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The nefarious beast within had already begun to emerge.
Already, he was finding reasons for hating everything. His mind no longer saw the world as new and exciting, but as dull and a place where they lived only to be killed. He knew he would either be the slayer or the slain, and the desire to kill grew daily in him. It had sprouted arms, now, ready to grab out and crush the life from smaller animals, such as the tiny crabs that wandered the beach. He usually kept to the sands, not entirely sure how to deal with things like mountains and not fond of the closed-in feeling of the forest. It was not the freedom or the openness of the beach that he craved, but the way the sun glinted off of the water and reminded him that everything was dangerous. Everything was born of fire.
He, too, was born of fire. It was a different kind of fire than the sun's, but it had ignited in his mother and wayward father, and it had been the beginning of he and his lesser siblings. All of them were lesser; most of them were older, but the majority were not at all important to him. Andre believed they were simply pawns there for the purpose of making sure he was safe until he was old enough to turn on them and kill them all. The one beast he would spare was Hybrid, for he actually respected the wolf-hating 'yote. His determination to either wipe them all out or have them on their knees also grew with the day, so that now, even his expression was malignant, and even his eyes showed a heavy sort of negativity that clearly displayed his desire to hate and hurt everything.
He was a sadist in the making, and he was wandering towards the water, baby blues still showing the dangerous beast that slept inside of him. It had begun to stir, but it would be some time before it would wake up and show the world what it really was; for now, it had to stay asleep, and then drowzy. His eyes caught the building of Die Bohrung rising in the distance, and the horizon image of Thunder Island, but none of it mattered; he had no destination, and only knew that it was not back home. It was not where he'd walked there from.
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Ack, ramble! I hope you don't mind me coming in here. :3
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The world owed her nothing. Not a father, not a purpose, not a daily meal. Every particle of privilege was something to be thankful for. After four months, the reason the world
as a whole excited her was no longer because it felt new and huge and unpredictable - instead, it was because it was comprehensible, something you could learn to understand.
With a breezy, sure way of thinking she figured that every problem had to have a solution somewhere. In essence this was a world built of solid things, which worked together to
let everything exist. The bodies of animals fueled earth and plants, which fueled animals which fueled carnivores like herself; it all clicked, or seemed to in the mind of an
optimistic child who was just learning, really. And it was easy to imagine that if anything went wrong there would be a safe den to retreat to, because there always had been.
And now energetic paws had brought the lively young girl back to the bay known as Lightning already. It was an unfamiliar place still- the wild expanse of water nothing like the
nearness of caverns and trees. She was practicing what she'd learned, looking for shapes amongst scattered bits of driftwood and odds and ends. A snakey branch made her furrow
her brows in concentration then recognise a vague S. "Ssss," she said out loud. Eyes down, she hadn't yet seen the coyote puppy a little further along the beach but now the
figure caught her eye and inquisitive, she lifted her head. There was nothing about his manner that gave her a hint as to how she should act. Given more experience Legacy would
have been more cautious on neutral ground, but all her recent encounters had made her confident. Maybe foolish. She gave a friendly yip, once, to get his attention. After all, the
boy could just ignore her if he chose.
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-throws endy in- :3
It was exhausting business, trailing after puppies all day, but innate paranoia drove him to do it. Fatin’s children were as important to Endymion as they were to her; he was supposed to be their father-type, after all. Though he ran about all day sniffing them out, one or two children usually managed to sneak under his constant radar and get into some kind of mischief. In the cold of the season, the exercise was at least enough to keep him warm, and his easy-going nature was never worn thin under the silly worry. Optimism was something that ran quite dominantly through the Kali line, after all. But the terrifying idea that one of the children could be injured or worse walked quite boldly in his mind, and he could not stand it. He had to make sure they were safe.
Pale green eyes caught the dandy form of little Legacy bounding down the bay, who was no doubt charmed by the beautiful scene. Endymion smirked to himself, falling further behind her, so as not to be discovered. A tiny form traveled beyond her, and she yipped to it. The amber wolf figured it was another child like her, but he couldn’t tell from the distance if he recognized it. It could have been one of her siblings, or some strange pup that was not of ‘Souls lineage. His eyes narrowed; it could even be one of the Lykoi spawns. It was likely. Both Inferni and Jaded Shadows were quite near the bay. But it was still uncertain at that point. He would have to watch and wait. What a silly thing Endymion Russo was.
