This is not an exit
#1
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Razekiel Lykoi. Sorry this sucks and is so short Lin, wanted to get it up though! 359 wc

The tiny heart hammered in her chest as step after step took her out of Dahlian land. The pie bald creature had not been out of Dahlia de Mai since arriving there two months prior, yet at six months the curiosity was starting to stir. The white dream lady had told Nayru numerous times that there would be time enough to be outside of Dahlia de Mai, but ever since seeing the dream woman appear and vanish in her waking life the child had wanted to follow the lady’s advice less and less. Nayru had not dreamt of her since. Without the white lady Nayru felt a little freer, and with such freedom she decided to take the liberty of exploring outside of the pack. As she neared the border, marked only by scent, she glanced back, as if Conor or anyone else would come, tell her to stay, or that they might accompany her. No one came, no one would probably even know she was gone, and Nayru broke into a run as she crossed over into neutral territory.

There was no destination in particular and once Dahlia de Mai was behind her both physically and mentally she slowed, turned cherry eyes to the sky and knew she had all day and longer if she wished. The sun had not even reached midday and already the temperature was rising, but heading east brought her into forest and with the sun off her back the day was tolerable. Nayru tried to think back to her arrival, the packs or clans that they had skirted. Inferni was further east and so eventually Nayru’s pace slowed until she was still. Inferni was the clan of coyotes and had it not been for the talk from Bris and some of the others in the pack, she wouldn’t have any interest in them. Still she had yet to meet face to face with any of their kind, she was curious, but what if everything she heard was true? When she was older perhaps, but for now, assuming that maybe it really was dangerous, she decided to explore the forest she found herself in.



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#2
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No worries! Thank you for starting, dahling! Big Grin



Razekiel had strayed from Inferni for the first time in what felt like weeks. It was only natural, really; the Lykoi man was a nomad at heart, but Mother Earth had not been merciful with summer heat as the summer progressed. Often the coyote had simply never woken up in the mornings, left to doze in the lull of the heat throughout the afternoons, content and alone in his little tent in the middle of nowhere. He smoked his usual amount of pot, drank and rambled on about nature his usual amount, but the vagrant hadn't taken to his typical meandering. The heat was bracing; he had much preferred to stay in one place and pant the day away, but too many afternoons were spent as such, and Razekiel had had enough.


Somewhere at the edge of Inferni's newer borders was a sort of forest, and beneath the tall-standing and shady canopies he found mild relief from the sun and heat—of course, Razekiel was sure to tell the Great Mother how grateful he was of her efforts to keep him warm and provide an appropriate summer season, and assured her he would make the time to enjoy it at his fullest, though he certainly wasn't sure when or how that would be. Instead, he had found a flat rock, and on it he sat himself. Ears pointed to attention, he listened to the frolic of the birds and the whistle in the wind, a familiar joint between his teeth and a lazy lull spinning in his head. Inferni was a decent distance away, but a brief sojourn from its dark and gloomy (and hot) land and borders was welcome.


It was then that he heard movement outside the birds and wildlife. Straw eyes wandered, and though dizzy, fell upon a small, rustling bundle of black and white. He watched her only briefly before a smile spread across his face, unaware that he was already shrouded in that ill-smelling cloud of smoke. "Well look at you, little freedom fighter," Razekiel grinned, his tail making for a mild wag. "You're not so big, are you? That's right, you stick it to the man—you don't need no babysitters 'cause you can take care of yourself! Right on, man, right on!" He pounded a fist at the sky, heartily inhaled his joint, and released a long cloud into the air.


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#3
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560 wc

Whether the smell or the sound of his voice hit her first Naryu couldn’t decide. All the cow patterned pup knew was one moment she was alone and the next she was not. Blood colored eyes opened wide and triangular ears perked as Nayru’s movements stilled. Instantly the girl knew he was not a wolf, nor a dog, and that left very few other options. Nayru tried to remember what others had said about coyotes, their appearance, their personality. His face and tail matched what Liliana had described, but the coloring was all wrong. And certainly his personality was not aligning with the tales she had heard told. Still, she knew, he was a coyote. A month ago, maybe even a few weeks, she would have pointed out the obvious. You are a coyote. Yet now she did not let the words fall from her lips, confident she did not need to double check. No, she just had to be alert.

Again she let her four feet take over, yet they brought her no closer to the man. Instead they carried her in a wide half circle about the man, keeping her big, bright eyes fixated on the stranger all the while. She moved slowly, purposefully, her fairy like body made almost no noise as she tip toed about the man, trying to soak him in a little better. Eventually too much time had elapsed, and despite her slow circling he had not moved or made any hostile gestures. Nayru let a small, easy smile cross her face as she took a few, tentative steps towards the male. I’m not so very small either. She pointed this out, but it was not completely true. Nayru was not so very young, six months, but she retained her child-like features and her stature was small and delicate, making her seem younger than she was. Still, she was a child. Even if her mind was developing into that of an adult’s, her heart was still youthful and would probably never mature into the bitter or jaded metaphorical organ that so many others seemed to possess.

