it's trouble and it's in our road

Larkspur D'Angelo · 02-07-2010, 10:32 PM

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In Character

The Khalif had trained themselves to recognize the sickness; they could smell it. Larkspur was no different. He observed the beast at his side as one might a rabid animal. The signs were as clear as if he had been foaming at the mouth. How could anyone miss them? Certainly, they were as clear as a coming storm. Something was going to break the placid face that Haku was putting on display, and shatter it completely. He was a monster, and even though his coat was not black, his soul was.

And what becomes of the evil there? Almost instantly the fur along Larkspur’s spine rose, and his pupils shrank until they were two black pin-pricks in an orange world. Even now, he could smell the burning flesh and hair in his nose, and taste the ash in his throat. For three years, he had watched the hapless strangers who had crossed Khalif’s borders been tortured, beaten, and dragged to the charred trunk that was their funeral pyre. Each time, the strange wolves had been screaming and crying, unaware of the reasoning behind their death. That was, of course, until the fourth year. Larkspur had been chosen then, and battered and ruined as his own family tried to drag him to his death. One woman had saved him, like a prophet from on high. Without her presence, he would not be walking the earth today.

“It’s burnt,” he said flatly, his tone dropping dangerously. There was no doubt that anger was now rushing through his body, made apparent in his body language and voice. Even now, defensive mechanisms demanded he be prepared to fight.

Haku Soul · 02-11-2010, 01:52 PM

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Yellowing fangs tasted the light breeze a split moment it took for Larkspur’s body react to his question. Haku could not see the black beast’s memories, but he sensed it. Haku’s senses could take in nothing of what was accumulated inside the D’Angelo’s brain. Flesh and blood and ashes. Chocolate ears pressed eagerly forwards, pointing and embracing the dark words speaking of fire. Haku’s fur rose too then, feeling desire and hunger for those memories that existed within the dark man’s body. He smiled now, for the white knights spilled blood and black all over their hands by becoming the very creatures they hunted down and burned. Such beauty. Anger roared soundlessly through the black and white and orange man – Haku eagerly fed off it, doing his best to recreate images of burning bodies and crashing souls. Silence fell between them know. Haku was not a man of words, though on rare occasions he could find his own kind of chaotic peace in the presence of others. Their direction was empty, for Haku was a greedy bastard that wanted to know of the world Larkspur came from. Addison could and would wait, though perhaps she too eventually would be drawn into the madness, beautiful madness.

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