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A pause. His nose lowered itself to the ground, snuffling at the sand in a sort of irritated manner, attempting to find the scent of blood, to capture it and bring him to the source, to rip it apart and hurt it and kill. His eyes remained trained on the tiny grains, neither enraptured by them or at all interested. He didn't even not care about them; they were simply there. Existent. He didn't have to care, and he didn't have to not care. It was as normal to him as the sun rose and the moon trailed it across the sky, as the stars shone above in what might be called a beautiful scene, but he didn't notice much of it. He watched it with the careful eye of one who observed everything, but didn't give a shit about any of it.
The yip that got his attention came from a larger child, and girl, and immediately the scent hit him. It was a different scent than Tamerlane's had been, but the underlying smell was the same; wolf. Hybrid had told him to hate wolves, and Tamerlane, though he'd been a decent fellow, had reinforced it with his irritating questions and his knowledge of Faolin. Faolin was too stupid to matter to him. His teeth ground together as his fur rose, a terrifying standing of the many troops waiting on his back for the order to shoot.
Then he growled, viciously, and advanced, paws hitting the sand in an attempt to intimidate; it was better if she was scared. Bit f'r fr'm home, eh, wolf? He would eat her, like he'd promised Arkham that he would eat all wolves who crossed his path. He might torture her, though, like Hybrid had said; in any case, he wanted to hurt her.
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To her, he didn't immediately look like an enemy. She'd figured he was different. Smaller than her and her siblings, with an unusual scent that she hadn't encountered often before. Still, a puppy was a puppy. He should have been friendly, because she had been first. Except that he wasn't. He was bristling, and not in play - and like a chain reaction, her own hackles rose slightly. Even so, she was not a threatening sight. More defensive and puzzled than angry, the red-furred child was ready to back off and give him the space he seemed to be demanding. Until the moment she found herself under attack, or what looked very much like an attack. She knew she didn't know everything - not by a long way, but she knew she hadn't provoked such a reaction. Something about his intensity unnerved her but she felt she was in the right, and was far too headstrong to stand down.
"Wha' d'you mean by that?" she demanded, taking a step nearer. Legacy was determined she wasn't going to be intimidated that easily. "This i'n't YOUR home, either." Maybe she could talk sense into him.
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sorry this took me so long!
When the youthful tyrant boy showed his teeth in what Endymion assumed was a growl, the russet coyote's brittle fur stood on end. The c0y0te pup was a rotten little thing. He had to be, if he felt the need to threaten little Legacy. Ready to bound out of the protective shade of the trees, Endymion was surprised and pleased to see the little pup stand her ground and refuse the other's bait. The Graduierter smirked, delighted by the level-headedness of his young sister. Nevertheless, the other would no doubt have more sparring experience on Legacy, being one of the 1nferni legion and all. The two-year-old would not give him the opportunity to draw an ounce of her blood, or disturb her down-like puppy fur.
Revealing himself by stepping onto the sand and into the open, Endymion trotted toward them in an amiable fashion, despite the aggravation he was feeling. It was best, he figured, to act like he had not seen a thing. Perhaps his presence would be enough to calm the boy's chaotic spirit. A few yards from the pair he gave them a quick grin, and then called out to them with the cheerfulness of a canary: "Hey there, Legacy. Who's your friend?"
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It was fortunate that, while it may seem to be idiotic to go picking fights with everybody he encountered, Andre was far from a stupid boy. He was fairly cunning, and eventually, charm and wit would get him through life in place of sheer brutality, but it would always be an act. In cases where he become a charming, good-witted individual, it would simply be to keep himself out of those situations in which he would really be in trouble. That side of him would not truly exist at all, but would be there simply to keep his own ass safe. However, he was not yet at the stage where developing such a mask personality was hardly worth the trouble. He was a child, and the Land of Wuffluvers would have the head of anybody who tried to hurt him. Until he become as independent as he would like to believe he already was in the eyes of the clan, he would create himself that alternate being. It would be his way of waiting for the right moment to let the dangerous serpent that was he slip out.
