Dreaming of death

[Molochai de Odi Lykoi]

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For anyone. Realizing that Molo is the ‘trainer’ gave me an idea to maybe have him train someone in something?

lulzyoMolochai was deep in sleep, tormented by fire and demons that he had no urge to slay. Memories of killing wolves for his mother’s sake ran through his head during every waking moment, watching them bleed out on the grass as he cackled and left them for the crows. A foot twitched as he ran from one as a pup, a whimper at the memory of the fight with one of Storm’s wolves. A growl at the memory of his mother saying they had to leave. So many memories. He snapped awake, golden eyes wide and searching around the now familiar den. Exhaling he laid back down, shifted form slowly coming into focus as he gently moved his half-asleep limbs. He strongly believed that no Lykoi slept peacefully, nightmares and horrors ran in their blood just another part of their genetics. Madness after all is dominant.

lulzyoStanding up and stretching, still tired and a little dizzy he walked out of the den down the path and into the clearing a few yards away. Sitting on a rock he let his head sit in his hands, muzzle pointing towards the ground as he attempted to compose himself. He needed purpose now that he wasn’t with his mother any longer. Perhaps that was why he was the Imperium? All his life he had trained pups, how to fight wolves, why to hate them. He had done all the brain-washing necessary for a Lykoi to grow up demented. Raising his head and glancing around he sighed and settled on the rock, hybrid body tense and acutely aware of the natural movements of Nature around him. God he needed a drink.

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[Anselm de le Poer]

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Not sure Anselm needs much training, but nobody's replied yet and we were going to thread anyway. :]


------Although they were distantly related at best, Anselm could have sympathised with Molochai's madness and nightmares--although not through the bloodline that he might originally suspect. While the Lykoi's clearly had their fair share of insanity, the de le Poer's could prove to be fierce competition. Maybe Molochai and Gabriel were one up on him, since they had both, but Anselm was arguably fucked up enough to consider himself in the proper company. A constant paranoia drove him, one that made him suspect everybody and trust no one. Beneath this was a genius that probably exacerbated the issue--it enabled him to decipher potential hidden meanings, to note the slightest twitch, hesitation, or change in tone. It let him examine things so thoroughly that it might be correct to call it an obsession. An obsession, but with what? He, too, had killed numerous times in the past--but in his case it was never for delight. It was for survival.
------For it all, he never lost track of what he was doing or why. In this way he justified his own sanity. Regardless, the vivid, often terrifying dreams could make him question or doubt himself at times. It was for this reason that he often chose to ignore them--and since he had left "home," they had gotten better. More normal. They were still clear as ever, though, and occasionally his subconscious was all too happy to throw a wrench at him. Fuck it.
------His crimson gaze jerked up to the pensive golden hybrid perched above. Anselm had spotted him from some distance off, but lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't paid him much heed until now. It was somebody from Inferni, and it was somebody whose eyes looked an awful lot like Gabriel's. Odds were he was nothing to worry about. Still, en route to his den, less distance would be travelled were he to cross paths with this male. Perhaps that was true, but would it be faster? Would they wind up having a conversation? Oddly, the wolfish male found himself intrigued by the other's gaze and mannerisms--he was clearly deep in thought. And wherever there was actual thinking involved, the prospect of new information was sometimes too much for him to pass up.