[M] crash, crash out of control

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-20-2012, 10:48 PM

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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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Sie-butt. If you want to bring Kae in that would be cool too. :>

It was time. Ezekiel had spent the past three days working feverishly and savagely, sorting through what he needed, what he could take, what he could spare. Everything was bundled together as it had been before, though he was now feeding a horse who demanded more food than he could provide. Boreas had gifted him this release—he thanked his dead enemies even as the knitting ribs ached with each breath. Nearly a month had passed, though, and he was fit for travel.

He had taken one of the extra horses, for there were many, and made it fit for travel with his own. Enkiel had brought more than expected, but his supplies fit well within the bags they had brought. The jackal looked somehow appropriate on the black beast, and Ezekiel was pleased by that if nothing else. Enkiel had not bid farewells to anyone, but Ezekiel knew he needed to do such a thing. At least, he owed that to one person.

With Viggo packed and his supplies managed, Ezekiel rode west. He moved at an easy pace, trailing familiar paths, and tried to think of words to say. It was an hour later when he arrived and the words would still not come; frustrated, he dismounted outside of the schoolhouse. The scent of Halo and her children was heavy but not present—perhaps they had gone out—but he smelled Myrika, and Kaena. A deep breath was drawn.

“I need to talk to you,” he said loudly, standing in the doorway.

Myrika Tears · 06-21-2012, 03:54 AM

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(355)

Myrika is by Titmouse!

No, silly girl, the old hybrid said, leaning back in Myrika's bed. The redhead herself leaned against the desk on the opposite wall, staring toward her grandmother sullenly. It's important because it's a mark of our family.

Yes, but not everyone has one, she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes were on the red star emblazoned on the old woman's chest, bright color splashed against the knobby marks of scar tissue. Myri had a few scars of her own, but none were any serious thing, and most were invisible beneath her thick pelt. Why is it so important I have one? she asked, shifting her weight and fidgeting on the desk. Ithiel doesn't, she pointed out, using the first example that leapt to mind.

The old woman huffed and grinned, a frightening sight of old scar tissue twisting and pulling on her face. He'll have his, too, if I have anything to say about it. Myrika saw plainly enough, the discussion was going to continue in this circular fashion. She looked away and toward the open windows. All the leather and pelt curtains were pulled back -- it was far too hot within the schoolhouse in the daytime to have them closed off. Her blue eyes narrowed, and Kaena soon sat up as well, twisting around to look out of the schoolhouse. Ezekiel, she said, only as their Aquila drew close to the schoolhouse. Myri had recognized him some time ago, and she frowned, seeing the second horse and the way they were laden. Perhaps he was taking a trip.

Sliding off the desk, the redhead moved toward the entrance of her home. Ezekiel spoke in the doorway, and the tone of his voice made her hurry. Soft and slower footsteps behind her told her Kaena was following. She stopped before him, hesitating, and cocked her head. Okay, she said, quietly. What's going on? There was anxiousness in the fold of her ears and the droop of her tail, the way her head seemed to dip lower and her eyes focused somewhere around Zeke's knees.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-21-2012, 04:54 AM

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Someone with more tact would have been rightly prepared for this. Yet as he stood there, emboldened by his own righteousness, Ezekiel found that the words would not come. He saw the girl before him and the woman behind her and doubt crept into his heart. Was she ready yet? It didn’t matter. She would have to be.

For a long time he simply stared at her. She was taller than he was, a gangly thing finally fattening up from well worked muscles and regular food. In many ways she was still a child, but children had led them before. It took everything he had not to look at Kaena because he knew with certainty that she would see what his intentions were long before he spoke them.

Then, because a lie could not come, and because his words turned to ash in his mouth, he let out a breath of air in a half-laugh and shook his head. One hand dropped to his side, to the bag, because he was desperate for the sweet smelling smoke to help ease his mind. For a month he had lived intoxicated on cannabis and opiates, and now, especially now, he needed them. While his hands fumbled, his mouth worked.

“I’m done,” he finally said, head bent and face obscured by blonde-white hair. “I’m leaving.”

Myrika Tears · 06-21-2012, 05:11 AM

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(--)

Myrika is by Kiri!

