Freak

Saraqael · 12-22-2010, 01:51 PM

OOC: Someone come luff (or hate) my little weirdo? Smile

For the record, she has not technically entered Inferni lands yet.

Character Name: Saraqael 'Destroying Angel' Kanga
Character Birthdate: November 3, 2009
Shifter?: Luperci (ortus)
Species: Mearns coyote
Gender: Female
AIM: IDateZombies
Currently played characters: No others.
How you found 'Souls: I used to play here, once upon a time, as Echo Seadance. Smile

IC:
They fucking laughed at her with their hollow, pitch eyes and their ashen maws. They sprouted in rows, ganging up on her, large and imposing, an unbeatable army of ever-grinning jackals. Ah, no, if they had been jackals, she would have feared for her safety. These were the heads of wolves, humongous and full of air, the same in death as in life. In place of being petrified, Saraqael bristled with caution. She understood that that her kind were not always pleasant, and she risked being driven off, or worse, by approaching... And yet the heads goaded her. She was dared to touch them, and when one appeared, abandoned and red-spattered on the ground, Saraqael did.

First she penetrated its eyes with her clawed, dark finger, feeling the strange ridges in the holes. Giddy, she plucked a tooth from the thing's unhinged jaw and brought it to her lips, pressing it there to feel the smoothness, then CLACK! It did not break when she chewed. It fell to the earth, covered in spittle. There was no time to worry about the destiny of loose wolf teeth when mmm, it smelled! Dirt, piss, dust, and death flooded her nostrils as she shoved her pale nose into its sharp crevices and crannies hungrily, wildly. She cared not if the ridges scraped or cut her – the frenzy sparked by her curiosity could not be stopped. Her dark paw pads touched the skull's paper-dry surface and she listened to the rustling sound of her own rubbing hands. Ecstasy.

In the open, making tactile and sensory love to a deceased animal's persistent remains, Saraqael cared little for the fact that night was falling, that the gloaming was stretching out purple and orange over weather-ragged trees. It was winter, which meant that she was largely safe at night. Her pale body and dark markings were perfectly suited for the time, for she might dash behind the low-hanging branches of a conifer and be mistaken for nothing more than a stray scent on the breeze.

Kaena Lykoi · 12-23-2010, 07:08 PM

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HIIIIIIIII Big Grin -FRANTIC WAVING-

There was a quietness in Inferni when there should have been none. The scarred woman herself was quieter, changed, somehow -- there had been something in Itachi that had snapped, and Eris had gone away, too. The old hybrid felt as if she should have been changed in a deeper way from these things, but she was not. It was as if she had become numbed to it, at long last -- or maybe there was just too much relief in both of them being gone. She could not say, but it was better than misery or anguish over what had happened. At least she could still function if she felt like this.

There were rumblings to their eastern border, some rumors of a new pack -- maybe this was where they had gone. She wished both of them had gone farther away, if so -- there was but a short distance between Inferni and this new place, and the scarred hybrid did not have her whole Halcyon to roam over anymore. Not that she left the clan's borders often, anyway. Most of her time was spent here, patrolling their borders -- such an act she was presently engaged in. Though her old bones creaked and protested with the cold, the hybrid was able to smoke away some of this soreness, and she spent the evening wandering in a half-baked haze. It was the only way she could get over the arthritis, anymore -- days she tried to go without were too painful.

Distant sounds caught the one-eyed woman's attention, and she made her way forward cautiously. Even now, she carried her utility knife on her when in Optime form. She had not trained with it, but it was better than nothing, she supposed. Most sane canines might see such a weapon and decide they were out-armed. The crack of something falling to the earth caused her to hurry her pace, and at long last she caught the scent of a stranger, which had denied from her vantage point by the wind up until that point. When the woman came into view, a stern look crossed the coyote's face, and she peered at the canine who seemed intensely interested in one of their skulls.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyebrows leveled and voice booming in her best Gabriel impression.

Word Count :: 390

Saraqael · 12-23-2010, 07:42 PM

OOC: Word count 354. HAI! XD

IC:
Tiny lacerations had slit open on her nose. Little streams of crimson ran down like thin, salty snot. Saraqael licked them away dexterously, tongue passing over her fore-face like a pink windshield wiper. The pain was forgivable because it had been worth it to feel and smell it all but she had learned that wolf skulls were not nice things. They had points and edges that were better familiarized carefully with the eyes, less with sensitive organs. Just as she considered herself fulfilled, surprisingly so for the voraciousness with which she had begun, a voice pounded the silence, deep and demanding like thunder.

