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» Hopefully Mel if she has time? :3
Unease was an unnatural thing for the confident Caelum, but right now he couldn't ignore the knot in his stomach long enough to feel any better. Well, wait. His militant march forward stopped and he shook his heavy head, glancing momentarily behind him as if expecting someone to be there. Alas, it was only wishful thinking. He wanted something else to deal with--perhaps he should run another circuit around the borders? No. Just do it, asshole. Inhaling deeply, the hybrid padded forward again, lowering his head as he stuck only his snout into the opening of his cousin's den. He cleared his throat briefly, his tail hanging dead behind him as if a weight were affixed to its dark tip. "Gabe? You home?"
He winced at the sound of his own voice. The typical inflections Anselm had to offer were those of sarcasm or irony, subtle deviations from his usual gruff monotone. Now, though, the words were laced with apprehension and discomfort. It was written all over him, but it wasn't like he could do much to stop it. He didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, but he had eventually resolved that his cousin had a right to know that his fiery queen had returned... albeit under a different name and with a new life. And a new man.
A soft, nearly inaudible whine escaped his throat as he back-pedalled out of the den and took a seat. His mind was spinning enough that he couldn't even tell if the recent scents he'd smelled signalled present occupancy or recent departure. If he couldn't find the Aquila here, he wasn't really sure what he might do. His ears fell back as he realised maybe he should have spoken to Kaena first. Surely she would have known what her may have son wanted--to live in blissful ignorance, or to grab the bull by the horns and move forward. Having never even considered a life-long commitment to a partner, Anselm couldn't even begin to imagine what he might have wanted in Gabriel's paws--either way, he was prepared to deal with the aftermath. That was what family did for one another, even if things got ugly. | [/html]
[html] :] I think Gabe will probably be all OMGWTFRAGE LET'S GO RUNNING
In the past few weeks, Gabriel had seen Inferni show its true potential. They had, as a clan, taken down the arrogant wolf that had been harassing their borders. Ryan had stepped down, and his mother had returned to a position of leadership. Of course, he had lost his son; Ezekiel had come to him and explained, rather plainly, that he had to leave. This was unfortunate, given that the woman who had raised him had staggered into their borders not long after. Fatin was under Kaena’s watchful eye, and Gabriel had no doubt she would recover. It infuriated him to see her the way she was, and so he avoided doing so as much as possible. That first night, he had flown into a rage—something he had not done since fighting Haku.
He had been laying in his den, half-asleep, when his cousin’s voice came from the entrance way. Rising to his feet, the charcoal-brushed hybrid stretched and shook out his fur. Paws that even now seemed too-large for his frame brought him to the entrance way, where they stopped abruptly. Even if he had not caught the tone in Anselm’s voice, the expression on his face was…well, it was nearly unnatural for the man. Gabriel felt the unease in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck rose slightly. Something was wrong. If it had been anything to do with the clan, Anselm would have taken care of it. He would have come with the snap and the fire that shown in his eyes. But this…this meant something, and Gabriel did not understand.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, dreading the answer.
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[html] a run is great, Anselm's expecting even worse XD oh, at this point I can assume they already discussed whatever he figured out in his earlier scouting threads? mostly that CD had a leadership change that wasn't exactly smooth, CdM is pretty much a pack of teenagers who are idealistic but harmless, PV more or less wants peace, etc.? and general member counts, I suppose.  he never got to Aniwaya tho. They're too far away to matter XDD
@#$%&A mixture of relief and horror washed over him as he caught the sound of movement within the den; relief that the burden would be off of his chest and maybe just because Gabriel was on all fours. The cousins had seen one another operate in battle--Anselm knew of the blind rage, the berserker mode that could fuel the golden-eyed hybrid in his hottest moments. Although he trusted his friend enough to know not to kill the messenger, so to speak, he also understood that in a moment of pain and betrayal, anyone might want to lash out at the nearest target, guilty or not. At least he wouldn't be sucker-punched this way, eh?
