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Perched on a large bolder, Gabriel looked no more out of place then the stone amongst the tall grass. On his lap a large and well-aged sketchbook sat. The pages had yellowed over the years, but it was something he treasured. This was the only one Gabriel had found intact, and he had carried it with him for well over two years. With a great speed, his left hand jotted over the paper, roughly drawing down the landscape before him. There was a small herd of deer out in the field below, aware of, but not yet startled by his presence.
That was, of course, until Gabriel sneeze loudly—jerking his pencil over the paper. The herd took off, and the Aquila frowned, frustrated. He looked down at the page, saw he had ruined it, and upset, tore the page out of the notebook. With an aggravated huff he crumpled it into a ball and threw it to the side. Now, without a subject, the charcoal-brushed male was without inspiration and left to sulk alone. Above him, the sky seemed to reflect his mood; though it had been raining, today had been sunny, with the faintest traces of an oncoming storm. Now, the sky was slowly filling with darker gray clouds, and the smell of rain was in the air.
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Once again Rikka had left the caves behind, needing to put distance between herself and wholly wrong thing that was going on with her mother and the younger girl. She needed to talk to Kaena about it because it bothered her so much she wasn't sleeping well at night, constantly tossing and turning. Honestly she was afraid though. Afraid that her mother wouldn't listen and wouldn't see what was wrong with what she was doing. It wasn't as if this was the first thing that her mother had done that she had found distasteful and she worried that Kaena would just pass it off as one of her daughter's quirks. It wasn't, not this time, owning another was just plain not right. Even if she wouldn't necessarily "free" Vieira she needed to treat her no different than anyone else. The poor thing didn't deserve to live in constant fear.
The silver and gold hybrid walked with her arms crossed against her chest, her canvas pack bouncing against her hip. Every time she took a step the zils on her tambourine jingled, but she was too consumed with her thoughts over the indentured coyote to have it cheer her as it normally did. What did the other clan members think? She was the most curious to know her brother's perception of this. He was in charge, and maybe if Rikka couldn't convince their mother to ease up on her own Gabriel could make her. She really had no idea what her brother was like anymore though. It had been so long and she hadn't run into him yet since returning.
A loud sneeze brought her out of her contemplation and her golden eyes searched the vicinity. She was looking at the back of him, and so it took her a moment or two (plus his scent drifting towards her) to realize that it was her sibling. Rikka swallowed nervously and unbidden the names he had called her those years ago resounded between her ears. The female shook her head, willing them away. That was a long time ago. Carefully she started to walk closer to him, looking him over curiously. "Gabriel?"
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The blank paper stared up at him, leering, mocking. He had seen this before, on a canvas, with other pages. It was truly lucky he had found such a thick book—more then ten pages had been ripped out, which was a lot considering how rarely he managed to draw these days. So focused was he on the paper that he didn’t hear the approaching figure until she spoke. Both ears swiveled, and almost instantly his head spun, one hand instinctively covering the paper. He was surprised to see a very wolfish woman approaching, but as she neared, a familiar scent hit him.
“Rikka?” The inflection in his tone was a mixture of surprise and doubt. It had been so long since he had seen most of his siblings (namely, Conway, Vitium, and herself), and he could no longer remember what most of them looked like. Amber eyes narrowed slightly, dark fur around them causing this to be more pronounced then it would have been otherwise.
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There was something in his lap that she could see the edges of, but it was impossible to tell what it was from where she was standing. Besides, she was much more concerned about how he would react to her than whatever was in his lap. Kaena had made it seem like everything would be fine, and while Rikka wanted to believe that she wasn't going to put all her faith into it. The woman was trying to be positive though, trying to make herself believe that all the time that had passed had matured them and made it easier for them to understand one another. As she spoke his head turned to her so quickly that she nearly flinched and it took a moment or two before recognition came to him.
Rikka managed a small, hesitant smile. The surprise was obvious in his voice but that wasn't the only thing she detected. She wasn't sure what else was there and when his eyes narrowed it made her nervous. For being the same color their eyes were very different; his were hard and serious while her's were soft. "Yeah, it's me," she answered. "I came back a couple days ago." The fingers of her right hand drummed nervously on the surface of her bag, still unsure as to how this reunion was going to go.
