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He was dead. She'd watched him be killed; that had been scarring in its own way, watching her family members rip apart a coyote who had it coming. It was comforting to know that Andrezej would never be coming back for her but, at the same time, she couldn't erase the sounds of his yowling laughter. He had even enjoyed being killed! It was sick. Talitha's feet took her in her silent peregrination to the bay adjacent to Inferni's land, and truly adjacent to the Waste itself, and there she found herself in a large and spacious sunflower patch. The shore was quite far away, but she didn't yearn to sit by the water today; she was content among the flowers. They had bloomed early, as far as she knew, but she couldn't really know; maybe they were gonna die soon.
Right in front of her, cheerily hopping on the ground and scooping up fallen seeds, was a bright red bird with a small crest. She watched it, transfixed but unable to give it a name, her tail swaying through the opening in her black cargo shorts. They had been pants at one point, but she had managed to get just above the knee cut off, fashioning a nice pair of shorts for herself out of them. They weren't as cool and brand new as they had been when she'd first fixed them for herself, now that she was used to them, but she had already decided that she would go and find more when she had the chance to.
She reached for the little red bird, and it flew away, chittering busily as she watched with a very small smile.
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sharksArkham was very much tired of wandering, even if he wasn't really going anywhere. But more and more, he felt distanced from his home and the people he had grown up with. The peace he'd found on the sandy shores of his once-home did not feel so peaceful anymore when he thought about all the ugly things that had likely happened when he'd been sleeping, or when he hadn't been paying attention. He was disgusted, but while it was difficult for him to erase the image of Samael from his mind, that disgust had not yet evolved into hatred. It was hard to hate family; it was the only thing he'd ever had. The grey coyote could not seem to pry himself away from the area and circled Inferni's territories at a cautious distance, leaving no trail behind but the scent of mint and flowers.
sharksToday, he sat amongst the tall sunflowers, quietly nursing his injuries in the rare sun. Clouds were in the sky, but would not take over for at least a few more hours. It would likely rain again in the evening, and then he would have to find shelter again. It was a tiring routine. He heard the footsteps enter the field, but figuring that he was well hidden amongst the stalks, did not bother to investigate. Still, the visitor ventured closer and he peered through the flowers to see the cardinal fly off. Talitha? He was glad to see that she was apparently safe and out of Dahlia's clutches. Arkham pulled his cloak back around his body, hiding his recent wounds.
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She jumped the minute her name was spoken, shrinking back like a mouse from a hawk as she peered around her for a sign of whoever knew who she was but seemed unrecognisable. Maybe Andre's ghost was haunting her, but the voice didn't sound much like his. Did he have cohorts? If that were the case, maybe one of his subordinates had come to finish the job he'd failed to complete. She lowered herself even more, fearful eyes whipping through the stalks to find the source. It took only moments for the smell of mint to reach her, and it painted only one specific man to her; Kharma was there.
It's just you, she breathed, but the sound of her heart pounding was probably loud enough for him to hear, and her eyes were definitely fearful. When they weren't fearful they looked dead, but the slightest of lights had returned; perpetual jumpiness. Her hypervigilance probably wouldn't last too long now that the culprit had been put to death, but it was enhanced by the fact that she kept seeing him everywhere. Even though Andrezej wasn't alive anymore, and even though she had watched it with her own eyes, he lurked in her peripheral vision, a memory phantom set on haunting her until she accepted that he was gone.
H-hi.
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sharksHer startled response startled him, and he paused momentarily before moving through the sunflowers to where she was. Talitha's jumpiness made sense, of course, considering her recent prisoner status, but Arkham couldn't help but think that something else was wrong. His muzzle was exposed this time, but the top half of his head was still covered, and his entire body was cloaked. He worked hard not to wince at the bear claw wounds on his stomach when he sat down again. Are you okay? he asked hesitantly, I heard you were taken by Dahlia da Mai. Arkham had not believed that any physical harm would come to her; he had had confidence that Inferni's own prisoner would guarantee that. And he had been confident that Gabriel would not have stood for anything of the sort.
sharksIs the war over now?
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O-oh. How had he known that? She sat down opposite him, almost on the very spot where the cardinal had taken flight, hidden easily by the sunflowers that shot out of the ground. Before the encounter, she had been naif to the world's darkest men, and now she knew more than she ever could have, or would have, bargained for. She couldn't blame Dahlia de Mai, or herself. Nobody could have stopped what had inevitably happened. God's Will was His Law, and she wouldn't disobey anything decreed by Him. Even so, it still to the day baffled the youthful teen who couldn't understand why such a loyal subject of His Word would be subjected to something so absolutely sickening and destructive.
She couldn't blame God either. He wasn't at fault. Nobody but Andrezej could take responsibility for the actions used against her, but Andrezej was dead. He would take no more responsibility for anything, and he wouldn't bother anyone ever again. They were nice to me. Sure, she'd been locked in a shack and unable to leave, but they hadn't been unusually unkind, considering she was their hostage and prisoner. They could have been the one to inflict her pain and not her half uncle, but they hadn't. They had fed her and gave her water and had spoken to her.
