[M] - Mood swing

Saluce Tremblay · 08-22-2010, 11:21 PM

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WARNING This thread contains: graphic sexual content, graphic violence, or extremely offensive material starting with the 22th post. Reader discretion is advised.

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You'll have to keep in mind that what she sees is him acting out that particular battlefield exprience.

The morning Sun shinned brightly down onto the landscape as the grey male walked out of the small home he had adopted as his own. Saluce carried with him his normal attire, well not so much normal as he hadn’t wore it since coming to Dahlia. Around his hips sat the leather belt which held the two sheaths and swords that swung to either side of his form, and wrapped around his right leg his dagger was nestled in a leather holster. Otherwise his form wasn’t adorned with any other form of clothing to hinder him. Today was a new day for the Dahlian male, a term he hadn’t given himself until now, instead of turning toward his shop his form slid toward the east to a small clearing. Time to train as sinew and muscle where put to work in stretching exercises to help limber him up and get rid of the sleep haze that still clouded his movements. Still the somber expression remained upon his form as the behemoth finished stretching.

As soon as his large paw like hand grasped the hilt of one of his swords though the quiet and almost friendly tone he normally carried faded away as those blue orbs became cold, emotionless voids, lips curling in a sick grin. Sword pulled and soon it danced in the wind to phantom swords and foes. As the dance continued the second sword was pulled and the warrior’s true prowess became evident as memories flooded back into mind. His actions swirled and became a mix of soft elegant dodges, parrys, then sickening strikes. The battlefield that had consumed him, the memories that flooded back where of some war torn battlefield. Crows crowed and circled overhead as the dance continued, blood, wolves screaming in pain at some body part severed mingling with the dead. Still the wolf continued to take all challengers, too far gone in the bloodlust to care who decided to approach. A death dealer among peasants; the death machine continued taking on ever diminishing odds as those dual blood letters continued to sing their song as they hacked through anything that approached. Soon the world faded as the wolf found himself panting among the sounds of the dying, the scene of some wicked dream, except as the behemoth looked across the battlefield no emotion carried across his face except the curl of his lips and the enjoyment written across his devilishly handsome face. The scene itself to those witnessing his training session would be one of him fighting countless phantom foes, his movements practiced and precise. Demeanor calm and calculated with a demonic undertone hinting at the devil within, the grim satisfaction upon the dealer of death would be enough for anyone to shy away if they knew the events that where playing back in his mind.

A cry for help screamed in his mind as he recalled the events but in his blood lust filled mind all he heard was another attacker, form quick and precise as if reacting to an attacker coming from behind, his form bent down into a roll as a hand grabbed his dagger and as he turned the dagger was thrown. As the behemoth stood to watch the dagger hit its mark his expression changed as the would be attacker turned friend stumbled out of the shadows choking from the lodged dagger in their neck. In an outrage of anger at his thoughts (back in the real world at least) the behemoth launched a quick anger filled attack at the first thing to fill his vision. The steel slammed against the tree cutting several inches into it before his grasp faltered and a loud growl escaped his lips. His other hand let it’s sword fall from his grasp as it went in aid of his right wrist. The force of the attack had caused him to tweak his right wrist. In anger the male let forth a kick with his still healing left leg and reeled back in pain again pissing him off more, would he allow himself to self destruct so easily at the memories that had flooded back to him? Had he truly fled home because of her, the look in those eyes as she had clutched her throat still haunted him. Still burned a hole in him.

The male collapsed into a heap too pissed to stand, to broken to care, wrist and leg hurting but no serious injuries just the nagging hurt in his mind, he sat wanting to carve the flesh of some helpless creature or person who happened to provide such an opportunity for him to release his rage.

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