@#$%&"I have... news." He inhaled. "It's about Faol. I saw her the other day... she looks alive and well, but..." he trailed off, uncertain of how to continue. Sugar-coating things so they were easier to digest was decidedly not his strong suite, but he wasn't sure it was needed. Already the Aquila could gather one fact on his own: she was back on their peninsula, quite nearby even (as Anselm rarely strayed further than the city), and yet she was not here. "She's been bedding with another. But I don't even know if it's her fault. She didn't know her own name," he stressed, uncertainty in his gaze before he dropped it to the ground left of Gabriel's feet.
@#$%&In truth, Anselm had never encountered somebody with amnesia before; if, perhaps, the brightly-coloured female had been any more generic looking he might have questioned his own sanity instead. But no, there was no mistaking her identity--they had lived together the entire time he'd been in Inferni. Another side of him was tempted to think she was playing the fool on purpose, but no--she really hadn't recognised him (or herself), it seemed, and he was completely baffled by it. "I'm sorry," he added finally, quietly. "I thought you might want to know.."
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That name made a sudden and visible change occur in Gabriel. All of the fire in his eyes flashed out, snuffed by a cold wind, and turned them dark. A stillness rushed over his body, save the uncontrollable and slight twitch in his muzzle. It was as if his teeth intended to bear themselves without his wishes, something he refused to allow even as the terrible news was delivered to him. Had he expected such a thing? Yes. Had he expected the whore to return here? No. To do so was something unforgivable. She had likely come only out of spite—to flaunt the adulterous pride she carried. As far as Gabriel was concerned, she had been a scarlet letter for far too long.
Without directly looking into Anselm’s eyes (for indeed, he was staring at nothing) the Aquila began to speak. “I guessed that the last time she left,” he explained, voice remarkably calm. Under it, a terrible rip tide rumbled, a low and viable fury in his tone. “She is not to come near Inferni. I have no patience for blood traitors.” Vitium he had seen exiled. Andrezej had been killed. He did not trust himself to see her face. That much he believed his cousin would understand.
Suddenly, the hybrid was on his feet, though the hollowness remained in his eyes. “I don’t want to discuss this,” he exclaimed, the anger now more pronounced in his voice. It was visible in his body as well—tensed muscles, raised fur. “Let’s get out of here. Run somewhere. Anywhere.” Without a verbal confirmation, Gabriel began to trot down the small slope outside of his den, turned north, and without hesitation took off.
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The reaction was immediate and disconcerting, and he stared placidly (or perhaps hollowly?) at the slight twitch of his friend's muzzle before averting his gaze and looking away. He was at a loss for what to do--he always was when it came to matters beyond his control. This one, frankly, wasn't even any of his business. Now that the burden of knowing was lifted off of his shoulders, he was left with an awkward kind of guilt though it was unclear why. Obviously none of this was his fault; perhaps he suddenly was uncertain whether or not his cousin would prefer privacy now, or maybe he didn't know if he should have said anything at all.
His gaze drifted back to the doggish male as he spoke; the tone was calm and steady, but Anselm supposed it was more like still fog hanging over a graveyard than a clear blue sky. So far as Anselm had always been able to tell, Gabriel responded well under pressure or stress. He kept a cool head and stayed calculating, qualities that were befitting of a leader and commander. The golden hybrid operated much the same. That didn't mean there was no inner turbulence or chaos, however, and he suspected this was no different. He simply nodded, his jaw clamped shut and tense, as the Aquila decreed her banishment from Inferni. Well... at least she wouldn't miss it, he guessed, if she didn't even know who they were.
That made it no less of a shame. He sincerely hoped that Gabriel would be able to find happiness somehow again, for it seemed the closest members of his family were whittling away and slowly being removed from the picture. At least Kaena had come back. For a moment he opened his mouth as if to speak, but Gabriel had risen and made his preferences clear: Anselm gave a militant nod, his own silent promise that he'd never raise the issue with either Gabriel or any other again. He would not question the leader's judgement as he had no right to. All in all, if he was good at anything it was not discussing emotions or other subjects close to the heart--he tended to avoid those naturally. With silent resolve, he rose and followed the other de le Poer man towards the horizon.
