real discoveries come from chaos
#1
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OOC: Private for Libri.

Now that the sheep had gotten used to the wolf, Larkspur had set about doing what he could to learn about them. There were many ewes and the single ram in charge of the flock, but two young males that were most certainly his offspring. Larkspur lacked the capacity to study the sheep through books or writing, so he set out to observe them and track what they did. It had become an obsession of sorts, and he usually spent what free time he had doing such a thing. Salvia often joined him, and he had promised she would be allowed to work with them when she was older.

It had irritated him thoroughly to find one of the ewes had injured herself on a branch, driving the stick through her chest. One solid yank had dislodged it, but in the process the stupid sheep had panicked and begun fighting against him. Without thinking of healing the thing, he had snapped its neck cleanly. Larkspur carried the corpse back to the kitchen room, and there began the preparation to skin the hide.


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#2
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--

A pitch black shadow moved against the ones given life by dancing flames, lacking the elegance of the supernatural figures on the wall. The more he pondered about their two-dimensional forms the stronger became the conviction that they were spirits, perhaps hideous ones. But Pandemic D’Angelo could not escape their eternal presence, for there were members of the pack assigned to breathe life into a flame once it doused and died. There was no salvation here. Then again, this was all he knew, and he did not shy away from the known.

The dark child found his father in the kitchen, and inhaled the lovely stench of copper and fresh death. It was a well-known smell that promised substance if he was a good boy. Pandemic was always a good boy—or, at least, that was what he tried to be. But sometimes there was power in his body that he could not properly control. His weakest sibling was the one that had suffered most when the dark boy became too rough, but his intention was scarcely ill. He just did not understand his own strength.

Drawing up to his father’s busy form, Pan’s gentle jaws aimed for the back of the adult’s heel; the boy’s usual greeting.

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#3
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A yank pulled a section of the skin away, though the process in a whole would not be very difficult. He had skinned many animals but been unable to tan their hides. With Misery here the process was easier—she could instruct him in what to do, and perhaps aid in his prize. These thoughts kept him distracted from a none-too silent approach. He did not fail to recognize the teeth on his foot. It was a sharp reminder that the children were growing quickly. Pandemic did not look as young as the other two, though Salvia was quickly catching up to him. It seemed as if Wretch, the runt, would always be the smallest of the trio.

“Yer gonna have t’watch those teeth ah-yers,” he commented, looking over his shoulder to spy on his coal-black son. “They're gittin’ pretty sharp.” It did not indicate that the boy had done wrong, but Larkspur had seen the way his children played. Pan’s sheer size gave him power over the two girls, while Salvia grew aggressive and Wretch found underhanded ways to trick the other two. Perhaps the dark god that marred her fur was not as distant as he had thought. “Y’hungry?” He asked.


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#4
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Nothing was better than having his dad’s attention. The adult’s words fetched a wide, content grin from the pitch black child. Yes, he would get big sharp teeth just like his father when he grew up. No one could deny that father and son were definitely similar in appearance except for their eyes. The boy had seen his own face in the surface of still water, and was secretly disappointed that he did not share the vibrant orange of his sire. But out of sight was out of mind, though he would never forget that he carried the coat to those that belonged to Tak. It was a scary thought the young soul did not like to linger with.

An eager nod was given when his daddy asked if he was hungry. This child would never turn down the offer of a meal, and was not about to make an exception to that rule today. "Really, really hungry!” the boy roared, pushing against his father’s leg with clumsy, oversized puppy paws. Patience was not strength in the coal-black boy. Suddenly the thought of wolfing down the meat was all he could think about. He was thrilled about the fact that none of his siblings were present, for that meant that he probably got more than they! At least that logic made sense in Pan’s naïve mind.

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#5
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3+

Pandemic was Larkspur’s shadow in all truth, and there was no doubt in his father that the boy would grow to be massive. They likely would all be larger than average wolves (save Wretch) and this too pleased him. It meant they would be better prepared for the world—he had survived so many pyres because of his size, when the Khalif had taken the sick and the frail away to burn. That day they had tried to do the same for him he had fought like the devil. That same devil’s luck had saved him when Misery had appeared.

A low chuckle was given in response to the boy’s eagerness, and Larkspur’s claws (for he did not use tools outside of these often) cut through sinew and muscle and ripped away a chunk of the sheep’s flank. It was large, but he knew the boy would eat it. A few other tears were made, though only to make it easier for the boy to eat. While the puppies now fed on solids, they did not have the adult teeth they would need to rip the tougher parts of flesh away. The tall man turned and lowered the flank to the boy, orange eyes reflecting the firelight of the room. He had become used to this darkness, never reasoning that this might be entirely because the unformed claimed it as his own home back in the Khalif. Even though he had been smiled on by the pale goddess, it was Tak who claimed him and Tak who rested in his soul.

“Y’seen yer sisters?” He asked, finding it easiest to keep track of the children through this method. It wasn’t as if they were hard to find, with both girls vocal and boisterous and Pandemic rarely venturing far from the caves if at all.


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#6
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The young male fought to express patience that was not there. His tummy rumbled and his insides ached with the anticipation of nutrition. He was a different kind of simple, though his focus was solid once it had been anchored. Pan slithered around his sire’s legs like a cat, unaware that he lacked all trace of grace. His teeth itched dimly, but tearing at the raw meat was its own kind of therapy. Expectant hues of beryl watched as his father cut off a solid piece of meat for him (it was given that he assumed that the chunk of meat was meant for him), and the boy’s teeth chewed empty air as he continued to wait forever for his father to prepare it.