He stared at her and she gawked back, her eyes finally lifting up toward his face with the question still written plainly there. All sorts of scenarios flitted through her head -- maybe she'd acted wrongly with Ithiel on the borders the other day, maybe she'd committed some error in her duties or forgot some crucial part of them. She did not think so, but the improbable filled her head anyway, and she was aware of Kaena shuffling up to stand almost at her shoulder, one silver-gray hand mottled with scar tissue pressing on Myri's shoulder. She glanced toward it for a moment, but it only served to make her more nervous. She looked toward Ezekiel again and seemed about to ask again when he moved, reaching for his bag and spoke, finally.

Her heart jumped. Oh, she said, lamely, ears flattening into the wild red tangle atop her head. Where -- where are you going? she asked, her voice meek. She didn't have to ask if this was some weekending trip -- that much, at least, was clear to her, and something else became clear a moment later, as well. You're not telling everyone? Just us? she frowned, shrugging Kaena's hand away from her shoulder and taking a half-step toward him. Surely, he must have told Vesper, at the very least, but the Consul thought it supremely strange he would come to them all privately. Wasn't this something to tell the entirety of the clan?

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-21-2012, 05:30 AM

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A tightly rolled object rose to his hands, compact and sweet smelling. He found the box of matches not long after, another prize long held safe during his time here. From this came a puff of smoke, a hiss of flame, and the joint in his mouth was lit. Ezekiel inhaled deeply and held his breath, listening, watching as his cousin faltered before him. It wasn’t fair to do things this way. It was selfish and he, for this reason alone, found it the only way it could be done.

“No,” he said lowly, and breathed out smoke. His head finally lifted and a weary, worn face looked out at her. His hair was unkempt from the ride and fell around his face like dead straw and spider’s silk. “I’m telling you because Inferni is now yours.” A pause. The smile cracked across his face, sad and somehow sorry. “I should have told you sooner. You’ve always been the one I intended to leave this to.”

Another breath. He let this out in that half-laugh, shook his head, and looked to Myrika as if she had somehow, impossibly, been expected to know this all along.

Myrika Tears · 06-21-2012, 05:40 AM

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(--) there must always be a ~~stark~~ lykoi in ~~winterfell~~ inferni

Myrika is by Kiri!

The redhead watched him light up the joint, slender and looking very much like a fingerbone, with her ears pressed against her head. She still did not understand, but there was still Kaena, lingering behind her like a ghost. She was, in a way, some last bastion of old Inferni and the old ways, traditions and beliefs Myri would never fully comprehend. She gaped at him when he spoke, jaws parting for a long moment. Her tongue swept out over her muzzle nervously, and she shook her head, unwilling to believe it.

Me? No, she said, almost stammering the words out. Vesper? Ithiel? Kaena, even -- not me, she pleaded. She wasn't a leader -- she could never hold Inferni together as all the canines before her had. She was no coyote to rally behind -- tall and awkward and unsure of herself, she had no ability to lead. Surely Zeke saw this -- surely, he meant to give it to someone else. There was the ghost at her shoulder again, grinning that terrible fearsome grin.

Vesper is no Lykoi, and Ithiel is no leader, and I am too old, the scarred hybrid said softly. It needs to be you. Myri looked helplessly, miserably, at her grandmother and then her cousin, seeming to wilt beneath the one-eyed gaze and the golden gaze, shrouded as it was behind flaxen hair.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-21-2012, 05:52 AM

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omg yes. official policy.

The smoke did not clear his head as much as it muted the doubt. Doubt was the voice of the Devil, and impulse—and therefore instinct—was the truest God. Ezekiel took a third drag and finally felt his body begin to respond. His eyes remained sharp even as the drug settled into the caverns of his thoughts and filled them with gentle comfort. Aching ribs no longer hurt so bad, though he was aware of them. He was carefully and cautiously aware of all of his wounds but even more careful in his display of them. As far as Inferni was concerned, Ezekiel did not suffer. He knew, and his healer knew, but this was their bond and their silence. This was why Enkiel had agreed to come with him.

“Inferni needs someone like you,” he echoed, and a warm wind swept his hair from his face. Smoke rose in a faint purplish hue from the joint, trapped between two fingers the color of old blood. “These people,” and he spoke of them as if they were strangers now, and somehow different from him. “They need someone they can love. I was never that person—my father was, and Kaena was, but not me.” This too, he believed. Ezekiel was a man who had never fit within the confines or the aspirations of others. He simply belonged to an older, darker road. “It has to be you, Myrika.”

