maybe you wouldn't be so ill

Gabriel de le Poer · 10-19-2010, 01:27 AM

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His feet followed the worn dirt path that had been carved over years of use. He did not need to think where each paw fell, for it was repetition. Gabriel frowned at the idea. Every day he did the same patrols, saw the same things, marked the same areas. He was bored. He was bored and he hated that he was bored. Peace should not have come so easily. That, in truth, was what he found so terrible. There had not been enough blood to remind them why war was such a horrible thing.

I want blood. Tayui’s voice echoed in his head. He had tried to sway her otherwise, tried to explain the world as he saw it, and still there was only blood on her mind. Perhaps he should not have been surprised. She was, after all, a wolf. All wolves were alike. The thought made his muzzle crinkle with distaste. His father had been no different either, as made apparent when the disease turned him mad and loosened his tongue. Like all the wolves before him, Gabriel too was similar. He was a halfbreed who pretended to be neither of his kin. This was a lie. He could not cut himself apart like that.

Yet there was no room within him for two halves to exist. He had thought with Haku’s death the great duel would have ended, yet now he dreamt of blue eyes and laughter and knew it was not so. Now he was faced with another great battle, but one he had been fighting since birth, one he was incapable of winning. Gabriel felt the anger rise in his chest and welcomed it.

So when he found the stranger sniffing at the borders of Inferni, there was no time for coherent thoughts. The Aquila’s voice was lost in a loud snarl, the first and only warning he intended to give. His fur rose along the spine as his muscles tensed and tightened. Not yet. The bastard had to fight or flee. I don’t want to be like you. No, she didn’t. Gabriel wanted blood as well—and he took it indiscriminately and with equal hatred for the part of him that he despised.

Oran · 10-19-2010, 04:14 PM

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Thanks for starting~ <3

Oran had been running for a long time. He hardly knew which direction he was going, or where he was headed; but the feeling of being watched had left him long ago. Now he ran from everything else; people, trees, life itself. It seemed he would never escape, and as the monotonous motions of his legs was something he didn't have to think about, Oran, for the first time since he'd woken that fateful morning, had the clarity of mind to wonder why he wanted to.

The majority of the people he'd met hadn't been so bad. A bit strange, perhaps, but not worthy of the fear and anger he felt toward...well, everyone. His complicated thoughts made his steps slow, and he finally found himself at the edge of a claimed territory--he could smell it even without coming too close. Well...no. It wasn't so much the smell of the territory, but the sense of so many wolves living in one place that made him stop, his head bending low as he stared into the claimed land to make sure no one was approaching.

Oran wasn't sure he wanted to go back the way he'd come; that meant going around the territory--which would be tedious at best--or cutting straight through it and risking getting his head mounted on a stake as a warning to other trespassers. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes narrowing slightly. His Secui form was strong, perhaps strong enough to fight off anyone who was to attack him, but he was tired; he just wanted to get away from these wolves and be done with it.

Decision made, he lifted his head again, just starting to turn when a snarl broke through the air. He whipped back around, hackles rising in an effort to seem even bigger than he was as he growled back, spreading his paws to brace himself for the first attack. It didn't occur to him to try and talk it out; he was too far gone to realize what he must look like, standing on the borders the way he was.

walk the walk talk the talk think the thought

Gabriel de le Poer · 10-20-2010, 12:59 AM

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Wolf. Male. It did not matter if he was friendly, if he was simply lost. Wolves were the enemy of Inferni Clan, and by extension, Gabriel. He lowered his head. The stranger was in his Secui form, but Gabriel had fought Haku in that form and that form alone and knew its strengths and weaknesses. Speed and agility were on his side. A snarl echoed his own as the pale wolf bristled, stiffening for an attack. Gabriel would have preferred if he had ran. The most dangerous game was far more exciting to him than a simple border skirmish.

Amber eyes narrowed to slits as the sable male dropped his body, rushing forward with a speed that seemed remarkable for his size. Training with his mother had taught him that. Fighting as a coyote had its advantages. The Aquila rushed forward as if he intended to meet the wolf head on, and at the last possible second, shot to the right. He snapped as he did this, not intending to grip as wolves did, but to draw first blood and weaken the much larger male before getting behind him.

Oran · 10-20-2010, 09:45 AM

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OOC here!

Oran didn't know the word "coyote." If he ever had, the word might have come back to him then, as so many things seemed to, along with a list of things to watch out for; light on their feet. Fast. Dangerous. Instead, the only thoughts he had were smaller. Weaker.

It was about time he learned that was not true.

He rumbled a bit as the smaller canine lunged at him, but he'd barely shifted to intercept the charge when the other male changed directions, sharp teeth scratching his shoulder--shallow, nothing like any attack he would have gone for. It confused and disoriented him, and he stared at the wound for a long moment before he swung around, finally realizing the male was behind him.

What is he doing? Playing with me? Oran stared at the male, hunching close to the ground and making no move to attack himself as he attempted to figure out what, exactly, his role in this was.

Then the sting of the scratch registered in his mind and he straightened, snarling at the other male with his ears laid back, and lunged himself, waiting until the last moment to lower his head so as to slam it into the smaller canine's rib cage and hopefully send him rolling.

Gabriel de le Poer · 10-23-2010, 12:16 PM

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There was not enough coyote in Gabriel to make him look the part. He might have been a wolf if not for his coat, if not for the sharpness in his face, if not for his absolute and bitter hatred for the breed. He tasted blood and was glad for it—first blood always was the sweetest. Gabriel rushed by his opponent and spun, seeing and welcoming the confusion on the wolf’s face. Good. The brute probably didn’t know the tactics, like the idiot wolves of Scintilla. This would be no different than that.

He remained still, muscles tensed, watching. It did not take long before the wolf settled on charging. Gabriel’s hind legs coiled like steel springs and as the wolf struck at him he moved with the blow, rushing away. It took him a moment to regain control, and he did so by rushing at the wolf again, feigning for his side before snapping at a haunch. The tactic would not last long, once the stranger had realized was he was doing. Still, that was the beauty of living in a clan of warriors—Gabriel’s tactics were many.

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