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OOC here: Table & Coding © James
The boy was quite a sight. His appearance was frail and skeletal. Honestly it seemed a miracle that he had even survived to be almost a year in age. As a pup he had been the last to feed and always got whatever meager scraps were leftover. He had never had enough to feed his belly and it showed in the fur draped directly over bone. He was a walking skeleton. Should one need an anatomy lesson then he was the perfect subject for it with the way that his bones seemed to threaten to rip apart flesh should be move too quickly. Of course that was a silly notion but seemed entirely possible with the way each and every rib could be counted.
Where he had come from was unknown but simply that he had always been in the area. He had taken to haunting the cemetery though. What other place could be a more perfect fit than that? Bones rested atop hidden bones. He had learned to lay out in the sun and just wait. If he waited long enough then at times the birds would come down to pick at his flesh and he could snag one to eat. It was never enough but at least it got rid of the hunger pains during the time. It allowed him to stave all the symptoms of hunger and starvation to make it through yet another day.
He was laid sprawled out atop the graves once again. He remained as still as he possibly could, taking only slow and deep breaths so that he could give off the image of death. He laid staring blankly at nothing in general and tongue lulled out the side of his mouth. The boy was once again doing the only ruse that he knew of to scare up some food. He was mimicking death in a place of death. And he was doing quite a convincing job, or so he would like to think.
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He could see them rising from the ground, shadowy, with bones exposed. He could feel their nails raking across his flesh, not realizing that he was clawing at his own skin. Internally, he was split and fractured into a thousand pieces. Long, ragged hair hung around his face and down almost to the ground as he walked in a low, four-limbed crouch—animalistic and feral, despite his form. Jaws cracked apart as he snarled quietly, walking his hands up a tree from the ground to midway up the trunk. Slowly, he dragged them downward, shredding the bark and removing the blunt edges to his nails, worn down by constant travel, in the manner of a feline.
Again and again he did this, until he was satisfied with the ends of his claws. He could smell something alive. Head jerked, removing the hair suddenly from his face—pupils shrinking to pinpricks from the light. Teeth clicking together once, he approached the unmoving figure, crawling close, aiming to place one hand against the skeletal flank. Head lowered, sniffing curiously at the creature, searching for the scent of rot and outward decay.
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James
He laid still as he waited for his food to come to him. He didn't pay attention to his surroundings but only on the things that felt. He had to be quick and recognize the first feelings of something messing with his skeletal body. He had to surprise the bird that would come to peck at his body and snap its neck before it could get away from him. It was the only way that he knew to hunt. To pretend to be fresh did in order to get something to place into his belly.
It took awhile but then he finally felt something messing with his rump. He quickly lifted his head to jerk it in order to snap his jaws at whatever it was. But what it was certainly wasn't what he had imagined it to be. Rather than some small little scavenger that he could swallow in a couple of bites it was another canine. He hadn't seen another like himself in... he didn't know how long. He couldn't even begin to process the time that he had spent alone.
He had no idea what to say. He had been without interaction for so long. All he could do was just lay there with his head lifted and stare at the other. What was there to say after he had snapped at someone? He had thought that the other was food and he had no idea how to even begin to explain that one. Whatever advantage that he thought he had was lost now.
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He didn’t smell dead. The flesh, though thin, smelled fresh. Somewhere, the heart still beat steadily, locked within its cage of narrow bone. He could count every rib exposed in the animal’s side if he so chose. But there was no time for deeper contemplation as life stirred rather suddenly within the corpse-like frame.
The head snapped up and the jaws closed before his face, but Samael’s reflexes were on point, causing him to jerk violently back before teeth could graze his flesh. He snarled, lunging forward as though clip his teeth anywhere and everywhere possible on the coyote’s muzzle in return.
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James
The male whined as jaws closed around his muzzle. He put up a feeble struggle but it was for naught. The jerking only lasted a moment or two before he gave up instead of going into death throes or something of the like. Instead he let loose another whine and flattened his ears back against his skull to make him look even more pitiful. With his own mouth out of commission he was reduced to pleading with the other with his eyes alone.
