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Rain was pouring down in torrents as it had been nonstop for weeks. Outside the window, the weather seemed to mock him, mirroring his inner turmoil as he watched the droplets fall. Nails screeched across the glass, dragging over the polished surface of the looking glass as he spied his own reflection. Hideous. Kaena’s scars made her beautiful. Without them, she’d bear no reflection of the life she’d lived and the creatures she’d killed and endured, making up who she was. Obviously, she’d probably look better without them, but always, the woman would be perfect in his eyes no matter what. But the Prince’s face was marred and destroyed. Gabriel had been the first to strike and mark him. Gabriel had doubted his claims of the Angel, calling him a liar and inadvertently a blasphemer. But Samael had Seen, and Samael had believed.
His own claws had dug through his flesh, gouging wounds that would never heal as he’d desired to reflect the misery and torment within in a state less than sane. Hybrid had sliced his face up when they’d fucked the first time, dragging nails across his cheek and marring the other, then perfect side of his face. Then that strange being with the veiled eyes had carved an ‘x’ into his chest, as though desiring to mark him for some sort of sinner or outcast, as Cain had been marked from his Father. Samael was beautiful. Samael was perfect. But now he appeared as nothing more than some sort of monster, reflecting the true beast within. The Deceiver was the deceived, less able to mask his true identity behind glamour and charisma when his face was so torn up. Fist withdrew, smashing into the mirror and sending a myriad of glittering, shimmering glass shards to the ground below
Last image within the frame was of his twisted face, snarl ripping through his muzzle and eyes gleaming hatred. He’d been given, but he’d failed to protect his lovely features. But it was nothing more than his own loss, he knew. Hood was pulled over his face—black cloak enveloping his form and masking his scarred features. Vanity was a sin and the coyote wore it well, just as the dark cloth pulled down over his eyes. Turning away, he strode outside into the rain, feeling the droplets quickly soaking through to his fur and skin, but he didn’t found he much cared.
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i are slow slow slow! this be in halifax, rite? 443 words
Blah, rain. Her short, ragged summer coat didn't do much to keep her warm, and given her fairly mediocre amount of hunting talent, Sofi didn't even really even have that much meat on her bones. So the best solution was to keep moving. To just ignore the still-terrifying bursts of thunder, which she had gotten sort of numb to in the past few days of nonstop endless rain rain rain. She had initially gone east, carefully avoiding entering the pack land marked with wolf skulls. It smelled like Kaena, and maybe was her home, but she didn't feel too safe just waltzing in without the older hybrid's escort, or something. Pack lands weren't something she was terribly interested in yet, either. It seemed very dumb to tether herself somewhere so prematurely, to not wander while she still possessed the ability to do so. And then southwest, because she had hit the mountain range again, and knew that everything beyond was burnt.
Sofia had traveled mostly in her natural wolf form: she covered more ground, and worked her muscles more evenly. On entering the edge of this human city, though, she had shifted. She hadn't brought any clothing with her from the place she had lived with Calypso, but now that she had vague intentions to stay in the area, it might be worth picking up a jacket or something if she could find any. It was still strange to her, the idea of just digging though old human possessions. But it seemed to be the way things worked here - town after town and now this city, in states of disrepair, totally abandoned. All human belongings had been carefully cataloged back home, indexed with values - they could be bartered for, or purchased with tokens earned from maintenance work around the various towns.
But she didn't have a jacket now; her short brownish fur was soaked from the rain, and her green eyes glittering brighter as she wandered deeper into the city, progressed further into the murky grays and browns and blacks. Did the rain make this place so dull, or was it always so grimy? Sofia wished she could tell, but the rain had absolutely no intention on letting up. A dark, hooded figure appeared before her down the street, walking with a much more purposeful stride than her own. Sofi hesitated, trying to peer through the darkness, to figure out what face the dark fabric hid. It creeped her out, a little, especially in the rain. She couldn't even investigate his scent thoroughly in the rain - male, probably, but that was all she could figure out. "H..hello?" She called out, tentatively.
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Already his mood was far less than cheerful. A scent carried through the raindrops and the coyote’s fangs bared, searching the gloomy twilight for the source. It smelled like a wolf, and it smelled like a coyote—a hybrid, obviously. Hunger pierced his belly as the monster spied the prey, parting his jaws and longing to take a bite of the flesh beneath that silky coat. She called out to him, fear and uncertainty underlying her words and that excited him. The hybrid was damp like a rat from the storm, matted and appearing half drown as she moved solitarily through the city. No scent of a pack clung to her pelt, and so Samael assumed she was completely alone. The perfect prey, for no one would miss a little stray gone missing. Bloodlust bubbled to the surface as he slunk closer, half circling the girl.
