1. Characters name: Lockeheed "Lock, or Locke"
2. Character Birthdate (including year): November 24th, 2006
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci Ortus
4. Gender: Male
5. Your e-mail: thevaliantknife@gmail.com
6. A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M): N/A (I hardly use messengers, plus I get emails on my phone. So it'd be the best way to contact me).
7. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Heard about it years ago. I've been an on again, off again member for about two of them.
[html] A storm was rolling in over the greater Halifax area, and it was moving on the swift oceanic wind that was ripping across the coastline. The smell of sea salt was in the air, and the roaring waves in the distance could be heard for miles. Surely, with the ferocity of the coming storm, all creatures great and small were frantically vying for a secure shelter; curling up under rocks, burrowing underground, or hiding out in the old, abandoned human structures. A sudden gust of wind crashed into him as he crested the hill that led down into the inner territory. His sandy fur was whipped around, and he flattened his ears further against his skull, as if hoping to shut out the world. For a moment he closed his eyes against the burning tears that spilled freely down his cheeks; not from the wind, but from the torment currently shredding his heart to tiny, battered bits. A soft whimper spilled from his lips as he opened his eyes and caught sight of the tattered linen bundle cradled in his arms. He held it like something infinitely precious, as if holding the very essence of his soul between his fragile, mortal fingers. Slowly -- carefully, he pulled it closer to his warm chest, using a free hand to wrap part of his coat around it, clutching it as if embracing a lover.
Suddenly as the private moment began, it was interrupted by another clap of thunder. His head snapped up, and his expression grew even more desperate as he realized the severity of the situation. With a frantic glance over his shoulder, he moved into the claimed territory, wide, frightened eyes searching for a sign of life. He knew well the potentially severe consequences of inviting himself into a pack's lands, but there was little reason left to harness in the panicked man. There was a deliberateness in his step, but a terrible horror in his expression. Locke knew... oh he knew the truth, but he was unable, and unwilling, to face it. However, with each intentional step forward, his hear broke just a little bit more as the bundle in his hands remained still, and began to grow as cold as the air buffeting his lean frame. No, there was nothing that could deter him now. He had to find help... he had to save her, and them, and everything! That was his duty, his virtue; the meaning of everything he'd ever imagined, known, and come to known. The purpose; the drive. These sweet, wonderful things that made him smile; the beautiful beauty that gave him so much, for so little in return. He was her knight, it's what they do...
Locke kept walking, because there was nothing else he could do.
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Welcome  300+
He shouldn't be out, not right now. There was a serious mess of a storm coming up and he needed to get Drogon back to the stables before it broke. The border patrol was almost done though. It was a task that Haven didn't like to leave unfinished. There hadn't been any serious problems for the pack so far, but he wasn't about to take any chances. It was his duty to protect everyone and make sure their boundaries were secure and free of unwelcome intruders. It was getting dangerous now though. Wind buffeted against the horse and rider and rain was stinging into his jade eyes. There was a clap of thunder not too far off and the stallion reared up, whinnying. "Whoa! Whoa! Easy!" He held tightly onto the rains so as to not fall off the spooked horse. "Calm down," he said, patting the dark brown neck of the creature. "Let's go back, it's going to be okay." Heels nudged gently into the mustang's sides and they wheeled around to head back into the heart of the territory.
The Knight had been expecting that nothing would come between them and a swift return, but it seemed that was not to be the case. There was movement in his periphery and at once the hybrid became alert, eyes locking onto the intruder. His face became hard and he pulled on the reins to lead Drogon in the direction of the stranger. The stallion resisted at first, wanting to go nowhere but the security of the stables, but Haven yanked again and he gave in. The distance between them and the unknown wolf was close quickly as the horse and rider stopped in front of the man, blocking him from traveling further in. "Where do you think you're going?" His voice was stern, transmitting the fact that this male was treading on very thing ice.
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Thanks for joining. Haven is a fantastic character.