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[html] Durrrr inspuration
Inside, he might have been a typhoon. A raging hurricane, a flash flood. Except he felt nothing. Nothing but an incredible emptiness that made everything seem very distant. Even the rushing wind at his ears was a noise that did not reach him. Each foreleg hit the ground hard, sending vibrations rattling up to his chest, and each movement took him further away from the place that they had once shared. Something would erase her face for him; some drug, some vice, something that could take away every bitter memory that still clung to him. Until then, he would run. He had always run from the trauma that chased him—he had run from the wolf that had killed his brother, from the first time he had killed, from everything that threatened to unravel the careful shell he had constructed around himself.
The scent of autumn was fresh in the air. Not long from now the leaves would begin to burn, and the air would turn cold. Gabriel loved that time of the year. It had been the first he had experienced as a child. He inhaled the air as it rushed past him, running without a destination in mind. For the greater period of half an hour he ran full out—until the old wound in his shoulder cried out and broke his stride. After so long he began to slow, finally coming to a complete stop with a throaty cough. Shaking his head and grunting, the Aquila paced forward. In his haste, he had not even considered a direction.
They had wound up on the outskirts of the landfill. While the smell of decay had long since faded, dry-rot and iron poured up from the earth like an open sore. Panting, legs trembling with adrenaline, the golden-black hybrid regained what composure he could manage and advanced into the overgrown ruins. Human items had always fascinated him, and this was no different. The only difference was that he saw opportunity. Like his father before him, Gabriel had been chosen. He had been set to burn. Like the ghost of a long-dead junkyard dog the Aquila traversed over twisted metal. “This place is one giant rats nest,” he called over his shoulder, pausing here and there, looking for something to serve his greater purpose.
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They had been built for this. Long ago, before the humans' folly had granted them the supernatural ability to grow and transform, they had run dozens of miles in packs as they wore down their prey. Mutation--or perhaps evolution--made it easier than ever for a single animal to recover even fairly large game on their own. The half-shifted werewolf rivalled the size of a small buck itself; werewolves could utilise bows, arrows, spears, and fishing poles or nets. That made their instinct and drive to run no weaker. They were still closer to nature than the humans had ever been in the couple of centuries leading up to their downfall--they still fled from flame, as opposed to combating it; they still retreated from flood, as opposed to pumping it away or diverting rivers and streams as they saw fit. They still rushed into battle, fighting tooth and nail, instead of launching faceless missiles into the deepest territory of their faceless enemies.
Thus, there was little surprise in the passion with which they ran: the leader fuelled by the ghosts of his memories and the follower by trust, support, and obedience. As the minutes wore on his mouth fell open in a pant, though the breaths were not haggard or excessively deep. His thoughts were empty and his motions mechanical--it was safe to assume he was operating on autopilot. His footsteps slowed in time with the Aquila's before he was even conscious that they were slowing down. Only when they halted completely did his blood-red eyes drift elsewhere than directly in front of him; he stood a couple of feet back from his doggish cousin, tail resting pointed toward the ground and ears forward, wondering what was to come. His pink tongue snaked out briefly as he licked his chops and his nose before settling back inside his closed jaws, and now the scents of the wasteland became more apparent than ever.
Anselm trotted after Gabriel, paws easily avoiding broken metal and shards of shattered glass. He hadn't been here in quite some time; most of the things here were broken, and, out of their original context, harder to figure out. A familiar scent faintly registered in his brain and he stuck his nose inside a small box, inhaling the dust too deeply and backing away as he sneezed. Gabriel's voice brought him back to attention and he forgot the neglected cigars--they were thick with mould anyway. He regarded his cousin in silence for a few moments more, head tipped questioningly to one side as the other inspected the various piles of junk in haste. Though he did not speak, he was confident Gabriel could spot him in his periphery, and his body language spoke for him: What are we looking for? | [/html]
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Even though, in his youth, Gabriel had often taken the two-legged form and explored the city, he no longer did such things. Halifax was a sizeable distance from Inferni, and after two murders and two border invasions, the Aquila did not feel comfortable leaving The Waste for long. Old vices no longer served him. Tobacco was something he had no patience for, and the taste of alcohol had not passed his lips in longer then he could remember. Once, though, he knew these things. They were a part of his blood, just as this thing he needed to do was. All he needed was to see something destroyed. Something else had to take the pain.
