something i don't know
#1
Private, set on December 15 at 3:35 pm.[html]All Welcome. Set December 15 at 5:45 am.
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His was a draconian outlook on the world, his mind convinced fully that nothing good could come of his existence. He, however, was not of the mind that this was anything he could change, nor was he of the mind that it would ruin his already angry existence. He wasn't one to believe that things happened in such a way that he should ever be depressed. Andrezej Lykoi's ability to be upset about something, to show emotion in a way that did not encompass rage in some form, was purely impossible; he was born of hatred and was raised by it, for nobody was around any longer to be the example that would set the child on a more reasonable trail. He didn't care for being taught how to be nice and how to love; those things escaped him, and he liked it that way.

Across the beach the boy padded, brow drawn down in thought as it usually was. He was a nasty boy, without thought between how to hate another and how to tolerate them. Andre hated everybody as readily as he hated his wolf loving father, although he would much rather attack a wolf than attack a coyote. Still, the boy didn't care who they were; if they lived and breathed, they were no friends of his. Only those which he could maim and string across the sand were those he even dared look at with affection.

And even then, it was not affection; it was simply amusement that they could not live longer, and sympathy, for those he found and gave such a sly expression were destined to be in pain for a long, long time.

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#2
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They were nothing alike, he knew, and they would never be anything alike. They were complete opposites in every way and all the cliches -- black and white, night and day, yin and yang. Perhaps good and evil, but all of those analogies were too absolute, but the reality of it seemed much more unbalanced. There would never be pure good, but pure evil seemed cruelly possible because hearts were easier to bury in the dirt. And if his brother had already had his heart stolen and frozen, Arkham still questioned his own. He was a child of curiosity and discovery and would not quickly cement his personality in one place or another; four months wasn't long enough yet and he had his whole life to figure himself out.



He had not been gone that long, but he had missed the beach more than he thought he might. The quiet roar of the ocean was his constant in the background, moreso than the sun in the sky, and he had missed the salt in the air. The sand was cold and damp near the shoreline, but still decidedly better than snow. The lake had been pretty, but the fog had been smothering and he didn't miss it much. The grey pup had failed to locate his sister for the time being, but her scent was scattered and he believed that she was alright, at least for the while. Arkham padded slowly along the coast, watching the waves roll in and out and completely lost in thought. This was his home and though the thoughts on his mind were heavy, he felt somewhat at peace.
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#3
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Andrezej was not one to hang about in any territory but the beach, but the longer he stuck around, the angrier he grew. By the day, now, he was becoming more vicious and sadistic, driving himself mad with the smell of his own blood. In fact, to testify to this new side of him, cuts, some fresher than others and all obviously caused by walking on intentionally sharp stones, laced his paw pads, and smears of those cuts, his muzzle. He had not been licking his wounds to make them better, but to savour the taste; it may have been his own, but that was simply how coldly twisted he was. It maddened him, heightened his senses, and made him feral; he was a killer, a wounder, and he would be a torturer, the day he was given that chance.

The pup strolled quite lackadaisically at this point, not even feeling the scabs and fresher wounds stretching and pulling as he walked; pain was hardly known to him any longer. His ears were almost constantly pinned back, and the heavy scowl he wore was not at all out of place on his face. Andre was, of course, quickly learning that backstabbing would be far more fun than simply striking, but when it came to certain beings, it didn't matter any way.

One of them happened to be sitting there by the shore and, maniac's grin already twisted across his lips, the boy slunk forward. It may have been mistaken, from a distance, as a brotherly trick, but his intentions were far more malicious; anybody who so much as met his acidic gaze knew it. Andre would never straighten out; he followed his father quite fully, but to the wolf-loving bastard, he spared no love. He would kill him in the end for aligning himself with the mutts.

Peekaboo, came the harsh warning, laced with cruel laughter that twisted into a deep snarl, and it all happened only seconds before Andre and his flashing jaws pounced.

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#4
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He yelped in surprised. The grey pup had been comfortable with his surroundings -- the sea was calm and the breeze was light, but it would seem that there had been other things lurking beyond what he had paid attention to. Arkham excersized a lot of caution, but most of it applied to new and unknown situations or to places he had yet to familiarize himself with. The beach was a safe place, his home, and he rested easily there. It had been a long time already since they had played the meaningless toss and tumble games. Out of the den they had wandered and away from each other as well; play was a thing of the past, but the red-eyed pup had yet to venture from that and into a real fight.



