03-06-2012, 12:05 AM
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The daughter she saw as a blight responded to her presence, shrinking with the grief of all those who could bear no worth. If only it had been Ahren and not Haku, who had served her only for this worthless child. She would have brought forth children to save the world. Gabriel was enough proof of that, though it was a true shame he had been conceived by a coyote and not a wolf. What a sight he would have been then, unrestrained by hybrid blood, given the full advantage of size and power. She lamented only that it had not been her chosen to bear such a beast; that Ahren had died before she could find him once more.
Her steps stopped suddenly. Lillith raised her head proudly, pale eyes gleaming behind hair too-long and too-wild. She held one hand out before her, a black palm amongst blacker fur marked with old and thin, faded scars. A voice make deeper by time rolled out of her mouth. “You know nothing,” she hissed, and her words became profluent as her voice rose. “I gave you my life and you squandered your gift. You turned your back on me and you turned your back on Azathoth.” The name rose with a reverence, as if the dead god might hear her yet in this once holy place.
“I will do what needs done,” she affirmed, showing a tooth as a proclamation of how far she would go.
The daughter she saw as a blight responded to her presence, shrinking with the grief of all those who could bear no worth. If only it had been Ahren and not Haku, who had served her only for this worthless child. She would have brought forth children to save the world. Gabriel was enough proof of that, though it was a true shame he had been conceived by a coyote and not a wolf. What a sight he would have been then, unrestrained by hybrid blood, given the full advantage of size and power. She lamented only that it had not been her chosen to bear such a beast; that Ahren had died before she could find him once more.
Her steps stopped suddenly. Lillith raised her head proudly, pale eyes gleaming behind hair too-long and too-wild. She held one hand out before her, a black palm amongst blacker fur marked with old and thin, faded scars. A voice make deeper by time rolled out of her mouth. “You know nothing,” she hissed, and her words became profluent as her voice rose. “I gave you my life and you squandered your gift. You turned your back on me and you turned your back on Azathoth.” The name rose with a reverence, as if the dead god might hear her yet in this once holy place.
“I will do what needs done,” she affirmed, showing a tooth as a proclamation of how far she would go.