With his back to his golden cousin, Gabriel missed the apparent confusion. He was searching for that unique scent, the thing that he knew as fuel. It was buried under the rust and the dry-rot, getting closer. Gabriel circled what at one point had been a car, crushed under the weight of a couches skeleton, and reared up, placing his paws on the trunk. An audible groan came from the rusted heap, but there was little hesitation from the black-dusted hybrid. His hind legs bunched and pushed up, sending him onto the back of the car.
The hybrid stuck his head, then the rest of his body, into the back of the rust heap. Low on the floor was a small can that carried that perfumed smell of gasoline. Gabriel grabbed this in his mouth, ignoring the irony taste, and backed out of the car slowly.
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Anselm, too, preferred to keep near the Waste, most particularly during times of turbulence or chaos. When things were calm, however, the urge to move burned fierce in his blood. It was fitting, perhaps--in this manner, the Aquila could hold down the fort while the tattooed wolf served as the eyes and ears of the clan. He always learned new things when he paid his visits to the other packs--occasionally, he'd even pick something up through random conversation. Regardless, he made a habit of checking back in at least once every few days--though he saw nothing unreasonable about taking a day trip into the city once his morning rounds were complete.
The hybrid padded closer to the crumpled machine, head inclining again as Gabriel riffled through the contents of the back seat. Only as his cousin retreated with his prize held in his jaws did recognition register and understanding sink in. The Aquila would be fine. His expression changed from one of curiosity to one of excitement--a small grin found its way to his face and his tail swung (just barely) behind him. The only question now was what to destroy. Obviously it wouldn't do for all of the junkyard to go up in flames, lest it spread and consume their own land. The canister would provide them with some entertainment, yes, though there wouldn't be enough fuel for anything of that magnitude anyway. The earth was saturated with rain; removing the constraint of safety only gave them greater options.
Maybe he'd burn all of the things that yet carried Faolin's scent. It seemed like an appropriate action to take, though Anselm remained silent. Was the leader going for glory or purpose? If the former, surely he'd desire something more grand than a few old blankets (or whatever had been in their old den). Remembering something, Anselm perked up and trotted back to his box of rotted cigars. Very gingerly, careful to avoid the rank sticks of tobacco, he plucked a small box of matches from within using his teeth. With a bit of a spring in his step, he trotted back to Gabriel, red eyes alight with anticipation. It seemed a taste for fire ran in their blood.
hahahaha, I love how they both have the same reaction to grief. BLOW SHIT UP. Must run in the family ;D [/html]
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Anything that had carried her scent was long gone. Gabriel had completely stripped his den twice; once when she had left, and once after Ezekiel had healed. Now all that remained was his—art supplies, books, old blankets and dried grass. He had nothing grand about that place anymore. Even the art he managed to finish never stuck around long. After a month, sometimes less, he grew tired and frustrated with the piece and tore it to shreds. Not much survived his critical eye for long, and for months now he hadn’t even picked up a pencil.
The need to destroy was just as powerful as the need to create. It was a part of their blood—that terrible, flawed de le Poer blood. A long time ago his father had made an allusion to such a thing, but it was a fleeting memory, one that he did not recall. Very few things lingered in his mind for long. He could no longer recall what his brothers looked like. He had all but forgotten he had another sister. He remembered only in limited pieces; remembered the first kill, the first fire, the day he had realized he loved Faolin, the day his children had been born. The first two were the only things that still remained.
On the hood of the car, the Aquila made the gradual shift to his Optime form. He had not done so in longer then he could remember, and the process was slower then he expected. With a final crack from some joint, it was complete. A mass of hair fell around his face—grown in after so long, it fell past his shoulders. Grunting at this fact, the scarred hybrid shifted his weight and jumped off the car. Anselm, bright eyed and bushy tailed, looked like a kid in a candy store, and this made a smile break across his cousin’s face.
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As was his custom when others underwent the transformation from four legs to two (or vice versa), Anselm looked away. There was something vulnerable about the in-between states--perhaps he just found it appropriate to emphasise submission during these times by averting his gaze. In another sense, their bodies grew awkward and strange--maybe it was just a matter of privacy, a polite gesture that mimicked a man turning away when a woman had to change in the same room. Somewhere in the distance a rat was watching them curiously, and he stared back with the same intensity as the rodent. Eventually it got the message, turning and waddling away to disappear under a mound of twisted metal and rotten wood. Anselm wasn't under the impression this area was frequented often. The skeleton of the car creaked as Gabriel disembarked, and now he turned his attention back to the Aquila.
