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!@#$%Polished white teeth tore into the side of a freshly killed deer. Within moments, his face, chest, and forepaws were stained red with blood. Anselm ate like a demon--he remained hunched defensively over his kill, hackles on end, claws digging into the hide of the deceased animal and his eyes and ears constantly on alert for any fool that chose to come along and get too close. Less than five minutes later after the doe heaved her last breath, he had already managed to devour most of her insides--the liver, heart, and lungs were slurped down instantly. Once he'd had his fill of the most nourishing organs, he tore into the meat and continued to literally wolf down his food.
!@#$%Eventually, through a combination of chomping and pulling, he managed to separate the left hind leg of the deer. By now, his appetite had been satiated--this would just be the icing on the cake. He carried his prize a short ways off from the kill and laid down to relax for the final portion of his meal. Mouthfuls of meat were now savoured as he ripped them off the bone, rather than gulped down instantly. He continued to scan the area diligently--being somewhat near the borders meant it was never a bad idea to be alert. Once the bones had been licked clean, he would use his powerful jaws to crunch through them in search of the delicious marrow inside. Ah--a feast fit for a king.
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[html] hope you don't mind slow posts. ;__; but i thought it was about time we had a thread together.. And so in silence the madman watched the demon devour his kill, tearing through the once living creature to leave behind but the remains of a mutilated corpse. It was boredom that compelled him, leaving him to perch in the lower branches of a tree and watch with rapt fascination as blood and organs were spilled onto the soil. Leaning back against the trunk, twisting a lock of his ragged, mangy hair the coyote sighed to himself as the scent of blood washed across him. This was a kill for flesh. A kill for sustenance and purpose by the wolfish creature that lurked within Inferni's ranks. Samael rarely killed for food. He killed for practice and fun and amusement—the sheer thrill of skin tearing and life escaping from a frantic, squirming form. Food was one of the last things on the boy's mind, and it showed in the skeletal appearance of his body and the ragged, mad nature of his features. He was dying in a way, held within his form only by the sheer desire of his cracked, frayed soul and consciousness. Insanity ran through his blood and thoughts, and it consumed him utterly as relevant things fell to afterthought. "Hungry?" said the spectator from his perch, finally allowing his presence to be known to the observed. Elegant smile graced his lips, small and light just like a proper prince's should be. Oh, he was a lovely little thing, so bloodthirsty and sadistic as any hell-spawn should be. [/html]
[html] Definitely!! -Finds it kind of =( that Anselm hasn't threaded with everyone from Inferni yet, but figures if she starts enough AW threads sooner or later she'll meet people.- xD
!@#$%He had just cracked through the femur when the single word assaulted his ears, which flicked in response. Snorting the blood out of his nose, he now inhaled deeply and found a familiar scent had grown in potency. Had he been that absorbed in his meal? Perhaps it was so. He looked about casually for the source of the sound, and before long his gaze rose to settle upon the "comrade" perched above: Samael. He still remembered all of their names from Inferni's first meeting in the new lands. Other than Kirin, there was nobody here that he didn't know by scent, visage, and title--and even in the newcomer's case, he knew the scent. Anselm took his job as spy and scout seriously.
!@#$%Red eyes remained settled on the form above, even as he applied pressure with his tongue to lick at the marrow inside of his bone. Even though he had seen the coyote before, he decided he had never taken much time to look at him. The other appeared rather scrawny--remarkably so, even for his species. Anselm definitely had a wolfish build, so arguably most of them were small by comparison. Then again, Anselm also loved food. He was always well fed, even when he had to fight for his meals. Even when he had to take kills down by himself. Always.
!@#$%His gaze now drifted lazily to the remainder of the kill, then back up to the younger male above: "You aren't?" An implicit invitation--Anselm had already had his fill, and he didn't mind sharing with the members of the clan. In times like these, they would all need the strength and energy they could get.
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[html] He was like an owl in the tree, watching the mouse below scurry through the underbrush. There was something of the nature of the observer in the coyote as he peered down at the de le Poer—watching with rapt, attentive eyes as the creature went about it's natural business. He was the curious scientist, seeing the how and the why of this being, always disconnected and perhaps even superior. He looked like a wolf. He smelled like a wolf. And his name was bred from a line that was filled with wolves. As Gabriel was a wolf, and yet a coyote. "Hardly," he replied lightly, waving a hand as though to brush aside the offer. Hunger was a bane of the physical flesh. Just as the lust and misery wrought by his mortal afflictions. Some he could control. Others he could not. And thus the further tear in his soul as mortality wreaked its havoc on the immortal demon trapped in its cage. Leaning forward, he leapt down from the tree, landing lightly on the ground before the other. Crouching where he'd landed, Samael tilted his head, still watching the other with bloodred eyes. "Who are you?" other than name, of course. Title only went so far in explaining the purpose and presence of certain creatures. And Samael remained curious as at the moment nothing else held his attention. [/html]
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!@#$%They were very different, but they were not worlds apart. Although they certainly were not on the same page, or even necessarily in the same book, they were easily still in the same library. Anselm, too, was an observer--and he found it downright fascinating how Samael chose to carry and present himself. He certainly seemed mad--impish, serpentine, bizarre. Then again, the de le Poer had seen plenty of crazies in his life. He knew what to look for, but he also knew not to fear it. He had killed a handful himself--far more, really, than the general population who often opted to leave him to his peace. Fiery tempers and blood-lust were not amongst his favourite personalities to deal with, but in this case, they were on the same side of the fence. It was natural for the coyote to be curious about him, anyway--it surprised him that more of the clan had not demanded answers immediately upon his "acceptance" by Gabriel. Maybe they knew enough not to question the doggish boy with sharp golden eyes.