This, of course, was a work in progress. It may turn out that Andre would not have a cover at all, and that restraint would be entirely impossible for him as an adult. It may turn out that killing was his single pleasure in life, and that no amount of trickery would be able to stop him from tearing throats out left, right, and center. The possibility for such an Andre with two faces to exist was ever on the horizon, especially given the nature of his father, but it was not yet long enough developed to be sure. Therefore, he wasn't about to treat Legacy like a princess and wait for the right moment; he was going to come at her with the intention to hurt and possibly maim.
More mine th'n yours, you f'lthy m'ngrel, he snarled in response, stepping forward to match her own advance. An' I'll kill you 'f you take an'ther step. The fact that he was poised, muscles tensed, had to be unnerving. This certainly was not an act, and he was definitely not bluffing; Andre really was ready to attack her and kill her if she moved another inch. Even as Endymion approached, he was not at all turned off the idea of attacking; he was, if anything, more provoked.
Ge' ou' o' here, you fuckin' coyote, he growled angrily, fur bristling even more, this time staring straight at Endymion. Having applied one of the many words he heard around the Land of Wuffluvers made him feel somewhat like he had an advantage; perhaps they would be too stupid to know what it meant.
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To Legacy it was unthinkable to have a seperate personality from your own. She was herself, and nothing more. Maybe she hadn't finished figuring out who she was, and maybe she'd change when she was older, but those parts of her that she did not control - the emotions, the instincts - were not things to conceal or ignore. Especially out here, alone, where she was all she had. Her heart was like a flag, emblazoned right across her face and gestures.
Not for a moment did she mistake his advancement as anything other than deadly serious. Nor did she think to match his brutality. The savage words shook her, and the girl bared her sharp teeth in return. Could he really kill me? She was taller, and he was apparently crazy...but Legacy didn't at present have a particularly strong taste for violence. Especially not towards her own kind. She'd met all shapes and sizes of wolf, and the coyote puppy was just another of these to her, cast in the same mould. If he hadn't insulted and threatened her, she wouldn't even have considered hurting him. Provocation made her reckless, quelled her nerves. She was naïve, but determined. "Come 'n then! Why don't you try it?" she flared back almost instantly, but didn't take the step forward that he'd placed his ultimatum on. Golden fur bristled and the small puppy stood her ground.
Then the next moment she realised she wasn't on her own any more. Endymion distracted her, though only momentarily, from the spectacle of Andre. Legacy both adored and looked up to her big half-brother, and usually would jump at the chance to spend time with him, but she was caught up in her fury at being so rudely treated by the Lykoi child. She shot her sibling a quick look, but there was no time for greetings. What was this? She still needed a babysitter? Perhaps. But perhaps she could prove otherwise. "Go 'way Endy!" was what she said, quickly, on impulse and promptly flinched at Andre's snarled words, a far more aggressive echo of hers. She felt she'd been mean now, but any hurt feelings of Endymion's would have to wait. It was the boy's fault, not hers. He deserved to be taught a lesson.
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Endymion Russo's eyes narrowed dangerously. He had expected for the pup to put up a front in the presence of an adult, but he was mistaken. No matter. Legacy's outburst stung slightly, but the pirate-son left his sister without a response. Though it lay dormant for most of the time, his inherited feisty nature—created of his father's blood and his mother's spirit—flared up at the coyote child's hostile response. He had to restrain himself from snarling at the boy and striking him down. It would be the wrong thing to do, just as if he did so to his own siblings. The Shadows wolf, instead, leaned toward him.
"Watch your mouth," said the amber male, voice uncharacteristicly low. Disdainfully, he wondered what foul being had taught the pup such language. His heart beat rather powerfully inside his chest, but his tawny face remained passive. There was a bright spark in his pale eyes, resembling his mother's visage when she was crossed. "Go home," he told the pup, straightening himself. Though he wasn't sure that was such a good idea for the child; Inferni would only cause that hatefulness to bloom.
