11-19-2007, 06:14 PM
[html]Each movement brought a pleasant ripple of pain from the wounds and scars he had no memory of inflicting. He lowered himself to the ground beneath a tree, breath rising in a pale plume of frozen air around his muzzle as he reached out for a pale object half-buried in leaves. It was a w.olf's skull painted and hung from a tree, but had fallen at some point and been forgotten. Claws traced across the bleached bone, pondering idly on the story behind this fallen creature. And yet he smiled. He smiled because he knew this object held a history, and because he knew it wasn't just an object to disregard like a twig or stone. It had once lived and breathed and moved just like him, and yet he was still moving and this being had fallen.
Perhaps his mother had killed it, perhaps when she was Queen and had ruled these lands. His expression faded, dropping the skull and dragging a claw across a scab on his forearm. Oh, how he longed for her touch, her warm embrace as she held him close. How he longed for more than she had even given him, or been capable of giving him, for her nature wasn't quite like his despite her twisted darkness. Her abandonment was a swift kick in the stomach, and he'd yet to recover.
The night was cold, with dawn soon to arrive, but Samael had long since given up on sleep. Days ago, really. It was a suffocating thought, like drowning, to allow darkness to wash over him so completely, and he preferred to be awake and lucid, for there were those who'd kill him. Madness and delirium clouded his thoughts, and he saw devils everywhere, whispering and hissing things all around him. But he just smiled right back, for he wasn't through with this world just yet. And it wasn't his time to allow them to take him.