[html] There was nothing left in his mind save for his one goal: to find help. They were all counting on him, after all, and he wouldn't be known as the one who let them down. That wasn't who he was. Still clinging securely to the bundle in his arms, he wrapped the coat closer to him as another gust of wind crashed against him, causing him to stumble backwards a few feet. A soft cry shot from his throat as the precious bundle was nearly dislodged from his grasp, but he managed to hang onto it. Locke closed his eyes and knelt, pressing the thing to his chest. He pressed his nose against the folds, murmuring something; it was a sort of prayer, or perhaps a promise. Reassurance? Whatever it was, it gave him the strength to stand again. Though his scared eyes could not see beyond the duty placed on his shoulders, something deep within told him the sky would soon open up, and the rain would pour down. A third clap of thunder rocked the area, so he kept moving.
If Locke had taken a moment to consider his options, waiting by the borders would have been the best; perhaps under a tree, and out of the weather. But all manner of rationality was presently lost on him, and thus irrelevant given the current situation. What manner of reasoning could explain what he was slowly beginning to realize? Nothing, that's what. Nothing. Suddenly, repetitive claps of booming thunder drew his attention, and he turned to find a dark shape riding swiftly towards him; two headed, and six legged, with fur like fire, and a mane like the turbulent sea. His eyes grew wider still for a fleeting moment, before he turned his back towards it, crouched down, and clutched the precious thing to his chest, protecting it from the hellish creature. The sound grew louder still, until it stopped altogether, and was replaced by a voice that spoke a language he understood.
The man half-turned, keeping the linens close to his chest defensively, distant eyes lifting to the one who had addressed him. A few moments passed before Locke came to a stark realization: this was the help he was searching for! Though he did not intentionally disregard the fellow Luperci's words, his ears lifted and from within his jacket he withdrew the bundle, holding it out to the man, and silently pleading with his haunted, distant eyes. His intention could only mean one thing:
Help.
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Awww thank you! I'm interested to see what Locke is like! A little powerplay to get them to shelter, let me know if you want it changed. 300+
The Seneschal wasn't aware how disturbing a luperci riding a horse could be to those not used to the sight, especially in such weather. It could be an effective tool though. It would make intruders such as this man think twice before causing trouble around here. He was surprised to see the wolf crouch down, as if expecting to be attacked outright. He did not appreciate trespassers, but that did not mean that he would strike first and ask questions later. That would only happen if an intruder clearly had hostility in mind. Haven said nothing more, waiting for the other to regain their composure and respond to him. Slowly they looked back up to him. There was a haunted and panicked look in those eyes, something that tugged at his chest. He watched with curiousity as the male moved and held something up to him, a bundle of some sort. Confusion took him as he looked at the bundle and back to the man. Then it became clear that help was needed.
If not for the weather he would have tried and talk more where they were, but it would do none of them any good to stay out. Without another thought Haven extended his arm for the other to grab. "Get on, I'll take you to my house." He waited for the ragged man to grab his arm and then muscles tensed as he pulled him up onto the horse to sit beside him. Drogon moved uneasily for a moment, not used to bearing anyone but the Knight. One burnt orange hand ran soothing over the stallion's neck to reassure him and let him know this was a matter of importance. Drogon snorted and at another nudge from his heels they moved into a gallop. The sooner they reached the house the better.
They had moved at an amazing pace. It was as if the winds from the storm had lent them their speed and pushed them west all the faster. The two-room cottage came into sight and they came to a stop in front of the porch. Haven swung down from the back of the mustang and helped the stranger and his load down as well. He opened the door and motioned for the man to head inside. He brought Drogon in under the shelter of the roof and tied the reins to one of the pillars holding the roof up. The Knight then moved inside and looked to the man. He was still at a loss as to what the bundle he handled so carefully was, but a fear gripped him at a guess.
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You're welcome, and so am I! I've had this sort of character in mind for about two months now, but only just got the drive to try it out. And any powerplay is fine by me.
[html] Though he was extremely apprehensive of the Luperci, and the horse he sat astride, Locke was unwavering in his plea. He continued to hold the bundle out, usually rough hands handling it with all the care of a doting mother. And his eyes watched Haven with an intensity that he hadn't actually felt in over twenty-four hours. If he was anywhere else but here, in both mind and body, he might have been relieved that emotion still existed in this clockwork of time and space that he was presently living in. But as of now, he only barely registered it, even though it was there, alive, on the sunken lines of his face. The mounted man looked first to the offering, then back to him, and Locke watched as recognition flashed across his young features. If only he could smile, or give thanks, but his mind refused any semblance of his personality right now. All of his energy, and all of his efforts, were geared towards this one soul purpose.