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The scene unfolded, but it did not retain the natural colours of a picturesque world. It may even have been black and white, or sepia, and it would still be a beautifully taken photograph, but the minute it descended into red, the gruesome truth finally was shown. The film that spread before Andre's eyes was created entirely of the drive to kill the girl who had come along so cocky into his own little world and threatened to invade it, and his eyes did not move from the cinnamon-hazel child even when the older wolf warned him about his language. Who was this bullheaded idiot to tell him what to do? He was a coyote, superior to the end.
And with that, the boy shot a defiant snarl in the adult's direction and charged for the girl, gaze lingering on Endymion for only a moment before he lunged at Legacy, jaws agape, fully intent on ripping off her stupid face. The breath of hate even expelled itself from his lungs, the bitter rippling of chords that created the beautiful, yet fully dangerous snarling noise, like tearing fabric, from the child's throat. He had grace, for that he had to be given credit, and the way that he leapt towards the wolf child was quite elegant.
But all in all, it was an elegance of death, the somewhat sad and lingering beauty of watching the mouth of danger close itself on the scene, engulfing all of them.
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Could anyone take themselves more seriously than children? Her battle to prove herself, to no one in particular and yet also everyone and everything, paled against a battle to prove not only that one was better than everything but also was capable of doing something about it. The unerring logic of one who had been bred for bloodlust and moulded with just, just enough hatred to allow nothing else to matter in the moment, the defining moment. If it was a photograph, it was a Cartier-Bresson; the assemblage of random-seeming components and miscellaneous scenery ranged artlessly - which was why it was art. A simple action such as the expression of rage between two children on a chilly beach. Framed by perspective, it was no longer insignificant.
Until then, there was now. Here was the decisive moment. Not to analyse, not to capture; to live through. She'd challenged the unknown and here was the price, a toll that in dire simplicity was hurtling into her face. Small jaws agape, Legacy could only propel herself upwards to use her relatively sturdy forelegs as defence, clawing and shoving at the unsteady mixture of air and attacker before her. Instinctively, tooth and bone and claw arraying themselves between him and the rest of herself, in a momentary and desperate shield. The danger that throbbed through every vein was hers alone, but there was courage in the thought that maybe just as soon as she survived, then the power would shift. Then they would see, and justly so, exactly what happened to those who thought they could destroy a daughter of Kali.
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go ahead and skip endy, since he'd only be standing there wondering what he should do. .__. and then i'll jump back in.
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Andre had already killed. The child had been assisted by his father, but he had still been the one to end the rabbit's life. As quickly as the rush of blood had come, it had stopped struggling, and from that experience, he knew the weakest part on her would be her throat, like it was with the helpless prey. The adult stood by, but Andrezej did not see him, or even the beach, any longer; all he knew was the feel of his lungs expanding and contracting in his chest, throwing his breath out into the air to swirl into vapor and lift towards the heavens that he would never reach, and the child in front of him, with her own desperate means of survival.
It was easy to kick out a paw and try to fight. It was harder, he knew, to actually execute the fight in the proper style, to make it more like a dance of fury and hate than a struggle, but he had more experience than her. It may only have been from conquering sticks and crabs on the beach, from ripping to shreds the small sand dunes that collected over the course of a day but, nonetheless, he believed he could beat her with simply that knowledge. Nothing else was required of him; this, he reminded himself, was true even for him.
So as Legacy's feet kicked out and as he felt the pawpads and nails rake through his fur, perhaps slicing flesh (for he did not feel it if they did), he continued to press forward, long ears pressed hard against his skull, head angled downward to protect that which he knew through experience to be his most vital place, though his teeth still flashed in the air as he snapped and snarled at her, bobbing his muzzle forward and back in serpentine strikes, not noticing at all whether he struck or not.
And all the while, his own forefeet only lifted when hers connected with his chest, or any other place it reached, for he was more concerned with making her flinch.
