s light that all night-creatures used. At night he traveled four legged, as was his pattern, for hands and an awkward body could not keep him safe. Larkspur did not understand what it was to be like a man. He had learned through the horse, and he had learned through Misery, but he could not maintain himself without the wolf. Certainly, this was how it should be. Some of the Khalif believed this as well, dividing as all families must, bound only by hatred and teachings so arcane they could not let them go.

A fire burned against the dark and behind it stood a woman. She looked unearthly. Empty eyes and blue markings, the rabbit in her hands still alive, still writhing in pain. His jaws parted, tasting these things in the air. Jack-O-Lantern eyes burned and stole the fire’s light, runic scars white-hot and orange-yellow against his dark body. Yet he did not move and did not intrude; this was not his place and he, knowing only of arcane things and other worlds, respected that her magic was one he dare not touch.

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