boy with the blues

POSTED: Fri Jan 20, 2012 4:06 am

The rustic male wanted to go see an old friend, someone he hadn't seen in a while. He really wanted to go see Gabriel, the leader of Inferni. Gabriel had been interesting to talk to, quick to correct his misguided notions about the wolf and coyote feuds over the years. He had deep wisdom, and amazing insight on the butterflies, and Liam wanted to talk to him again, about burning the shadow wolfs to ensure they didn't return. It was a short walk from Anathema to Inferni, and one he enjoyed. He arrived at the skull markers and the well traveled paths, and he halted. He didn't know if he should call for Gabriel, or if he should wait, so he leaned against a tree on the proper side of the boundary and waited.

As he waited, his mind wandered. He found himself staring at the little wolf skull, the one that had caught his attention before. For a moment, he thought he saw blue streaks on it, but he blinked, and the color was gone. He rolled his eyes at himself. It was ridiculous, thinking he saw colors that weren't there. However he didn't mind seeing the shadow wolfs no one else saw. That was normal. It was normal for him to hear the black butterflies -his dark deities- whispering to him, regardless of their non-existence in actuality.

His gaze met the empty gaze of the sightless skull, and he grinned at it, a feral snarl of dominance. Last time he was here, he thought he'd heard a small voice pleading for help. This time he heard nothing but his own inner whispers, the dry rustling of midnight colored silk wings. He kept his fangs bared for a moment, then his posture eased. He could feel the stares of all the other skulls, the empty bones judging him and finding him guilty of some crime distantly remembered.

The accusations of his former pack, of his mate, came back to haunt him. He knew in his heart that it had been a shadow wolf -a demon from hell- that he had destroyed. He remembered that, he remembered it's burning eyes, the laughing snarls as it caught him relaxing in a tree. He remembered the fight it had put up, even as he had killed it.

The male turned his golden gaze to the sky, then back to the border of Inferni. Finally, he let out a soft questioning howl, hoping it would be the male he'd met with last time. He pushed his hands into his pockets and slouched against the tree, waiting, his heart beginning to pound. (Liam had a man crush on Gabriel!)

((WC: 445))

POSTED: Sat Jan 21, 2012 4:27 pm

(837) Skip everything but the last two paragraphs, really. ;-; PP of Kaena approved by Sie.

Hunting was becoming much easier with the winter wearing on. He had managed to take down another reindeer with Max’s help, and the duo had taken this back to the Mansion to sort through. Their arrival had been met by the doggish hybrid, Rémy. Since his arrival, the Cajun had begun taking care of the food-related stuff. One would be hard pressed to find the kitchen without the man in it, often fussing over various drying herbs and spices, cleaning and organizing and sorting through the stored goods in order to prepare various things. He helped the two bring in the kill and while Ezekiel began to cut the skin from the animal, began to argue with Max.

“You’re a tahyo, son!”

“What does that even mean?” The white hybrid whined, his teeth gleaming.

“It means you got eyes bigger than your belly!”

The hybrid threw his hands up and shook his head. “You’re crazy, Rémy! Just because I’m skinny doesn’t mean I can’t eat a lot!”

A muffled bang caused Ezekiel to look up from his work. Seconds later the door to the kitchen flew open as a gray-coyote with one fierce eye and a crooked snarl on her face entered. “What the hell is going on in here?”

The two men balked, and Zeke smirked. He began to saw through the tendons of the deer’s neck. Rémy huffed at Max and approached the older woman, bushy tail wagging behind him. “Oh don’t you worry ‘bout a ting, Mamere, we just havin’ a talk ‘bout what I’m gonna make for y’all.”

Kaena grunted at him and moved towards her grandson. Ezekiel glanced up at her and stopped what he was doing. Though she looked irritable, he caught a glimmer of amusement in her eye and smiled at her as he rarely did others these days. “You hungry?”

“If I say yes will that get them to shut up?”

Abashed, Max’s ears fell back. While not a blood relative of the old woman, he (as most members seemed to do) considered her something of a figurehead. Despite his age he still felt like a child around the gray coyote and did not want to offend her. To the contrary, Rémy took that as a sign she was indeed hungry and let out a barking laugh. “Oh say no mo’, say no mo’! I’m gonna fix you up a meal fit fo’ a queen! Come on, tahyo, we gotta get a few mo’ things.”

He grabbed the boy by his arm despite the rising protests. As the two went outside, their argument rose above the whistling wind. Ezekiel rolled his eyes and severed the head with a sharp crack. Kaena looked to him at the sound. “Do that a lot, hm?”

“It’s easier to carry. I need the brains to tan the hide,” he explained, pulling the hide up. A skinless reindeer rested on the table, ready to be butchered. Ezekiel licked his hand and tilted his head as the still-ongoing argument outside drifted over the wind. Kaena smiled toothily at him. “You found yourself some good ones, Zeke.”

He snorted. “They’re something alright. Mind keeping an eye on them until I get back? I’ve gotta drop this off at the caves,” the Aquila pulled the hide and head to his chest. Kaena waved him off, and quickly the golden man headed to the stable. Both Viggo and Oblak were within, having been taken on the hunt. The horses were used to hunting, which was the first step in training them for combat.

The chestnut stallion whinnied at his companion, and pushed against the door. Ezekiel spoke to him shortly, and between the two horses, found himself the third wheel of the conversation. Oblak was not as hot-tempered as Myrika’s mare, but she managed to hold her own against the burly stallion. She was more patient about being let out, and lingered near the bigger horse while Ezekiel prepared himself for the trip. He mounted Viggo and carried the dead animal in his lap, traveling quickly westward. The dark mare followed behind, and they covered the ground quickly.

