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A rare smile graced the woman’s slender maw as she gracefully followed the two wrestling younglings in an appropriate pace. It was a joy to see the young souls discover new things that would have seemed only dull in more experienced eyes. It occurred to her how easily she took everything for granted once she’d gotten used to it, and to see the children marvel at something as simple as a frozen flower or oddly shaped plant was odd and encouraging all at the same time. They were free spirits for now, but unfortunately it was not something that would last for much longer. They were growing rapidly, and it wouldn’t be long before they were young adults. It seemed like yesterday Symera was but a young puppy with a limited vocabulary, but she was already a hastati and an official member of the clan’s adult hierarchy. Where had the time gone? The Triarii considered herself a young canine still, but perhaps that was no longer the case? Was she turning into one of the older generations? The thought wasn’t appreciated, but that didn’t make it less true, unfortunately.
She spent her time wondering how the twins would grow up. Would they become someone she could be proud of, unlike their demonic brother? They seemed different than Itachi in everything they did, and it allowed her to remain hopeful that they could become worthy assets to the clan in the future. She had learned her own lessons, and knew that she couldn’t force them into becoming better versions of herself. Each had their individual personality, but she hoped she could teach them what mattered most to her. She treasured true family before all, and that was one of her qualities she wished to continue through them. Once they were old enough, she would start training them in the art of war. If they were to obtain the warrior rank like their mother was not as important, as long as they would at least know how to defend themselves. The world could be most hostile outside the clan’s skull-lined borders, and she would face an internal death if something happened to them once they dared to roam outside the safety of their home.
Oblivion seemed more aggressive than his feminine sister, and perhaps, if he continued in that direction, she would be able to appreciate his more wolfish appearance. Amnesty seemed to take more after her mother’s appearance, though her colouration matched her biological father’s more than her mother. But they were beautiful to her, both of them, regardless. She had yet to find a flaw in either that she couldn’t appreciate. But she guessed she was blinder than most, considering these children were part of her and Samael.
The small family continued through the back garden of the mansion, past the stables and the shallow pond where she once had been lead to believe there could be peace between her and the blonde Aquila. It seemed unobtainable now, for she was only left with deep dissatisfaction for the way he lead. Perhaps she would have done nothing but ruin the clan if she had been the one to make the decisions, but it didn’t improve the taste of bitterness. But in the presence of her two living gems, thoughts did not linger long on all the negativity she had to deal with in her life. It was simple when she was with the twins, for everything seemed just a bit brighter. Perhaps it was because of them she did her best no to fall down on other members with teeth and claws. Once the fine line had been crossed and she had tasted a fellow clan member’s blood in her rage, it seemed to be easier to fall into that same trap. It wasn’t something she wished for, of course, but it was a wonderfully effective way to get out the nastiness dwelling inside her.
Ruby gaze squinted up above to catch a glimpse of the clouded sky, and white-gray puffs seemed too bright for downpour. She’d prefer snow before anything else though, for it seemed to excite the children. It was difficult to imagine herself as a child of their age. Almost unthinkable. It was around the same time Vitium had come to take the children away from their mother, believing that it was he that had sired them. Perhaps Enigma and Jael belonged to him, but Halo’s pale brother had crushed that belief a long time ago. Back then it had made her physically ill when she learned, but it wasn’t such a bad truth to deal with now. But the scars would remain, even if it didn’t hurt the same way as it had back then. It was something that was over and done with, and she didn’t feel the need to wish differently now.
Crouching down, the mother pulled up a tuft of grass with root intact and hard earth attached. Hesitating only for a moment, she gently threw it over to the children. A boyish squeal was given by the boy in initial surprise, but as he looked back to his smiling mother, he quickly turned to attack the poor tuft, gnawing at frozen earth with sharp milk teeth that soon were to be shed. Halo placed a hand on her tall cheekbone, wondering what exactly it was that made the sight seem adorable rather than moronic. Her children were allowed to be fools in her presence, and she didn’t mind the least. Strange how she seemed to have no sense around them. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Better not to know.
Winter meant that his need to travel out of the clan was swiftly diminished. There were no need to gather plants that were since dead, and while certain berries remained hardy and certain greens did as well, the majority of what he needed from outside of their land was either buried under frost or growing in the greenhouse.
This was where he often went, tending to the plants within. They did not flower year round, and he had considered bringing in bees to see this occurred. It was something he would have to focus on come spring, when a nest could be moved in and a box or something similar for them to nest in. The jackal used a small knife for what he did presently, trimming away dead leaves and cleaning up the boxes. While the old Lykoi girls had often kept things inside, they were hardly as meticulous as Enkiel (though no one could really match his rather insane amount of detail). Now the greenhouse was a masterpiece, carefully molded and organized so that the plants not only grew, but thrived.
