the old switcheroo.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 05-26-2011, 06:42 PM

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As time had a way of doing, it robbed youth from the mortals. Ezekiel had begun to feel this truth weighing on his shoulders despite his age; he was young, barely more than a child himself, and now he ruled Inferni as his family had done for three generations. It was something he had perhaps wished as a child, but his childhood was blotted out by black holes in his memory. The boy did not know how to account for these; he had spent some time, yes, ingesting a number of substances, but this could not solely be at fault.

What medical information he had gathered, from Fatin and Alaine and books, did not speak of an illness. He did not read enough on the mind to know what could effect it, for he had been trained to heal bodies and not souls. It was a small yet aggravating piece of himself he sought to conquer and destroy. For if one thing was certain, it was that Ezekiel was a soldier—and a fine one at that.

When the call came, Ezekiel had in fact been with his father. Well, this was not entirely true—he had been with Enkiel, asking the jackal about their supplies and what might be needed from the city. Though summer was fast approaching, Enkiel was still temperamental about the cold nights and rarely left the area around the Mansion for long. He had mentioned a lack of supplies to the Aquila, who returned with the intention of making himself a list of things to find. Gabriel, as he often did these days, had been sleeping on the Guest House porch. The only time his father ever truly did much was if he was asked; and while he was certainly still revered by Inferni, he had dropped effectively from his previous role.

Ezekiel left his cousin and found his dark-pelted father staring intently towards the source of the call. He recognized faint, familiar tones in the song and knew it came from a wolf and his face darkened at the call. After a half-hearted argument, in which Gabriel did not reveal the true blood that had summoned him, Gabriel agreed to stay behind so that Ezekiel might investigate in his stead. The aging warrior did not desire to travel further than he had to these days, but disliked the idea of leaving a summons unanswered. With a sharp cry, the coyote roused his grazing mount and rode off towards the originator of the call.

What surprised him was that instead of a coyote, a wolf sat on the borders. He was well built and dark, with striking eyes reminiscent of the Lykoi line. Slowing the heavy draft horse to a stop, Ezekiel shifted back and eyed the stranger with pointed interest. There were only faint traces of outward hostility, but this guy hardly seemed like he was looking for a fight. “You the one that called for my father?” Best get to the point, he figured.

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