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I have no clue how this got so long! o.o
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The girl had been in charge of her siblings often enough to be a kind of leader from the day she was born. They were a unit - a miniscule pack, seperate to the ranks that the adults organised themselves into. As family the structure was relaxed, but as learning puppies, they needed the experience. They had spent weeks entertaining one another, playing, even roughly, ever since they were small balls of fur and learning the ways of the pack, building a world-view. Especially, honing skills. Their cosy home was never a good place for playful sparring, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. And Legacy had killed, too. Small things, things that were there for her eating, possibly already half-dead to give her a fighting chance. She did not kill dispassionately but it gave her no other pleasure than that instant of satisfaction that was perhaps always there, an unshakeable instinct. Nor was she especially proud, for eating was a talent no one could forgo and for Legacy killing could have no other end.
This was different, rage and violence. It shocked her, so that her limbs felt heavy and wooden even as she made swifter movements than she ever had before in order to avoid that snaking lowered head. He was aiming for her jugular. Though she blocked where she could, the balance was thus: She held him back, placing her weapons before his attacks with all the muster she could, yet feeling his deadly intent pressing her back and she had to dodge sideways again and again to avoid him pushing her into losing her footing. Her skill was more in the dodge than the attack. Her young jaws were hardly strong enough to hold any grip, and to slash at him would be perilous. Her reflexes honed from hours of parrying and dodging innocently with siblings were paying off for the moment. If there was pain from where his teeth managed to reach skin she could not afford to notice, for a recoil could mean the end. But no deadly blow had been struck yet. Indeed it was almost unbelievable that creatures in just the first few months of their life could be strong enough to inflict real hurt, but anything could have been believed of Andre at that moment. And Legacy knew that she couldn't win, even in the mad maelstrom of the scuffle she knew, as a sinking in the pit of her stomach. For he cared not one bit what he did to her and seemed not to care at all, and she cared so much, about many things.
The puppy had been foolish. It was wiser to back away from a madman, to avoid the eye of a murderer. Legacy was no superlative fighter and she probably would never be, at her stature; it was crazy to think she could battle him and beat him through sheer will. Not least because his will was stronger than her own. Now, as if in a flash of clarity from the eyes of her assailant, she realised that her passionate nature would not find resolve through fighting. Her life was worth more than her dignity, and hurt feelings were no reason to face death or at least pain. But such wisdom can be quashed in a moment of heady infuriation. Passionate pride had commanded she prove that she believed in herself and wouldn't lose face before a threat. Now, finding a gap in her resolve to make itself heard, her passion for life demanded she preserve herself. She'd pulled the trigger; the bullet was before her. Could it still be avoided?
In the confusion and peril of their melee it was surprising the world was as sharp and clear as a frosty morning, and even as the golden girl ducked evasively from Andre's onslaught she sighted Endymion in the corner of one eye. Legacy felt her heart leap; she'd forgotten her brother. She loved him all the more for not leaving her as she'd demanded. She had to redeem herself in more ways than one but there wasn't time to think, and of course very few thoughts were running consciously through her mind. Without considering it much, she feinted as if to go one way then all in a split second was darting the other towards Endymion, with the fastest movement she could muster that scuffed up the sand and propelled herself away from the figure of her small opponent. Just one or two strides later, not knowing if he was following or even about to jump on her back she skidded to whip around to half-face the way she'd come as soon as she was almost beside where she'd seen her brother, beginning to crouch reflexively and snarl a warning. It would be two against one, if Endy was with her. The fearsome child with the murder in his eyes surely couldn't come at them both.
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sorry for the wait, guys!
First, Endymion was shocked.
In all his life, he had never known a child of that age to disobey a direct order from an adult. He had been raised with and around respect; this show of utter contempt took the wolf completely off guard. It spokes volumes about how the child had been raised, (or how he hadn't, rather) but that wasn't want Endymion was thinking at that moment. His mouth had fallen open, and he stared as if carved out of stone as the little demon charged his sister. Then, he saw Legacy retaliate, colliding with him. When he caught her eye, reason and sense began to flow back into him. And then there was rage.
