the dearly departed
#1
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For Mel, since Ezekiel, in theory, comes to the rescue. I SUCK. I suck. This is just awful, and I apologize. Anyways, death of Makhesthai Lykoi. Afternoon, Eden, Optime Talitha to Secui Talitha. Dead Maki.

"I'm glad you're learning so quickly, little Lykoi."

Talitha saw the pride that filled the young creature's eyes at her compliment, watching as he gently patted the face of her guitar before strumming out another chord. Teaching music was harder than art; she herself had no formal training, but she knew enough to show him simple phrases of simple songs, and he seemed eager to learn, so why deny him that? She already knew he would never be a Lykoi, though he desired it. Helping him find hobbies was her way of making up for his plight. Strangely, the de le Poer princess felt sorry for him. Why went unrecognized, for she could not see the beauty of her own family, as she had never had to suffer without it. Not like he had.

Her body rose from amongst the growing flowers of her new favored place, the clear meadow upon the northwestern border; peaceful crimson eyes watched the ground as black-rimmed ears listened to the subtly off-key tune playing on the air behind her. Things had been smooth, as far as transitioning from Gabriel to Ezekiel. Her life was no different than it had been in the past. It was only at night, when she stopped to think, that she realized time had moved on and an era had passed. She wondered how many others considered the same thing. Surely not the boy who had accompanied her. She doubted he even noticed that Gabriel no longer did duties as Aquila.

But while she was thinking, he did notice something. A horrible twang drew her from her thoughts, head turning to glance at her adoptive uncle; his head was turned away, staring to the north with vague curiosity and more intense distrust. The Optio turned her gaze to follow his. There, approaching from the haze of the afternoon sun, were figures. Two, tall and dark-furred; much too large to belong. She grimaced. It wasn't her job to greet them. It was merely a case of being in the wrong place at that moment, yet she was obligated to meet them. A sigh escaped her jaws as she approached the invisible border, lined with sparse, finely decorated skulls. Her arms crossed beneath her chest. "Do you need something, strangers?"

The taller of the two, black like night with splotches of silver upon his face, cleared his throat; green eyes cast toward the side as her young charge came to stand beside her. It was his companion who spoke, dusty brown jaws pushing out words with seeming difficulty. "Lookin' fer a place to stay." Of course, as she had expected. The de le Poer rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for dealing with outsiders, let alone wolves of any kind. "You aren't welcome here." The words were simple yet firm, and her expression hardened into a mask of irritation. The green-eyed beast snorted hot air from his nostrils. "We were under the impression we'd be allowed here." Facts she couldn't believe. "You're not. Leave."

Both strangers grimaced. "Thinkin' we oughta talk with yer leader." One large body moved to step over the boundary. A snarl tore through Talitha's jaws, her weight throwing against his substantially larger form in an attempt to knock the trespasser out once more. His arm rose, fingers grasping the curled locks of her hair; "Bitch!" he seethed, tossing her across the marked line with all the ease of a child and their doll. The pup threw his smaller form against that of the dark male, teeth finding flesh and causing a howl of pain to course through the air. As Makhesthai bit the trespasser, he didn't realize the adult gear up for retaliation.

Talitha watched, eyes wide with outrage, as the hybrid man lifted the child up, fingers grasping the thick fur at the back of the boy's neck. He swung, once and then twice and then a third time, before being thrown back into the meadow. She cringed at the sound of the dull thud that broke the heavy breathing, coupled with a yelping cry of pain. Her elbow lodged itself into the chest of the second male, body breaking free for the briefest moment before strong arms wrapped about her torso again. "Ain' anyone told ya? Yer s'posed to respect yer elders, boy." While she struggled against a tight hold, the boy was advanced upon.

His small body pushed itself up from the ground, only to be shoved back down by the heavy weight of a foot against his back. No words came forth from the little Lykoi, only furious snarls of distaste as he squirmed beneath the hold. And then it was over. With a brief glint in the high sun, the boy stopped stilled upon the ground. Red colored the growing greenery. "Shoulda learned better, huh? S'what happens when ya don' learn."

The upright body she so frequently wore started to change, from slender, bipedal form to something more feral. The restraining male was forced to let go as she found herself bulkier, stronger, longer. On four legs, the half-ling body hurled itself toward the killer of her young friend, hitting its mark and latching on at the back. Heavy paws grasped broad shoulders, teeth found fur and flesh and blood; the metallic taste upon the air fueled her anger. Release, clamp, release. Blood oozed from deep bite wounds as he tried to throw her from himself, to no avail. His friend, regaining composure, flew into action. With a brisk slam from his shoulder, she lost her grasp. As her body found the ground, her jaws let loose a frantic call into the home she should have never traveled far from. She needed someone. Something. Ezekiel.

The call was cut off as one pair of heavy hands as they shut her jaws forcibly, and her hope faded into frustration once again.


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#2
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+5

If there was any truth in the world, it was this: God is cruel. Ezekiel had watched savage things in the wilderness steal life away from the weak. He had grown to hate the things that behaved in such hideous fashions without reason. Cats, in particular. They did not kill simply to eat, though they did after the fact. No, those sleek things would strike out if only to play. Violence was in their hearts, as it was in his, but Ezekiel’s love of combat came from one single incident that had proved to him just how the world behaved.