Anselm pressed forward now, nudging his cold, wet nose into Gabriel's palm, reminiscent of a dog trying to please his master. He released the small box of matches; it was his own contribution to this little light show they were about to receive, and it seemed more convenient for Gabriel to clutch them in his hand than for him to focus on not spoiling them with his saliva. Retreating a couple of steps backward, his ruby eyes sought Gabriel's gold, if only for a moment. They begged a silent question: What do you have in mind? Still no words passed his lips; Anselm didn't think any were necessary. Such communication was possible only between beings whose lives were as intertwined as theirs were--furthermore, Gabriel's intentions would become clear soon enough. When it came to infernal climaxes and a blazing release, Anselm could be remarkably patient. Elsewhere in the landfill, the rat ascended a small pile of filth and watched the two wolves with beady black eyes. Even he seemed to know something great was coming.
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Though the difference in their bodies suggested a master and subordinate, Gabriel did not think of his cousin in such a way. He believed that every member of Inferni understood that his word was law, and because of this, he did not enforce dominance and submission. When the time came for such things (and it had happened only a few times), Gabriel was an iron first. Hybrid had walked away with his life because Gabriel understood he needed him. Inferni needed him. Gabriel would not do the terrible things that his Hydra would.
With the gasoline in one hand, and matches in the other, the ever present itch became terrible. All around them were possibilities—and one stood out. Behind Anselm was another ruined car, battered and broken. Atop of this, presumably where it had been thrown, was the skeleton of some sort of couch. Rats and mice had long since used it for bedding, and the elements had destroyed everything they could, but it would serve a purpose yet.
After several shakes of the can, a rain of gasoline fell. It was not much, but like the couch, it would be enough. Gabriel threw the can into the car, and then struck a match. There was a terrible precision in this motion; he was not without practice. In his eyes there was a similar fire. He knew the sensation that now rushed through his body. A righteous and terrible fury, one that had been blessed upon him, one that he knew in his heart was his true purpose. Fire alone could cleanse. It had cleansed the old territory, just as it had cleansed California. Now all that remained was to cleanse the wickedness in his heart.
That same precision found hold and gave fire to their fuel. With a great ‘woosh’ of air, the flames rushed over the gasoline. It grew quickly, wrapping around the rotting wood, sinking into the rust that covered the car. There was enough of the cushions inside to provide an even greater hold. And while this was a grandiose performance, it wasn’t enough. They needed more. He needed more.
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@$%&Though a naturally headstrong and proud creature, Anselm was surprisingly content to yield to those of (competent) authority. Even on foreign soil, he'd learned long ago that a few well-timed gestures could keep him out of trouble. Barring the psychotic maniacs of the world, most folks were simply unwilling to attack a wolf that openly submitted. (It was the path of least resistance.) This tactic aside, the golden hybrid enjoyed pulling more subtle strings when it came to getting his way: sometimes giving the pack wolf the illusion that they were superior and in control made them less hesitant to spill whatever information he was after in the first place. Naturally, situations as these were different. For both Kaena and Gabriel he held a deep, almost sacred respect--at this point, the wolfish part of his blood bade him to go through the motions on instinct, whether they were necessarily required or not.
@$%&His head swivelled as he followed the Aquila's gaze and at once he understood. The rest of his body followed in turn with his head in a continuous, graceful motion and he padded closer to their target before taking a seat. The oily substance glistened in the light as it cascaded through the air and landed atop the couch; there was something beautiful about watching the practised, easy motions of the other man working. The fuel barely had a moment to sink in before Gabriel struck a match and left the trash heap to the mercy of one of nature's most powerful elements: fire. The flames grew and licked at the sides of the couch, charring what was left of the upholstery instantly and causing a thick, black smoke to billow into the sky.