Y-yeah. Dad traded some lady to Haku and he let me go home and they declared that it was over. A stalemate. Nobody had won and nobody had lost, in the terms of a game, but everybody had, in fact, been a loser. Nobody had triumphed and everybody had things to tend, wounds to lick, and dignities to rebuild. In the sense of neutrality, it had been a draw. In the sense of disappointment, it had been very, very high for some and it shone a hopeful light on a horizon for many others.
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sharksThough Gabriel and Faolin had more or less raised him, neither had ever really spoke of God to him. He had grown up faithless and apathetic in the grand scheme of things. He had never really thought about why things happened and did not look for reasons or people to blame. When his mother had left, he had asked why, but he had not been given a comprehensive answer. After a while, he accepted that and just figured it was something he would never know because she would never return to tell her. He had never needed God. He had believed in himself and the people around him. Until the fire. And then he stopped believing in Gabriel. Or at least, he stopped believing completely. Faith was hard to let go
sharksI'm glad you're all right, he said quietly. Looking at her again, he cocked his head a little, You don't look very happy though. If they had treated her nicely, then she shouldn't have come out of the experience all that traumatized right? Arkham did not pretend to understand war. He had never been a part of one and hoped he never would be. With his alliances as scattered as they were now though, he wasn't sure what he'd ever end up fighting for.
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If she wouldn't mind anybody taking gubernatorial status over Inferni other than her father, whom she wished would never have to be replaced until he passed on, she would choose a man like Kharma. He seemed self-assured, beating her out at least a hundred times over. Her confidence existed in the limp hand of a man who was six feet under with a stone marking his place, and that man was packed in clay. She knew what Rachias had done, and she respected her aunt for it, but it didn't make it anymore puzzling. The Tears de Ame had known her brother's crimes, but still she had yearned to save him. Still she had blamed them all for killing him, when he was already dead from the start. She didn't try to get it, but she would have liked to know how one could still love someone as twisted as Andrezej had been.
Some other stuff happened, she admitted. Why was it so easy to say that now? A few days ago, when the figure from her nightmares still breathed, she had been hard pressed to talk about any of it. Perhaps she had had an inner fear that the more she spoke of it, the sooner he would come for her. Now that he had, and had failed in his mission, she guessed it didn't matter as much anymore. She still didn't want to admit what it was that Andre had done, specifically, but she could still say he had done something with little trouble.
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sharksIt was a curiosity he was unfamiliar with, but it was there, and it was strong. He wanted to know what had happened. As cunning and observant as he could be, there was only so much he could piece together with what he had seen and come across. His brother's scent was in the area, fairly recent; that much was not hard to discern. Arkham was not sure he had ever really loved Andrezej. They had been at odds their entire lives, like night and day, perhaps. But the lighter grey coyote had always felt strongly towards family, even in the days when nothing really mattered, and deep down, part of him had always wanted to save his brother somehow, to bring him out of whatever darkness he kept himself in. Maybe a different part of him had always thought it would be impossible, and it was that part that set out to diametrically oppose Andre, to balance it all out.
sharksAndre had been exiled for trying to kill his blood brother and attacking Gabriel when he'd interfered. Arkham had always known that he would return for some kind of revenge, but he was naive in his belief that it would be a direct and plain attack. The coyote didn't know what had happened. Maybe he suspected. Or maybe he simply suspected that Talitha knew. Either way, he wasn't really sure how to pose the question without giving himself a way. You don't really want to talk about it, huh? he gave a small smile. He understood, mostly, but it was mostly politeness and caution. Well, at least it's over now, right?
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It should have been obvious to the stranger, her wishes. She allowed the unresponsiveness to wash over her, choosing to remain silent and taking his question as rhetorical. She wasn't one to talk about her problems, even though everybody in Inferni knew about it by now; her intention had never been to make it public. Publicity did nothing but make her more vulnerable, more known to those around her. As long as her name wasn't something that was heard commonly, Talitha had a small amount of safety, like a blanket to draw around her thin shoulders and take comfort in. Perhaps that comfort wasn't earned, and perhaps it was merely an illusion; she would rather live in a world of lies than one where everybody recognised her face.
Not like she was difficult to pick out anyway.
Kharma was probably not the best person to tell about it all, anyway. While she had once been very trusting, and while the man hadn't done anything to prove that he couldn't be given at least that amount of knowledge, it didn't change the fact that he was a stranger. The coyotes of Inferni were her family; they would have to know regardless of who she did or did not tell. But even with Andrezej dead, nothing could keep away her memory. Nothing, short of perhaps drowning herself in alcohol; it was a substance she didn't yet know.