The jackal swept the hard-packed earth clear with a grass-made broom. He was glad that there was enough heat within the building to keep the plants alive, but it was not enough to make the place truly comfortable. Especially for Enkiel, who did not enjoy the cold weather as many of his native cousins did.
This meant his poncho, a woolen thing found in the guest house, was worn nearly always constantly. He pulled this on before he left the greenhouse, huffing against the cold air. Above his head the sky was turning into a rolling gray thing that threatened of snow. Snow he was alright with; freezing rain, as it had been for the majority of the beginning of winter, was terrible. Narrowed eyes turned away from the undulating clouds as he turned to leave, and settled instead on a trio parading through the landscape behind the mansion.
Enkiel was not entirely friendly with his half-sister, but this was not a fault of either personality. They were simply leading lives that did not allow for close interaction. He had treated her medically before and he had checked up on her after the birth of the twins. A part of him was truly curious as to the father of the brood, but he knew better than to ask. After Talitha…well, he had no desire to hear of such twisted things. It was not healthy, but he would not push such issues forward for they were not entirely dangerous. While a man driven by science, his religious beliefs considered such things to welcome darkness into the spirit.
He advanced slowly, as was his way, and came to the side of his taller sister silently. The children returned to wrestling, uninterested in the jackal’s appearance. Enkiel watched them with the same stillness he did all things, pleased to see how they were growing. “Halo,” he greeted her, though he did not lift his head to look at her face. “Your children grow strong.” This was both his personal opinion and that of the medic, who could see that they were prospering now that Halo was older and better prepared for children.
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The two half siblings were not close in any sense, but the crude woman had always looked upon Enkiel with eyes of acceptance. He was someone there was little reason to dominate, and so she didn’t try. Predictable and dependable, something she could appreciate. The jackal was the only sibling she treated as a proper equal. There had been others, but like the rest, they had disappeared shortly after they had arrived. Their sister had come and gone more than once, but for now the clan was blessedly free of the immature woman wearing that silly mask. She didn’t know much of how Enkiel felt about her litter sibling, but wasn’t curious enough to ask. She was content with her absence.
The mother’s petite face tilted as she turned to greet her clothed sibling. It didn’t trigger thoughts of ridicule to see him wear human clothing to shut out a portion of the unforgiving cold. She knew a bit of the lands he had come from, and he hadn’t been made to suffer cold climates. It was only natural that he turned to helpful resources. Halo adored her own accessories dearly, though to her it was a matter of appearance, nothing more. Through heavy eyelashes, her eyes found his. ”Enkiel,” she offered in sweet return, a distant smile taking form on dark lips unaccustomed to the display of positive emotion. After the birth of her children, she had found reason to smile every day, though only around them.
His words spoke the truth, though it was treated as a compliment. Her gaze returned to the wrestling puppies, and she nodded, quick to agree with such wondrous truth. ”They will grow up to be fine assets to the clan,” she promised, hoped. She couldn’t carve out their lives, but she lived with the belief that they would find brighter futures than their elder brother. Her precious gems; how she hoped they wouldn’t disappoint her. ”How is your greenhouse?” she asked, offering a polite question of concern for something she knew he cared for. The woman knew little about his plants and their lifespan. Surely, a small house of glass couldn’t possibly protect the frail things from the cold of winter. But she could ask.
Truth be told, of all the members of this clan who had come and gone throughout the years, it was Enkiel and Halo alone who had never abandoned it. They had been born outsiders and faced with earth shattering realizations of their own blood upon arrival. Likewise, they had stood back and watched as their siblings abandoned the clan time and time again. For Enkiel, the hurt had been sharp and sudden and abandoned—if his family would not honor him, then why should he stand for them? No, his talents were for Inferni alone. If there was nothing to be gained by aiding those within, he would not have done such a thing. The clan would thrive and he would be the one who saw to such a thing, even if he could not fight as well as the others.
Like his stoic sister, Enkiel did not smile often. Yet he found the pretty woman’s face in such an odd conformation quite charming and returned the gesture, albeit it more slight, as he looked on at the children. They were the future of Inferni now, and he would continue to aid her in his subtle ways—providing plants to promote her own lactations, for one.