As if fueled by her assertion that she was not as small as he seemed to think Nayru moved closer. When she thought the distance was appropriate (close enough that she could stare into his eyes and pick out any gold flecks that were a bit brighter or paler than the predominate color but far enough that she felt she could probably leap out of reach if he suddenly became hostile) she sat back on her haunches and smiled, no trace of uneasiness on her. Nayru dipped her head and tried to mimic the elegant way she had witnessed Cwmfen do so. My name is Nayru. Lifting her chin again she watched him, eying the smoke that trailed about his head like a halo. As with all interactions she was ready with questions to fire at him. What was that stuff he inhaled like air? What was a freedom fighter? Who was the man? Did he come from Inferni? Were they as bad as some of the Dahlians said? What were those funny things sitting on his face? Why was he draped in cloth? Was he always shifted? In an effort to combine all these thoughts into one she asked a most simplified question. What are you doing?



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#4
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She was an oddball, he could tell that from the beginning. The time that spanned between his words and her first response seemed to last ages, but the spinning smile on the coyote's face faltered not once as if it was plastered there and ultimately unfeeling in its presence. This was not the case, of course, as Razekiel commonly felt nothing but that ignorant state of satisfied bliss, pleased with the ways of the world and all that went on around him. What negative feelings he had, including any doubts he had about a Dahlia-smelling child roaming the area outside of Inferni, went completely unsaid and tread upon as Razekiel straightened his back and watched her, straw eyes smiling as they followed her in her little loops around him.


Finally she spoke, and at that he gurgled some sort of laugh. "You are smaller than big, man, that's for sure," he grinned, head spinning. As soon as the words left his mouth, he'd forgotten what had been said. "I see a lot of smarts in those eyes, man. You are a little thing, but maybe your head is bigger than you?" What was he saying? He couldn't seem to put the right words together, and at that, Razekiel bent back and released a hearty laugh with little concern if the little girl followed him at all. He pushed quickly to the back of his mind that her eyes, that deep scarlet hue, brought chills to his spine; Samael's eyes had before stared at him with the same intensity and color, but for far different reasons.


When he calmed himself, Razekiel chose to listen again. "Nayru, a pretty name," he commented with an approving nod, "and I am Razekiel. You are close to enemy territory, man. Small things sometimes make bad choices." It only occured to him then that she asked him another question, and Razekiel chose to ponder it excruciatingly before preparing a thorough response: "I'm sitting, freedom girl." And smoking, but perhaps she would notice the clouds of smoke that whirled around his head.


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#5
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519 wc

Nayru titled her head slightly as the man spoke, her brain racing along behind his words, trying to decipher just what he meant. Her head was no bigger than her body, yet she knew instinctively he had not meant physical attributes. The girl believed that she understood, he was calling her wise for her age, despite the confusing way in which he phrased it so. She smiled and dipped her head to the compliment, again thinking of Cwmfen and how she seemed to have absorbed Nayru’s flattery so gracefully. Nayru knew she was not so very wise, there was much to learn and she was hunger to consume all the knowledge she could, but she was pleased to have this man think that she had potential. Although with the disappearance of the white lady Nayru thought less about her role and reason in the world, she still strived to fill her potential. When the time came, she would have to be ready, for whatever happened.

Razekiel. Nayru spoke the name slow and deliberate, practicing the sounds in her soft whispery voice. His too was a good name, and although she knew names were only labels she smiled again as he told her that Nayru was a pretty name. Mother had done well naming the girls, but her mother had done well in all aspects that Nayru could recall. There were no hurt feelings between them and if Nayru ever saw her again she would tell her so. And thank her for the name. And when Farore and Din came, for she was sure they would come someday, she would ask them if they liked their names, their labels, as much as she had grown to like her’s. Did Razekiel like his name? Nayru thought of asking, but as he seemed slow to answer her original question. The black splotched child decided to wait, storing the question away with all the others that she carried with her constantly.

He said she was close to enemy territory, and Nayru understood that he meant Inferni, but he did not seem hostile with his words. He meant them as only a warning, not a threat. With her sweet voice and solemn red eyes she answered Razekiel. Oh, I have no enemies. And it was true, although when she spoke she thought of King and his arrogance and how ill and uneasy his energy had made her feel. Nayru let King slip from her mind; they were not enemies, only opposites, and Nayru would much rather focus on this coyote, who was, as he had said, sitting. His answer had not quelled her curiosity as her sharp eyes followed the trail of smoke again. Returning her gaze to the strange face that was adorned with glasses she exhaled, readying herself for the inquisition she was about to perform and hoping that she did not overwhelm him. Why are you breathing that stuff? And what is on your face? And why are you sitting here? Am I interrupting? After the words were exhausted she looked up sheepishly and thumped her tail twice against the ground.



