candleburn

Lockeheed · 01-19-2010, 12:08 PM

For Akumu and her Hezekiah. Mature for language!

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"Oh Seles." He murmured into the mouth of the bottle, peering down the glass to watch the brown, brackish liquid as it sloshed around. But he wasn't really seeing it. Instead he saw her again, like so many mornings past; it was difficult to forget her face in the morning, hair tussled in the sheets and across the pillow, eyes heavy with sleep, but bright with recognition and love. She would whisper soft laments of love and adoration for the life he had given them, and to him for his own insurmountable love for her. His hand squeezed the neck of the bottle, and he drew it down from his mouth to rest on his knee, a dark frown etched across his lips. Locke was at a loss. Nothing here was familiar but the faintest whispers of war on the wind. He didn't know the cause, nor the catalyst, but the truth was spreading like wild fire across Nova Scotia. The whole idea of being caught in the throws of war again was endearing to the lonely man. He hoped the intoxication of the frenzy and the blood would keep his mind off her, maybe permanently.

Problem was, he had no idea how to get involved. For all they knew, he was just some drunken dead beat, waving his outstretched hands towards them for a free meal.

Rising to his feet, he reached for the lid and twisted it back on, before stuffing the small bottle in his coat. He was on the outskirts of Inferni, in the neutral territory between Dahlia de Mai and the coyote clan (but much closer to the first, rather than the latter). From his place at the edge of the tree line, he could see the rows of wolf skulls perched on pikes that marked the borders of the clan. Locke gazed at them across the snow, suddenly wondering if this was madness, or merely liquid courage fueling his furious desire to poke the sleeping beast, so to speak. He started off across the snow to the display, with the snow crunching underfoot as he went. He swept his large ears forward, aligning his nose with one of the wolf skulls as if peering at himself in a mirror. The former garrista reached out and placed his hand on the forehead of the bleached bone, running his palm across it and admiring the work of the coyotes. "You dumb sonuvabitch, prolly could'a avoided this fate if you let sleeping dragons lie, eh." He intoned with a wild grin. "Just like the bastards back home; couldn't tell a coyote from their own fuckin' mother." He began to laugh; a hearty sound that surged up from his stomach, and rolled across the snowy fields like a balmy summer breeze.

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Hezekiah Finch · 01-20-2010, 12:31 AM

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For as unnerving as it was, the borders of Inferni were quiet. Where the quiet had not bothered Hezekiah, it did now. While others probably spent their time sparring in preparation to actually see bloodshed, he found himself doing what his rank really was — watching. Though he had much interest in sparring and learning what he could for himself, there was an unresolved shyness about him that delayed his ability to ask. He felt most comfortable in Kaena’s presence (and recently, Halo’s) and had learnt things from her, but there was an itch to do more than just watch.

But at least today, the watching wasn’t necessarily as boring as it usually was. No news was certainly good news, but his idles thoughts had distracted him long enough from the hybrid that had come to their borders. It was the sound of his voice that had pulled Hezekiah back from a tired lull; his relaxed posture in the curve of an old tree suddenly went rigid. The boy listened to the faint words, leaving the wood behind him to creep close, though the distance was not far at all. It was unnerving just how quiet things really were, snow or no snow on the ground.

Inwardly, he cursed himself for not having paid more attention, though he was stopped in his tracks at a peculiar smell. Alcohol. Resolve wavering for a moment, his pause over that smell was only long enough to recall his father and shake the thought away. Apprehension would not serve him well here. So with his jaw set and nothing more than the thin border of pikes between them (which Hezekiah considered space enough if things went bad from the start), the woodsy adolescent regarded the taller man with interest.

“That’s the one I found to put up,” he told him, his pale blue eyes trying to find the stranger’s.

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Lockeheed · 01-20-2010, 10:09 AM

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Locke stood, one hand resting on the skull, with the other hanging over his knife in the event the coyotes saw fit to run him off. The bleached bones resembled his facial structure, save for his larger ears, and slender muzzle; he looked the part of a thief, not a brute. Wiry, lean and with the agility of a fleet-footed youth... well, when he wasn't intoxicated. It was all by the grace of his mother than he inherited her coyote genes, however diluted they were now. Though he had been nursing the bottle for the better part of the morning, Locke could safely say he was still in the green. His limbs moved accurately, and his legs didn't tremble or sway. Maybe being in such close proximity to the warring packs lent him a bit more reason to be sure of himself. There was no other choice; he was a loner, but if he was caught in the crossfire, he didn't want to be shouting drunken hallelujahs to the heavens as they mowed him down in their rush to rip each other apart. That would not be a glorious death, after all. Not that he wanted to actually die, or anything of the sort.