“We have no other children here,” the jackal reminded her, as if to echo her claim. “They need not compete with others.” Of course, there would be in-house conflict between the two. It was only natural. Enkiel had been shoved around by his siblings, yet here he stood, one of the highest ranked members of the clan and holding the most honorable co-rank within it. His dark hair was tousled, briefly, by a breeze as he shifted his head to look at the warrior. “It is in a far better state now that I alone tend it,” he said evenly, certain she would not miss the sharp remark. Talking in such ways was what he did best; there was so much left unsaid and able to be interpreted for those who knew how to listen. “How are you, Triarii? I understand you are now actively training once more.” Again, he was subtle—if she had any issues as far as her health, it was a way to politely prod about such manners. Helotes had come to him often enough with soreness or wounds, but never Halo; and he did not imagine such a proud creature would.
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Some months ago, the woman would have breathed a sigh of arrogant relief at the certainty that there were no other children present in the clan’s vast lands. Symera was the youngest member the russet warrior could think of, maybe except for the orphaned girl that Halo had been unfortunate enough to spot for a second time at the last meeting. She didn’t know the gold eyed girl’s name, and in truth, didn’t care much to either. The day the adult and child had met lay in a past that seemed distant. The girl had been much younger then, and the same red eyes that glanced to her children with undiluted pride now had looked upon the similar innocence with disgust and unhidden disapproval. They had lost young souls to wolves in the past, and soft hearted things weren’t carved for a life in the clan. These lands ran red with blood and pain. Every member knew what it was to sink their teeth into hostile flesh, and every member had lost someone that had meant something in their life, one way or the other.
Halo did understand why some choose to leave the clan, but she didn’t understand their return, and she couldn’t guess what reasons were good enough for the Aquila to allow the unfaithful to stay. It left them with a false membership number, for she knew people would disappear when this fragile peace would come to an end. And it would, it always did. What would the blond Ezekiel do then? Perhaps he would stand on a hill in the distance and watch his Triarii be cut down by her enemies, heavily outmatched in number. This was what she expected. How crooked and negative her train of thought was. Always and forever. She felt lonely here, but she wasn’t in her own quest to bring salvation to Inferni. She knew what she wanted, and it was necessary for her to open one set of eyes at the time. It would take time to separate the wheat from the chaff. And she could have some fun in the process. She deserved it.
But the man beside her, he couldn’t be bended by her fiery will. The thought of making an attempt wasn’t attractive enough for her to try. ”A pity,” the dragon-woman breathed; for she would have liked to see her children sweep the floor with lesser beings less pure of the royal blood than hers. She shrugged her strong shoulders, smiling at mental images of children weeping in defeat. Her brother moved to answer her question, and though his profession didn’t interest her the slightest, she was glad to hear that it was in a better state. Hand drew up to linger before her lips, hiding the blooming smile there as she considered the words he had spoken. Indeed, she didn’t doubt this. She loved the way he spoke his mind without saying anything at all. She admired his ability to form his words. Halo was known to speak more from the gut, and the result were many sets of disapproving eyes. But she could care more of what the lowly pawns thought of her.
”I am,” the woman nodded, again trailing after the man as the conversation had started moving on ahead without her fullest attention. ”Am I giving you extra work?” The question was served with a smirk, more than a little arrogant. The individuals she trained received no mercy, and pain was a most effective teacher. She didn’t always walk away from the training sessions without ache, either, but she visited Enkiel on rare occasion only. She was accustomed to pain and scratches, and had she not had her glorious coat covering up her skin, evidence of her line of work would have been visible to all. But most of her cuts and bruises were invisible, and as she always did her best to clean any minor injuries after each sparring session, she had yet to gain an infection worthy of inspection. Mere luck had kept her from breaking bones and receiving significant cuts.
Enkiel was not presumptuous enough to question what it was that worked behind their Aquila’s mind. He had been a young man when he had returned and quickly forged a friendship (if one could call it that) with the jackal. They shared a medical interest, which was something Enkiel was glad for. With another capable healer able to be on the field, they would not endure such losses as previously suffered. Of course, some wounds could not be cured—one could not bring back the dead, after all. Still, he trusted that Ezekiel knew what he was doing. Gabriel had obviously seen something within the male, and time had proven this was not entirely untrue. Their numbers were stronger now than ever, and there was a slow-growing but present sense of familiarity between all of the members. If they learned to work and behave as a unit, then they would be unbreakable.
Of course, he recognized that such things were pipe dreams. Some people would never find kinship amongst this clan, and many would abandon them once warmer weather came. Enkiel remained carefully indifferent of such things. He was not a leader, not seen as such…and yet he was powerful in his own way, known, and this was truly all that mattered.
The main talent of Enkiel’s speech, came from the fact he was a foreigner. While Arabic was native to him, English was all he often spoke here…though he had begun teaching the kitten to respond in his native tongue to commands. It helped him remain fluent by talking aloud, though he doubted it would ever leave him. Common, now, that was harder. He processed words mechanically, though forming his own took finesse. It was because he spoke properly, and not with a dialect, that made his voice behave the way it did; while always a deep, throaty noise, the tempo of his words were slower than others. This was not to say he did not speak clearly, but some concepts (such as contractions) failed him.