He really should have expected retaliation for his action that came with a lack of an explanation. But how did you tell someone that you thought they were a bird and therefore food? What was the proper way to say such a thing? He had no idea and so he hadn't spoke up because of it. Of course now he was suffering for it.
The boy was reduced to whimpering quite quickly. He tucked his tail between his legs, and had he been able to he would have flopped onto his back to fully expose his belly. He lifted a paw to try to touch the other's face. He wasn't trying to claw him or anything but just gently laying his paw there, trying to beg in another fashion. Maybe if he placed his paw on the other's snout then he would release his hold? It wasn't a well formed thought or plan but he didn't know how else to indicate what he was hoping to happen with all of his whimpering and whining.
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He struggled, whining and acting pathetic. One paw touched his muzzle, pleading for his life with his eyes and the soft, muffled sounds in the back of his throat. Easily, he could have killed him. Easily, he should have killed him. But he released, pulling away, recoiling from the youth.
“Pathetic,” he whispered, reaching out a hand as though to touch the bony, grayscale face in return. “Why play dead? Do you wish for death so badly?” he asked, his voice taking on an almost endearing nuance.
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James
Pathetic? It was probably a word that he used to hear often. He could hardly remember what it was like to be part of a social structure. Clearly, with his look, he was at the lowest rung. He only ever got enough to ease the ache in his belly. And some days he didn't even get that. It seemed like today would be another of those days when he would have to slip into a fitful sleep to try and ignore the hunger pains that gnawed away at his insides. there were times when he could practically swear that he felt his body eating itself from the inside out.
Once he was released he simply opened and closed his jaws a few times, making sure that they still worked and nothing had been crushed. After all he had quite the frail and brittle appearance. He gave another low whine as he rolled over to expose his non-existent belly to the other. his head was lifted from the ground so that he could try and aim licks at the underside of the male's chin. Of course he would be overly submissive after having his life spared.
Still he had a question to answer. "Food." Voice was bit a ghostly whisper that cracked when it came out. it was obvious that he didn't speak often. He barely knew how to make himself audible which is why it was a good thing that canines had sharp hearing. "Bird peck. Snap neck. Eat." He continued on in that short and to the point way. His communication skills were obviously faulty since he couldn't even manage a full and complete sentence.
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His explanation was flawed, disjointed, and barely made any sense. Samael didn’t even know what he was attempting to convey at first. For the most part Samael had learned to communicate vocally, though his sense of being fractured when his mind frayed and split, openly showing in his speech. Some days he was someone else. Some days he was catatonic. Today, though, he was here. He grinned, wide and devilish. “Poor creature, pretending to be a corpse and thinking that will prevent you from truly becoming one.”
The animal was submissive, rolling over and displaying his taunt belly, and momentarily the prince’s ego was sated by this display. He was some sort of stray, that much was apparent. Out here alone he’d surely, quickly die. Only a love of death kept Samael alive, feeding on the flesh and blood of others to keep his heart beating. “What will you do now? Lie back down and wait for the birds to peck your bones clean?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James
He wasn't used to having any to talk to. He didn't have daily communication to have any real skill in it. What was said was short and to the point. Or at least he had tried to get his point across. Whether it could actually be comprehended and perceived correctly was another story. He had at least tried to answer the question just as best as he could think to do so. And it seemed that it had worked well enough for he hadn't been asked to repeat himself.
When the other spoke it was confusing. At least for him he was. After all he had proven himself to be less than well-versed. So the semi-poetic words were over his head. And then even when he was questioned in simpler terms he was still confused and couldn't think of a proper response. Mostly it was because he was stuck wondering if there was something else to do.
"Do now?" He ended up answering the question with a question. He really had no idea what else there was to do. Besides laying around for birds to come to try and get something to eat this was his first real interaction. His life thus far had been one attempt to get something to eat after another. He lived from one small meal to the next, with plenty of failed hunts in between. "What do?" Again with the simple speech that didn't exactly explain what was on his mind. But the confusion and curiosity was evident upon him. He wanted to know what there was to do, just what the other male had meant.