@$%&Anselm's head tipped up as he regarded it carefully, his nose wriggling at the strange scents expelled by the treated fabric. Even without a HAZMAT certification, he could tell the fumes were toxic and unnatural, but quickly the material was consumed and the faint breeze that fuelled the flames did just as well to carry the smoke high into the sky and far away. Only now did he sense his cousin wasn't yet satisfied, and he glanced to the side as a mid-sized box with a faded, crudely drawn "explosion" label caught his eye. He got to his feet and trotted over to it, using one large paw to spill it onto its side and scratch at the top until it opened and the contents spewed forth. His eyes widened and he let out a short, happy bark to alert Gabriel to his find: at least half a dozen Rambo-style clips of firecrackers with a couple do-it-yourself fireworks.
-claws back up cliff she fell off of.- [/html]
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Even though Gabriel in no way considered himself a wolf, he could not deny his heritage. Dominance ran through his blood, as did the ancestral knowledge that had kept their species alive for centuries. A deeper part of this instinct warned him against the fire, but something had gone wrong. Their kind no longer feared flame as they had learned to. Perhaps this was why he had been chosen for such a task. God wanted to remind the beasts of the earth that they were secondary, they were worthless, and they needed not to forget that there were things out there greater then themselves.
So focused on the thing he had created was Gabriel that until Anselm barked he had not noticed his cousin had left his side. His head turned and found that not twenty feet from his position was a wealth of great toys. The two de le Poer men were kids turned loose in their own playground. With a wag of the tail, the Aquila gathered the box and began eyeballing the fireworks. While he understood their purpose, he was unsure of exactly what he was playing with. Gabriel understood matches and gasoline. A puzzled look was cast to his cousin, an unspoken question. Certainly he was not the only one who needed a release.
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Anselm couldn't place his fascination with fire and explosives. The hiss of a lit fuse should have instilled feelings of terror and dread, not excitement and wild anticipation; the scent of smoke and the charred carbon remains of whatever had been burned should have been toxic and disheartening, not intoxicating and beautiful. Maybe that was it--fire could destroy in a way nothing else could. Though the strongest boulders would be worn down by wind and water over time, fire could decimate an entire forest in a matter of days or a whole building within hours. But no--a powerful typhoon could achieve the same results just as quickly. The real appeal then stemmed not from the capability, but from the control over the element. Anselm couldn't orchestrate the weather as a god, but he could easily lay waste to whatever he pleased with the strike of a single match. He could stomp out his creation with only moderately more effort by heaping earth or water on top.
The silent invitation was understood and he nodded. The existing flames danced in his hellish red eyes as he focused on the prize and the transformation was completed rather quickly. A large metal pipe with a cap on one end caught his attention and he yanked it from the heap of trash that contained it. Licking his lips, the hybrid pulled out one of the matches from the book and struck it. He simply hucked a pack of the firecrackers into the mix before lighting the long fuse of one of the fireworks, dropping it quickly into the pipe and positioning it on his shoulder in the fashion of a rocket launcher. BOOM! The cap blew off the back as the explosive was propelled forward--his aim was true and it struck within the car's interior. The firework screamed as sparks flew everywhere out the car's windows: the blue, white, and green was a very nice accent to the flames of yellow, orange and red. They had their own fucking rainbow... of fire! All the while the firecrackers went off, rattling the frame of the car completely. He offered another pack and a sly grin to Gabriel--hopefully this display had pleased the Aquila.
lulz i have friends who have done this >_> the launcher thing, that is. XD Not destroying cars in a junk yard, though I guess I wouldn't be surprised about that, either :x [/html]
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There was a singular moment of absolute terror in Gabriel’s face, startled by his cousin’s recklessness, and then all too suddenly BOOM! What it created, though, was beautiful. The flames rushed out and a kaleidoscope of colors threw themselves out, dazzling the otherwise ugly landscape. Deep in his stomach the fear had been replaced by adrenaline, and a loud, barking laugh rose up to his chest. Gabriel laughed manically, eyes bright and gleaming like a kid on the Fourth of July.
Things devolved there, two wolves with Prometheus at their back, and it into an expression of exuberance and wild revels. There was laughter, and explosions, and no words. They fed their monster with the things around them, discarded by an old world, and turned the sky black. It was three hours later and dark before they let the fire slow down, and even then they had little to say.
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