Myrika Tears · 06-21-2012, 06:21 AM

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(--) 8B awwwww yiss

Myrika is by Kiri!

The thick, sweet-smelling smoke hung in the air of the hallway, and it made Myrika feel a little lightheaded -- although perhaps that wasn't the smoke at all. Her eyes felt as if they were burning. Inferni did not need her -- she was weak, they needed strength to follow. What could she do as a leader? Doubt filled her more than anything, but it was apparent from the stance of her Aquila -- no, former Aquila -- you are the Aquila now, she thought -- he was leaving, and there was nothing she could do about it. To refuse him meant -- what? What did that mean, if she refused him? The clan would pass to Vesper, or maybe Ithiel, or maybe even Kaena, as she'd suggested -- or, it might well fall to pieces.

Setting her jaw hard, she looked at him with still-wide blue eyes, part of her wanting to run away screaming, part of her wanting to quietly refuse, and more of her wanting to do right by him and Inferni. Maybe he would return, maybe this was just temporary. I will do it, she said. I'll... try to be as good for Inferni as you, she murmured, more quietly. What would she do without Ezekiel around? There was no one else she might run to. Ithiel was stone and immovable; he did not understand half of the world and did not care to. Kaena was set in her ways, as well, and while she tried to do right by the clan, the redhead did not know if she could accept the old hybrid's advice.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-26-2012, 02:32 PM

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omg yes. official policy.

When his father had come to him, wounded and blunt as always, Ezekiel had not known what to make of him. The wolfish king who called himself a coyote was not as sympathetic or understanding as his son, and it was a fault of their stark differences. To be raised by strangers was to not know his father until he was nearly a man. Gabriel was somehow distanced from him, and he had been merciless when Ezekiel had argued the point. In the end, he had obeyed because he was a son who had been raised to do such a thing. Gabriel was his God when God had been silent and absent.

When his father abandoned him, he had lost the true faith. Now what lingered was remnants of these ideas, and the singular truths he had come to understand. Ezekiel believed in prophecy and demons. He believed that God was cruel. He believed that what he was doing now was justified by these reasons and he felt only personal empathy for this woman’s plight. She was a child once, like him, and she too had lost her father to the road and the wilderness. Inferni was, save for the singular presence of Kaena, a land of orphans and wayward souls.

He lifted one hand and clasped her forearm—it was a warrior’s handshake, one left to him by Tristan. Amber eyes, the same shade as his father, as the woman behind the redhead, stared into her own blue as if he was capable of seeing her soul. “You’ll do more than I was ever capable of,” he promised her, knowing this was true. He had never wanted the crown or the throne.

A pause. “And,” he added, finally releasing her. “You best tell Vesper what you really think of her. Don’t miss your chance,” his voice fell, sadly. Kastra was gone and he had been too foolish to chase after her. Maybe now, he could. Maybe he would find her out there and tell her what he had intended to.

Myrika Tears · 06-28-2012, 07:15 AM

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(--)

Though the gesture was strange to Myrika, she returned it, wanting to reach out with her other hand and hug him. She dared not; until he left, in her mind, he was still her authority. She bit her lip at his words, looking away from the sharp golden-yellow eyes that seemed to see straight through her and to the bottom of her. Her smile was there, but it was uncertain, too. She did not believe this was true; she would struggle to even hold them together and struggle to hold her crown, but she dared not speak otherwise.

He spoke again and released her, and the hybrid's ears pressed firmly into her red hair, her muzzle dipping low. She tittered a nervous laugh and dug her foot into the ground, finally shrugging and nodding her assent. I will, she promised, though it might take her some time to fulfill that particular promise. She still wanted to hug him, but she held herself firmly in her place. I hope you'll be happy, wherever you are going, she said. She would not press the coyote about the where or why; this was not as important.

You'll come back someday, Kaena murmured at his shoulder, confident in her proclamation. Most do, someday or other. Her old woman's grin was fierce, and she reached past Myrika and embraced the once-Aquila in a hug, more bold than Myri herself had dared to be. Smiling to herself, the hybrid watched them a moment and looked down, contemplating her own fate quietly as the old woman said good-bye to her grandson.

Myrika is by Alaine!

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