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His views were always changing, like ripples on a still pond he’d never remain the same for long. Death seemed far less relevant when the life he took was one he cared nothing about. Empathy only went so far. The old man had been different; Jael feared death when he’d taken the old man’s life, regretting his rash action more than anything else he could think of. And yet when he’d taken another, accidentally murdering the hapless stray, he found himself far less concerned. Canines killed all the time—it was only the way the world worked. They killed to survive and death was nothing more than a common, daily occurrence in their brief existence. And yet when it was someone you cared about, death held a far higher relevance. Let coyotes and wolves do what they will, the nihilist was growing more and more apathetic with the passing of each day. He barely lurked around Inferni anymore, keeping to himself and his own thoughts rather than involving himself in the clan’s daily actions. Why should it matter if they killed? Or if anyone killed at all? They killed rabbits and deer every day just to eat and continue living. Jael himself had feasted on the poor, lost soul, draining it’s blood as a harsh, uncontrollable desire had grown within him the second the crimson liquid had first touched his lips. He was a monster, he knew, yet what could he do with himself? Small animals blood could barely sustain him, and yet he could not take down a full deer or grown elk on his own—it was ridiculous. Hunger had torn through his abdomen and he’d feasted, tearing the poor man apart still alive, drinking his blood like some horrific demon of fiction.
Sitting beside a river, he rinsed his stained hands in the cool water, allowing the hare’s blood to slowly wash away. The corpse lay still beside him, useless now that he’d drank its blood. A soft crooning greeted his ears and the youth’s head turned skyward, watching the raven that watched him from a branch far above. It cried out again, eyeing the slowly decaying meat that rested at his side. Smirking, the vampire tore a piece of flesh from the carcass and held it out toward the bird on his fingertips. It continued to eye him with beady black eyes before spreading dark wings and fluttering down before him. Thick beak clicked as it contemplated the situation, knowing it wanted the uneaten meat, and yet unsure whether or not to trust this large predator. Finally, the sight of exposed flesh lured it onward and the raven snatched the strip, hoping quickly away to quickly pick apart its prize. Crooning in satisfaction, it again turned midnight vision on the pale wolf, obviously wanting more. He smiled again, tossing the entire rabbit toward the raven and watching it finish the remains. Ah, the life cycle of the forest. This bird was his clean up crew, making use of an otherwise wasted life that’d simply rot away into the soil, uneaten.
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------There were only three times Anselm found taking the life of another to be acceptable: for sustenance, for self defence, and for the protection of home and family. In the back of his mind he always knew he was in the minority in Inferni for these convictions--the sheer number of skulls dotting their perimeter was evidence enough of that--but the hybrid had a tendency to hold on to whatever shaky, vague morals he had steadfast. Unprovoked attacks on other canines were half-baked schemes that hinted at the aggressor's lack of foresight: if Inferni stirred up too much dust, they'd be hit by a flood of aggression from the families and friends of their victims. Not even loners were exempt from this rule. He could quite vividly recall being charged by the towering and powerful Asmodai, who'd stumbled upon his friend's corpse in the city. Soro hadn't answered to any pack in the region, but it was dumb luck that Anselm hadn't been engaged in a brutal fight with the fallen one's companion anyway.
------Regardless, the golden male certainly found the scene unravelling before him rather intriguing. Perched atop a small boulder laying down, he peered with intense curiosity as a white, wolfish looking adolescent carrying Inferni's scent hand fed a crow. Instantly he was reminded of Abraxas, and even the bird he sometimes saw with Gabriel. "Friend of yours?" he called suddenly as he rose to his feet atop the rock. Lowering into a bow, the wolf stretched his front legs first, toes splayed apart then coming together as he straightened and arched his back down to stretch his hind legs. He now leapt from his position, landing neatly on the ground in a crouch before advancing closer for conversation. A black-tipped ear flicked as he peered up to regard the obsidian bird before returning his gaze to his company. "Having eyes in the sky can gain us a powerful, discreet informant," he added.
------"I can't speak low-speech, though; can you?" he wondered. Maybe if the boy couldn't, Gabriel could teach him. Heck, maybe Gabriel could teach them both. Abraxas, a deranged red fox, had always been the best the wolfish-looking hybrid could do. The canine still spoke in a manner Anselm could comprehend, but he lacked Inferni's scent and could go poking around deep in enemy territory without being too suspicious--hardly anybody cared about or suspected a fox. Still, the red-eyed male hadn't seen his quirky friend since he'd left... he'd turn up sooner or later, though, as he always did. "Anselm de le Poer, by the way..." What was this boy's name? This had to be one of the wolfish kids of Gabe's brother he'd heard about; of that he was now certain. [/html]
[html] oh hellz yea! that would definitely be awesome. :] (683)
Thick, dark beak tore through the rabbit’s pale fur just as effectively as the wolf’s fangs and he watched transfixed as strips were torn effortlessly away from bone. The bird was hungry, that much was obvious, and in some strange way he was almost satisfied to see his wasted catch went to use rather than rotted away, uneaten. He himself couldn’t stomach the flesh, and his thin, rangy form was evidence of that. He was growing taller and thinner each day—bones barely concealed beneath his thick, snowy pelt. But blood alone could not sustain a hardy predator such as himself, and it showed. A voice spoke out and the raven was suddenly airborne, already halfway through the air back toward the safety of its tree-borne perch so high above. It’d abandon the meat in it’s fright and Jael turned toward the source, one ear laid back in annoyance as his brief amusement was so rudely interrupted. A wolfish looking creature rose from it’s resting place nearby, languidly stretching before leaping from its rocky seat. He smelled distinctly of Inferni and quickly Jael wracked his brain to try and remember who the hell this could possibly be, but nothing surfaced. “No,” he replied, shaking his head.