Ezekiel let the pair run off after he reached the caves, and left the hide in the secondary cave he used for such projects. He was ready to head back when a wolfish cry caught his attention; he stiffened and rose, ears high. A low rumble escaped his throat as he began traveling towards the source, considering calling the horses back. Instead he quickened to a jog, the bow and arrows on his back resting snugly; the wolverine pelt kept his back warm and the bow resting comfortably. The bronze-red hybrid slowed as he spotted the wolf.

It was a young man, outside but close to the borders. His eyes narrowed, irritated by the sight, and he announced himself with a commanding bark. As he neared he caught a scent that made the fur under his quiver bristle: Anathema. “What do you want?” He demanded, posture suggestive of his rank.

POSTED: Mon Jan 23, 2012 6:54 am

The bark sounded, and Liam looked up as the figure approached. Though the approaching male had the same eyes as Gabriel, he didn't have the same scars as the male he'd spoke to before. Liam straightened, his golden eyes scanning the regal bearing of the approaching male. He cocked his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. "I'm here to see the Aquila, Gabriel. Is he here?" His eyes scanned the male and his regal bearing, his posture shifting from respectful to somewhat insolent. He crossed his arms, his ears laying back for a moment before lifting again. "I spoke to him when I was younger, I really want to speak to him now. can you go get him?" There was no please, no introduction. Yeah, he was annoyed that Gabriel hadn't heard his call or responded himself. An ear swiveled toward a sound, then turned back to the regal looking coyote.

His mind turned back to the meeting with the Aquila, to the discussion about the butterflies and demons, about God and shadow wolves. It had been a good conversation, a deeper conversation than he'd had with anyone, except maybe Ayasha. He was looking forward to returning to Anathema and rejoining his mate in their shared den. Mostly he liked the pack, though the dens underground got claustrophobic after a while. Ayasha made it better, she always was able to whisper away the butterflies, the dark thoughts, the shadow wolves. Ayasha made life better all around for him, and he wanted to share the news with Gabriel, who probably didn't remember her.

((WC: 261))

POSTED: Sat Jan 28, 2012 12:20 am

(273)

The wolf was young, barely an adult in Ezekiel’s eyes. Inferni granted their youth recognition early, but until they had seen a full year he did not consider them worthy of such titles. He noted the red splashes at the corners of the timber colored male’s eyes, but more then that, he noted the brazen way the boy looked and spoke to him. If he sought to conciliate Ezekiel, this was not the way to go about it. A single tooth showed itself as his whiskers curled up to the bronze streak across his muzzle.

Ezekiel did not move, but his body readied itself for combat. It was a subtle thing; his weight shifted to his toes, the muscles of his legs tightened and readied. A single hint was given in the swish of a dark tipped tail, red ring rippling against the cold air. “Gabriel is no longer Aquila here; I suggest you go back to Anathema,” he added, no friendliness in him for the pack. The musk of their dank land clung to the wolf, explaining so easily why he behaved in such a manner. No part of him trusted the cave-dwellers; while Inferni itself claimed a large expanse of caverns, they hardly lived underground. It was unnatural.

Without mention of his own rank, name, or connection to Gabriel, Ezekiel would see what kind of wolf his father had tempered. Gabriel had often humored them, even though his hatred for his own bloodline ran far sharper then Ezekiel’s did. Ezekiel hoped to judge him quickly and be done with this; he had no time to play games with a demanding brat.

POSTED: Mon Jan 30, 2012 8:23 am

The male spoke, and something about his reply annoyed Liam. His hackled raised slightly at the sharp dismissive tone in the coyote's voice. "Fine. So he's not the Aquila. I still want to talk to him. I really doubt he'd be happy about how you're acting towards me whatever his rank is now. So where is he?" He realized he was probably spoiling for a fight now, the way the coyote spoke to him and the way he answered the result was inevitable.

His ears laid back in aggression, then stood again. He was trying to control his temper, trying to avoid instigating a fight. He knew it was inevitable, but still he tried. He stared at the coyote, his hackles lifting slowly, his golden eyes narrowing. He just wanted to talk to Gabriel, he didn't understand why this stupid mutt was making life so difficult.

He uncrossed his arms, pushing his hands into his pockets, his hand wrapping around the bone shard as a reminder of the strength he possessed. He knew he could do anything, knew that if this ended in a fight, he would come out on top. (Yeah right, kid.)

In truth, though he himself didn't know it or believe it, he was just over a year old, and untried in any kind of real fight. Yes, he worked out, lifting weights, doing exercise, doing a lot of work on himself. But he had never been in a real fight, never tried out his strength against anyone but the little black pup who had called him brother, who had looked up to him and adored him.

It was just about time for the boy to get his ass kicked.

((WC: 283))

POSTED: Fri Feb 03, 2012 1:35 am

Aggression seeped through the very pores of the boy, and Ezekiel’s body readied to meet it. Muscles tightened along his bones, drawing the skin tight along his spine. He saw fear, too—the boy’s ears fell back in a display of such a thing. Foolish. Weak-hearted. The Aquila’s toes spread along the cold ground, ready and willing to both take and launch an attack. Black lips pulled away from twin rows of savage, ivory colored teeth. They were flawless; a far cry from the scars that graced the sun-colored body of the coyote.

“Gabriel is gone,” he hissed, whiskers curling. “Now run your sorry ass out of here or wind up like the rest.” Without moving, he spoke of the skulls that even now bordered his land. The Aquila had no concern about morality when it came to people like this—wolves who were too daft and too ignorant to consider themselves forced to bow. While Inferni did not demand such strict submission, he would not allow anyone—especially some brat from Anathema—to demand anything of him. Behind him, his black and red tipped tail flicked once, like a cat. The muscles of his arm tightened, turning his fingers into talons and exposing the ferociously sharp claws hidden within.

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