Set in a dark mask, both of her orbs rounded with surprise. The Optime's ears fell back and her body, already ridiculously small, caved in on itself. She dropped the skull. The smoky pieces collided with the closely white ground in a jangling clatter, the lower jaw falling off, sending a few teeth skidding. Her little chest rapidly expanded and contracted with frantic breaths. Anxiety-induced adrenaline was flooding her nervous system relentlessly – it demanded flight. But she had been asked a question. This was what she had come here for – to find those whose smell was like her own, at least in part. Saraqael had not expected anything as terrifying as this. It took effort to force the hyperventilation to stop, her lungs easing into a normal breathing pattern in spite of fear.

The heavily scarred, one-eyed woman loomed over the pallid youth. She dared not rise from the place where she knelt. Instead Saraqael regained herself, no small feat for the petrified coyote, and dipped her head in respectful acknowledgement. Finally, her bi-colored muzzle parted in speech, meek and low. “I have never seen a wolf skull before. I like new things.” Lame, but honest. It was an appropriate start. A better beginning was with her name: “I am Saraqael Destroying Angel Kanga. I am seeking a home.” Her tiny hands found purchase on her satchel straps which crossed and tied at her belly and over her almost non-existent breasts. She clenched them, the rough fabric comforting her with its well-known texture.

Kaena Lykoi · 12-23-2010, 08:48 PM

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The silver-shaded hybrid knew there had been vandalism to their skulls before. She had been here the summer before this past one, where the wolf had tormented their skulls, breaking them at every opportunity. Most were intelligent enough to recognize them as symbols of danger, but others took them as a challenge, a silent and staring dare to dismantle the power of the coyote clan. She thought she had recognized some of that in this one here, but as the skull rocketed to the ground and the coyote seemed to shrink to nothingness, sheer terror showing on her face, the old hybrid realized she had been mistaken. The austere expression on the scarred woman's face faded, though there was no forgiveness in it.

“Thought you were trying to break it. Didn't do it any good, either way,” the hybrid said dryly, picking up the skull and jaw, studying both with her single eye. She did not seem to respond to the woman's introduction at first; her eye simply studied the missing teeth and detached jaw for a moment before turning and replacing the skull haphazardly to the post. The jawbone she set down at the base of this same pike, figuring someone might fix if later. If not, it was just the jawbone -- easily replaced, and not integral to instilling fear into the hearts of those who viewed their borderlands. “Well, this is Inferni, and I am Kaena Lykoi. If you're looking for a home here, you'll need some kind of skill,” she said, still showing relative indifference to the canine. It was better than the potential anger she had shown a moment ago, though.

Saraqael · 12-24-2010, 12:14 AM

OOC: WC 445

IC:
Saraqael had not attempted to cause damage and would not have if she had not been so damned afraid. Being small, a coyote, and strange-looking had taught her to fear, though Kaena, clearly with some great deal of coy blood, looked like a warrior. Her face was even permanently bloodied by a distinct vermilion mark along the bridge of her nose, lending a ferocity to silky silver, white, and other neutral tones. Saraqael's bi-colored gaze fell to the stray jawbone. “If you give it to me, I can fix it.” In her mind, it was far superior to a hollow apology and it proved she was useful for something besides needless destruction.

Expectedly, the leader was about business and asked for a testimony of worth. The ghostly girl knew in the pit of her empty stomach that she would be turned away, but she had not come all this way or separated from her family to depart without trying. Silently, swift, small-boned hands worked to undo the ties that kept her satchel secure. Strings loosened and pockets flew open in a blur, and in a moment she had laid out some of her favorite dyed furs. Two snowshoe hare arm bands nestled in her lap, one yellow and turquoise striped, the other a purple-speckled, red ordeal. She unfolded a young doe pelt fashioned into a top with tinted green whorls, its white spots carefully colored in shades of blue. They were popular with many and she had bartered with them for useful things. “I am a fur dyer by trade.” As though hearing their purpose, her dye jars clanked their chorus as she shifted her legs beneath her. A bead of snow had worked its way between her toes and was melting, uncomfortably cold and wet.

“As such, I know the skills for tending various plants – my mother's surname was Greenthumb. She also taught me to cultivate mushrooms.” She had spore prints with her for when the summer arrived. If she could find a cave with an appropriate climate and took the time to gather substrate, she could incubate them. “I am small, fast, agile – specifically useful for spying, and good at hunting hare.” She had to be – her job depended on it. “I can read and write well.” Her little voice faded to silence, snatched by a chill gust.

She could offer nothing more. She was young and relatively inexperienced. Lies swayed on her tongue seductively but Saraqael knew better than to speak untruths to this one, especially if those falsehoods would be unspun by sheer proximity of living. Humble and timid, she awaited her verdict.

Kaena Lykoi · 12-24-2010, 01:15 AM

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If you want, you can post once more, and then we wrap? :o Or just ask to have it archived, either way. ^^ Also holy carp longpost. >_> Sorry!

