my hands are tied

Gabriel de le Poer · 06-14-2010, 11:50 AM

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Inferni Thread Prompt 6, 300+ words.

     Something had changed in the weeks past. Gabriel sensed this though he could not explain it. Night after night dreams woke him from sleep, terrible dreams that made no sense, terrible dreams that he did not wish to see. Sometimes he used the fire-water to put him to sleep, but even then there was a price. He’d wake and his head would be spinning, and he would lay in the cool dark of his den until this passed and only then venture out. He barely left during the daylight anymore.
     This had been the pattern for over a month, though time was something Gabriel (and certainly most canines) did not fully grasp. He understood that the days had passed, but how many it had been failed him. Yet there was a pull from out in the world, a great and terrible need to find his Shadow. This had to be done. Every fiber of his being demanded such a thing, though he could not compel himself to abandon the clan and take on the hunt. Without him Inferni would collapse upon itself. His mother could not lead, Anselm had left…who remained after that? Hybrid? Halo and Snake? The idea was laughable.
     The coy-wolf sat like the gargoyle he had once been accused of being, sea-air blowing through his summer coat. Around him the beach stretched for miles, and ahead the bay, though it was not this he was watching. Out in the water distant islands loomed, things he had seen before but never considered. Now, because his world felt empty and fragile, he focused on things that seemed safe—things he could touch and feel and control. Yet he did not move from the sand, merely watched, unable to keep his thoughts still long enough to compel any sort of movement.

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Razekiel Lykoi · 07-24-2010, 10:50 PM

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Why hello, hope you don't mind a hippie.

There was a change in the air, a taste in the wind; he could sense it with every fiber of his being, every drop and scratch and smell that became of him knew of the difference. What was it, he supposed? Razekiel was not a child of this place, he was not born here, and yet the coyote stood grounded to the dry, dead earth he felt in tune with somehow. Inferni was a wasteland, despite having moved from the wasted earth now burnt to cinders and abandoned. They had shifted north, and their air moved with them like some dead, mist of blood and torment that circulated such deceitful lands, the dark place where so many a wolf had lost its life or had its head staked on the borders. How gruesome, Razekiel would grimace, every time he passed them by. The Great Mother hates to forgive for that.

And yet through the dead and foggy air that hung so limply over Inferni, a change lingered. The earthlover hardly knew what it was, what it held in store, or when it would even occur. Would he be a piece of it, a pawn yet again sent to kill trespassing wolves? Razekiel certainly hoped not. He had seen so little of his mother and the Aquila leader the rest of the clan seemed to subconsciously worship, or so it seemed to the misty-eyed prince. What were they planning? Was war a common occurrence with this new Inferni? His children, he had seen them recently; were they now safe, wherever they had wandered, or was there a risk they would somehow be caught up in it all?

The prince had smoked some earlier, but its effects were already beginning to subside. He felt no remorse, oddly; Razekiel felt on edge even under its swirling effects, and as his mind cleared he felt no need to put himself in the state again. He had tossed aside a finished cigarette, tobacco and nothing more, on he walked, as he always did, and he walked, and he walked. Mother Earth stretched all around him, dead and dying in that land like so many of her children had, and in the wind she whispered to him, but Razekiel said nothing. He said nothing, and he found Gabriel, and at first he said nothing there either.

"Gabe, my brother," he said, finally giving in and approaching the stiff, statuesque Aquila. "...You look tired, man." In his voice there was a typical cheeriness, but on the prince's face were lines of exhaustion, like the Mother's whispers had haunted him in sleep.

Gabriel de le Poer · 07-29-2010, 10:47 PM

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I hope you don't mind me being slow. I like Lin threads though!

The smell of marijuana was a distinct thing, a sickly-sweet smell that was not as offensive as tobacco and better then smoke. It was carried on the wind from behind him, and Gabriel did not have to turn to guess the source. While he had grown used to it lingering on his cousin, Anselm was long gone from his ranks. These days it belonged to his brother. One ear turned to the voice. He had always found Razekiel’s peculiar language interesting.
“We all are,” he answered without turning from the sea. “Even with the war ended things don’t feel finished.” They weren’t, of course. Haku was alive. He was out there, stalking their borders, digging up dead men and doing his best to wound the still healing clan. A breath escaped the coy-wolf, who looked up to his brother finally. Even in Razekiel, who had been so happy everytime he had seen him, there too was the sign of anguish. A frown crossed Gabriel’s face and his eyes darkened. He turned back to the sea. “I’m sorry you had to come back into this.” Of all of Astaroth’s litter, he had favored his quiet brother the most (after Ahemait, who was his true favorite) and always felt guilty for not being able to defend him properly as a boy.
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Razekiel Lykoi · 08-02-2010, 04:13 PM

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<3

The sadness in the Aquila's voice bore down on his brother, the prince's shoulders heavied by burdens he couldn't claim. It seemed to rare, it always had, to see Gabriel manage a smile; Razekiel didn't envy he who had so much on his mind at all times. The coy could not have filled his shoes and tried to lead a place like Inferni, though Razekiel had never been shaped into something charismatic enough to lead much of anything in the first place. The clan had its share of problems, both in its members and in its reputation, and although the place had settled some since the great fire that wiped some of their home and ended the war, the dark cloud that seemed to hang over Inferni had not dispersed in the least.