The meat was snatched by hungry puppy jaws the moment it was within reach of the boy, and the D’Angelo child dragged it a few feet away from his sire; following an instinctive need to protect this piece of food from the same canine that had given it to him. It was simple green shining through, and perhaps one of many signs that the boy would find it difficult to completely adjust to functioning within the pack. While he was not an unkind child, there were small traits hiding here and there that together could speak of an uncertain future. The boy would have to be formed though. Perhaps he would do just fine.

Pan’s working jaws hesitated as his father spoke to him; asking a question. The fur along the boy’s spine rose slightly at the thought of his sisters, for he was still focused on the meal and it belonged to him. Swallowing the piece he had been working on, the boy shook his head eagerly. A "No,” followed soon after. Perhaps it was a white lie, but he couldn’t know if they were outside now, because he was not there to see it with his own eyes. The light outside wanted to hurt his eyes and ridicule the coat that revealed that he was claimed by Tak. He didn’t like it. "Maybe outside,” the child added, gray-green eyes merely thin slits above the bloody chunk of meat as he thought of the outside world.

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#7
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A grunt was offered in response to his son’s short reply about his sisters. Larkspur did not know if the boy was lying, but he had no reason to believe this was the case. Instead he turned back to the skin as the puppy began his meal noisily. With one final yank, the skin was pulled free of the carcass. He had cut it at the neck, leaving him with a large section of the sheep exposed despite still having a very furry face. Someone who was not used to such a display might find it horrifying. The D’Angelo male had seen far worse in his time.

With one of the blades on the makeshift table, he began to scrape away the flesh that clung to the underside of the pelt. “Y’not a fan of the outside, huh Pan?” The older wolf asked idly, recognizing his son’s refusal to go outdoors but not finding a fault with it yet. After all, the boy had grown up underground. It was not strange that he might favor it, especially given the truth of his god’s home. Tak lived in the earth, and Pandemic had been claimed at birth by the demon-god.


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#8
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Focus slowly poured to embrace the meal once again when the young boy was certain that his father had no more questions about his stupid sisters. They were not always stupid, but whenever they were around, this was the thought that had a habit of lingering. The litter consisted of three significantly different personalities, and especially Salvia seemed to have a habit of making him feel dull with her sharp tongue and sharply hued eyes. The black child was not as developed audibly as his sisters, and he was aware of it. Being aware of his flaws made the insecurity deeper, and he did not wish to be the one to gaze up at inferior creatures. He was big and strong and not stupid!

The noisy consummation of raw meat came to a halt once again as his father’s voice reached velvet ears. The child’s bloody muzzle darted to the side in a half finished shake, but hesitated. "Too bright!” The boy did not fear judgement from his parents, for the D’Angelo children knew they were dearly loved. "It feels like I can fall up into the sky,” the young wolf mumbled, pressing his snout against the remaining chunk of flesh as he sought the specific reasons why the outside made him feel so uncomfortable. Quite often, the light would hurt his eyes. The warmth from the sun’s smile was different than the one from fire. Fire sparkled and danced; it was alive, but the sunlight seemed constant and cold in comparison; dead.

It was safer here.

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#9
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His work was meticulous and thought out. While Larkspur lacked artistic vision, he was more than capable of the human-like tasks Misery had taught him. Stealing, caring for and making leather, dealing with the horses; she had showed him all of these things. He thus worked with trained hands, albeit his fingers too large for fine details. Stitching was something he couldn’t stand, though he understood how it worked. Yet this task, running the dull blade over rubbery skin, this was something he was capable of. He was capable of much more than he suspected the other adults here believed.

This was why he understood Pandemic, who all but mirrored him in this manner. Larkspur had been burly and considered stupid by his more outgoing pack. His sister had never teased him, though she had never stopped the others from doing so. Wisteria had known her place. “The sky here ain’t that big,” he said quietly, thinking of how it had been in the Khalif. The mountains had placed them right at the borders of the clouds, and there one could fall into the heavens—if they took too many drugs or were chosen by a god to ascend. “Yer bound t’the earth anyway, Pan. Same with me.” Without turning, his voice shifted suddenly. It became clear and calm, lacking the hesitation that came when he spoke English. Tak bindet uns hier, und wir sind so an ihn gebunden. Er hat die Macht der Erde. Solange Sie die Erde berühren, werden Sie von ihm gesehen zu werden. Die beiden anderen sehen Sie, wenn Sie unter dem Himmel gehen, wie gut Sie sollten. Sie werden dich vor ihm schützen.


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#10
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End here? :O It's a bit outdated considering the pack move and all!

The child’s ears listened intently as the deep voice of his father’s reached him. He couldn’t explain the feeling that haunted him whenever the familiar, rocky roof loomed above him. Nothing bad had ever really happened outside in the light, but he very much preferred what he was accustomed to. He knew that his desires would be to lurk through these tunnels when he turned older. His father told him that he was bound to the earth anyway, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t remain where he felt most comfortable. But his father’s voice shifted and changed, turning into a harsher language where his sire’s words knew no hesitation.

Words about the dark God still scared the young mind, but he no longer suffered from the mind numbing fear. Perhaps he had seen Tak’s silhouette dance against the walls opposite a torch within their underground home, but he had never been harmed. His black pelt spoke silently of the God that claimed him. Was it really that bad? If he belonged to the darkness anyway, why should he seek protections from anyone else? But the boy did not want answers for the questions he held, so his maroon stained lips remained sealed as he merely nodded. Even if he did not understand, he could at least pretend to.

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