A strong hand was outstretched towards him, and Locke hesitated for only a moment, glancing apprehensively towards the restless stallion, before tucking the bundle securely against his chest, and offering his free hand. The younger man was strong, and with a deft tug, Locke was suddenly astride the beast. He took a moment to balance his weight, and double-check the bundle, only wrapping his arm around Haven's waist when he was secure. The horse was nervous, and presumably not used to the extra weight, which admittedly made him a bit nervous. However, the stallion quickly settled under the gentle guidance of his master, and they were off in a flash. Locke opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed; instead they were eaten by the howling wind. So, he experienced the ride in silence, glancing fearfully down at the linens often, as if they would just disappear into thin air.
A cottage came into view, and they approached rapidly, only to stop under the shelter of an overhang. It was there Haven dismounted. Locke followed suit, sliding down from the beast with a hollow sort of grace, and was steadied by the hand of his savior. A glance was offered, but his eyes didn't linger; instead they shifted first to the bundle, then to the house that Haven motioned to. He moved ahead of Haven, pushing the door open, and stepping inside. The first thing he noted was the silence in comparison to the fury brewing outside; it was peaceful, and soothing to his elevated state of emotion and awareness. He wanted to smile -- hell, he wanted to believe it would all be okay. Everything would magically go back to normal, or all of this would be a dream.
But his brief interlude was shattered when Haven followed him inside. Locke turned, ears falling back as his hands tightened around the aging linens. Somewhere he knew, he couldn't just stand here. They needed him. So, after a brief, but weighted glance, to Haven, Locke reached over and grasped the fraying edge of the blanket, carefully pulling it back to reveal a small, newborn face. The further he pulled, the more it revealed; there, nestled in his arms, were the still forms of two newborn pups. One was white as fresh snow, and the other was a ashen brown. However, the innocent familiarity of newborns ended there, because unlike most infants, these two were deathly still. Even though they were cradled close to their father's warm chest, there was still a chill to them not even a healthy body's warmth could chase away. Life had left them only hours before.
At the sight of his deceased infants, the estranged man began to shake with a terrible tremor as the horrifying truth finally sunk in. Everything went numb. His tongue turned to ash, and his eyes were blinded with tears. His knees gave out then, and they hit the floor with a harsh thud. But despite the loss of feeling, he still managed to cling to the one thing that pushed him this far. "I... s-so... sorry." He rasped, before a cry strangled his throat.
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Poor Locke :< 300+
The Knight knew that the horse would want to return to the stables, the overhung porch was not the best place for him in a storm. It would have to wait though. There was a sense of urgency in this situation that could not be ignored. This man needed him and that help that he seemed to so need could not wait. Haven wasn't sure if he could give it, but he would do his best to be of assistance. As he entered the house he saw a brief happiness in the other, but it was snuffed out like a candle with his appearance. The fear was back in him and the youth wanted to assure him that no harm would come to him beneath this roof, but he knew that it was not him that the older male feared. It was whatever was wrapped up in that cloth; that bundle he carried so carefully and desperately. After a long, silent connection of their gazes the contents of that package began to be revealed. Breath caught in his chest as he cautiously moved forward, not wishing to overstep his bounds.
The things that were revealed were two of the saddest sights he had even laid eyes on, and immediately wished he had not seen them. But those two, small, motionless bodies would be forever burned into his consciousness. His heart seized in his chest. They had barely been unveiled and Haven knew already that it was too late for them. Bi-colored ears plastered down against his head and a deep sorrow filled him. It mattered not that he did not know this man or these deceased pups. No life should be lost so young. It was a thing to mourn, regardless of familiarity. He was only a year old, but he knew this. Would have known it from his earliest days. New lives were a gift, and when they were so cruelly taken away it was a horrible thing. A loss that could not be comprehended.
Haven watched the man shake and fall to the ground, clutching what could only be his young to his chest. He had felt a great amount of pain in his life. Pain so vivid he thought it would be better to die. None of that even came close to what this man must be feeling though. Not within miles. The words and the strangling cry struck right to the quick of his soul. What could he do? The answer resounded in his head. Nothing. There was nothing he could do to bring back these children. Nothing he could do to ease the stranger's suffering. He stood there numbly, watching the tragedy before him, knowing there was nothing he could do or say.