What the hell's your problem!? he barked angrily as he twisted his body around. Andre's teeth had cut across his right shoulder, throwing him off balance. The younger of the two brothers snarled and was back on his feet faster than he thought he would be. Even though he had asked though, he knew there was probably no point in trying to derive reason from his sibling -- there never had been any. So instead, he found a determination to beat him, to shove him off his gigantic pedistal and prove to him that he wasn't destined for anything great at all. Teeth bared and large ears suddenly flat against his head, he ran around his brother once before striking suddenly (or what he hoped was suddenly).
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#5
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He laughed even more, barking madness, at the question tossed his way; Arkham didn't have any sense in him, in the little maniac's opinion. Nonetheless, he had to give his brother credit; one day, he would be an excellent slave. The older boy backed up as soon as his brother leapt to his feet, and without hesitation, he snarled yet again, little teeth glinting in the dim sunlight. The shore was a cold place, and the surf was none too gentle off shore, but it was of no concern; simply a backdrop for this glorious sight.

That's a hard question, ain't it, dipshit? More laughter, but that was before his brothers sudden charge. It twisted into snarling, and he whipped around in an attempt to meet the attack, but was just slightly too late; Arkham's strike cut across his hindquarters, smarting quite nicely but being ignored. It fueled his drive, and the feral, throaty snarls intensified in volume as he turned, eyes flashing murder at his brother.

You'll be the first, he promised, and charged Arkham head on.

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#6
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On the contrary, it was an extremely difficult question for Arkham. He could not understand why his brother had turned out so different from Rachias and himself (even though he did consider he and his sister to be fairly different). Why had Andre fallen into such a horrfiic way of a personality for seemingly no reason at all? Where had his hatred of wolves come from when the grey pup was sure that nothing ill had ever befallen him because of them? Gabriel had admitted to him that he held a grudge against the other speices, but at least their half-brother had some sort of a reason and a past. As far as Arkham could see, Andre had nothing but his words. Where had all of it come from? People would say their family was mad, but he couldn't see or understand that. So why? What the hell was his problem? And he deeper question still was why couldn't he do anything to fix it?



He felt no pride or pleasure from landing the strike on his brother, just a stern sense of duty. Someone needed to cut Andre off before he got too far; someone needed to let him know that he wasn't allowed to be like this. Someone. The first what? he snapped back, running towards the other to meet his charge. The first death? Was Andre already so ready to go so far? His shoulder ached when he ran, but how could he back down now? If this was serious, then there would be no getting up afterwards. And oh, did it seem serious! as they prepared to collid, Arkham ducked his head down, suddenly rather wary of his own throat and prepared to bite into the other's forearm.
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#7
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There would never be reason to Andre's burning stone heart; it was simply the way things were. He had been exposed to premature death, having killed a hare with the assistance of Ryoujoku at a very young age, and the teachings that would cause his hatred. He had been exposed to his own mind, which was vastly complicated and led to the simple and yet unreasonable belief that he was the top dog. The others were simply in his way. Arrogance was not in any small amount within him, but coursing through his veins in a quantity that would kill him instantly if it were even moderate venom.

But most of all, he just wanted to hurt them. Their pain and the smell of their blood drove him mad with lust and sadistic pleasure.

They hit; Arkham's jaws struck his forearm and, with a grunt, the slightly older brother, snarling and shoving back against the grip of the younger, snapped his jaws for a chance at the side of the boy's tucked head.

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#8
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Arkham had never really tried very hard for anything. He was not easily excited and had no long-lasting and profound goals for his life. If nothing else came along, he would probably be content in lazing about the beach for the rest of his life because watching the sun rise and fall was good enough for him. So this was, perhaps, the first time that he had ever really wanted to be something. He wanted to be better than Andrezej because, if nothing else, he simply did not deserve to be the best -- so Arkham wanted to be better, stronger, faster, more powerful. If they had to play the opposites, then he would prove that good was better than evil and that having reasons were better than having none.



He felt his brother's teeth clip at his ears as they shoved each other like sumo wrestlers in the sand, little feet slipping easily against the thousands of yellow grains. They were more or less evenly matched. A few seconds between births hadn't made one larger than the other. Furious, he allowed himself to be pushed back a step or two before hurling all of his weight forward at once in an attempt to knock the other over. Even so young and with no real fight experience behind him, Arkham understood that if he could get Andre onto his back, both his throat and stomach would be very exposed.
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#9
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By now, it was fully clear that their intentions were not innocent or harmless, as family tussles sometimes were, but quite against the nature of brothers; they didn't like each other. Andrezej would likely never love anybody, and the most his, "like," for anyone would go would be mere respect, and everything else would simply be an act put on to secure his own protection. By the time he finally realized that he was as mortal as any of them, it would already be too late for him; for that reason, rather than actually admitting to a well-known fact, he would flaunt his twisted belief until they, too, believed it.

Andre was less surprised that Arkham was his equal even though he had threatened otherwise in many situations; he wasn't an idiot, and knew fully well that any adult could kill him with the swipe of a paw if they so wished. Rather than meekly accepting that which was displayed with clarity, however, and back down, he did not allow such knowledge to stem his provocation; if they came at him, he would not run, but they would not kill him. The Inferni wolves would likely not face a Kaena who returned to the death of one of her last litter dead, and while he did not have any doubt that she would never return, there was the thought.