A faint smile crossed his face, pleased by her arrogance. She was a true woman of this country—if she had behaved in such a manner like those mad-Arabs kept their own, her tongue would have been cut. Yet Enkiel favored strong women, if only for the fact he had never been a man challenged; he craved someone who would stand up to his demanding ways. the jackal admitted, glancing back to the children. The lighter of the two, the girl, had pinned her brother and was snapping at his ear. A sharp, yowling puppy yelp from the boy cause her to stop, but only long enough for him to turn and throw her off. “Who watches them while you train? They are surely growing too large for جدة to do such a thing regularly.” While Kaena was not incapable of such a thing, she was no doubt unable to keep up with the children if they chose to run off.
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She was anxious to see if her little demons would grow up to become as vicious and lethal as herself. She partly hoped not, for she knew she was considered a repulsive creature to most because of the way she held herself. Change was possible, but it would be too difficult to figure out where to start and what to do. So many encounters had insisted to put her into a place she did not want to be, and so, slowly, her cold and disgustingly arrogant mask had been formed, revised and perfected. But was that really who she was? Was it what she wished her young ones to become?
Although her sibling’s English was nothing short of excellent, there were occasions where he used words taken from his native tongue. This was one of few the Triarii could recognize. When Itachi had been young, all responsibility and care had been pushed over to Kaena, though this time it was different. Kaena was older and Halo was more prepared to handle the responsibilities that arrived with parenthood. Perhaps she was extraordinarily blessed this time around, for it seemed so much easier now.
A soft, short nod was given at his words, though the scarlet of her eyes remained attached to the sight of her young ones as she spoke. ”Sometimes I leave them on their own,” for after all, she was mostly close by, in the backyard of the mansion. ”and at other times I’ve had Symera watch over them.” The young woman that was not her child, though she had managed to gain that previous status within the Lykoi’s cold heart. Symera was a dutiful and clever big sister, and had been of great assistance.
Black pupils rose and moved to settle on reds similar to hers, almost smiling. ”I could always need another willing babysitter though, if you’re looking for work.” The corners of her lips rose, for the woman found a particular mental image slightly out of character for someone like him.
The way in which Enkiel spoke was that of a foreigner; he was careful in the ways of pronunciation and term. When he had first begun the language several concepts had fallen short with him—there had been a learning come when it came to sarcasm, something he had not understood entirely until a year ago. Enkiel was scholarly, though, and part of his knowledge and his drive to learn meant he observed. While he could not fight a battle as well as the coyotes within this clan, he knew the means and methods to do so. A blow in certain areas could stagger a combatant, even one in a rage. If he used this to keep himself safe he would survive should violence ever touch him. It had not yet, despite the wars, and he was grateful for such a gift.
He nodded slightly at her explanation. The pups were reaching the age when they would be able to explore; he did not doubt they were strong enough to begin existing without her aid. Symera was likely somewhat capable, though Enkiel recalled her savagery and imagined that it might one day reflect on the children. While he was not opposed to such things, there was no need for the children to yet begin down that road. Discipline was needed and a child (even though she was an adult now, at least in the ranks) was not adequate for such a task.
Sangria red eyes followed her gaze, meeting them without fear. No one would dare raise a hand against him here. Enkiel was the singular master of healing within these lands and had held the ear of both this and the previous Aquila. Every whisper found his dark ears, every secret was stored within his lean, sharp head. There was no doubt that his heritage favored that of his mother’s blood. Samael had given him only the eyes and the savagery that allowed his life to continue this far. He had not killed, but he did not fear it. Death was familiar and it was a thing he combated with every herb and every new talent practiced on these coyotes.
Though she did not smile, he imagined there was a ghost of it within her blood-colored eyes. In many ways, as much as they were different, they were alike. He returned this not-there look with dark admiration—the only woman he had seen capable of bearing his children was now gone. There were no coyote women here who caught his eye or showed themselves respectable of bearing his seed. If he were to one day have children, he would ensure that they were magnificent.
The dark-haired jackal looked back to the twins, who had since moved on to an impromptu game of tag. While Oblivion dominated his sister physically, she was the faster of the two—he imagined this would one day reflect in the way they grew. “If I am not with a patient I see no harm in it. I would want my niece and nephew to learn well what is expected of them; and whatever else I see fit, should their mother allow it.” A faint coyote-smile brushed over his face, something that suggested he would do so with or without her permission. If the children were to be under his tutelage, he would see them rise to heights unattainable by his own blood.