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;.;
[html] In a moment, everything he'd ever worked for in his life, and all the great things he'd achieved meant nothing, because they were worth nothing without his family. All the hard work, all the dedication, only to be rewarded with the most gruesome, horrifying failure that could befall a man like him. There was nothing that could trump this, nothing that could make it better. His children, their children, were lifeless forms in his arms, and it was only now that he came to another heartbreaking realization: his wife, his beautiful knight, was also dead. She'd died long before he reached the borders of Cour des Miracles, despite fervent promises to bring back help, and that he was going to save her like he did before; like he always did. But instead, the last sight she saw with her fading eyes was him, walking away.
Locke collapsed into himself, curling himself around the lifeless forms of his children. He wept uncontrollably, and continued to shake as the trauma ripped him apart. He could do nothing, or say nothing, to right this terrible wrong. He wanted to fix it, and he wanted to convince himself he could; that somehow, his children would take their first breath again, and his wife would smile as he offered them to her. And they would be happy again, like they'd planned. Like they deserved. Like he deserved. But what if this was meant to happen? Like some twisted game of fate. Why else would he work so hard at securing happiness, and moving on from his past regrets, only to be dumped into a life so horrifying, so surreal, that he was trying to convince himself it was a beautiful lie?
After a few agonizing minutes, his sobs began to quiet, and the tremors stilled. Locke remained in his hunched position, breathing slowly in and out, trying to avoid any stray glances to the lifeless bodies in his arms. His grief, though far from over, was stemmed by the presence of the noble young man. Slowly he uncurled, muscles moving automatically; his movements were hardly fluid as he lifted his hollow gaze to the fire-furred man. A moment passed where he considered lying down and never getting up, but he had to, even if it was only because he couldn't die on another man's floor. It just wasn't something he'd do.
Still gripping the bundle, Locke painstakingly rose to his feet. He was feeling his mortality in the aching bones of his body, and the sore pads of his feet. This was only amplified by the fate of the two lying still in his arms. With a final, prolonged glance to the flawless, cold faces of his children, Locke grabbed the linen and carefully pulled it over them again, concealing them for what would be for good. He turned towards Haven, and there was something unmistakably broken in his expression. Whatever the young man told him, he would do. There was only one thing left for him to do now, and that was to bury the bodies of his children, and his wife. Beyond that... there was nothing.
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Posting from class, so may not be the best, but wanted to get something up since I'll be gone until tonight. 300+
Haven watched the broken man in silence, the sobbing filling his mind and beating at his heart. It was the worst thing he had ever seen. He was the type of person that wanted to right wrongs, to fix other peoples problems. In this situation he was helpless though. All he could do was watch and wait with empathy. In this man he saw a reflection of himself after Siobhan had left. Of course their sorrows could not be fairly compared, the stranger's was so much greater than his had been, but the youth had reacted in a similar manner. For days all he had been able to do was cry. Laying in his bed and sobbing and sobbing until he was dehydrated. He could not imagine the extent of the pain of the wolf on the floor, but Haven had been a crying man on the floor as well, and so he could at least relate. He knew what brought him to such a sorry state and it was a fate that nobody deserved.
The crying and shaking began to lessen sooner than the Knight would have imagined. Of course the pain wasn't gone, the sorrow wasn't gone. Maybe it was his presence that allowed the other to calm to some degree. It might be better for him to grieve alone, but it was not something he was prepared to give the man. He worried if he left him the stranger would take his own life and the Aatte did not want to allow that to happen. He had made that silent promise that no harm would come to this man while under his protection, from his own hand or any other, and he meant to keep that promise. Jades darkened by the awful event watched the older male as he slowly uncurled and moved to stand again. How he found the strength and will, Haven did not know.
He was being looked at. For guidance, for direction, for something. But what could he say to this man who had lost so much? He was only a yearling, probably mature for his age, but still young. The hybrid swallowed and bowed his head for a moment, trying to figure out what he could offer. A few moments passed and he hesitantly meant that fractured gaze. "I...will help you lay them to rest, if you wish..." He would not impose himself on such a sacred ritual, but the offer was there if the man wanted it. "I'm so sorry..." His eyes were filled with sincerity. "Sorry" was such a small thing to say in response to such a heavy thing, but there was nothing else to say.
