even angels learn how to fly

Talitha de le Poer · 04-21-2011, 10:04 PM

[html]

It wasn't uncommon for the woman to throw a fit instead of think rationally. Rarely was anyone capable of calming her. Yet, as she fumed about the deed committed by her cousin, Gabriel's words made so much sense. She already did so much to protect herself against everything but physical attacks. No love, no real name, nothing that might allow someone to gain the upper hand in her life. The rage stopped short as she realized what her father told her. The fits were just as dangerous to her as everything else she closed herself to. But what enemies did she have in this day and age? Haku was dead, and he had never truly been her enemy. Andrezej was a distant memory. This collie from the dogs, oh she was nothing. Talitha saw now that her family was hers, that nothing would move them while she managed to breath. Still, there was no place for a weak-minded child in the world of adults.

Her breathing halted before starting slowly, one deep inhale followed by a fitting exhale. The coyote's face turned over her shoulder. "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry." How strange it was to apologize to her nocturnal King, especially for something that might have seemed so trivial. To outsiders, the new knowledge might not have seemed so important, but to his daughter, it was everything. She wasn't so stupid to think she knew more than Gabriel.

She allowed herself to sit once more, body falling back against the cold ground as her eyes gazed upward. The faintest memories of her childhood danced around the edges of her mind. "I lived here once, with you and mother and Zekie," she murmured, one frail hand taking inventory of all the pockmarks and rocks on the ground. "We were happy then, weren't we?" Happy. When had she truly last been happy?

Gabriel de le Poer · 04-21-2011, 11:24 PM

[html]

Even now, he detached himself. Even now, he watched her with the wariness of a man who was used to war. Her fit seemed to pass as she gained control, and here he recognized that she had perhaps taken heed of his words. She would remain weak as long as she left herself open. Talitha was not yet hardened like her brother, but her brother had been trained by warriors and by the wild. She had been cut deep young and never truly recovered from that most grievous wound.

His face remained an obelisk wall, but his eyes darkened with the hurt of losing everything he had once cherished. Gabriel could pretend well, and he did; but while he could cut out the fear for his family, he could never cut out the loss. “Yes,” he said quietly, rising to his feet fully and moving towards the entrance. “I picked this cave so we’d always have room. I managed to fill it up though,” he added, albeit it without much emotion. He did not expect, nor want, his children to come into his home if they had their own. He had grown used to the silence.

Talitha de le Poer · 04-21-2011, 11:37 PM

[html]

So her dreams were not false when she remembered days where Faolin smiled and Gabriel watched his children play, as she had once believed them to be. It seemed so impossible. Now they had fallen there separate ways. Gabriel was no father, much as she loved him; to Talitha, it seemed the man had trouble allowing himself to show he cared. She couldn't blame him, in all honesty. Many times over she had to remind herself that those who sought to hurt them could do it through their family. That had been proved during her youth, when Haku had stolen her away and Andrezej had shattered the fragile psyche of a child. She had tried to be like him, but it was so hard to turn from flesh and blood to stone.

She didn't watch him as she moved toward the entrance, instead trying to recall moments when they had been a family. It was few and far between. The woman rolled from her back to her stomach, resting both palms against the stony ground. "Where did all of that go? Sometimes I think I miss it, and then I realize I don't remember what it was like." The briefest laugh escaped her, as if it were both sad and funny. "How the mighty have fallen. Look at us now. The lost prince and princess with their absent father-King." Always a fantasy in the mind of the de le Poer, where she was a princess amongst a court of loyal subjects. She supposed that now she would be a Queen, with no mother to hold her back, the oldest de le Poer female hiding in the shadows. How disappointing she was.

Her eyes finally returned to Gabriel, having to seek him out after his move. She tried to smile, a pretty thing that didn't show itself nearly as often as it should. "Sometimes I wonder if we would be different had she stayed. Why do you think she left us? If she loved us, why did she go?" A question she had never been able to answer. Before, it had been untouched territory. At least with Gabriel. But now, she couldn't hide her inquiries. She thought of Faolin more often than she should have.

