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Dawn was indisputably the best time to watch the ocean from the beach, as the light trickled upwards like a reversal of gravity. A white curtain of snowflakes spiralled around her, if to remind Legacy that downwards was the real direction to fall. Scooping up a handful on a section of sand dry enough to allow the snow to settle, she threw it rather glumly at the sea, where it was instantly lost in a rush of white foam. The heavy grey snowclouds had blocked her view of the sky, to say nothing of the flurries themselves that seemed to chase one another up and down the sands. Indeed little was visible from any more than around twenty yards, apart from distant landmass now and again. It was lonely here, almost like being lost although she had the water to guide her, of course - but it was peaceful, and so quiet, just the rhythmic swishing of the ocean pulling itself back and forth over the snow-spattered sand.
She'd seen several people wearing clothes lately, but human buildings held something of a horror for her and she was unwilling to go and scavenge any garments of her own. It would have been an added protection against the dampness that came wherever snowflakes thought to melt into her fur, she noted with a shudder. Yes; it was one of those days when everything that seemed impossible came to niggle at her mind, no matter how petty. Indeed being voluntarily lost somewhere on the beach and unable to see much seemed more fitting than watching an attractively-painted sunrise, but she was going to momentarily sulk at being denied it anyway.
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indent The quiet gray haze of the sea was something Gabriel had found familiar in his years living on the coast. He could remember days like this, when the horizon disappeared. It did not sadden him when the sky was gone, because his grief was much deeper. Grief for Baneesh and for the losses of his family throughout the years, that was a dark ribbon at the core of his being. Above that, though, was a fire that was angry and full of nameless enemies. That he had lost His voice, oh that struck a deeper wound then anything he had felt in his life.
indent So it was that Gabriel, who might have been a lost dog by his appearance, lost his thoughts and wandered north of his home. This would have continued until he came to his senses, found himself in a strange place, and returned home. Instead, he was soon within several yards of a young girl staring at the sea. Gabriel stopped walking, regarding her without really seeing her.
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Dusk and dawn are when the ghosts come out, the
shade between life and death being thinnest, as the
stories say. Another effect, in the hazy
snow-clouded sunrise, was the loosening of emotion. A kind
of pent-up outrage was expressing itself, quite to
her surprise. Outrage at all kinds of things, the
things that had driven her to fear and the things
that didn't seem to understand the way the world
should be. But this, this was another world, so far
removed that actions here didn't seem to matter.
She'd come here to think and to clear her mind, but
the opposite had happened. A bad mood pervaded her
features, creasing and dulling them, the scars in
the snow testament to where her paws had raked at
it unecessarily. The girl had been born with a lack
of logic, an inherent contradiction, and
illogically now when she laid eye upon the
incognito stranger all she saw was the interruption
and so, outlet for her frustration. No lack of
perspective could make her lose her nervous
tendency so she kept her distance as she scooped up
another hand of snow and heaved it his way. It
scattered in the air, and the fragments dazzled
her, seeming nearly as bright as the sun she'd come
to see.
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indent Things could have turned out very uninteresting for Gabriel if he had just ignored her and continued walking. Instead, he watched her move, watched her grab something, and then saw sparkling white come flying through the air. The wind broke it apart, spiraling around his head and marring his coat with white. Gabriel grunted, shook his body, and now advanced with his head and tail even with his spine. He kept a decent space between them, wary because of her previous action, but also unafraid.
indent “What did you do that for?” He looked annoyed, but it was the sort of annoyance that one might have for a distant cousin. Gabriel could smell which pack she was from, and her eyes and her coat color, he could take an educated guess at whose daughter she was.
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As if grounded by the audacity of her action, though she felt no remorse, her arms dropped to her sides - but her face gave her away, eyes bright and rebellious and full upon his face. She did not want to explain herself, how she'd been feeling daring and sombre all at once, and how she still was. Legacy knew nothing about him, and knew that she should make no assumptions as to her safety.