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Rikka means 'tranquil leader', and is Scandinavian in its origin. And it totally fits for the way you're playing here, haha. Also, I think later on in this thread Rikka should ask Gabriel about Vie. :O
She didn’t look like a coyote much; but none of his siblings did, really. Their father’s blood had come fully through, giving them the size and the mass. It was from him that the peculiar colors came—Vitium’s black fur, Corona’s gold coat. They hardly looked like either breed, Gabriel especially. It was not surprising, then, she looked more like a timber-wolf then a coyote. He could see the tell tale signs, as he had seen them in the boy that had given him the fresh wound on his leg (now scabbing over).
Something had changed about her—she looked unfamiliar to him, just as Razekiel had. Her return, it seemed, had come with the great wave that followed their graying mother. “You’d think she summoned you all here,” he grunted. Resentment had begun to pool in his subconscious, sickened that now that Inferni had gone through hell and back they were now rejoined by those who never should have left.
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Her strong wolfish appearance had always added to her problems coming to terms with everything that involved her family and the clan. Inferni was a coyote clan that hated wolves, and yet she had always more closely resembled the larger canines. It only made sense, considering over half of her blood was wolf. Only a quarter of her were actually coyote. That's why hating wolves had never made sense to her. If she hated wolves she was just ending up hating most of herself and that simply didn't make sense to her. Her beliefs hadn't changed, but she was going to do her best to accept the rest of the clan if they would return the favor.
She heard the resentment in her brother's voice and her ears softly folded back, her gaze diverting off to the side. "I didn't even know she was still alive until I was almost here, or that she had ever left." At first she had been thrilled to be back with her mother and the idea of rebuilding their relationship. Now, though, with the appearance of Vieira that was all thrown into doubt. "This isn't easy for me Gabriel, there's still a lot of conflicts within me, but I want to try this. I want to be with my family." Hesitantly she looked back towards him, hoping he would at least give her a chance.
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In Gabriel’s mind, there was a thin line between wolf and coyote. It was a part of his heritage, and obvious in his appearance, but he did not consider himself a wolf. That word had never settled well with him, unable to wash the blood out of his mind. As long as he could remember that scream, he would never call himself a wolf. No description settled well with the hybrid, and as such, he rejected them.
Though Rikka explained she had no knowledge of Kaena’s return (and indeed, Gabriel believed her), he still could not quell the hollow feeling in his chest. He could not soften his eyes, as they had once been able to, and focused on her with the same intensity as a hunting falcon. The tone in his voice, however, no longer held such a vicious edge. “Corona said the same thing,” he offered, wind tugging at his too-long hair. “You planning on sticking around?”
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Rikka had always called herself a hybrid, for that was what she was. She wasn't wholly anything, just a mutt. Part wolf part coyote and even part dog. Honestly, she kind of liked being such a mixed breed. There had been plenty of quiet internal conflicts over this fact in her youth, but she had come to accept who she was and at the very least she was at peace with herself. How she fit into her family and the clan was still something she had trouble figuring out and it might never be something clear and stable. Now that she was accepting of what and who she was though, hopefully figuring out the other connections would come easier.
Her brother's gaze unnerved her, but she stood her ground waiting for what would come next. If he told her to leave him alone then she would, but that was not what she wanted. They might never be close but she wanted the chance to at least to get to know him better. The same blood flowed through both their veins and she felt that for that, if no other reason, they owed it one another to try and connect in some way or another. When he spoke again the edge was gone, and she smiled at him tentatively. "That's the plan." Though plans could always change, and so she wasn't about to make any promises. It was her intent to stay, but there were many forces outside of her control that could change her ability to do that. Rikka was going to try her hardest though.
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Gabriel knew so little about his siblings—Corona had spoken to him at length, and they had shared the terrible fate of watching their father go mad. Even though Ahren and Gabriel had never been particularly close (for more then half of his life, Gabriel had resented the man), they had come to an understanding. His father alone knew the truth about the fire over the mountain. His father had understood because fire was part of their blood. Now, more than ever, Gabriel believed him.
“Mm,” he grunted, and turned back to his paper. There was nothing further for him to ask—he could accuse her and lash out in one fell swoop, chase her away and treat her as he wished to do with all those who had abandoned him. Still, he had no reason to encourage her beyond that. No part of him would let go of that lingering doubt.