With the war's close, Razekiel had again broken his attention from the rest of Inferni. He lived there, reclining on their lazy hilltops basking in the sunlight, and greeted the occasional visitor who passed by. The coyote hardly made an effort to become involved with they; their bloodthirsty tendencies were a bit too intimidating for the peace-loving fool, who had ultimately given up on trying to sway them to his side. "War is never done," Razekiel said, straightening the rose lenses perched on his nose. "Love is not the only thing that lasts forever, man. I thought we were chill now, man, groovy with our Dahlian brothers for a while. What happened?"

Gabriel turned to the Great Father as he apologized. The prince's ears flipped back, a frown quickly crossing his features. "I regret nothing, man. I belong here, especially when there is war." Straw eyes turned to the sea as well. He had made mistakes, he had killed; Inferni had shaped him even if he had changed, so in Inferni he still belonged.

Gabriel de le Poer · 08-04-2010, 12:39 AM

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<3

     Despite all of his charisma, Gabriel would have served as a dutiful soldier to anyone that proved capable. He had done so before. Though twice in these scenarios he had envisioned and even conspired to bring down his superior, believing them incapable of leading. He had never acted on such impulses. For whatever else he was, Gabriel was a soldier first—he believed in loyalty to the bitter end, and expected his own men to believe the same.
     This was why Gabriel did not call upon his coyotes unless the need came. Really, there was not much expected from them. He was content to see his brother sleeping on hillsides, or Halo playing with her rats, or Cotl doing…well, whatever it was he did. Gabriel had seen the dog yelling at the top of his lungs sometime for no apparent reason, and that suited him just fine. As long as they were content, they were really free to do whatever they saw fit.
     “As long as he’s alive we’ll have trouble,” the Aquila rumbled. Dismissing Haku’s shadow with a sigh, he watched as a white gull wheeled and circled the bay. “Everything happens for a reason, I suppose. You’re a lot stronger than I thought you would be,” he said, smiling distantly. “Not that skinny little kid that used to play his flute to all hours of the night. Poorly,” the Aquila added, smiling at the idea.

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Razekiel Lykoi · 08-10-2010, 08:10 PM

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It was strange, though not unheard of, to hear Gabriel utter kindly words in his direction. Perhaps Razekiel had expected the Aquila to think badly of him despite their relatively close relation—they were very different individuals, the prince would admit, and the way their ran their lives differed greatly. Razekiel would not have expected Gabriel to think the Vexillarius's behavior to be worth much of anything. In fact, the prince had almost expected to be punted from the clan for sheer uselessness, as the hippie spent most of his afternoons exploring another world coated in rainbow and glitter, hardly helping with any productive activities such as hunting (the prince managed his own miraculous vegetarian diet, or at least a diet as close as possible) or scouting (Razekiel was far too high most of the time to be any help at all in the area). His rank marked him as some sort of flag-bearer, though the coyote hardly spent his time advertising a clan he never fit in with, nor could put on display in a fashion even vaguely resembling Inferni's dark and bloody ways. He was, even to himself, utterly useless, but considered himself to be a great use in the works of Mother Earth. Surely in the long run, she had great plans for him.

Gabriel's smile was faraway with his words, but truth lay in his eyes regardless. The simper on the prince's face waned at compliment, but reappeared with strength tenfold seconds later. "If I am strong, you are unbreakable, man," he grinned, punching his claws at the air. Razekiel brightened further in remembering the old flute, the instrument long since forgotten since that very second. He had taken up guitar while lounging in Juniper Peace; it was a wonder if the coyote could remember how to play a flute anymore. "The flute! Aww, man, that thing really slipped from my groove! What I wouldn't give to get that thing back, man. I could sing with the birds all over again. The Great Mother likes it more than the guitar, you know?" He wiggled a little in his seat, but allowed his excitement to drain out before the poor Aquila could be overwhelmed by it.

"I do not think much has changed, man," Razekiel said, scratching at his ear. "Not in me, not in you, not in Inferni. It is a place of war and blood, just like when I was born."

Gabriel de le Poer · 08-14-2010, 10:27 PM

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     The body he had found in the fields had been proof enough his brother was not without Lykoi in him. He had never mentioned it to anyone, and left the carcass for the crows to pick clean. Razekiel, unlike his sister, would fight. He would kill. He was not without violence in his blood. At the odd gesture Gabriel let a gruff laugh break from his chest, amused at the idea of himself being invincible. If the scars were any proof, he was far from such a thing. Gabriel was a mortal, despite his affiliation and power from the Lord.
     Glad to see that his younger sibling’s mood had improved, Gabriel smiled as he thought of the boy he had helped raise. Granted, Molochai had done most of that. Gabriel had been responsible for the children to come after, who had been bred out of a madman he had sought to destroy. The hatred he had felt for Laruku was peculiar. Nothing had been done to him directly, but such disrespect, such nihilism, it had offended him on such a deep level he could do nothing but hate. So he had. He supposed he hated all of his mother’s lovers for abandoning her (though Laruku’s had been his own doing), and for the useless spawn they had made.
     “Inferni will do what it needs to survive,” Gabriel said firmly. He believed this utterly. “It’s my duty to ensure it does.” This too, he believed. Another gull swooped overhead and bellowed noisy curses at them, and the Aquila eyed it sourly. “If you find a flute, don’t make it sound like these damn birds.”

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