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#6
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And suddenly she erupted in questions, and with each one his back bent back a little as if blown away by each, his brows raised, and his glasses toppling sideways coincidentally when she questioned them. When the barrage seemed to end, he raised his ringed fingers and jingling bracelets and waved his hands, mildly cutting her off. He held his head next, laughing, the joint in his teeth tipping into his lap, briefly burning his jeans, before he patted it out and returned the smoking stick to its rightful place. "Slow down, slow down, man! We got a thousand years for talking, little miss liberty, there's no rush!" he wheezed, chuckling, and straightened the rose-colored extensions of his half-mooned gaze.


She seemed to have forgotten his warnings, though the prince had hardly meant to do more than inform her anyway. He let that go quickly and, backtracking through what had been thrown at him, attempted to return to the original question. "Marijuana, man, that's the stuff," he grinned, pulling the joint from his mouth almost as quickly as he had put it back in. "Some lifesaving smoke, man. All of Mother Earth's glory packed into one radical little package, man, sends you on a groove ride. That's the stuff. Come on, freedom girl, take a try." Shameless and unthinking, he extended the joint to her in his fingers, the jewels and shine of his rings and bracelets gleaming from a spot of sun.


"And, uh," he grabbed his glasses with his other hand, then extended it as widely as he did the joint, now holding both out boldly for her to take. "Glasses, man! Paints the Mother her favorite color, try 'em on!" In all the excitement, he completely forgot about the last few questions, and sat there grinning ear to ear instead, both arms extended and offering the joint and glasses without a second thought.


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#7
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463 wc

Nayru would have colored at the kindly rebuke, because she realized that Razekiel was right. There was no rush. None. They had all day, and even after that Nayru had the rest of her life to ask questions. Conor did not rush. Bris did not rush. And certainly Cwmfen did not rush. Nayru pictured the serene, calm lady and then looked again over Razekiel, the sharp contrast between the two souls. Yet neither of them rushed. Nayru would have to be more careful not to rush in the future, all in good time was what her father had always said and the girl knew that it was true. Everything would happen in good time and if Nayru did not expend her energy trying to hurry life along she would be all the more ready and fresh to face whatever came her way. Nayru would have taken a moment to be embarrassed by her hasty questions if the coyote didn’t move on to more important matters, such as the answers to her infinite questions.

Marijuana? The word registered in her brain but most of Razekiel’s explanation was lost on her. Lifesaving? Was it medicinal in some manner? Nayru knew that herbs and such could be used to treat illness and wounds, but she had only ever heard of making them into teas or tinctures or ingested, never smoked. Yet Nayru knew so very little about herbs and medicines that perhaps this was quite ordinary. Or maybe the smoke was the cause of the man’s disjointed words, spacey and spoken as if he was somewhere far away rather than right in front of her.

Yet for all that the explanation did not help her, there was the opportunity for her to find out first hand. Before she knew what was happening both the smoldering plant matter and glass eye coverings were thrust toward her and Nayru stared at the wonderingly. Hesitantly she sniffed at the joint, the smoke rushing up her nose and causing her to wheeze and choke. Turning her head from it and inhaling fresh air, she turned cherry eyes back to the male, glasses and joint still held out. In her lupus form she couldn’t do much but jut out her head, allowing the glasses to be placed upon her snout. The strange tint that they gave to everything only seemed to fit her mood now, and she smiled shyly up at the man. I feel very silly. Yet she was a child and allowed to indulge in silliness and so Nayru simply wagged her tail to indicate that being silly was okay, for now. Again she looked at the joint and sniffed it hesitantly, prepped this time for the rush of unpleasant smoke entering her nostrils. She didn’t gag this time.



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#8
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<3



She familiarized herself with the smoking joint in the way any child would—a daring, direct whiff of the stuff. Nayru coughed and choked on the sweet smell while Razekiel hung over her, grinning ear to ear as his torso wiggled and wavered in place, unable to remain straight. She gave him a sort of look, red eyes gleaming at him briefly enough to send another chill down his spine. No, he realized, her eyes were not like Samael's—his brother's scarlet eyes burnt like fire, while the girl's seemed sweet and fruity, like cherries freshly plucked from the tree. The prince breathed a breath of relief, perking when the glasses were taken from his grasp and perched on her nose. Her eyes seemed to cross some and her smile wiggled on her face, and in a shy voice she admitted herself: I feel very silly.