“Good evening, M’lady,” said the Prince with a slight bow, pausing near the canine. “All alone on a night like tonight? Why, that just won’t do,” he stated in mock surprise, as though honestly shocked this girl could be left alone. He smiled softly, veiling the true madness within the hood’s dark interior. But he’d lure her into a false sense of security before striking, allowing the game to continue as long as possible and the shock of betrayal to make his meal taste that much better.
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hi i'm rust and i suck at replying in reasonable amount of times, even to those people who make sexy sexy avs! 338 words
Sofia's first instinct was panic, she had to flee. But fight or flight had triggered too late; she had delayed letting her fear run free too long. He had been approaching in her direction, yes, but she had had time between seeing the dark form and being thrust into conversation. She could have ran. Could have slipped into a dark alley and shifted, bolting away into the distance before he could follow her scent, if he even found it worth his time to do so. If he even had any ill-intentions in the first place..
She was being paranoid! He hadn't done anything. Sure, he was dressed a little creepy, a little bit like someone up to no good. And his words, while from a voice that she wasn't sure he could trust, were pleasant enough, proper enough. He had even called her a lady. That was very formal, very polite. A little bow, too. Despite his comment about being alone, she still couldn't almost help but feel she'd rather be alone than in his company. But she was just being dumb, too easily spooked for no good reason at all. He didn't deserved that - he was just trying to be nice. On closer inspection, he was a coyote, and she felt even more disgusted at her reaction. She must have caught a hint of his scent, must have let old prejudice rear its ugly head without even realizing it. No, she wasn't that type of wolf! She was open minded. She was part coyote herself.
Forcing a smile on her own face, forcing her tense muscles to relax, she replied as pleasantly as she could: "Good evening to you, too, Sir. No, it's not a very good night to be alone.. But I don't really have any sort of real companions in these parts." Without realizing it, she made herself more vulnerable: not only had she no pack scent clinging to her, but she really didn't have anyone in particular that would miss her should she disappear.
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On a good day any creature alive may encounter Samael and walk away unscathed. But find him in a bad mood ready to tear into anything that approaches him, and all games were thrown aside for sheer violence. Anger bubbled beneath the surface; resentment and bloodlust flowing through his veins like the crimson liquid he adored so much to spill. This little girl was alone and unwatched, making her a perfect target to disappear after the Prince of Fear had finished with her. Tenseness still possessed her muscles—fear still permeating from her unscented, unclaimed hybrid form. She confirmed this with her words, proving to the coyote that no one would miss her should she suddenly vanish off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. Laziness reared it’s ugly head and suddenly Samael no longer felt himself in the mood to play pretty little games with this girl, sharing pleasantries as though he didn’t desire to kill her.
“You think I’m ugly, don’t you?” he hissed between his teeth, fangs baring menacingly. “That’s why you’re afraid of me!” Tone was maddening, as though he honestly believed she had been offended by his appearance despite it being properly veiled. He tore his hood from his face, revealing his heavily scarred features and angry, wild expression. “I didn’t do this to myself! You think I did this to myself?!” he nearly shrieked, stepping ever closer with each word, aiming to crowed the girl against the wall behind them. He’d hold her there, and then attempt to extract what he wished from her still breathing corpse before ending her life in a pool of warm blood. There was a method to the madness—if morbid and improper for a mind so calculating.
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i'm not actually sure how sofi is going to get out of this alive. XD; if you think samael would really try to kill her, we could maybe have some random rescuer come in that could chase him away in a few rounds of posts? 398 words
And without warning, all of her fears seemed to be suddenly justified. The brief moment of justification, of knowing that her judgment was good, that she had had some sort of reason to mistrust him, even if she hadn't been able to identify exactly what it was.. Well, it was a very brief moment of pride and odd-relief, extinguished very quickly by an overwhelming (and now fully justified) wave of fear. "No, not at all!" Sofia exclaimed in a response to his initial accusation. She didn't actually have a really good look at him so she didn't really know what she thought of his looks, but she sure as hell knew that she was getting in over her head in this situation.
The coyote tore his hood back, and instantly Sofia was incredibly glad that she had spoken the words before knowing for sure that they were a lie. She didn't really think at this point she would be able to as convincingly say such a thing. It wasn't even the scars, although they certainly didn't help. Kaena had been scared, and Sofia had actually found her oddly beautiful. Not in the typical way or anything, but beautiful none-the-less. No, it was the expression, the rage, the bared fangs twisting his already twisted face into something horrific. Truly a creature from a nightmare. Too late did she realize that her distaste was showing on her face, plain as day, clearly and distinctly marking her previous words as lies.