Twin scars, the only proof he had ever been struck in his life, marred an otherwise perfect form. There had once been four, but the boy was clever. Healing salves could erase some, but not all, and he had to live with what he could not fix. Likewise, he now had to live with other things he could not fix. Stepping into the considerable gap left by his father had been troublesome. He did not yet feel comfortable with the title or the role, and he had not yet been able to leave the clan despite his desire to visit Alaine.

Mounted on Viggo, the coyote felt the muscled frame of his mount move with practiced ease over land that he had become used to. While not as flat and as broad as the dog-pack, it had tall grass and plains that suited livestock. Ezekiel was all but in his own world, watching the borders without really seeing. He thought of a thousand different things, and might have gone on like this until a shrill and frantic call he recognized almost instantly.

With a sharp kick and a cry of his own, the coyote forced the heavy horse into action. They tore across the plains, Ezekiel even now drawing an arrow, even now expecting the worst. He found it.

Two wolfish looking strangers were atop his sister. A body lay nearby.

Ezekiel let lose a sound that was perhaps more deep and more feral than anything he had made before. It frightened the horse under him, but the stallion had grown to trust the coyote and continued in his mad dash forward. The Aquila did not hesitate. One arrow flew from the bow, with the precision of a master, and struck the larger of the two things in the head. He had done such a thing before, and knew the bow, with his odd curve, could pierce skulls. The dark stranger was dead before he hit the ground. His companion, frightened by the appearance of the horse, began to flee. His wounds got him only so far before a second arrow stuck him in the neck, felling him.

Ezekiel dismounted in one motion, hitting the ground hard enough that pins and needles ran up his legs. He crossed to his sister with frantic speed, bow lowered but still in hand, and while panic filled his thoughts the fury remained in his step and in his eyes.

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#3
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The pounding of heavy hooves registered in the mind of the restrained Secui for only a moment, only long enough for her to thank god he had come with the equine monster she despised on any other day. Weight was cast off from her as her brother loosed arrows into the air, each hitting their mark with the deadliest precision. She didn't stay on the ground for long. Once she was released, her body moved, springing from the earth to pursue the second stranger. It didn't matter that her brother had taken care of the job. Her mind was clear. She pounced, finding weak spots in his shoulders and neck. The taste of blood filled her mouth, the scent hanging heavy. He was dead, but she was angry. When she finished her task, she turned from the half-chewed corpse, jaws stained red.

Without a calmed mind, she had not capability of leaving the emaciated body she hated. Crimson eyes, filled with outrage and hatred, cast their stinging gaze upon her brother. "This is why we're weak now! You and father see nothing wrong with these things, and this is what they do to us!" Her furious shout was backed by a rumbling growl. She didn't see the world as singular people, but as wholes, and the whole that lay outside of Inferni were traitors and outsiders who did not belong. She had watched hybrid after hybrid enter Inferni. This is what they did to the clan. She turned away from the golden Aquila, searching for the corpse of their young Lykoi. There was nothing to do for him now, save a burial. "I try to accept it, because you stayed with Fatin, but it's so obvious that they're wrong. They don't belong here, and we shouldn't have to deal with them. I can't make excuses for your stupidity anymore, or for his." She was simply angry, approaching the deceased in silence as her words faded onto the air; it didn't make it any better, of course.


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#4
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She turned to him, blood-splattered and eye’s blazing, and Ezekiel steadied himself for the tidal wave that followed. Talitha screamed her curses, blamed the wolves, and he said nothing. As she sought the body of the boy, he went to the intruders. While obviously wolfish in their blood, they shared something with coyote in them. The tawny coat of the one his sister had destroyed even after his arrow struck was far too familiar. He yanked the arrow from its body and went to the other. He was much darker, but a well-trained eye could see the sharpness in his face. They hadn’t been wolves; they were hybrids.

Another yank freed his arrow. Ezekiel cleaned the tip in the grass, kneeling as he did so. “What happened?" For all of her fury, all of her raving, he could not so blindly make a decision. Yet the image of the males on his russet sister filled him with an unfathomable rage. Even now his fur stood all on end, betraying the depth of his anger. He rose and one foot turned the hybrid over, knowing what tradition wished them to do with the dead.

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#5
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She tried with difficulty to turn the body of the child over on the ground, succeeding only after utilizing her face as well. A sigh escaped her jaws, breathing bloodied air back into the world. Dead. Three dead, when there should have been none. And for what? To teach a lesson, to find a home, to protect a family who was filled with monsters like her father. Her head shook, hanging low against her shoulders. Behind her, Ezekiel handled the bodies of the intruders. The silence allowed her mind some sort of ease, though her rage still boiled beneath her skin. Four legs morphed back to the slightly uneven bipedal body that had been rapidly gaining in weight. She kneeled beside the boy as the Aquila voiced his question. "I was," she paused, taking a deep breath and releasing a heavy sigh as she closed the eyes of the child. "I was teaching him how to play the guitar, and they came to the border. I told them to go away." Simple words that lead to perceived tragedy. "Maki attacked the light one."