Anyways, the Inferni would not kill one of their own. It was a law, and would result in a death sentence; that was not to say that he would also hesitate from that. He wasn't much of an Inferni member, himself, entirely alienated not only by himself but by the clan, which likely recognized the danger he could be in the future. No member of Inferni would kill him, however, based on that law.

It was here in his thoughts that his brother rammed him, that he lost his grip on the slippery sand, and fell to his side. He was only momentarily dazed, however, and scrambled sideways across the sand to get back from Arkham for the split second it would take to stumble back to his feet, all the while fiercely growling and holding his muzzle down over his throat protectively.

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#10
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Sorry this is short guys.
indent It was the scent of blood that drew him, like some land-shark or carrion bird. The fact it was inside the borders meant it could have been one of a thousand things—he moved quickly, though he did not run. Soon enough he found the source, though, and soon enough his concern turned to rage. With a loud warning bark, the burly male placed himself between to the two boys, eyes flashing, teeth snapping as he spoke viciously. “That’s enough, the hybrid snarled, not yet aware of the war he had stepped into.







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#11
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He didn't have time to jump in when his brother fell, but it was really probably better that way. Arkham felt both sudden relief and a very acute frustration at Gabriel's arrival. On one hand, he knew very well that they could have ended up seriously hurting each other, but the older they grew, the more the coyote pup found himself wishing that Andre got what he deserved and a little pain was only the beginning. A quiet part of him wanted very much to see his sibling suffer because he had never done anything to warrant his care, concern, or sympathy. He was messed up and they were all better off without him, right? All the same, the child did not plan to become a murderer for his brother's sake (or anyone's really) and took several steps back when Gabriel separated them.



He attacked me first, he mumbled, looking away. It sounded childish on his lips, but at least he hadn't said 'he started it' even if it was true. He didn't know what his eldest brother would do, but he predicted that he would most likely also get in trouble. His shoulder burned a little where Andre had cut him before, but he ignored it like a soldier, twitching his tail and awaiting punishment. I wasn' doin' anything. He was the good guy, damnit.
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#12
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they all wear the same face and

Andrezej prepared himself to be leapt on, tensing his hind legs in anticipation to strike out with the nails on them in hopes of catching his brother in the gut, but the strike never came, instead, he was roughly shoved back by Gabriel forcing himself between them. He quickly pushed himself to his feet, snarling deep in his throat now at the both of them. He didn't give a shit that Arkham was telling on him; while some boys may have made a big deal out of being tattled on, he had bigger things to focus on.

Get the fuck out of here, Gabriel, he growled, taking a step back. At first, it appeared as though he would flee the scene, and he debated that option with himself, but backing out like a coward quickly became a bad idea. Instead, he did the worst thing he could have done in that instance.

He hopped forward the few steps to close the gap between he and the leader, and flung himself at Gabriel, snarling and hoping to catch the bigger hybrid near the throat with his jump.


it says, "hangman, i'm on to you"

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#13
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indent Sibling rivalry was nothing new. Gabriel and Baneesh had been very much like the two of them, and perhaps might have been with time. But fate is fickle and no mortal was able to avoid it. Baneesh had died, Gabriel had been lost to his family, and the world changed. These things were small, and did not matter to those whom they did not effect. Cause and effect were limited, in very real terms, to a small percentage.
indent Gabriel heard Arkham, but the words sounded very distant. Then he sensed, rather then saw, his younger half-brother come flying at him. Without considering who it was, or what he had to do, the large hybrid sidestepped, dropped his head, and came around for the attack. At first, he intended to go for the throat—it was an instinctual move—but upon realizing it was Andre, he instead shut his jaws and brought his heavy skull towards the throat. It would knock the wind out of the boy, and then, oh then, he would cut him down.





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#14
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Arkham took several steps back and watched silently. Once again, as the attention was shifted from himself to someone else, the urge to simply run off and leave the scene behind became very strong. There was no real reason to stay anyway -- Andre would be put back in his place whether he liked it or not and Gabriel would spare whatever words he chose. The grey pup probably respected his half-brother more than anyone else in the clan and trusted him to teach Andre the lesson that he wasn't able to yet himself. And the boy felt nothing towards his littermate taking a beating; as much as he wanted to work towards countering the other's darker tendancies and personality, they did indeed share the same blood and the lack of pity or remorse in Arkham's red eyes could be taken as a sign of that.