Sofia didn't know what to say as he continued screaming responses to nothing that she had said or even really thought. She didn't believe he had inflicted his scars upon himself, but the rage could surely be attributed to no one else. And if he could jump topics so carelessly, then she could just as easily disregard his emotional shrieks. He was advancing closer and closer, and her heart fluttered in her chest like a desperate caged bird. Too slow, too slow to react, once more! Too late did she realize that backing up would not remain a solution for long. It wasn't until the heel of her left foot collided against concrete that she realized his attempt to pin her, and her desperate last effort to sidestep was completely futile, he was close enough to grab her, then. "Why are you doing this?" She whimpered, pressed up against the wall.
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Samael could have remained cool and collected his entire life, like the proper prince he was meant to be. But madness and disease had allowed amusement to stem forth from deranged, unhinged irrationality and shrieking at the top of his lungs like some sort of uncontrollable banshee. Others feared far further the uncollected man, unsure what he’d do next and backing away in concern to remain alive, despite the enigma of the levelheaded, withdrawn beast. All feared the unknown and that they couldn’t understand, and the madman was the epitome of the unknown and the dangerous. He knew exactly what he was doing, and fangs bared—hidden delight masked beneath the face of aggression and pure hatred. Her face showed how she truly felt despite words stating she believed him other than hideous and monstrous. He grinned now, leaning close as he’d succeeded in backing her against a brick wall. “Because you are lovely, and I no longer am,” he purred, reaching to grasp a strand of her hair between his fingers and gently twist it there. Her scent was delightful, so filled with fear as her lungs withdrew oxygen from the atmosphere.
“I just can’t stand when others are far more beautiful than me,” he continued, adoring the rapid fluttering of her heart within her chest as it thumped, pumping blood to all her extremities. He wished to taste that heart’s brilliant life force, cutting her open to see what lay within. Would the soul be caged within, black or white like no gray area could possibly exist between? He’d never found the soul despite how many bodies he’d cut apart, searching. He’d found everything else—the heart, still beating, the lungs, still gasping for life-giving air. But he’d never yet found that elusive soul and it dismayed him, angry at such a simple perplexity. How could it exist if he could not see it? He knew he had a soul, the demon prince he was, but what of these worthless creatures that inhabited the earth? Did any of them have souls, like he was supposed to believe?
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your new sig is sexy! 323 words
It wasn't even true! Sofia wasn't that beautiful. Her fur was coarse and short, the typical timber wolf pattern mediocre and uninteresting. Her dark brown human-styled mane was tousled and unbrushed. Yeah, she wasn't ugly.. and yeah, she'd definitely call herself more lovely that this monster (although not to his face, that would be suicide). But still! Weren't there tons of way more beautiful women that he could assault? She wasn't even that guilty of the crime she was being accused of? Oh god, what if she died for this crime? The thought flooded her with fear again, but much less expected relief railed on it's footsteps. If he killed her, it would be over. Yeah, she wouldn't get any more days or any more experiences... But all the worries, all the doubt, all the terror all the pondering about what was next, it would be done, quick and easy. Even if he tortured her before killing her which.. wouldn't make sense, would it? But even if he did, even if he tortured her for a week it would be quicker, it would be easier than waiting for her bones to decay, for her days to slowly wind to a close..
The male grabbed a lock of her hair and she tried to yank her head away, but her movement was extremely limited by her compromised position, and she only managed to move it an inch or two, unable to get the hair out from his hands. Desperate, Sofia struggled wildly, trying to break free of his grip while one of his hands was occupied with her hair. "I'm not even that pretty!" She wanted to cry out how there were so many other girls he could have taken.. But, well, honestly, if it came to that, it was probably better that she had been chosen. If she died, it wasn't like she'd be losing all that much life. "Just let me go, please!"
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She fought his grasp on her hair, impended by the stone wall at her back. He grinned further, cheshire smirk twisting his face into an ungodly expression. She feared him and despised his touch, and that amused him. The girl struggled, attempted to break free of him, but Samael wished to keep her tight, creating an inescapable cage with his arms. The Prince of Fear hadn’t had his amusement yet, and here she was trying to ruin it. Was it so wrong of him to enjoy a little game? “I don’t think so,” he purred, leaning closer toward her face to hiss into her ear. “How sad you’re so low on yourself,” the Lykoi continued, clawed hand lifting toward her face, reaching to gently grasp her chin if she didn’t squirm too fiercely away.