Gabriel de le Poer · 04-21-2011, 11:52 PM

[html]

Gabriel had learned long ago to forget the what-if’s, knowing that doubt only led to despair. What could have been was an impossible dream, for God’s path had been made and they would walk it. He stood at the entrance of his den and listened to the ocean in the distance, eyes following the swiftly growing grass that was not half what it would be come summer. This place was home to him now, and he loved it far more than the strip of beach Hell’s Coast had been. It reminded him of the northwest Americas, where the land had been nothing but grass like this. That place was quiet and empty and endless. Had he stayed, it might have killed him from the inside out.

While he did not stir at her mention of the russet woman that had abandoned them all, his face betrayed him; it twisted into a grimace, showing teeth to the empty plain below. If he had been capable of running, he would have. That was always his solution to problems; run, even if he would be forced to face them again. Run, because there was no thought in running, and the stillness too would come to kill him from within. “I don’t know,” he said lowly, unable to hide the hatred in his voice. “I think it would have been easier if she never came back,” Gabriel added darkly, despising her for doing such a thing.

Talitha de le Poer · 04-22-2011, 12:13 AM

[html]

She knew the territory would be rocky, yet she spoke of it anyways and when he replied, she was not surprised to hear the hatred that fueled his voice. Guilt spread through her chest as she realized what Pandora's Box she'd opened. With slow movements, she pulled herself from the ground, grimacing only for a moment as healing ribs twisted into something painful. It passed quickly. She approached the male with all the careful steps of a wary rabbit that approached something it knew to be dangerous. Once beside him, she wound delicate arms about his neck, letting her head rest against him. She couldn't say if she felt the same; much of her young life was spent running around without her family.

"She's unimportant now. You have me, and I love you and Ezekiel loves you." She had been wrong to speak of the woman she so resembled with her red coat and red eyes, but she couldn't take it back. She could only try to apologize, in her own way; somehow she felt a simple 'sorry' didn't suffice. Talitha had always been closer to her father than her mother, fleeing the safety of her godmother to return to Inferni during the war. Her hatred of the woman ran deep, but she was certain her own hate was far different from that of the scorned lover. Her fingers sought and fount the medallions worn about her father's neck, perhaps for her own comfort though she only understood the meaning of the cross. "God has plans for me, you both say that. I'm not sure I believe you."

It was easy for her to turn the subject away from a traitorous whore to the beloved God that she and her father shared. Ezekiel had expressed the same possibility as Gabriel had once given her. God had plans for them all, but though He was a God of wrath as well as love, she did not believe He could have a plan for one who had done so much wrong. "I'm really very useless. I can't read, I can't write, I can't hunt. I can't even bring living pups into the world, what good am I to God?" Her words were bitter, accusatory in tone, but faded into nothing as she released her father from her embrace. Silently, she wondered just what was planned for her, and when she would be able to experience it.

Gabriel de le Poer · 04-22-2011, 12:53 AM

[html]

+3 :: The image he's showing her is this one. Smile

Her warmth and her weight were familiar, and Gabriel closed his eyes against these things. He did not believe she had spoken of her mother to hurt him; she was a girl, after all, and she had a right to think of her mother. It might have been better for her if she had stayed with her brother and been raised by another woman. Ezekiel never spoke of family around his father, not even Fatin. But then again, Ezekiel and Talitha were as different as the sun and the moon. The irony of their familiarity to Alaine’s children in this manner was lost on him.

He opened his eyes only as she touched the charms, listening to her words about the God he had tried to bring to them. Doubt, always doubt. Faith was so hard sometimes, especially in this world of theirs. Silently, he watched her, and silently he considered the flaws she so brazenly announced. Gabriel sighed, tilting his head down to feel the familiar weight of those ancient good-luck charms around his neck. “Saint Christopher,” he began to explain the circular medallion around his neck. “, is meant to protect those who wander. I’ve been wearing his sign since the day you and your brother left me.” His head rose, turning back to her face. “Many of the Saints suffered as you have,” he went on. “You would do well to remember that.”

Gabriel paused, considering. He turned quickly towards the pile of books, now scattered, and began pawing through them. After a moment he found what he was looking for, and motioned for her to join him. The page he had opened to was that of a colorful painting of a woman and her child. “This is Saint Catherine. She was an artist like you, and saw visions of God and the Devil. Perhaps we can find you a medal to wear like mine,” he offered, though Gabriel knew all too well he would likely never walk outside of Inferni again.