Legacy came toward him then and when she reached his side, Endymion crouched, ears flat against his amber skull. He was bigger than the coyote puppy, so using either teeth or claws against him would be unjustified. However, he could use simple push-and-shove tactics to separate the two feuding children. And that's what he would do, if it came to that. "I said 'go home,' kid," he growled, heart pumping anger into his veins.
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He wasn't particularly surprised when the green eyed little vermin took off towards her brother, and instead of focus on her, his attention snapped immediately to the larger threat. Endymion's words hung low in the air, an unspoken threat dangling just behind his eyes, but the cruel, malicious grin of disregard showed him the way, he hung back, little form still held in his uptight and defensive posture, tail curling and lashing behind him. This was close to Inferni, and close to his home; while he had little desire to defend the coyotes there, it was still his, and one day, he would take it.
I said, fuck off, wolf, came the mockingbird's reiteration, followed the twisted laughter that held absolutely no emotion. The adult wouldn't dare attack him; this he knew to be true. The whole clan, even though Andre was hardly one worth fighting for, would be down on his head if he did; even though the crazy boy was not worth keeping around, he was certainly an asset. One day he would be cast out for his behaviour, his blatant disobeying, his hatred, and his deeply set anger, but that was a day in the future, away from his meager concerns.
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Relief at first that he had sense not to assault her further; a base relief that lived right down within her and had nothing to do with conscious thoughts. Then the blazing anger at him was back, that Endymion's presence should have been necessary. It was his fault, but maybe hers too, a little. Feeling foolish she remained still, doing her best not to whine out loud. There was love in her family and protectiveness, and she had been warned about strangers. The confidence of having friends had made her careless. She was too ashamed and mixed-up to speak, but stayed half-lowered to the ground, heart still thumping quicker than usual. There was a trickle of blood on her leg she hadn't noticed, and she wiped at it with her muzzle furtively. At least the crazy puppy was looking at Endymion, not her.
Andre's repetitive retaliation she thought dumb, and wrinkled her nose. What was the point of saying 'wolf' like it was something dirty? You couldn't hate all wolves by default - you could never meet all the wolves in the world, there were hundreds, or thereabouts. It was silly. And he was as irritating as his words. She would never come to terms with such an attitude. In the future, perhaps she'd hear about the further exploits of this particular beast, and maybe she'd recognise him from the stories. Maybe she'd be closer to them than she'd like. For now, there was the fact that her blood was possibly some of the first of his kind that he'd spilled. For all she knew he fought wolves every day - although he was too young to kill adults, and most pups were watched over like she was, no tale of terror would surprise her regarding such a cold-hearted animal.
Legacy's own fiery heart urged her to leap at him again, teach him that it actually wasn't safe to attack vulnerable strangers - she could see that as it was, he'd be happy to do so again - but there could be no profit from such an action but her own failure. The small red-gold girl watched him sullenly, noting how the peaceful beach and sea framed his arrogant figure, too calm and eternal to be appropriate. A scene that she might remember, in times to come.
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sorry for the wait, you two.
it's been a difficult past while.
The kid was acting stupid. Endymion almost felt sorry for him, despite the fact that he had intended to gut his sister. Moments passed after the child's insolent remark where the amber wolf stood there, between the pups, analyzing the situation. If he were to harm the pup, it would get back to Inferni, and his hide surely would be theirs'. Endymion didn't really want to hurt the kid anyway. So, it would have to be retreat.
"Let's go, Legacy," he said authoritatively, moving past the coyote pup, making sure to keep himself between the two. His pale green eyes remained on Andrezej; they coldly relayed to him a silent demand not to follow them. Endymion hadn't noticed the trickle of blood flowing from Legacy's leg. But if he had, rage might have overtaken him, and he would have most likely struck the child in return. Luckily, he didn't look down.
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The cruel pup had no desire to stalk them to their home territory and, while it may have been insightful or otherwise beneficial to do so, he didn't want to leave this beach in case another wolf came along who would not run to her a bigger wolf for assistance. He simply sneered at them as they passed, lips curling up over well-exposed teeth, as the boy's bristled hackles remained at arms. They stayed this way until the pair was out of sight, until he did settle down and turn his lifeless, cold gaze out over the crashing waves.
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