“A beautiful princess all alone in the world. Where is your prince?” the coyote inquired, dark expression shifting to something far less twisted—something almost empathetic and genuinely concerned. The Prince of Hell was not a hero, rather a violent villain, wishing to take this girl down and spray her entrails across the rain-soaked pavement. And this lost princess would die at his hand, alone and cold without a soul in the world to care. Perhaps he’d eat her heart—that way she could live forever within his soul. The rain continued to fall, soaking his black and blonde hair and running down his scarred face in rivulets as crimson eyes searched the girl’s terrified features for an answer he didn’t expect to receive.
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scary bunnies! maybe onus should come in about now? 275 words
The stranger grasped her chin, and she could no longer even twist her head away. She was completely and utterly trapped, couldn't even tear her gaze away from his, her green orbs as neatly pinned by his intense, terrifying gaze as his arms were by his grip. She hadn't really expected her pleas to work, but his simple outright denial extinguished her desperate last faint traces of hope. The coyote's voice was sinuous, winding it's way softly through her ear directly into her brain. She tried to yank her head again, but as expected it did nothing. She didn't want to give up the struggle, though, it was either that or just passively await... well, whatever he had in mind for her. Was he going to rape her? Kill her? Torture her? All three? Each image was worse than the next. Her imagination, strong enough in the best of circumstances, was running wild creating possibility after possibility.
Sofi took some small comfort in the fact that at least it was warmer, with his body pressed against her. Of course, she'd rather be anywhere else in the world than right here, but as long as she was here she was warm for the moment.. And alive, for the moment. She didn't speak. She had nothing left to say, even though her thoughts were scrambling to come up with something, anything. Something to stall him further, although a tiny part of her wanted to just get whatever this ordeal would be out of the way, so it could be done with, so she could be free again (if it wasn't her life he was after, that is).
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Here I am! Do you mind if we avoid any major injuries? Since this is an older thread.
For all the time he had spent in the city, it had been a long while since he had walked its streets. Ever since he had helped Cwmfen to return to Dahlian lands he had spent most of his time around the pack if not within it. She had become his highest priority, considering it was at least partially if not fully his fault that she was in the state that she was. He wasn't going to let any more ill befall her. The vigilante had returned to his old haunt for a time though. He had checked in on the apartment which he had claimed for himself, making sure no one had managed to raid it. It would have been an impressive deed, considering he had locked the door and kept the key with him, but it was not impossible. Everything had been as he had left it though.
The coyote moved back into the rain, gathering the lapels of his trench coat around his scarfed neck. Hands placed in their pockets he moved through the empty streets, the only sounds reaching his large ears were that of the rain pounding on the concrete and his hat. But wait...there was another noise besides the rain. He paused, ears adjusting to catch the faint and muffled sounds of voices. There was not much he could detect, but he could detect the sound of fear in one of the voices; female. The other belonged to man. That was enough for Onus and he silently moved in the direction of the two talking creatures.
He came up against the adjoining wall that the two were stationed against, moving ever so slightly so he could take in the sight of them. It was as he had suspected, a woman trapped by some sadistic bastard. Though there was a recognition that struck him. He had battled with that monster before, many months ago. It seemed the vampire had returned and was now hunting for more victims. This time Onus had come in time though. The coy stood there for a few moments, focusing his body and mind. Then swiftly he moved like a shade to shoulder the beast away from his presumed target and place himself between him and her.
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Blood and death consumed his soul. The girl didn’t speak, and he hadn’t expected her to. He leaned in close, inhaling her damp, muted scent beneath the drowning smell of the rain and dead, decaying earth. The city held its own scents and images, but regardless of surroundings death smelled and tasted exactly the same. Circumstances could add flavor, but death was death and Samael simply adored it. The stench of fear drowning one’s soul and the pathetic, frantic look in their eye as they knew their end was fast approaching. Realizing that they would be torn apart and devoured for nothing more than some sick fuck’s pleasure.
One hand moved to explore regions not permissible, intending not to let this girl’s body go to waste before she was finished. The rain had masked the other’s scent, but his arrival was met with twisted head and narrowed, darkening vision. The creature smashed into his shoulder, pushing him away from the girl and he shrieked in anger. “What the fuck?!” he snarled, turning on the masked, trench-coated man. His target had realigned, forgetting about the helpless girl and switching to her unexpected savior. Fangs bared viciously, he lunged toward the coyote, aiming to tear him apart.