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He didn’t see the world around him as others did. He believed in heaven and he believed in hell. His language inadvertently showed the internal workings of his mind, and how and what he could have become had he not become so utterly stricken with mental affliction. He could have truly been a charismatic prince, but instead he was the lowly vagabond. Life just wasn’t fair sometimes. Occasionally, the demon’s true self gleamed through the mire—like the lucid, vibrant quality to his blood-red eyes, nestled in the skeletal face framed so thickly by dank, dark hair.
Stained, yellow teeth showed past his lips as he again smiled. The creature really was as simple as could be. He had two options: take advantage of him, or remove him from his quiet misery. Mentally, the cat plucked idly at the mouse, contemplating his next course of action. “Thankfully, I am here to save you,” he whispered, voice almost reverent. Crimson eyes widened in his hollow face. “I am Samael, an angel. What is your name, little one?”
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James
The boy waited in silent submission for those artfully picked words to be explained to him. For the other to give him an insight into just what they meant. Clearly his mind didn't function on the same level as this other male's did. He couldn't speak eloquently. In fact he was struggling with just his simple terms. His life was typically filled with silence and staring blankly and waiting. There was really not much to it past that.
"Angel? Save me?" He mimicked the words in bits and pieces. He still didn't understand exactly what was going on. But for some reason it seemed that this older male had taken an interest in him. Who could say exactly though. Still this was the most exposure to another canine that the boy had in quite some time. Actually, he couldn't remember ever really being in the company of others. Certainly he had to at some point or else he wouldn't be around but he couldn't recall any of that.
A name? He knew that one. And just finally having a question where he could be fully confident in the answer excited him. It had his tail thumping against the ground. "Sancti. Spiritus Sancti." It was the one remnant of his past that had stuck with him. The one thing that he could remember from that void of time. Then again it was a fairly important bit. The child sat up a bit, looking up eagerly at the other as if he were waiting for some treat or praise for a job well done.
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His own salvation resided in his bloodline, and in those souls whose presence acquired just a tiny fragment of who and what he was. Love didn’t exist for him in creatures that didn’t deserve it. He would quickly see to the destruction of anyone that crossed him. But he needed to live on, gaining immortality in this world along with the next.
The name struck a cord, and Samael was immediately smitten. The Cheshire grin returned. “Holy Spirit,” he said, desiring to blacken his soul and see to his damnation the instant that the words were uttered past his lips. This creature wasn’t meant to die. Not so easily. He reached out to cup the animal’s muzzle with his fingertips, leaning in and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Yes, I will save you. You are mine now, ethereal one.”
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James; This has nothing to do with the post but I suddenly want to give Spiritus a rosary, which makes me think it would be often if Sam gave cause then he'd use it to pray to Sam *has random/strange ideas*
His head cocked to the side with the utterance of the words. He vaguely remembered hearing something like that before. To him it didn't hold the meaning that it certainly did to the other. To him it was just some more words. Something that related to his own name even if he wasn't exactly certain how. Still the other seemed pleased with it for he had grinned and that cause Spiritus's tail to give a happy thump against the ground.
This boy was proving to be easy enough to corrupt with the way he sat eagerly awaiting Samael's every word. The way that he was happy if Sam seemed to be happy or in a good mood. Or the way that he backed down and grew submissive if the other displayed aggression. He was already hooked. He had already proven that he would struggle to please the other. Then again he had no one else.
He gave a vague whine as his muzzle was grabbed, clearly worried that he might have upset this angel, thought it quickly turned into a happier sound as he was kissed. The wraith-like coyote made to try to return the affection. He stuck out his tongue and tried to lick at the hand that was holding onto him. Again he was following the other's example and was aiming to please him yet again.
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He wore a variety of jewelry—the bangles on his wrists, cluttered with other assorted things that he’d found and collected over time. His ears were adorned with pieces of metal and the single jet stud that he’d worn, never removing, since his first year of life. In his youth he’d been vain and beautiful, but the instant that his brother had marked his face, marring his beauty, self-mutilation had begun. Beneath it all he remained fine-boned and lovely, though gaunt and decayed. He was like a victim claimed by leprosy, though his affliction was solely within his mind. Scarred and burned, all loveliness had faded. Only once the initial shock and horror had faded away could former beauty be detected.