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No worries. This might not be great either, since I'm doing it while I'm cleaning. XD
[html] Under any other circumstances, Locke would've felt bad for bringing such a burden down upon Haven; he was sure the young man hadn't asked for this when he confronted him. He was just a loyal pack member, doing his appointed, and expected, duty. The broken man understood duty, and he understood purpose. But despite the truth of the situation, he couldn't comprehend what happened to his purpose, his duty. Without his wife, he had nothing. They'd both forsaken their former lives in favor of something new, and something real. Nothing was more real that the prospect of children; life. Nothing except death.
When the other spoke, the words barely registered in his blank mind. It took a few moments for the recognition to lift his features a little, ears lifting a little from their flattened position on his skull. A little life was breathed back into Locke at the honest, selfless offer, but he couldn't accept. Because he had failed, it was his job now to face the consequences of it alone. He looked on towards Haven, almost ready to accept, but in the same breath declined with a simple shake of his head. "No," He said finally, voice a hollow, gravelly rasp, "I have to do this alone." The words burned his throat, and tore at his heart; the thought of burying his life in the cold, dead earth. Nevertheless, he was thankful.
Clutching the bundle closer, a gush of air billowed out from between his lips in the form of a soft sigh. He couldn't just leave Haven now. Looking now to those pained jade eyes, Locke observed the younger man for a moment before deciding: he would make it up to him somehow, if it was even possible to amend the horrors that Locke had brought into his home. Regardless, he would try, because that's was something he could do.
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Apologies might be needed again, seeing as I'm feeling like a zombie minus the hunger for brainz x.x 300+
Haven didn't blame the man for bringing this into his life. Even if he wanted to he wouldn't have been able to. Not with what had befallen him. Besides, the young hybrid understood burdens and he understood the need to have someone, anyone, be there for you in such times. He had been there before, and could never be upset with someone for needing something that he had needed on many occasions. He had just been doing his duty when had confronted the intruder on their lands, but once the circumstances had become known to him he had taken up another duty. Being a knight was more than just being loyal to your king. It meant helping everyone you could, at least it did to him.
Eyes stayed locked on the older man as he waited for his words to soak in. Some light seemed to come back to his eyes and he was thankful for that. Despite that his offer was declined, but he understood. The burnt orange male nodded his head in understanding. Sometimes even in your darkest moments solitude was needed. There were some things that you simply had to do on your own. He understood that burying one's family could very well be one of those things. Silence reigned again for a few moments as Haven stumbled his way through the situation. He had never faced death before and so he was not aware of how he should act. There was one thing he did know though. "You should wait until the storm passes though. It should be more peaceful when you do." Or at least it seemed that way to him. "You're free to stay here as long as you want, I have a spare room." It was the very least he could do.
Rain began to pound against the room and windows of the small house and he heard Drogon neigh from without. Haven grabbed a heavy blanket and moved to open the door and found it nearly ripped off its hinges from the wind. He spent a few minutes calming the stallion and convincing him to lay down, covering him with the heavy cloth so that the horse would not catch a chill. Soothing words were whispered to his friend before he returned indoors. He grabbed a nearby hunk of wood and placed it in the fireplace and grabbed the pack of matches on the mantel. Perhaps a fire would help drive some chill from the room. As he hunched over the newborn flame he looked back to his guest. "Is there anything I can get you? My name is Haven, by the way."
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It's all good. Happy October! 
[html] The very prospect of his loneliness had yet to sink it with all the turmoil blinding him, but when his mind was clear, he would soon see the worst of it was not even half over. With his family dead, he had nothing; that much he knew now. But the definition of nothing was just that. He had no friends, not any nearby anyway, and surely none that were close enough anymore to make any sort of significant difference. In retrospect, if he'd known this was going to happen, he would've stayed. Maybe then they could have made an impact, maybe then they could have fixed him with their compassion, and their wisdom. But no, not anymore. Now he was left alone, the only soul left to carry the burden of their stories.