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She had never been close with really any member of her family, on either the Lykoi or de le Poer side. In her youth she had spent the most time with her father and Corona, but of course she hadn't seen either of them for years now. At first when she had returned it seemed as though she and her mother might finally be able to connect on a deeper level, but she highly doubted that now. Rikka still needed to talk to her about the subject of Vieira and slavery in general but she had a sinking feeling that her concerns and arguments would fall on the deaf ears of her mother. Kaena had always had a very skewed view on right and wrong, if any view at all.
Gabriel turned away from her and her ears dipped back once again. What had she been expecting though? For him to welcome her back with open arms? What little she knew about her brother, she knew that he was not the type to be so forgiving. For a moment she was about to turn and leave him to whatever he was doing, but then she remembered the glance she had had of what was in his lap and curiosity came back to her. Slowly she walked a little closer to him, craning her neck in an attempt to see what it was. "May I ask what it was you were doing? Before I interrupted you?" she asked somewhat timidly. Hopefully he wouldn't think she was prying.
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Even though they had all been born in the same circumstances, none of Gabriel’s siblings had been very similar. Their views on the world, and their morals in general, had been muddled since their birth. Kaena’s badgering about the dangers of wolves now seemed incredibly hollow, given her past liaisons with them, and certainly their own dual nature. They had been intended to be soldiers, bodies for Inferni’s rise to power. Two of them were dead. Gabriel alone had reached the summit, and this felt like a shallow accomplishment.
Both ears swiveled backwards, and one of his hands rushed to cover the blank paper. Gabriel turned his head, amber eyes narrowing, and found himself struck suddenly by how little his sister really had changed. He could remember her using that tone before, when they were younger, in the hall of the church. His right hand curled, and the scar it bore tightened. “Yeah,” he relented, and moved his hand so she could see the blank page. “I was drawing. Trying to, at least,” he added, frowning.
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Sometimes Rikka couldn't help but wander if it were their hybrid blood that made them all so drastically different from one another. It was certainly a puzzle. They had all been born together, had the same parents, and yet none of them was all that similar to another. It must have been their personal experiences that had shaped them so variably. Gabriel had seen true horrors, she knew this, and it explained his hard demeanor. If she had experienced similar things she might have reacted in the same manner. She had always been a soft and gentle spirit though and couldn't help but wonder where she had gotten it. It hadn't been from either parent.
At her approach immediately he went on the defensive and tried to hide whatever it was he had. Rikka tensed, afraid that an assault of angry words might fly at her at any moment. She was ready to take off, but surprisingly he eased and allowed her to see the empty piece of paper. The surprises didn't stop there. Gabriel was drawing? The woman wouldn't have thought her sibling would indulge in such artistic endeavors. It was a welcome surprise though, because it gave them something to connect on that she wouldn't have guessed. Her eyes moved to the discarded, crumpled up sheet. "May I?" she questioned, pointing to it. She wanted to see what kind of talent he possessed, even if he thought it unworthy.
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In his readings, Gabriel had once come across the scientific ideas of evolution, of nature versus nurture and Darwinism. Though he could no longer recall them, having his memory purged through bloodshed an tribulations, he might have found such a thing true. Nothing explained, though, what had driven Andre mad—except perhaps the abandonment, though he had shown signs long before them. That, truly, belonged only to his blood. Gabriel had recognized the madness in Clouded Tears’ coyote leader long before he had come to despise him.
Slowly, cautiously, Gabriel allowed his sister room to sit. A large part of his instincts still warned him against trusting strangers, siblings or not, but she had not approached him without his consent, nor had she shown him any signs of deceit. By this point, he reasoned, he could recognize them. “It’s not that good,” he explained, and his dark ears turned back only momentarily, as if embarrassed by this.
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Some might have worried that the same demons that afflicted their kin would equally effect them at some point, even if they showed no signs of it. Rikka had had such worries in the past, but no longer. Her time in The Haight had been a cleansing experience and it had made her spirit feel new and completely whole. She did not worry about succumbing to the madness that supposedly lurked within her blood, for she did not feel such a dark presence within her. She was simply Rikka, and she would never become a monster. Somehow or another, she had managed to avoid that sickness.
