Deuteronomy 20:10-14

Gabriel de le Poer · 03-18-2011, 11:55 PM

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Word Count → 301 :: Private.

Patience was something that Gabriel had learned as he aged. Without it he would have most certainly perished many years ago. Yet this same patience led to resentment and to hate, and these things built up inside of him until they were near to burst. A wolf left Inferni, sable-pelt still thick from winter fur. The season had just begun to change, melting the snow gradually. He feared that the blizzard was not done with them yet and rightfully so. All of the streams in Inferni had begun to swell and flow with ever increasing speed. They were lucky that there was only pup in the clan.

This thought turned his eyes cruel, thinking of another boy. His purpose this day was set in motion by the weather, which was finally warm enough to grant him easy passage south. It would take him considerably less time to cross the gap to Dahlia without a mountain of snow in the way. Paws long since faded to the no-color of dust or rain paced themselves at a wolfish lope, and for all but the color of his pelt and rather sharp profile, he might have been just that. Gabriel was an unusual specimen regardless. Unlike his siblings, he had taken recessive genes for size and markings. Only his mother’s eyes were dominant, something he was glad of. She had given him so very little after that.

After several hours he came to the borders. They were familiar but changed; no longer bearing the shade of his own Shadow. Snorting bullishly at the thought of the brute, Gabriel crossed into enemy territory. His mood had begun to plummet as the too-familiar smell sunk in, and as he realized without a doubt he had been right. Itachi was Conor’s son—and by extension, Haku’s spawn.

Conor Soul · 03-21-2011, 08:28 AM

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Was this how it was to have a life crumble before his eyes? When was the last time he had been able to rest his eyes and return with a grain of rest? Downhill; it was all going downhill. But he was trapped in his own body, and it was a nightmare to watch it continue to wither like a plant separated from the sun. The process was slow, but now it had come far enough for him to be well aware of the suffering. Things had not gotten better; he had just pushed them aside and closed his eyes. Defiance could only get him that far, and what was left for him now?

Rings of exhaustion darkened his gaze, and brilliant lavender seemed not so striking these days. But he had his responsibilities and could not afford to remove the burdens that were his to carry. Nayru was making his life much easier as Dahlia’s gamma, but whatever was tearing all energy and life away would not let him go. He should have done something with his condition long ago, but he dared not think the thought that it was too late. Too late for what?

But now, there was an intruder’s scent in the air. Conor preferred to be lenient, but not today. Gabriel de le Poer should know better, and he felt cold discomfort creep up his spine as he moved. But the beast was here, and Conor knew who the clan leader sought. But why? A grim expression lingered on hues of autumn as he caught sight of the trespasser. ”What do you think you’re doing?” he sneered, voice a vivid contrast to the usual calm that did no longer exist.

Gabriel de le Poer · 03-21-2011, 06:50 PM

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The boy that found him was no longer a child. He looked ragged and worn-thin, pelt lack-luster and eyes dull. Gabriel recognized this all too well. Conor was not made to lead, and it showed. Deeper in his thoughts he considered doing what he had once sought; destroying Dahlia de Mai ultimately. It would not take much to bring the apocalypse down on a pack whose leader showed all too obvious signs of weakness. Had he been younger, there would not have been hesitation to begin another war.

Luckily, Gabriel’s purpose offered a narrow scope of vision. The wolfish Aquila pulled his lips away from his teeth at the boy’s display, his own hackles rising in response to the Alpha’s presence. “Looking for you,” he spat, golden eyes burning. He hated him simply for the blood that was carried in his veins. How could he have missed the familiarity in Itachi’s eyes, in his face, in his very way of existing? There was no longer room for doubt within him; only hate.

“A girl in my pack was raped by a wolf,” he explained, advancing. “A wolf with purple eyes.” The accusation was spoken indirectly, but his body screamed it.

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