Razekiel burst into laughter at the admission; she possessed such innocence that he hardly knew how to handle it, yet it intrigued the coyote past reason. "Silly, not at all!" the prince grinned, leaning forward over her. "Look at you, man, you are beautiful! Mother Earth's most favorite fruit!" He continued his incessant, almost childish chuckling as she sniffed at the joint once more, possibly possessed by her childlike innocence and curiosity. "Come on, miss liberty, try it. You'll feel groovy all over, man, it won't hurt."


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#9
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Mother Earth’s most favorite fruit. Nayru soaked in the compliment and grinned back up at the man. Whatever had Bris and the others uneasy about coyotes, Nayru couldn’t see it. She knew, of course, Razekiel could not represent the whole population of coyotes in these parts, he was just an individual, but if there was something inherently evil or vile about coyotes than it had not affected this one. And if it had not affected this one, then Nayru couldn’t bring herself to believe that it affected the vast majority of them. Or even any of them at all. Razekiel was pleasant and praising and his good mood took hold of Nayru, the young girl allowing unadulterated joy to creep in and take hold of her heart.

Impulsively the fairy child inhaled more deeply as Razekiel offered up the weed again, whether to please him or not she wasn’t sure, but the smoke drifted in and out of her lungs as her thoughts begun to get a little cloudy. It was a pleasant feeling, as if Nayru was letting go of burdensome thoughts that she hadn’t even realized that she had. Light and airy feeling, Nayru felt at ease, both with herself and with Razekiel. It would have been natural for her to question him further on the plant they inhaled, but it felt to her, just as natural, to completely change the subject. What’s it like to live in Inferni? Her cherry eyes were dreamy, for although she had lived a life before Dahlia de Mai the memories were fuzzy at best and any place but Dahlia seemed foreign and strange. Maybe it was, or maybe it was just the same. Nayru simply didn’t know.



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What was it like to live in Inferni? He could have gone on for years about the status of the clan, present and past, and yet never found a reason to cease talking. He had been born a prince in the earlier years of Inferni, not at its initial blossoming but he had been one of Kaena's earlier litters; back then he had been one of them, he and his flute. Perhaps it was the music that had saved him, perhaps it had been what Mother Earth cherished as his gift, though unintentional, and the reason she led him astray from the clan's hurtful ways. He owed his life to her, of course, since he had turned out differently than the rest; so many of his brethren and Lykoi bloodmates were corrupted by the stain in the air, before and after the fire that cleansed the land of hatred but destroyed Mother Earth like a permanent scar. Even after the fire Inferni had remained the hazing, terrible place it had always been. No amount of fire or bloodshed seemed to remedy it.


The smile on his face faded slowly, his straw eyes gazing off into nothingness. He hated the depression those thoughts always brought, the concept that he—something whole, something good—had been born in Inferni out of so many Lykoi and yet the only one truly saved from its corruption. How could he explain that to such a small, innocent thing? She had not the airiness of the miracle plant in her system to save her from similar oppression of those words made aloud, and so he made precautions. "It is a dark place, Inferni," Razekiel said, returning the joint to his lips and making a plentiful breath from it. "Not a place for children, man. Bad things happen there. Skulls on the borders like trophies, man, proof of hate and the system of war working in the place. Dancing a mad groove there, some bad mojo, you know? So much hate, it stinks up the fresh air. Mother Earth has given up on them." He shook his head desolately as if in mourning, his shoulders sagging.


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#11
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Nayru is just all over the place with dialogue. No more pot for her Lin, okay? 300.

Bad mojo. The words were repeated by the gentle girl and she nodded her head to indicate that yes, she understood. The descriptions of Inferni’s cruelty had been more graphic when she heard them from her own pack member's mouths, but somehow Razekiel’s words were more ominous. Her heart sank like a stone as the Inferni member spoke ill of his own clan and Nayru for a moment imagined that perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps there wasn’t good in everybody. That’s what my pack has told me. Her voice dropped lower, almost inaudible, and her cherry eyes looked into Razekiel’s, almost pleading with him to reverse his words. Take them back and tell her he loved it there, that coyotes were indeed like wolves, they loved and hated but the good would usually outweigh the bad.

Yet Razekiel was good. He was pure and innocent, happy and free, at least in this moment. Almost at tears, Nayru suddenly broke into a grin, realizing she was right after all. Inferni might be a bad place, but coyotes, well, they weren’t bad. The little girl moved closer to the man, setting her front paws on his crossed legs and sniffing at the joint he had returned to own mouth. The herb had made her feel light-hearted and happy, and while she still felt the floating feeling, she wanted more. The two toned female wanted to erase the thought of Inferni with the stuff, wanted to make Razekiel forget and laugh again. I helped saved a whale’s life once. The memory had suddenly surfaced, as the event hadn’t been too far back, and Nayru’s back end began to wiggle and her tail wavered in the air, her tiny face staring up to the male’s, hoping he would take joy in such a story.



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