When Haven spoke, Locke nodded mutely at his reasoning. He had no intention of venturing out into the weather, especially now that the sky had opened up, and the rain was pouring down. Haven then offered the spare room, out of what, Locke wasn't sure. The goodness of his own pure heart, or pity? Regardless, the younger man continued to surprise him with his kindness, especially when he wasn't even predisposed to be nice to a stranger of all things. He cast a glance out the window, only to see the driving rain beating against the window, and not much else beyond. It was amazing how the weather nearly mimicked his current emotional state, like the whole scene had been set up just for this moment. Of course, that was foolish, but Locke was willing to believe anything at this point to keep his mind off the bundle in his hand, and the woman he loved and lost.
Before he could lose himself in his thoughts, the stallion whinnied (presumably frightened by all the noise). Haven turned and grabbed a blanket before disappearing into the storm. Locke turned, and walked towards the spare room, bundle in hand. He didn't spare a glance to the room itself, instead busied himself with setting his children delicately on the floor, making sure the linen was secure around their bodies, before quickly stepping away and back out of the room.
Haven returned a few moments later, and deftly lit a fire to chase the chill of the storm from the room. Locke leaned against a nearby wall, and slid down to sit propped against it. He stared at the beginnings of the flame for a prolonged moment, before looking up towards Haven. "Your company is enough." He said softly, "My name is Locke." He wrapped his arms around his knees, and rested his head on them, watching as the flame slowly grew.
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:3 And yay October! October is my favorite <3 300+
It might have been a mix of goodness and pity that lead him to offer the spare room. The man needed a place to stay, at least for a while, and in such trying times it was better to have some sort of company even if it weren't familiar company. It was the people around you that really helped you through the hard times. While Haven hadn't expected such a thing to drop into his lap, he didn't regret it. Focusing on helping another would help ease his mind from his own problems. It would also, admittedly, be nice to have someone finally occupy the other room of his house for a time. While he had done his best to eradicate any trace of his once love every now and then he would still catch a whiff of her scent coming from the room. Hopefully the scent of this stranger would finish the job of erasing the traitorous coyote from his life.
He held his hand out before the flames, letting its heat seep into him through his palm and fingertips. The line between the fire and the back of his hand was blurred, their colors mixing and matching so easily. When he had been little he had loved how unique his coat had been, but after finding out about his sire it had seemed more like a curse than a gift. Thankfully he had never been mistaken for Conri and he hoped that day would never come. The fewer that knew about his lineage the better. He didn't want to be connected to such a monster. Haven nodded quietly at the older wolf. He wished there were more he could do, but if company was all that was needed he was glad to provide it. "It's good to meet you Locke." Too bad the circumstances aren't better though, he added silently in his head.
The fire was healthy and growing and so the hybrid stopped crouching in front of the hearth and sat down, criss-crossing his legs. He turned to face Locke, trying to find some words to say. Talking about what had happened didn't seem like the best thing for the moment. The wound was so fresh that talking about it would only open it more. "Do you have a pack?" The Knight wasn't able to detect any smell of a pack on him, but that didn't necessarily mean he didn't have one.
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Hey, I just thought of something. Would this count as a rescue for your Catacombs? 
[html] The flames reached ever higher, popping and cracking as the intense heat began to chip away at the wood. The shadows cast by Haven's movement, and the swaying licks of fire that sparked and danced in their enclosure wove a clear path for his clouded thoughts to follow. Slowly his mind transcended the boundaries between the present and the past, as he began to delve further into himself for answers. He remembered her, as painful as it was currently, but it was a time far before this; long before they decided to branch out from the group, and go their separate way. Hell, long before they'd even considered themselves friends. She had been a battle-hardened veteran, but despite all she'd seen and done, she'd managed to hold fast to a soul as pure as freshly fallen Canadian snow. She was beautiful; even the scars that lie hidden under her fur were just another part that made her whole. A soft smile, hidden behind his arm, danced idly across his lips as he remembered placing his lips on the ridges, kissing each one, memorizing where they were, and where they came from.