The woman was wholly surprised that her brother shifted so to allow her room to sit next to him. Another unexpected gesture that gave her hope of building something between them. She picked the crumpled paper up from the ground and carefully sat beside him, leaving as much space between them as she could. She didn't mind having a close physical proximity but she knew that he probably did. Rikka carefully smoothed out the drawing and her golden eyes roved over it appreciatively. "I disagree, it's better than anything I could draw," she said genuinely, smiling over at him. "Simple finger painting is all I can really manage, this is much better." It really did seem like Gabriel had a knack for this.
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Gabriel believed that his family bore twin curses, a two-headed snake full of venom, and it struck without discrimination. Perhaps Rikka had escaped this—but really, it was unlikely. Something would perhaps one day trigger her, send her off as it had the others. He had never found Corona violent, but she had defended her family diligently. She had held Andre’s hand when his brother had ripped out his throat. Had Rachias not buried him, Gabriel would have left the boy to the carrion birds.
Such thoughts did not prevail his mind, though, and he watched her face with uncertainty. If she had laughed, he might have taken the paper and turned her away—luckily, she offered him a genuine smile and his face lightened up. A great fear of the coy-wolf was rejection, something even he did not wish to face. “I started drawing when I was a kid. I found this,” he said, holding up the sketchbook. “When I was in Scintilla.” How long since that name had passed his lips? How many lives ago had that been?
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The odds were against her, she knew. Madness didn’t lay on simply one side of her family but both. Still, such worries did not bother her. She was not carefree anymore though. In the commune there had been nothing to worry about. Everything had been cool and chill. She didn’t think she’d ever heard anyone ever raise their voice except in song or the throes of love. Inferni was a different world. It always had been and she had known that things wouldn’t have changed upon her return. Still, she worried if she would be able to handle it. If she were, she would need at least semi-strong family connections to make it. Rikka was hoping that she could have that with Gabriel.
It made her heart jump to see his face brighten as it did at her compliment. It had been a very long time since she had faced such apprehension in a conversation with someone. She really did feel like a kid again. He had started when they were still young? Though she shouldn’t be too surprised. Gabriel had kept to himself. “I didn’t know, that’s neat.” It really was, to her anyway. Reaching down into her pack she carefully removed the tambourine with the lavish sunflower painted on its hide. “A lot of people did art in the commune, where I was before I came back. Well, one of the places I was. One of them painted this for me.” She offered it to him to inspect, knowing he would treat it with all due care.
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257.
In Character
There was very little time for anything less then practice, then training, then survival here. Nova Scotia was a hard place, and the world surrounding them was hard. Inferni had survived because it was made up of those who could survive—people like Gabriel, whom had made it through fire and water and hell and back, whom had wanted no more then to find somewhere safe and comfortable for his children to grow up. They had not even been able to do that; sent off when the threat of death was all around them, raised by their god-mother and her peculiar brother. Ezekiel had spoken about the two when he lay, crippled, for weeks on end in Gabriel’s home. Something had changed in his son then, changed him from the carefree boy he had once been. He and Talitha had both been scarred by this place.
She sounded like a child herself, and he was glad, for the moment, to have her presence at his side. The tambourine that she handed him was well crafted, and very pretty. He admired the craftsmanship as much as he did the art, finding merit in both things. Gingerly, he passed it back to her, then did something he did not expect. “Here,” he said, and passed her the sketchbook. In it was his entire past—drawings of the Scintilla members and the vistas of Utah, of Faolin and his children when they were young, and several far darker things that were all nightmares he could not bare to let go.
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</style> table by sie[/html]
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Rikka could never truly understand everything Gabriel had went through. It was if the brother and sister lived in two completely different worlds. She did know that he had seen terrible things though, things that would probably break her. He had survived that though, and for that she respected him. From everything she had heard he was a wonderful leader and did his best to keep the clan orderly and intact. From what she could see of him now it seemed all those things were true. It was probably impossible for them to ever establish the kind of bond that some siblings had, but she hoped that they could maybe have a fraction of that. Just a fraction of understanding and respect for one another. She didn’t think that was too much to hope for.
Her yellow Lykoi eyes watched him as he inspected the instrument. Rikka couldn’t claim to be all that skilled with it, but it brought her joy and to her that was all that really mattered. He appeared to appreciate it and then handed it back to her. Him handing her his sketchbook was not something she would have ever expected. The hybrid took it reverently and gingerly flipped through the art and pieces of her brother’s past that it held. She was highly impressed with his skill. “Gabriel, these are so good. You’ve seen so much.” When she came to a drawing of a woman and two children she paused, her head tilting. “Who are they?” For him to have drawn them they must have meant something to him. If they were important people in his life she wanted to know who they were.