He stretched slightly, turning his fiery eyes skyward to search for the raven, and at first he didn’t see the bird and assumed it’d flown away. But then he saw it, sitting still as a stone high above in another tree, waiting for the wolves to leave so it continue its proffered feast. “Probably,” he concurred, still watching the dark bird and wondering what it’d be like to have a companion such as that—not a wolf prisoner to remain earthbound eternally, able to fly through the skies as free as anything. He’d probably envy the beast, longing to take flight as well, and yet unable. “Me either,” he responded again, barely there as his thoughts drifted. He knew of low speech, yet he’d never mastered it, never having been provided with the opportunity to learn such. Yet he wondered if he’d even want to—imagine hearing the scream of a rabbit as you snapped it’s neck, begging for it’s life before you sunk deadly fangs into it’s throat, ending its short life. He shuddered faintly, hoping he never learned how to properly converse with small animals like those he ate. The other introduced himself and memory clicked into place, shifting with some difficulty like a rusty gear long out of use. Anselm was Gabriel’s cousin—a perfectly reasonable excuse as to why they shared a surname. But he’d assumed the male no longer resided within Inferni. Gaze shifted, now properly regarding the stranger with some measure of honest interest.
“You're Gabriel’s cousin, right?” he asked, ensuring he was correct in his assumption, thinking back on the conversation he’d had last with his uncle. This creature looked like a wolf, just as he did, and was a spy for Inferni, as Gabriel had instructed Jael he’d also be useful in doing as well. The pale youth smiled faintly, baring the the tips of his snowy fangs. “I’m Jael de le Poer,” he offered his own title as well, for the first time vocally attaching a surname to his given name. ‘De le Poer’ was his wolf grandfather’s family name, and Jael leaned further toward that side of his family than his mother’s, chased away from her legacy by those of her blood he’d encountered thus far and the simple fact he resided within Inferni. It only made sense he’d chosen that name rather than any of the others he could have aligned himself with. And Lykoi was meant for coyotes—not a wolf looking thing like himself, as far as he was concerned. “You’re a spy, right?” he asked, interest piqued. Jael’d be far from averse to picking up any tips on scouting around the wolf’s territories. He could then provide some useful talent for Inferni that he could excel in, looking as much like a wolf as he did, thus easily averting their suspicion and gaining relevant information in the process.
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------While Jael's borderline emaciated form may have once concerned him, Anselm had come to accept "extra thin" as the standard for Inferni. Several others had always struck him as underweight: Samael, Hybrid, maybe even Talitha. The wolf had gone so far as to offer part of his kill to the former so long ago, though he'd been turned down. Similarly, though the limp carcass of the rabbit hung nearby, Jael made no move to claim what was rightfully his. Why would the Arctic male bother procuring bribes for a bird that was not even an informant? Anselm had always been rather greedy with his food, eating quickly and in such quantity that suggested he knew all too well the trials of famine. Rather than dwell upon it, though, he was content to move on to the bigger and better things at hand. If they were still alive, something had to be working out for them.
------The bird had flown away, and he watched it as it vanished into the foliage of the treetops. "Such creatures hold few loyalties, at any rate..." he offered. "It is best we rely on ourselves." The lesser creatures of the forest lacked the instinctual ties to the pack and family that they held dear, and as such they were prone to vanishing without warning. They had their own priorities--finding mates, raising children, possibly migrating for the harsh winters they were not equipped to endure. Anselm always considered whatever information he could glean from Abraxas as a free bonus, not a given.
------He nodded at the fiery-eyed boy's questions: "Correct on both accounts. It's good to meet you, Jael," he answered. The words spoken were in truth, too: Anselm liked keeping tabs on Inferni's internal affairs as much as the foreign ones. That meant knowing who belonged there and who didn't, what everyone looked like, their basic skill sets, and knowing their scents to keep track of how often they were even around at home (versus gallivanting off through the country side). This was an inherent prejudice built into him--excursions away from home were to be generally limited to gathering information and resources, otherwise it was best to be on call in case of emergency. If even half of their membership base was away at any given time, they would be much more vulnerable to a full on assault. Being around the Dampwoods, Arachnea's Revenge, Drifter Bay or Halifax was one thing, but what about Serena Reserve, the Trenches, or anything similarly distant? Howls might not even reach that far and it would take time to regroup, especially now that they couldn't even take a straight shot home (legally, at least), as Dahlia had laid claim to the breadth of the peninsula right up to Halifax.
------"Do you have similar aspirations?" he wondered further, easily spotting the same potential in Jael that Gabriel did. Anselm certainly wasn't opposed to passing on some of his techniques to the next generation--this was the first time he might have a pupil willing to learn the ways of the Machiavellian Sleuth. [/html]
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