Then there was the brothers; twins, actually. Sons of a royal legacy. Intelligent, loyal, and steadfast to a fault were words that could describe them both. There were many more, but Locke was not so inclined, nor creative enough, to think of more. Haven reminded him of Gerad; his task to uphold pack law mirrored Gerad's own obligations to his pack, and those he owed allegiance (however false it was) too. Then there was his brother, Renard. On a whole, the younger brother built for intimidation; his powerful stature, and endless strength made for an impressive man. Of course, Renard was no less intelligent, but he often left the politics to his brother, and leader. They made a good team, they did. Often deflecting suspicions of their loyalty through careful deliberation, and flawless execution of their plans. He regretted it now that he never was able to become a close, personal confidant of Renard's, like he was with Gerad. The large wolf, though always welcome in the presence of the company, had an insatiable wanderlust; to leave, learn and grow in turn. So he often left on nothing but a whim, only to return a few months later.
If it was one man he needed now, it was Gerad.
A heavy sigh left his lips as he returned to the small home, and back into Haven's presence. The amber knight spoke, and Locke replied in turn with a slow nod, "And you, Haven." He meant it, even if his eyes did not chose to show it. There was no way, now, that he could not like the other. He'd done so much, in so little time, to rectify the horrible situation Locke had thrust them both into. And Haven, noble Haven, had resolutely stayed through it all; he showed no intention of going back on his sentiments, either. Just that little though was enough to ease a bit of the burden laid over his shoulders.
When Haven sat back and settled down on the floor, Locke sat up a little straighter, and lifted his head from his arms. At Haven's question, his ears were thrown forward briefly before swinging back again as he shook his head. "No, not for a long while." He replied as some life returned to his voice, "Left 'em when the war ended, hoping to find a good place to settle down away from the chaos. Maybe rebuild, y'know?" He said, decidedly dwelling on the happier prospects of his life previous to the accident. "But... that won't be happening now. Not for her, or them anyway..." Locke closed his eyes as they began to burn, but soon opened them again a moment later, looking first to Haven, then the floor below his feet.
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Oooo, I dunno it might! :o 500+
Jade oculars looked to Locke and saw that the man was deep in thought. That or memory, and Haven let him stay in his mind. Interrupting it would do no good and he didn't mind the silence. When he was younger he hadn't been a fan of silence. Words had always come pouring from his small mouth, his brain leaking out his thoughts and ideas wherever he went. Some of that curious, chattering pup was still inside him but it was buried now. Buried under the emotional scars and his attempts to run away from his heritage. Buried under the choices he had made and the path that he now followed. Knighthood had been what that pup had always dreamed of and now he was one and his station sobered him. People looked to him for protection and he wanted to be a strong pillar for them. Someone they could trust and count on. Someone they could be proud of.
At the sigh his gaze returned to his new friend. Was friend the right word? The hybrid thought so. True, they knew next to nothing about one another, but sharing in such a traumatic thing connected them whether they willed it or no. A small and fleeting smile came to his face at the returned compliment and he nodded his head. That smile had almost been a shadow in the dancing light and could have been mistaken for such, but it had been genuine. Only genuine smiles could be managed at such a time, and even with them they disappeared quickly. No one could smile even with sincerity for long in the face of what had befallen this man.
Locke seemed to come back to himself a little at the question and Haven listened with interest as he explained his situation. It was hard for him to imagine not having a pack. Aside from his month or so interlude in the city alone he had always had a pack. First Crimson Dreams where he had been born, and now Cour des Miracles. Though at the mention of war his eyes widened slightly. He had never been subjected to the horrors of such an event. Alexey had briefly told him of the war between Dahlia and Inferni, but it had been before he had even been born. Haven hoped he would never have to face such a thing. It wasn't that he was a coward, he would fight if he had to, but he wanted to fight to protect not to kill. Inwardly he cringed at the mention of "her". Of course if he had had pups then Locke must have had a mate or lover, but Haven had held out hope she might be alright.
The Knight sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I know it's probably not the type of thing you want to think about right now, but you could stay here. Not just in the house, but as a part of the pack." He looked back to Locke with a calm and neutral expression. "This is Cour des Miracles. We accept all kinds here and we look after each other." He wouldn't expect an answer now, but it would be better for the man to not be alone he believed.