As Gabriel knocked his one brother back, the other turned and started away. It was not running, exactly. But with his adrenaline levels flattening, the gash on his shoulder was starting to sting more and while part of him wanted to watch Andre get a thorough thrashing, most of him just wanted to crawl into a comfortable hole to rest for a while. There was too much drama here and he had never been a fan. And so he left.
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#15
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as they thank the lord


the blind can't see

Even though he would never be made to see his mistakes, his miscalculations and his flaws, Andre knew he was boned the minute he missed and toppled to the sands. He had just barely picked himself back up when the heavy skull swung into his neck, knocking all of the wind immediately from his lungs and forcing him to the ground once more. The boy wheezed, fighting for oxygen as he blearily watched Arkham run off; he couldn't help but sneer, even through his own peril. Fucking fool. That meant he'd won, at least.



The bigger issue, at this point, was Gabriel. Had he been able to shift, he would've made some fairly foul gestures, which would likely provoke the older hybrid into coming for him once more, but the most he could do was flatten his ears and snarl a challenge. If he was going to have the shit beat out of him, he'd rather it be done while he struck back than while he turned tail to run.



An act of cowardice he would never stoop to.

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#16
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indent Behind him the footsteps faded, and the other brother was out of this picture. Deep in his heart he knew this should end, but this wasn’t a mistake. He knew that, above all else. His head lowered and a growl broke through his jaws, teeth glittering in the light. Even though his face looked mad, his eyes were cold, calculating. This wouldn’t make him loose his head, his sense of purpose, the righteous and divine justice that flowed through his very being.
indent Andre’s challenge was met with a wolfish snarl, and Gabriel leapt forward. His ears were flat against his head, fur bristled, eyes flashing. It appeared he was aiming for the throat, as he had just done, but before impact he whipped his head to the side, teeth aimed at his brother’s face.





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#17
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erif; font-size:16pt; line-height:15pt;">as they thank the lord


the blind can't see

His growling intensified as Gabriel's teeth raked the right side of his muzzle, striking just below his cheekbone and dragging nearly to the end. Blood flowed freely from the wound, but nonetheless, it was not entirely a major laceration; instead of yelping childishly, he had managed to pull his head back just enough that the cut would not be too deep for him to really handle. Everything would scar, but of course, he would be proud of his scars. They were physical manifestations, he believed, of the true demon he housed within himself.

However, the sudden stop of his growling when the impact happened, and the way they restarted with an intensified volume, showed firmly that even his own blood was driving his senses mad. The young hybrid's eyes were already wild with it, strong, and his nails itched to bring Gabriel's into the blood. The scent of it spilling down the side of his muzzle, lingering on his lips as he tasted it through his bared teeth, mad the bloodlust react violently.

With that, he stumbled back, his inexperience painfully obvious, and assessed the situation; Gabriel was much larger, much stronger, and much older than he. While he believed he was superior in some twisted way, he was neither an idiot nor a saint; he would not die valiantly, and neither would he line himself up for some serious pain. But he was also a masochist, and took pleasure in the pain, and a sadist who took pleasure in the blood.

And so he darted forward once more, snapping jaws a blur as they went for any part of the older hybrid's face that he could reach.

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#18
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indent The scars were symbols, each of them, though to wear them with pride was another situation entirely. Gabriel was not proud of his; they were mistakes on his part, not some broad-range spectrum analysis of his past battles on display. The hybrid kept his head low, growling deep in his throat, a snarl locked on his face. Each step his feet took was trained, each motion was waiting, oh so patiently, for what he knew would come. Andre was exactly like those twisted sons in each of Kaena’s litters that carried bad blood. They were the black sheep. They would have made her proud.
indent His brother dashed forward, snapping at his face. Gabriel ducked, pushed forward and he felt the teeth close around his right ear, taking flesh and blood with it. Without loosing a beat, he spun his head and his teeth sought out his brother’s belly. If he had to kill him to end this, so be it.





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#19
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Triumph! The taste of blood lingered in his mouth for a moment, and his eyes glinted even more wildly, until Gabriel lunged back around. He caught the action too slow, and fell to the ground with his brother's teeth sinking into his soft underbelly. He gritted his teeth against the fiery pain, though his eyes flashed with it, as his snarls grew to an intensely feral level. He didn't dare move, in case he made the damage worse, but he did bring his back paws around in an attempt to kick his older brother somewhere vital.

Get off me, you stupid fuck, he snarled bitterly at the Inferni leader, shoving in Gabriel's direction with his feet. You won't die here. He won't kill you. You're meant to kill him. But in that position, there wasn't much that Andrezej could do.

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#20
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indent Even though Andre had torn his ear, Gabriel had won. He knew that as he kept his teeth locked on Andre’s stomach, feeling the skin pull taunt with each motion. The younger coyote did not thrash as the Aquila expected, but spat curses at him, feet swinging wildly. One paw came up wildly, and slammed into Gabriel’s right eye. The Inferni leader jerked back, snarling. Shutting his eye and shaking his head, Gabriel bared his teeth and somehow found words. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here now I’ll kill you.” Not just a threat; a promise.






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