With careful consideration for the body, she lifted it into her arms and rose to her feet, turning toward her brother with grave expression. "Maybe you'll learn, Ezekiel. This is what happens when we're nice to them. This is what happens when Inferni is considerate to the feelings of wolves." She had noticed the hybrid features of the monsters, but that did not change her hatred for them. They were wolves, while she was a coyote, and there was nothing more to that. Wolves, dogs, outsiders. All the same. She saw no true differences. Her curls were tossed around as she shook her head once more. "Leave the bodies. They don't deserve your rituals for the dead." It wasn't a request. For the first time, she didn't ask him politely. In that moment, she had the gall to order the golden male to do something.


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#6
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He stared at the dead man, for it took all of his self-control to remain still. Red ears turned and followed his sister’s voice, but he hid his face from her still. There was nothing he could say to change the situation. Even though he had lived with wolves, he could not look away from the cost of sharing borders with them. A shadow passed over him, and with it came the echo of what his sister demanded. The carrion-birds would come, and with them the smaller things that shared their land—scavengers of the dead. Ezekiel’s eyes hardened.

“Then things will change,” he said lowly, aggression boiling in his voice. It was the first child he had lost, the first blemish on his rule as Aquila. Had their father been too passive? No, Ezekiel thought, not when he was more a wolf than either of his own children. “We’ll turn away wolves. Anyone that looks like a wolf,” he added as an afterthought, looking to her with glimmering violence in his eyes.

“Do you want to bury him?” He asked, eyes falling to the limp body of the child. This was his failure, as Aquila. It struck him deep.

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#7
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She watched her brother in his silence, waiting patiently for response. She had given him a command, and in that command there was anger and determination to see they didn't get their proper afterlife, and she wondered if he would listen to her. In her surprise, he did. Something in his eyes turned icy. The voice that reached her black-rimmed ears was hot with aggression. She could understand the problem, Maki had been the first death under Ezekiel's reign with the crown. Death at any stage was a loss, but Talitha saw ways to rectify the problem. The only thing she could hope for was that Ezekiel saw them too.

Things would change, he claimed, and though she wanted to believe him, she knew that changing was harder for some. Ezekiel was different. Many of the new members of the clan were different, but Talitha held on to what little traces of their heritage remained. And then the look he gave her, glittering with a violence she hadn't seen in the past, that was what made her believe him. She might have smiled had the mood not been so sour. "You say wolves, I say outsiders. But I won't argue your judgement." It was still truth that she didn't see distinctions in the dogs and wolves who waited on the borders, hiding in their other packs until the time was right to cause harm.

A sigh left her and long fingers wrapped around the shoulder of the corpse in her arms. "Get them off our lands first, and then we can deal with our own dead." She'd see him buried in the garden, once the demons had been removed, and she'd decorate the gravesite accordingly. Gently, she returned Makhesthai to the ground in order to approach her brother with free hands. One rested gently upon his shoulder as she came to stand beside him. "I'm sorry I wasn't stronger, maybe he wouldn't have died." Her apology was quiet, and followed by a fluid motion to crouch near him. "But I'm proud of you; you did a good job."


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#8
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In his mind, the ones that were not wolves—dogs, jackals and the like—were slightly elevated above the cousin species with whom he shared blood. His father was a wolf posing as a coyote, and his grandmother had loved wolves before, and in some way Ezekiel had as well. His love had begun to fade when Corvus scarred his face, and it had blossomed afterwards, while he traveled the wilderness. Ezekiel compared them to wolverines (the familiarity of the name was not lost on him) and he had known those beasts to be savages. Wolves were no different. He supposed this was why his clan had become so defensive when faced with them.

“It’s not your fault,” he said lowly, knowing that a weaker man would have blamed her, knowing he might have done so himself. One of his hands dropped to grab the nape of the dead wolf’s neck, standing abruptly. He couldn’t stand to be around this place, around his sister. Not now, while the air reeked of blood. “Take him away from here,” came the order, low and rough. Unceremoniously the Aquila began to drag the body towards the border, slowing once only as a familiar black-bird swooped low. The coyote spoke to him quietly, and the bird returned to the air—within minutes more of the ravens arrived, ready and waiting for their meal.

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#9
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Really short, sorry. We can close here if you want.

This time she didn't argue. She didn't want Ezekiel to suffer the stress of dealing with an esteemless sister alongside the death of one of the children he was supposed to protect. Others might have blamed her as she blamed herself, but he did not and there was no reason to change that in him. Crimson eyes remained fixed upon him as he dragged the corpse away from their lands. They deviated only at the appearance of the birds, something she found distasteful despite Ezekiel's familiarity with them. She hated the ravens. She'd hated Marlowe. Dark eyes closed and her body turned away, trying to keep hold of the young boy in her arms. He was rather heavy, after all.

Silence fell over her as she made her way toward the caves that she called home, directing herself toward her brother's instead of her own. They would have to tell their father, and their grandmother; she wasn't eager to deal with that. A sigh passed through her jaws into the air as the natural garden was left in the distance behind her. She felt ill.


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