06-09-2009, 07:24 AM
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A cool breeze was blowing, making its way from the bay and heading east. It smelt of salt-water and the musky rank of fish, a combination that was both welcoming and repulsive all at once. Still, it was a familiar smell, and one that Gabriel found common. He considered this atop the thousand of other things on his mind; the change in his son, his daughter’s absence, his brother’s children, Jezebel, and the going-ons between Inferni and Phoenix Valley. Of those things, the latter continued to plague him. Things had to end. They could not realize he had killed their mad elder woman, for if they were to do such, he knew there was no possibility to end the bloodshed.
Gabriel believed in blood, but he did not desire another war. Not so long as his niece’s daughter and Zana remained as possible weak points. It was a terrible thought, but it was militaristic. He could not make up for those two; as strong as Gabriel was, a unit balanced on their weakest point. To go to war meant to lose Ryan, for he would not leave her in such an skirmish—especially not when she still believed she loved the steel colored coyote who had chosen to be a wolf.
The thought made him grunt, a noise that was close to a growl, and rise to his feet. Something felt off. It had been a subtle change, but one that struck lightning through his blood. Something was peculiar, something he was sensitive to and something that should not have been. The Aquila relied on instinct, and let his bones carry him to the source. When the smell hit him he froze; one foot in the air, ears high, eyes wide. What he smelled seemed impossible. Gabriel moved quickly, then, a new purpose in his step, and found her near the borders. Two years had wrecked her body. She was older then the sun and turning ragged. This was not what he recognized. He recognized her eye because it was the exact same shade of fire as his, and because despite everything else he had lost from his parents, he could not escape her vision. That was not a choice, as his father’s necklace was. Gabriel was as much Lykoi as he was de le Poer.
“I thought you were dead,” he said, unable to hide the anger in his voice. A small amount of awe was there too; it seemed unreal that she should have survived so long.
A cool breeze was blowing, making its way from the bay and heading east. It smelt of salt-water and the musky rank of fish, a combination that was both welcoming and repulsive all at once. Still, it was a familiar smell, and one that Gabriel found common. He considered this atop the thousand of other things on his mind; the change in his son, his daughter’s absence, his brother’s children, Jezebel, and the going-ons between Inferni and Phoenix Valley. Of those things, the latter continued to plague him. Things had to end. They could not realize he had killed their mad elder woman, for if they were to do such, he knew there was no possibility to end the bloodshed.
Gabriel believed in blood, but he did not desire another war. Not so long as his niece’s daughter and Zana remained as possible weak points. It was a terrible thought, but it was militaristic. He could not make up for those two; as strong as Gabriel was, a unit balanced on their weakest point. To go to war meant to lose Ryan, for he would not leave her in such an skirmish—especially not when she still believed she loved the steel colored coyote who had chosen to be a wolf.
The thought made him grunt, a noise that was close to a growl, and rise to his feet. Something felt off. It had been a subtle change, but one that struck lightning through his blood. Something was peculiar, something he was sensitive to and something that should not have been. The Aquila relied on instinct, and let his bones carry him to the source. When the smell hit him he froze; one foot in the air, ears high, eyes wide. What he smelled seemed impossible. Gabriel moved quickly, then, a new purpose in his step, and found her near the borders. Two years had wrecked her body. She was older then the sun and turning ragged. This was not what he recognized. He recognized her eye because it was the exact same shade of fire as his, and because despite everything else he had lost from his parents, he could not escape her vision. That was not a choice, as his father’s necklace was. Gabriel was as much Lykoi as he was de le Poer.
“I thought you were dead,” he said, unable to hide the anger in his voice. A small amount of awe was there too; it seemed unreal that she should have survived so long.