Talitha de le Poer · 04-22-2011, 02:48 AM

[html]

She was not ashamed of her own faults nearly as much as she found shame in her father's blood, a fact that was strange and cruel all in one weird little ball. No one had ever complained of her inadequacies; only she seemed to notice. It didn't halt her from listening to his words about Saint Christopher, who protected those who roamed the lands, a Saint he wore the symbol of since his children had left during the war. Somehow it meant more than just that statement, but it was lost on her as Gabriel continued on to tell her more about Saints themselves. They suffered as well, but she was sure it was in different ways. Still, it caused a sense of calm to spread through her.

He paused in his speech and sought out the books, and all she could do for a moment was watch as he dug through them. It wasn't until he motioned for her to approach that she did, leaning over the open pages with her hands pressed against the ground. The image on the paper left her silent. Saint Catherine, an artist who saw visions of her God. Well, she did not see God, but had suffered at the hands of the Devil many a time. "I don't think I would make a good Saint." It was a simple fact, one that covered over his offer to find her a medal similar to his own. She did not leave Inferni anymore, and she knew his injuries wouldn't allow him to either.

Keeping her hands upon the book, though she could not read the words, she sat herself down and studied the images. "What will we do when you're gone, daddy?" Though she had often thought of her own death in the past month, she had never considered that someday Gabriel himself would pass on from the world. With everything that revolved around the dark Aquila, she felt certain life itself would crumble with his disappearance. "I don't think Inferni would be quite the same without you here." If Gabriel was dead, would she be able to call the clan home? The princess could only hope for a life so easy.

Gabriel de le Poer · 04-22-2011, 06:46 PM

[html]

Perhaps she would never understand. Talitha might be destined, as so many had been in the days of old, to wander the wasteland without hope. He could do nothing more for her than to pray. The coy-wolf listened to her question in silence, knowing the brutality of the answer would break her. One day he would be gone, and they would go on. Halo was capable, in her savagery, of keeping the clan alive. This was why he had chosen her despite the ferocity that the warrior so often displayed to her own kinsmen.

The Aquila rose again, and made his way to the entrance once again. “No point in worrying over it now,” he said flatly, dismissing her doubts in one fell swoop. He knew what his daughter was like, and if she began to fret about this now she would keep him all night. This would do doubt present an issue if Alaine came looking for him. “It’s late. I should head back.” Slowly, doing his best to hide the limp, Gabriel began moving towards the mansion again.

Talitha de le Poer · 04-22-2011, 07:02 PM

[html]

He didn't answer the questions of his daughter, and perhaps it was for the best, as they both knew the frailty of her mind. Death flooded her, leaving deep marks of sorrow as she gazed upon the kind face of the woman-Saint in the book upon her lap. Gabriel would someday be gone, and she would be left under the guide of Halo Lykoi, a cousin who felt returned and stinging hatred for Gabriel's daughter. The fact was obvious, yet she did not want to consider it. Without him, life was difficult, just as it was without her mother. A single finger rose to her jaws, clamped down upon by canine teeth as she tried to settle her nauseous stomach. How much loss would she manage to take on before her fragile platform crumbled beneath her?

It was best not to think of it. Instead, she wondered upon the human faces sitting before her eyes, listening as Gabriel dismissed her fears in flat words. It hurt, but she accepted it. Her worries were foolish, and took up so much time — of course, that was why she so rarely brought them before the Aquila.

She hadn't realized how time had passed until he spoke, and she simply nodded, pausing to look over her shoulder as he left to return to the mansion and the woman who waited still for her patient. For a moment, she was silent. "You don't love her, right?" The words flooded forth before she could stop them. Love, always back to love. A shake of her head dispelled the idea and she returned her gaze to the worn pages. "No, of course not. Goodnight. I think I'll remain here for a bit longer." All composure melted away from her muscles and she allowed herself to slump to the ground beneath her. Though she did feel worlds better, everything was still far too dark in her mind. Maybe Ezekiel would have understood better.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?