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[html] The comfortable familiarity continued to grow as the minutes ticked on and on. Locke found himself wholly at ease with Haven; perhaps not with his situation, but he knew he was safe with the knight. Of course, he assumed he was a knight, or a warrior of some sort, like she'd been. He was sure of himself, at least on a physical level (Locke was surely not a proper judge of character, or personality, even beyond the circumstances); the weight of the sword at his hip did not burden him, in fact, even though he was young, it was very nearly an extension of the fire-licked, and ivory-splashed man himself. He must carry a heart of gold to be able to withstand the hardships of such a noble cause, Locke mused thoughtfully. Haven was most certainly someone Locke would later come to cherish, as he did Gerad; a thought struck him. Perhaps there was a clear reason why he initially, and immediately, looked towards the young man for cause again; did Locke, in his disorganized thoughts, mistake Haven for his older friend? Was that such a bad thing, truly? Hardly, Locke countered silently as his gaze drifted up from the floor, to the man in question. There was a grave need for men like those two in the world. A friend in need, is a friend indeed, after all.
A small, muted part of him wanted to jump right into war stories; to tell Haven of all he'd seen, and done. And to tell him of his friend's stories, all of which far more heroic, and dynamic, than his own. But the topic would inevitably lead back to the present, and that was a place he wanted to remain distant from, for now. Locke could tell Haven was still quite unconvinced that what he was doing, and saying, was the right thing. The estranged man wanted to reassure him again, but he felt words were hardly necessary at this point; Haven was welcome to believe, and do, what he felt was right; he was certainly doing a good job thus far.
But what truly took the man by surprise was the sudden invitation to join the pack. Not temporarily, but permanently, as a contributing member to the band of misfits. Just like — Locke was stunned, and it was instantly reflected on his face. He quietly looked up towards those gentle jade eyes, set in a neutral face; it was an appropriate approach, Locke thought as the surprise faded, with everything I've put him through. Cour des Miracles, or Court of Miracles, as Gerad would explain in that flawless French of his; a band of misfits, like himself — like they all were once.
"I'll protect you, I promise..."
Locke blinked once, then again. He then looked down, to the left, eyes unfocused as he pondered. Haven wasn't waiting for a definitive answer, but Locke was scared that if he didn't make a decision now, he never would again. So this was it, then.
"You've offered me so much in these few hours, Haven." He said then, "I can't possibly say no." There was the beginnings of a smile on his lips, though the firelight made it nearly undecipherable. With a pack came friends, and a life. "If I was a man of words, I might say that I was meant to stay here, but I'm not any good at poetry." He shook his head at the hollow attempt at humor, and nodded slowly, "I accept, and I will do my best to return the hospitality to you, and your pack, for all of this."
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Just a note, Haven has his sword strapped across his back. Not a big deal at all, just thought I'd mention it for future reference ^^ 300+
It was probably good for Haven as well that Locke didn't decide to want to share war stories, for Haven had none to share. He hadn't even been in a real fight yet. There had been that scuffle with Ezekiel, but that had been a personal matter and had only lasted a matter of minutes. The young Knight had yet to prove himself in the art of combat. He trained everyday, honing his skills, his body and mind. When that time did come he wanted to be prepared, but he couldn't know how that first battle would go and it was something he worried greatly about. Was he really strong enough to protect the pack? Was he capable? When people started questioning him about his experience he suddenly felt unworthy and self-conscious. He had yet to prove himself. If only that day would come so he could know.
The look of shock that unfolded on the broken man's face was a little surprising to the hybrid. He knew what he offered was an important thing and a thing that was not giving frivolously, but really how could he not offer him that? Jac had given him the power to decide who was worthy of coming into their ranks and this seemed like the perfect situation to make such an offer. Even if Haven hadn't had the authority he would have offered and gone to plead Locke's case before the King. To Haven, Cour des Miracles was a place of second chances and new beginnings. That's what it had been for him, and maybe it could be that for Locke too. He certainly needed it. He needed others around him, he needed to know that he was not alone. There really was no better place than here for that.
When the older male began to speak Haven was about to cut in, saying that no, he did not want him to feel pressured to decide to stay here. There was no debt that needed to be paid or anything of the sort. But when he saw that small smile come to Locke's lips it quieted his tongue. A similar smile came to the burnt orange hybrid, glad that he was able to do this for the male. "I'm glad you'll stay. I am." He wanted to see Locke through this unbearable time and to have him feel that sense of hope that he had when the pack had first formed. "I don't want you to feel there is any debt to be repaid though, at least not with me. I'm only happy I've been able to help, even in this small way." For anything seemed small in the face of such a deep loss.
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