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He knew immediately who the scarred up hybrid was, even though he couldn't remember clearly a time when he had seen him so close. He was leaning against a tree, eyes half closed and breathing quietly. The boy stood a dozen feet away, but could not continue any further because he was too busy staring. Had the man always had so many scars? It shouldn't have been such a hypnotizing sight; after all, his own mother had been missing an eye and her entire face was riddled with signs of previous battles and his eldest brother had his share of them also. But this man's ears were so shredded he almost wondered if he could hear at all; the sides of his arms were so riddled with scarring that he couldn't count them; his chest, his collar, his shoulders, his legs, his face and forehead, even his neck and throat! How was he still alive?
Slowly, Arkham approached, vaguely aware of the thundering heartbeat in his chest. How close was too close? What if when he woke up, he was grinning? Could he run fast enough if he was? Everyone said he wouldn't hurt his own children, but what if they were wrong? This was the man that his sister was staying with though; if she wasn't afraid, then why was he? Dad? he called out quietly, standing only a few feet away now, eyes wide and body quivering slightly in anticipation.
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Laruku's eyes snapped open immediately and he flinched, high-strung and paranoid, like a soldier that had been attacked too many times in the night. His vision focused just as quickly and it was no wonder that he never felt rested after sleeping, if he was really sleeping at all. The hybrid stared at the boy for a moment, red eyes wide with uncertainty and then he looked away, sighing. Another one of his misbegotten litter. Part of him wished he knew them better, wished he knew more than their names and faces, but the other part wished even more desperately that they would just leave him be, that they would stay in Inferni and never question or wonder why their father was not there for them. He knew that part was just trying to bury the guilt, but what else could he do? Even if he wanted to, Gabriel would never let him and that was that.
You're not here to stay like your sister, are you? he wondered quietly, shifting to face him again now. I've tried to get her to come to her senses; it's better for all of you to stay in Inferni. Most of their family was there, though the alpha was aware that his litter of Lykois was distantly related to all the Sadiras descended from his uncle. What a fucked up world they wove. But no, as much as he had clashed with the clan in the past, he knew it was safer there.
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His body relaxed when his father could only look at him sadly, but it wasn't by a lot. His voice was quiet and ... just sad. It was possibly the most depressing voice he had ever heard anyone use and he just felt bad for the man, no matter that he couldn't begin to understand what was wrong. It was one of those things he was beginning to realize there just wasn't an easy answer to, if there was an answer at all. So many of the things he wanted to know the most seemed to fall into that category. But it scared him in a way -- to know that events in life could force a person into such a sad state, to know that things could happen to drive a man crazy and split his mind in two, because that was how it had been explained to him. It was as real as monsters got, he supposed.
Are you really dangerous? he wondered in the same small voice, still not moving a step closer. Gabriel and Faolin and Ahren all say that you wouldn't hurt her, b-but... will you? Arkham didn't know if it would help him to know what his father thought. If the man told him that he didn't think so either, then would he believe him? What did his word mean to him?
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If he could take it back, he could. He would take back everything and save his mother instead of himself. He thought about it too often, all the things that could have gone right if he, very simply, had not been born. Laruku could only hope his children did not turn into disasters themselves, that they broke the mold where he never could and turned into something better. This one, Arkham Lykoi, seemed to be turning out well, but who could really tell? Once upon a time, he had tried to be a good person too, tried hard even, but sometimes, most of the time, things just didn't work out. I don't know, he told his son, I can't know. Ryoujoku was the only person who knew whether or not Rachias was actually safe, but same brain or not, same person or not, Laruku could not crack that nut open and so the rest of the world would be left in the dark.
I don't want to hurt her, the tawny male continued, But there's no way of knowing. Because the only thing he knew for certain anymore was that he was a fuck-up and that was unpredictable. Do you think she'd go home if you asked her to? His voice couldn't sound hopeful, even if he wanted to feel that way; he didn't think Arkham would be able to sway her anyway, no matter that Faolin had said they were close.
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I don't know, the boy echoed his father's answer for the question directed at him. I told her I didn't want her to come in the first place, he added. The next few moments were spent staring hard at his father. Arkham rarely felt anything for others; the apathy came naturally to him and he was generally indifferent. His family though, seemed able to draw small bits of emotional response from him. He was here to see if his sister would be safe, after all. That had come naturally too. And now he found himself wishing there was something he could do for his father, this poor man before him that didn't seem to know anything about himself. It was useless though. He was young and weak, helpless in this complicated matter he had not begun to touch the surface of.
You seem okay though, he told the man, Just stay like this. As if it was really that easy. I'm sorry I can't help more. And he meant it too. Despite that though, the uneasiness of being around a person so unpredictable and foreign to him was still there and Arkham turned to leave as quickly as he had come.
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