Yeah, but we had bigger problems, she muttered. Inferni killed a coyote the other day. Dare she say who it was? Dare she mention the name, in case Kharma turned out to be a cohort of his? He was an exile from the clan, come back to torment them. Her bright red eyes lifted to meet Kharma's warmer gaze for a moment, and then lowered themselves again. She could still almost smell the blood, but she wasn't about to link herself to the situation. It would only make her more suspicious, or give him the incentive to finish what Andrezej had not.
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sharksHe did not react. After all, his blank and stoic face was his most natural one, with or without a mask. But that was only half of why he said nothing initially; the other half was a garbled mix of disbelief, regret, anger, denial, guilt, and a thousand other feelings that likely didn't have words to describe them. It was that naivete again that had had him believe that things would never get that bad, that deep down, family meant as much to all of them as it did to him, that somehow, things would change eventually. Arkham had faced loss before; the mere idea that his brother was gone was not what hurt the most. It was more the fact that he had been killed outright. It was the fact that he had almost surely deserved it. It was the fact that there was probably nothing he could have done. It was the fact that he had known all along that this was inevitable.
sharksAnd it was the fact that he continued to wonder whether they were all destined to turn out that way. Deranged, abandoned, unloved, and unloving, throat slashed open on the beach and intestines ripped out for the seagulls at dawn.
sharksAt least it's over now, he said again, somehow maintaining his tone and keeping it free of all that beautiful inner turmoil. But he looked away, unable to stop thinking about how it must have all happened, how the entire clan must have descended upon Andre, and how he had probably died laughing.
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Yeah, she agreed softly. She could detect the little change in Kharma but, unfortunately, she wasn't able to pinpoint the source. Maybe he was actually an accomplice of Andre's and was mourning the death of his master; it seemed somewhat important to him, at any rate. It was also, she supposed, possible that Kharma didn't like the idea of other coyotes killing one of their own kind. It was against Inferni's law to kill brethren like that, but she also understood where exceptions played an important role. She wouldn't allow someone to consider Andre more than a killer, and wouldn't ever think he hadn't deserved it.
She was, however, a biased source. The man sitting here in silence was definitely not. She leaned over and placed an understanding hand against her companions knee, unable to know what the other would do about it and not exactly caring. The act of beneficence was simply because Talitha, and her empathy, could not imagine that Kharma was mourning the death of a specific person. He was a very bad man. We don't normally kill our own kind here... We abhor it.
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sharksI understand, he said solemnly, though he didn't turn back to her. Arkham liked to think he understood a lot of things, but more than that he understood it was likely his youthful naivete that continued to let him believe that. He understood why his brother had been killed. He understood very well that the death had only been a matter of time and that it had been promised since the day of Andre's exile, perhaps even before then. He understood that Gabriel needed to protect his clan against all that threatened it, even if it was a relative. What he didn't understand was why Andre had always been the way he had been and why it never seemed like anything could have been done. What he didn't understand was why he had to be so helpless. Or maybe he did and just didn't want to accept it.
sharksI wish I understood why some people turn out the way they do. I wonder if it's just random, or if it's in the blood. Maybe we all end up crazy in the end. It was his biggest fear, but the older he got and the more he learned, the easier it was to believe. Arkham felt too distant and too attached at the same time. He was one of them, but he wasn't. He desperately wanted his family back, but he didn't. What was there to want from them?
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Sorry for the wait! D:
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Lykoi's come right out of a madhouse, she said, but she only said this because, in her young life, it was somewhat what she had been made to believe. She was mad, her dad was mad, her grandmother was mad, and she had begun them all. They were all crazy. But the part of her that took strongly after Ahren, the part that was more de le Poer than would ever be Lykoi, was completely sane, or so she liked to believe. Demons seemed to take over every other werewolf in the area, but not her; no, never her. She wouldn't be so haunted.
She liked to believe she was an exception to insanity. She didn't know she had it, as many never found out, but nor really did anybody else. It had yet to show itself; for that she thought it was nonexistent.
I think it's in the blood. But her thought was worth little merit; of course, she had no such experience to make a claim toward it.
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I figured this was about done anyway? :3
I think so too, he said quietly. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe he would end up like Andrezej someday, with his throat slashed open on the beach and no one to care. He didn't want to believe that he would end up like Samael someday, without a care in the word and lust on his mind. He didn't want to believe that he would end up like Gabriel someday, destroying people's lives because he thought it was his job. Or whatever else. He didn't want to believe that he would end up like his brothers. But it was in the blood, right? Maybe he would end up like his mother. A deserter. A whore. A monster in her own right. Maybe he would end up like his father. Mad. Depressed. A monster in his own words.
He didn't want to end up like them, but how could he think otherwise? There was nothing to set him apart. He wasn't special. Just another name on this gigantic family tree. Why should he think that he'd turn out any different?
I should go. Arkham turned back to her briefly before standing. I might visit Inferni again though. More and more though, he was thinking that he would never be able to make his home there again. He would face Gabriel. He would find out why. And then he wouldn't be able to stay anymore. See you, he called back as he disappeared again through the sunflowers.
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