Suddenly a tawny figure materialized from the woodwork, appearing before him in the form of an adolescent coyote. Locke straightened slowly, and the muscles of his back tensed with apprehension. He was dangerously close to crossing the line here, and it was now in the hands of the youth to judge whether or not to send up the alarm. Though Locke was confident he could outrun them with a head start, he was not keen on having a clan of twenty-odd, angry coyotes biting at his heels. But the young man remained perpetually neutral, and so Locke was inclined to do the same. He wasn't sure how the kid saw him; wolf or hybrid. The hybrid then wondered how obvious it was, or if at all, that he wasn't all brawn. Admittedly he knew of the preconceived views on wolves were, from a coyote standpoint. At least by the majority, anyway.

"Oh yeah?" Locke replied, giving another glance to the skull before removing his hand out of respect. "Good story behind it, or did you really just find it lying around the forest?" He questioned with a tight smile.

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Hezekiah Finch · 01-20-2010, 09:37 PM

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In truth, Hezekiah wasn’t entirely sure what to make stranger. He wasn’t like the wolf that had been hanging around their borders from weeks ago, certainly wasn’t anything like the blue-eyed monster that had chased he and Snake away from Dahlia de Mai. He wasn’t entirely sure that he was a wolf — there was something remotely familiar about his features. But the fence-like stance of the pikes between them skewed his ability to perceive him and it was no matter specie, wolf or coyote, he had reason to be wary. Especially of one that he could so acutely smell the alcohol on.

“They’ve all got stories,” he replied confidently, sure of this. Every one of those skulls—from man to canine to bovine and whatever else they had set up—had a story. They had a life at some point, or so Hezekiah was inclined to believe. But he did not return the smile. “What brings you here?” Instead he studied the glimmer of silver he saw through that skewed view, trying to ultimately decide whether or not the hybrid was lingering for a reason or just there to stir trouble.

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Lockeheed · 01-21-2010, 11:26 AM

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<3

Locke watched the young male from the gaps between the makeshift fence. Curiosity, like before with the skulls, had gripped him in regards to the coyote. His pointed features reminded him vaguely of his mother, but he seemed to be sure of himself, unlike his wayward, irresponsible mother. The woman was anything but a parent to young Locke, and as such it wasn't often the former thief thought fondly of her. But when faced with the very heritage of his past, he was forced into such recollections. Instead, he tried to turn his mind in another direction; perhaps more accurately, the young male reminded him of Bug.

That didn't help either. So Locke ignored it all instead, and canted his head as the kid replied. While he was confident in the truth, he didn't seem keen on sharing it with the hybrid. He, in turn, sighed and shook his head apologetically when the smile was not returned. The scarce rumors he had heard of the clan were mostly true; they did what they did to survive, be it hell or high water, and if that included being more than a little cold to a stranger, so be it. Locke was just at the short end of the deal.

"Nothing specific, though if you call a curiosity about the war brewing a stark crimson between your clan and the wolf pack to the south, then perhaps there is something to be said about it." He replied steadily, "If you don't mind the prodding of an honest stranger, may I ask what started this conflict? Territory? Injury? Love?" He queried with a flick of an ear.

Hezekiah Finch · 01-22-2010, 04:54 PM

I apologise for this string of awkward posts. I have more bad days than good ones when it comes to energy.
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With the way that others tended to gossip, Hezekiah quickly discovered that he was not at all surprised that the hybrid man had heard word already of what was brewing. Inferni had been churning with energy and movement since Gabriel had called them all together; this alone probably raised more than just a few red flags for Dahlia de Mai. Hezekiah was willingly to believe that others were taking notice too. But only time would tell whether or not that was a good or a bad thing; for now he resigned to neutrality about the fact.

“They attacked us,” he said, feeling no need to retain that information. Even if he did choose to omit specifics. Though he had heard scant details of the first war with Dahlia, Hezekiah knew that they had always been the instigator. When Snake and he had been peering at their borders, they had been chased away without a question and without warning—though it was understandable—and that had only solidified their hostile nature to the young coyote.

“Is that all you came here for?”

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