The pale coyote was far more frightened than she was angry; the latter reaction would have been expected from someone with malicious intent. The hybrid's yellow-golden eye searched over her pale body, seeming to take direct interest for the first time. She was young, far younger than Kaena herself, though that was generally the case. Old coyotes did not usually seek new homes. Aside from the youth, the other thing that stood out about this coyote was her paleness -- from a distance, Kaena had expected to find some hue to her fur, there was none, aside from her hair and a few splotches of coal. These were odd shades, though the Centurion did not see any hint of hybrid in the newcomer.

“Good idea,” she said, though she made no move toward the skull or the jawbone. Expectantly, she instead watched as the younger canine moved to untie her bag, producing evidence for her claims. Such a thing the scarred woman was not used to -- it had been a long time she had stalked the borders, but it was a rare show that applicants made a physical show of their talent. Appreciatively, Kaena stepped toward the woman, her remaining eye peering over the brightly-colored items with interest, returning to Saraqael's face when she spoke once again. Though quiet, the hybrid nodded her head a few times. When it would seem the newcomer was finished speaking, a faint smile showed on Kaena's scarred muzzle.

“You have a few different talents, and your skill with plants should be especially handy,” the hybrid said, motioning for the newcomer to come forward and cross the border. She was impressed, but she would not speak of it verbally -- it took more than a good show at the borders to truly cement oneself into the Centurion's favor, and she would require a bit more longevity before granting Saraqael any verbal compliments, but it may have shown on her face anyway. “We have a greenhouse, and we could always use the extra help there. And, if you like rabbits, you ought to head to the northeast corner of the territory, up on the hills. There's a lot of rabbits living out that way,” she said, pointing to illustrate the direction.

“Most of the clan either lives in the mansion, which is close and in the forest here, or in the caves -- they're right along the beach. If neither suits you, settle where you'd like.” It was more than she usually spoke, but the scarred woman did not like to abandon her charges to the clan without any instruction -- it was half of her job to make sure they became acclimated to the clan anyway. “Questions?” she asked, turning her head toward the woman. “Oh, the skull. Fix it later, if you'd like. Get settled first,” she added, almost as an afterthought. It had passed from importance in the scarred woman's mind; the damage had been accidental, and they now had a new clan-member instead. It was a trade she would make any day.

Word Count :: 511

Kaena Lykoi · 12-24-2010, 01:16 AM

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Saraqael · 12-24-2010, 02:26 AM

OOC: Whoa. It's cool - this one's 531. :O I will archive. ^_^ Thanks!

IC:
The fey glanced at Kaena, disbelief plain in her close-mouthed gaze. One by one, the grinding, twisted knots in her stomach released their painful hold on her. It was improbable that she was accepted, miraculous that the battle maiden would feign consider her handy, but the tiny Mearns was no fool. She would not look a gift horse in the mouth and be bit for her insolence. Nimbly she gathered her top and other wares, folding and tucking them with practiced ease and certainty of placement into her travel bag. Remembering how her glass containers had sounded like bells at her slight motion, she readjusted the stained padding between them and gave the satchel a jiggle for good measure. Nothing issued forth, and it was good. If a jar shattered, her clean, unworked furs were likely ruined even though they were kept separately in pouches. Pasty dyes still seeped, though thick, and their pungent colors were not worth trying to wash out. It was an expensive, time consuming disaster she would have liked to avoid.

With her materials resettled, she set upon the greenhouse as her first destination, if she could encounter someone kind enough to help her find it. Saraqael was far too stressed from her life-changing borders experience to consider food but she took note of the pointed direction anyway for when she did need to eat. She hoped that among the lapines were some of their larger, winter-clad cousins. Restocking the bases for her best and brightest pieces could only be done in the coldest season when the pelts of hares turned milky. The vascular tang of their purple meat pleased her as well, causing her to favor it over others.

Both bat's ears rotated to the left, cupping the sound of a nocturnal owl's first hoot. Dusk had fallen, nighttime predators slipping into shadows to ready themselves for hunting. Kaena was generous with her, giving her the knowledge and permission to choose her own quarters, a decision the leucistic girl would not make lightly. Saraqael had it in her head to explore the lands before making any final picks.

Wordlessly, as was her way, she recollected the jaw of the expired canine, looping its large, weighty U over her forearm. Claws scrabbled across crusty snow to suck up teeth, then stash them in an open pocket of her backpack. Finally, she reached with both padded hands for the largest portion of the decoration. Its blank stare brought to mind the small scabs that must have been forming on her pointed snout. Her nose smarted in the dry, frigid air. With her frenzy dissipated, the skull's large, cumbersome nature was more obvious. Tucking it awkwardly under her opposite arm, she was ready to cross the line. The girl did so daintily, a little quiver passing through her as though she expected an unearthly bolt of lightning to strike her dead for the offense. No such divine retribution was carried out.

“No questions,” Saraqael said, nodding her head to Kaena in thanks. A wayward, uncertain smile crooked the corners of her mouth upward. With the leader's permission, she entered Inferni hopefully, starting in the direction of the mansion.

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