"Sorry," was all she answered. She said it quietly, respectfully; not because she was sorry, but because she couldn't help noticing how intensely the scar on his muzzle accentuated his features, and noting the direction he had come from. This and the thought of her last meeting with a stranger on this beach made her bitter, the old resentment that she had to fear those of her own kind. With a naively bold air the girl folded her arms. "Are you planning to attack me, as well?... because I'll do worse than that if you do!" she declared. An almost laughable threat from the small, were-formed youth. No; the idea in mind if he really came at her was more a faceful of snow and then to run - pack alliance with Inferni or not. Empusa had said as much, after all. Hunting wolves. They like hunting wolves. And nothing she'd seen so far would convince her otherwise. She could not know if her perspective was skewed.
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indent Vaguely, Gabriel saw his brother in her eyes. It was the light of every young man (or woman) who had ever known that they had been right, they had always been right, and always would be right. Sometimes they were. Children lived in a world very different then his, though at this point she was starting to push into this world. There was a clear divide and when the natural order was upset, friction caused sparks, and in some cases (like Andrezej) those sparks became a fire that had the potential to one day consume them all.
indent Of course, Gabriel would tear out his brother’s throat before that happened.
indent At her assertion, his muzzle twisted into something that could have been a snarl or a grin. Gabriel’s eyes, the inhuman Lykoi eyes, remained on her face. “If I was planning to,” he began, “You and I wouldn’t be talking now.” There was no room in Gabriel’s world for idle chat with his enemies. “Besides,” he concluded, “I make a point not to kill women or children.” She was, at this point, crowned with both of these titles. Unless an incident like the one with the white she-wolf occurred, in which both his life and home were threatened, he wouldn’t touch her period.
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sorry for the delay. Technical issues D:
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His first reply was chilling; while her assertions still lingered somewhere in the fantasy of childhood, she knew he meant it utterly. She could only lower her gaze, turning downwards from those amber-golden eyes that reminded her of someone else and so the reaction to his final statement was directed to the ground, a brow-quirk of surprise. Such civility coupled with those eyes and those scars she didn't expect, and she suddenly felt very young - lost in the mazes of how adults thought. Not liking her sudden confusion, she could only react to this almost peacable statement with a continued reflection of her sullen mood. Looking up again with her eyes catlike and accusingly narrow, she answered "Why not?" That boy had attacked her twice, and there had been no compunction whatsoever in him. "Others in your pack do," she added, knowing she was taking something of a mental leap.
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indent While the hand of God was terrible, it was also mercy. Bringing plague and death upon the non-believers and the sinners, those who dared stand in His way. Gabriel could justify his actions in this method and always had. Even though he had lost the Voice (for God had stopped speaking a long time ago) he held onto that faith, which was being tested. When he had gone into the wild with nothing, he had survived, he had heard, and he had returned to be rewarded. It was blind faith like this that led him to live the way he did. “I’m not them,” he reminded her. Shrugging, the doggish hybrid settled onto his haunches. “Nor do I believe in it.”
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Snow was crusting her hair; impatiently she swept it away. She believed him and he was giving her a new angle on what she'd previously thought a pack of wild, savage and reasonless beasts. But she still didn't approve somehow, for that vicious child had come from his home, and to protect and nurture such creatures was almost as bad as committing their crimes yourself, in her opinion. She wasn't sure she had the vocabulary to say what she meant. It came out as more of a babble, and the phrasing seemed to sound more petulant than she meant it to, but she did not bite back her words. "Your pack is who you are. Isn't it? What if your leaders ordered you to do something you did not believe in? What if I told you that one of your clan has already tried to kill me?" A hard habit to break, the string of questions that had proved so useful as a puppy learning about an endlessly complex world.
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indent He studied her, clear eyes cold, listening to the ideas of a child who had never seen terrible things in the world. To not know of sin was to be pure. Adam and Eve had proved that, though they were men and men had always been the weaker creatures. “If I don’t believe in an order, I will not follow it.” Gabriel had killed for every leader he served under. Never once had he compromised his idea of right and wrong. In response to her final question, his expression and tone did not change—it was the solid, reasonable expression of a man who knew his place in the world. “What did you do?”
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