From his wrist he plucked a rosary, briefly accepting the show of affection presented to his hand before drawing it away and removing the article from amongst the others. He held up the cross dangling from the end, showing it to the coyote. “I am the savior. I am the messiah. One day soon, someone will come to kill me. My body may die, my flesh and blood may be torn apart and decay back into the earth, but I will live on. I am an angel, and I will return to heaven. I am immortal and I cannot die. Remember this, and remember me,” he said, placing the rosary around his neck.
He began a prayer, slowly moving his fingers along each bead with the ending of one and the beginning of another, showing the younger coyote as he went. “Remissionem peccatorum,” he purred, his voice low and velveteen. “Carnis resurrectionem, vitam aeternam.” He would show him, and he would learn. He would worship Samael, and he would worship the Angel, the Light-bearer, and he would fall from grace just as fate intended.
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James; Awwe, you didn't really have to. It was just a random thought
The boy stared at the swaying cross as it was presented to him. Though once the other had begun to speak He found himself focusing on Samael once more. Though the words had him quickly whining again. "No, don't leave." He spoke up before thinking about it, before thinking about how it might be perceived. He just didn't want the other going anywhere. He didn't want to be left alone again.
"Can't die." He shook his head forcefully. "No. No one kill." He hadn't known the other for any great length of time at all but he knew that he didn't want to lose the only one to have shown any sort of interest in him. After all the other had claimed him so he couldn't lose him already.
The coyote child watched as the rosary was place around his neck, a cherished gift from his personal angel. He continuously glanced between the religious relic, along with the movement of that man's fingers, and up to his face and lips as a prayer was spoken. He wasn't sure if he was meant to mimic the other or not but ended up repeating the words anyways. "Remissionem peccatorum, carnis resurrectionem, vitam aeternam."
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He’d always known that he would be murdered. He would never wither away into old age, becoming feeble and decrepit. He wouldn’t lay down and just die. No, he’d be torn apart limb from limb, spilling his blood into the soil and leaving behind an angry, disturbed energy, imprinting this eternally onto the world. Then, he would return to his throne as a prince of hell. Perhaps again he would return, possessing a new body brought about through another vessel as he’d done this time around.
Eternity stretched out before him, and a horrible, terrible longing for this world’s destruction. Chaos would reign. He finished the final prayer, reaching the end—or beginning, full circle—of the beads. His fingers fell away from the rosary. “The savior’s blood is meant to be spilled,” he said, quietly assuring the youth of fate. “But I will never truly die.” He smiled, wickedly.
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OOC here: Table & Coding © James
He was whining again, easily broken down mentally to respond to disheartening noise in a disheartening way. "You come back?" He asked, looking and sounding quite pitiful as he was again trying to lick at the other's chin. Even though it was nothing but talk just yet he already felt despair and depression as if it had already happened.
He rolled over to lay on his belly and placed his head down between his forepaws with a forlorn look on his face. He felt as if he had already lost the other even though Samael was still placed before him. Timidly he reached out with one paw to try and lay it on top of the other male's hand. Just words of the other's immanent doom had brought him very nearly back to his husk-like state. Brought back to the state of being little more than a breathing corpse.
Still, at least he has something to remember the other by. His tongue slipped out to lick fondly at the cross, caressing it as one might think to caress a lover. For now the boy seemed to have forgotten all about the man before him in order to lavish attention upon the gift that was bestowed upon him. "Angel Samael." He whispered out the name in a reverent fondness as he continued to lick at the artifact.
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Yes, he was an angel—a black-winged demon of destruction. Distantly, quietly, he could hear the gentle creak of leathery appendages. He was the liar and the adversary. This creature would fall just as everything that he touched was meant to. He would personally fill the infernal lake with screeching, tormented souls. His love was of the most vile, wicked brand.
He looked on with a pleased, pleasant air, watching the creature as he caressed the cross with a gentle tongue. “That’s right,” he said. “Samael the angel.” He would take him home, and keep him tucked tightly beneath his blood-stained wing.
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