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In Character
There had never been the question of breaking—Gabriel had been shattered to pieces repeatedly in his life. The greatest and perhaps most terrible of all these times had come with the death of Baneesh. Ripped apart by a stranger whose face would now and forever more be burned into his memory, where all the terrible demons of his past lived and breathed and did such wickedness as to make the world tremble. The dark man with the crooked, yellowing teeth had made himself known, taking his brother by the neck and hoisting him into the air, ripping his limbs off while he was alive, making him scream in such a way that it had never completely faded from memory. Gabriel hated that sound, and he hated other sounds like it. He rarely hunted rabbits for this reason, finding their screams all too familiar. The second death, of the woman who had raised him, was a silent one. He did not remember killing the scrawny wolf he had found at her carcass, just as he did not remember the fact that it had been cannibalized. The drought had driven people to the brink of madness, and some even beyond this.
He could not recall much of the second murder, only the red haze that had come with it. Faolin’s screaming voice, Iskata’s terrible curses, and then that sick and devastating pain that had ripped him apart from the inside out. The scar on his palm was testament to that, and he never let himself forget why it was there. Since then, things had been easier. Time had done its part to build up walls and made him rough, but until the past summer he had been able to care for others without doubt. Now, all of those whom were dear to him were fading memories, carried only in this aging sketchbook and the waning hope that they would ever return. They were Lykoi’s after all—it was only in their blood.
“Do you remember Faolin?” He asked, finding her name carrying a terribly bitter taste on his tongue. “She was Hybrid’s sister. She and I were mated for a while…we had two kids. Ezekiel,” he pointed from the paler of the two figures to the darker. “And Talitha. They’re both grown now, likely off exploring the world. They didn’t stick around long here, but I think it’s not unexpected given their heritage.” A shrug, a faint smile. He had worried himself sick over the two children, but their fates were no longer in his hands and instead in the Will and Wisdom of God. Unless it was their time, they would not befall death. Hard was a natural part of life, something that had come to them all, and it was the only thing that made them grow, made them whole, and made them strong. “You didn’t happen to have any kids while you were out wherever you were, did you?” He asked, looking up at her from under his darkening hair. As he had gotten older, the golden-red had begun to turn dark brown, though the tinges of the other colors remained prevalent throughout.
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Rikka had faced trials, but they were nothing compared to what he had faced. All of her trials and tribulations had been of the personal, internal sort. For so long she had been torn about her heritage. Mother had taught them that wolves were to be hated and despised and yet they were more than half wolf. Their own father was a wolf and she had not seemed to hate Ahren and she certainly hadn't hated any of them. None of them had chosen their blood and yet Kaena had preached that wolves were basically devils on earth. Rikka had never been able to accept that teaching but she had been so conflicted about it for so long. How could she fully identify as a coyote when she didn't even look it? It had taken years and miles to finally be content with who and what she was, but that peace had finally come to her. She hoped that her decision to come back would not rip that away.
The name her brother spoke rang familiar in her ear, but the only reason she was able to place a face to it was because of the drawing she held in her hands. From the way he spoke it was clear to her that talking of his, apparently, ex mate was not easy and made a mental note to avoid the subject unless he brought it up himself. "I think I recall her, though only vaguely." Her memories of her past in the clan were often fuzzy and the only truly clear figures were that of her family. She was somewhat surprised to learn Gabriel had children, but she was happy for him. The woman studied the faces of her niece and nephew, committing them to memory along with their names. "I'm sorry I wasn't around to meet them. Though I'm sure they'll return sometime. Seems we all do," she said with a light smirk. At the very least she hoped that. She would love to meet her brother's children.
Rikka's head shook slowly from side to side at her brother's inquiry, her hand moving to rest on her lower abdomen. "No, no kids for me. I wasn't ever particularly trying for them, but it's a bit of a surprise it didn't happen anyway." She offered him a somewhat sad smile before her gaze returned to her lap. "I hope there's nothing wrong with me," she said quietly. It was the first time she had voiced her concerns aloud to anyone. She had been afraid actually saying it would make it true and that would break her heart.
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