!@#$%One shoulder lifted in a shrug as he polished the bone clean: Suit yourself. It didn't make sense to him why anybody would turn down a free meal--although in his mind's eye, he could see Samael returning here to scavenge the leftovers once he had already left. Either way, it made little difference to him how anybody else found their sustenance. Obviously, the strange prince had made it this far already. Using a large fore paw, he pushed the spent bone to the side, then began to lick away at the blood that clung to his fur. One leg first, and then the other--very methodical and calm. His own madness made him particularly keen on routines, sequences, and procedures. He could take it when the shit hit the fan, of course, but left to his own devices, he tended to follow some sort of pattern. When he was finished, he lazily licked his chops, then peered back up at Samael. He'd worry about his chest later when he went to find a drink.
!@#$%"Gabriel is my third cousin, or something like that," he replied simply. As the gears in his mind clicked, he recalled the words Faolin had mentioned while describing Samael--incest, murder, rape. "Through his father, of course, before you go and get excited," he added, with an amused glint in his eye. Meaning we're not related by blood. Yeah--he knew more than most of them probably thought he did. He was mostly curious to see if Sam would pick up the reference... and that kind of painfully sarcastic cynicism was the closest he got to making a joke.
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[html] mall-caps;color:#660000;">there's no one here to tuck me in, so the shotgun will instead
He watched the male as he groomed himself so neatly, carefully removing the blood from his coat. Ears twitched forward at his answer. So it was true, the title of de le Poer attached to the stranger was not a coincidence—he and Gabriel were related through their father's. It made perfect sense he'd so easily become so close to Inferni's doggish leader when they shared similar blood. Blood was a strong tie, this the Lykoi knew, though even such ties wouldn't prevent him from killing a creature. He'd murder his own blood without remorse if it came to it. But his blood was beautiful, and he knew it. Smirk graced his lips at Anselm's comment. So this beast knew far more about him than the average stranger should. He'd been snooping around obviously, picking up little things and rumors to build the bigger picture. No words were spoken, but Samael's expression had become malicious and horribly amused. "What a good little spy," he uttered finally, muzzle crinkling with a silent laugh.[/html]
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 The coyote's reaction did amuse him, and he allowed a knowing grin to flash across his face. In another moment, it was gone. "Of course, there are other things that concern us far more..." he said darkly. "I take it you've happened upon Dahlia de Mai's... exhibit by now?" It had already been some time since the slaughtering, but he wasn't sure if everyone in the clan had passed by that part of the borders yet. If Samael hadn't, Anselm would be simply delighted to give the quirky, violent male something to really be angry about. Such rage was better when it was aimed in the right direction. |
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[html] mall-caps;color:#660000;">there's no one here to tuck me in, so the shotgun will instead
Dahlia de Mai. Those wolves and their little war they'd started. He could almost care less now about what'd started it—it was simply an excuse to shed blood and revel in warfare, and for now, that was enough for the Lykoi. "Indeed, I have," he said lightly, remembering the corpse placed on display on the borders of Inferni, stinking of wolf and murder. But the she-yote had been a nobody to the prince, and thus the strike was not personal. The most it did was stir rage for the simple fact that wolves, fucking wolves had been allowed to cross their borders. Their defense had failed. It was a show of weakness, that a wolf could sneak around in the night and slaughter one of their own. Of course, he believed in the individual power more than protecting the weak and helpless. A weak link broke the chain, and this bitch had shattered. She had been weak. She had been killed. Yet, fangs bared, gaze darkening as thoughts drifted forth in his consciousness. He'd once hated Gabriel as their King, not because he believed Kaena's choice had been wrong, but simply for personal reasons. But this was a slip-up in power, and thus not allowed. Those offenders had to be destroyed because of their offense and the problem had to be fixed. This is what Samael believed.[/html]
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If they had managed to kill Haku immediately after the attack, it would have been too easy. Originally, he had believed the perpetrators to be destroyed--but by now, there was no doubt that they were not. The scents didn't match up. The bastard was still on the loose. Rising to his feet, he glanced at Samael expectantly. Like his "comrade," Anselm believed something needed to be done. Without some further punishment, who knew what would happen next. Perhaps they could go do a little sleuthing right now; maybe if they were lucky they'd find the monster responsible and kill him on the spot. If nothing else, they might gather some more information regarding the pack's numbers. "Shall we?" he inquired, fully ready for just about anything. If nothing else, this could be a bonding experience of some sort. Right. |
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[html] mall-caps;color:#660000;">there's no one here to tuck me in, so the shotgun will instead
Crimson gaze turned on his packmate, regarding him a moment. "Certainly," he replied, rising to his feet. He would go with Anselm and be a little spy as well, aiming to rid of their wolf problem and destroy the offenders. If they were lucky, there would be bloodshed tonight.[/html]
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