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Sofia had just stiffened, disbelieving what his hand was doing. Before she really had time to process anything, the pressure holding her to the wall, the hands invading her space was gone. Another figure, dark, had somehow dislodged her attacker. She stood there, shocked. The scent was none familiar to her. Was it someone who had a previous bone to pick with her villain? Or was he just some kind soul, traveling the streets late at night, to happened to overhear the situation?
Neither seemed very plausible, and all of a sudden her mind caught up with what had happened to her body. She was no longer trapped against the wall. She wished she could thank her savior; whatever his reason, he had probably saved her life, and at least definitely saved her, ah, "innocence" that was being tampered with moments before. But there was no way to tell who would come up on top, and it would probably just be harder for him to fight while she was standing there in the way, while she needed to be protected instead of just the enemy needing defeating. So she turned tail and bolted. She'd find her way to some empty alleyway and shift to put more ground between them, but at the moment she would just have to deal with her Optime form's slower traveling speed.
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He could feel the unadulterated rage the emanated from the psychopath at having his actions interrupted. Onus certainly remembered this coyote, but it seemed that the coyote could not remember him for some reason or another. It was interesting, considering the masked and cloaked vigilante wasn't exactly a common sight. It made no matter though. They had fought once and he would fight him again. Eyes traced over the "X" on the scum's chest. Perhaps he would need to mark the criminal more thoroughly this time, if not rid him of this world completely. He sensed the girl run and that was all well and good. Now he wouldn't have to worry about making sure she didn't get hurt in the fight. It didn't matter that he didn't receive her thanks. He wasn't doing this for gratitude, he was doing this because it was right.
Fluidly Onus stepped out of the way of the frenzied charge but he left one leg outstretched in hopes of tripping the male up. One arm was held at the ready in case that tactic worked; if it did he would attempt to grab the other's arm and pin it behind him. Perhaps then he could push him face-first against the same wall that he had used to trap the girl. Wouldn't that be ironic.
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Vaguely, the image of a giant bat swooping down from the heavens came to the back of his mind as blood-red vision locked on the masked stranger, but this was quickly pushed aside as the frenzy of battle infiltrated his blood. The bat had marked his chest, carving an x into his flesh to show all others he was a criminal, but Samael didn’t believe in right and wrong. He did what his instinct and nature dictated, and that was all. He was bred to be a monster, housing the soul of a demon prince and he would tear apart all those whom opposed him. The masked man slid out of his way, leaving one leg outstretched to block his path and send him off balance.
While he didn’t get exactly what he wanted, Samael was forced to react only at the very last second, spotting the subtle action of his body departing and his momentum changed, whirling off to the side in an awkward, ungraceful pirouette. Snarl escaped his lips at the forced motion, turning back toward the other coyote with a bloodthirsty expression on his features. Close contact made his skin crawl unless he was tearing into their flesh and drawing blood to the surface. He didn’t want to get close to the creature, and crimson gaze followed his every move, keeping back and at a distance. He wouldn’t be defeated so easily on the very first try—years of training and combat did not permit such easy access to the male.
Body crouching into a more animalistic posture, ready to spring at any second, he allowed the cloaked intruder to make the next move while the girl was long forgotten.
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The tactic hadn't worked in its entirety, but the madman had been forced to avoid the trap. Onus watched him as he fumbled to regain his balance and posture. The snarl met his ears but he only watched the other with indifference. The coyote seemed different this time. Less crazed somehow, perhaps more at grips with his mind. He was clearly still a lunatic though, and dangerous sadist one at that. He didn't move to strike again, only watched the vigilante, crouched and at the ready. Casually Onus turned to face him, but remained still. The rain fell on his hat and shoulders and dripped off of him if he were no more than a statue. Then with a lightning reflex he charged forward. The male moved at the other head on, but then at a step or two before he reached his target he darted off to the side, a clawed hand striking out at the other's ribs.
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They both remained frozen, waiting and watching to see who’d make the next move. Samael remained where he was as the masked man finally sprung into action, charging straight for the hell prince. Muscles tense and at the ready to meet him, at the last second the self-proclaimed vigilante swerved, leaving only his clawed hand flying straight for his side. Nails brushed Samael’s flesh, leaving a single red line that bleed freely as he twisted, aiming to claw at the stranger’s side, back, or whatever was closest for him to reach. This time, he would remain on the defense, allowing the other to come to him while he bit and struck at whatever was available once he was in range. He would only spring into action once he felt like it.
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