a thin fine line

[DaVinci 'Dait Nasphri]

1001

He was a man of power, everything about the creature standing on the deck of the flagship stated just that. His silvery pelt with it's dark steele overtones had scars that told their own stories. Each and every one was a testament to a strange and wondrous life the leader had lived. His clan adored him, the men of the ship respected him for the peace he had brought to their tribes. He had once had it all, the love of a fine woman, children who were strong and true, the power to crush enemies and to raise armies.. but on this very day he was giving it all away. The troubled soul had been soothed for many seasons under the power of a woman's touch, but the wasteland had never truly grown fruitful and plentiful. His heart belonged to the de le Poer woman but his soul had been touched by too much for any creature to claim. He had left her side, left their brood and the future behind for solace once more, the deepest darkest world that he knew.

He would welcome the warm embrace of the turmoil and anguish once more, the feel of a strangers touch and the raw knowledge that they could never sooth the tiger that prowled beneath his flesh. So many had tried in the past, so many had failed and yet for nearly a dozen seasons he had found a peace of sorts, a happiness in her arms. Now though the raw wounds had had salt scorned into the tender flesh, the sting of his wandering soul and dark path calling him once more across the mighty sea and into the arms of darkness where bleeding souls blossomed and hell reigned. These morbid thoughts should have sent icy shivers down his spine but they did not for the truth of the matter was.. the tiger had already broken free and the king of kings was walking that fine line between love and war already.

His men turned their eyes away as the shadows rolled in, the storm was brewing in the eyes of their lord but mother nature had welcomed her wayward son back to the soils of his birth in a fine fit of display. The bone chilling spray of the ocean and the rains did little to move the man at the bow, the crimson cloak cast over one shoulder as his lithe form stood poised upon the rail. He welcomed the chaos she had in store for him and he knew the poisons of the lands would come for him soon. There had been more than one reason he had turned away from the lands of his birth and now in his return the world would see the creature she had once caged, for without the song bird to sing her sweet sweet lullaby the beast shook the bars of his prison and prowled in the darkest reaches of DaVinci's mind.

The bastard son of rape and war, thrown into the ranks of a warrior and leader of hard men in a distant land. He would have traveled down such a darker path had the song bird not perched upon that bough one day and tamed the beast into a docile kitten. Something had gone astray though and her sweet sweet voice no longer sang to the creature that lurked within. Now he was alone once more with the ghosts of his past as company and the chilly stories of what was once but nevermore. His storm cast eyes closed for a moment as the truth sank in. She was gone, swallowed by the very soul that she had tamed.. and now now the world was his playground and the beast was ready to rage.

They had anchored and docked while the male had been lost in his dark inner world. The crew respected him but they feared him just as well for the creature on their decks these past moons had not been the lord they had known so well but a beast off of his leash. They murmured words if ill winds and demons who came down to reign on the leaders of old. The rumors of bad blood, of insanity and terror soon filled the late night hours as the beast slumbered.. slumbered but didn't sleep. His dreams were filled with bloodshed and violence, his snarls and howls filled the wee hours as their great and fearsome leader became a beast none wanted to reckon with.

He knew that in the end they were more than glad when his slender form clung to the rail for mere moments before cascading down into the darkness below. The soft splash of his pads hitting the waters of the beach were a sweet symphony to the ears of the crew.. though they had their instructions to wait a moon before casting off back to the lands where they belonged every soul was at ease with the demon removed from their minds for now. One lone sailor cast a copper into the ocean as he wished the man good luck in finding just what it was that would sooth the beast once more.. or release it from it's cage for good. This was not a path he could follow his blood brother on nor did he wish to. He was a simple man and his brother was not anymore.

He watched as the mad man faded into the darkness, blending with the night as he returned to the mother lands unto which he was born. The sailor sat at the rail and watched the beast set off on a prowl until the claws of the night took him in and there was nothing to watch on the lands. His eyes slowly trailed to the stars as the calm lapping of the sea eased the grip on his soul. He would see the man again, this he knew.. another time, another place.. but for now they were brothers lost and would remain until they met again.

[Finn Fidh]

[html]

WC: 700+

Note for the Lasky guidelines, this is not Finn I am writing with, but Odysseus. Also, be sure to let me know if the white text is an eye-killer. I'm still working out how I want the table to look, so I'll happily change it.

The little boat rocked and bumped with the waves, half sunk by the gallons of water sloshing about within. Odysseus sighed and lazily poured out another bucket back into the water, but it had been a lost cause from the beginning. He’d hit some hidden rock a kilometre back and the dinghy had been sinking steadily and irreparably since them. Standing and stretching all seven foot something of his body, Odysseus turned eyes on the town. It swum out of the darkness slowly, outlined by shivering torchlight. It was a fair sized place, large enough to grab a drink and maybe some companionship, but Odysseus was drunk already and sick of company he had to pay for.

Unnervingly and almost immediately as Odysseus drew near the place, he felt that unmistakeable sensation of being watched. Tying the knot of his cape more tightly around his neck, Odysseus peered up into the gloom of the tall ships, the real ships, the ships that wouldn’t pull a titanic on one tiny rock. There, a silhouette, a smudge darker than the rest of the smudges, with a pair of eyes that gleamed like marbles in the murk. Odysseus gave the figure a ridiculous, flowery bow, and heard the snort of derision as the figure moved away from the rail and onto more interesting things.

As the dingy nosed at the sands of the beach, Odysseus grabbed anything that had not been soaked through, and passed under the trees of Nova Scotia. Hector was waiting, just as expected, lightly tethered to an oak. The wolf ran a hand down the horse’s solid neck with one hand, untying the rope and dropping it to the ground with disgust. His smile was satisfied, but didn’t reach his eyes, which was par the course for such expressions. It was nice to be owed favours. This particular one had been repaid by a mangy German Shepherd named Garrus, in return for Odysseus slitting the throats of some debtors after Garrus’s hide.

Odysseus hopped astride the stallion and turned his nose south. South, south, always south. The wolf knew why he was going this way, but he never said it aloud, nor even admitted it in within his own head. He was looking for them. The wolves who had condemned him to die in a ditch at birth. His parents. It was a shot in the dark, but with a country the size of Canada, one had to start somewhere. And for Odysseus it was Nova Scotia. He’d find them, and he’d find a way to steal any happiness they had found with their lives, if only to balance the scales.

Odysseus was not so stupid that he might think bringing harm to others would make his own life better. Far from it, the wolf was firmly of the belief that bringing harm to others should be regarded solely as a recreational activity, done for pleasure and enjoyment. That satisfied smile flashed across his face again, like wind whipped clouds illuminating the plains with brief flashes of sunlight. His teeth were sharp, almost needlelike. Not wolf’s teeth, but that was obvious enough from his general build and appearance. He wore his half-blood like a badge.

After a time riding in the dark was began to grow tiresome and even Hector was having some trouble with the darkened roads. Odysseus put foot to the dirt again, his horse following behind, leadless, like a hound at his beck and call. Finding a suitably large clearing just off the road he made camp, building a fire and beginning to boil some water. The scent of another wolf was all around, and fresh too. It made Odysseus’s teeth itch, to think that someone might be out there, planning some robbery upon his person. To combat this, he let out a rough howl that climbed upwards through the night before diving like a dying bird.

There, that should do it. Hopefully whoever was about might be caught off guard by such a forthright invitation and declare themselves. What Odysseus needed was a local, someone who knew the land, and the packs, and the people. Someone who might illuminate his mysterious and frustrating parentage, even if only a little bit. Content with this action, Odysseus pulled a slim book from his pack and began to read, waiting for his surprise guest.