☠ Wicked and Divine ☠
05-06-2013, 09:31 PM
Blood. Blood and so much more blood. It was a sickening scent that scent all the contents of his stomach lurching through his esophagus and out onto the frost bitten ground before him. He could handle large amounts of blood. He'd grown quite used to the scent and taste of the crimson life giving liquid. But this. No. It sent his mind reeling back into the darkest recesses of his mind. This scent. It couldn't be. A silent cry left his muzzle as legs propelled him forward to the opposite border of Glaciem. The scent was so familiar. He could distinctly remember what her blood smelled like. He remembered it from when the monster Banshee had attacked her. Asheni. His dear sweet Asheni. The harmless dame that couldn't hurt a fly. He abhorred the scent of her blood. HATED it. Despised it with every fiber of his being. He had hoped to never have smelled it again. He'd gotten revenge for the black beast and her deformed rat attacking hr. He'd challenged her and won the battle giving her a few nasty scars for her to remember him by. He'd taken his own damage but wore his scars proudly. He'd accomplished what he'd set out to do that day. This. Oh this wasn't fair! Why did he have to face the agony of smelling it again! Pain far more intense than any physical would racked his body as uncontrolled spasms rippled from his body. Mentally incapable of dealing with what he knew was happening. Black and white legs couldn't move fast enough as he propelled himself forward across the terrain. Nothing would deter him from reaching her. Whatever damnable bastard had attacked her this time would suffer. They'd rot in the deepest pits of hell! He'd rip their innards out and leave them out for whatever scavengers wanted them. He wasn't violent. Not until something precious to his very soul was destroyed. He was nothing but an alabaster and ebony blur across the landscape. Never before had the aging wolf moved so fast in his life. Not when his kids were being born. Not when he was chasing prey. Never. Never in his life had he moved so swiftly and with so much purpose, and yet he couldn't get his legs to move faster. He was too late. Far too late. All that remained was pools of her blood and the scent of two more. Pace slowed and paws dragged painfully in the dirt as emerald pools of liquid spilled over as he found the crime scene. A murder had taken place that day. A brutal and gory murder that Cifer would not forgive. Her scent was stronger than ever. It permeated the air and caused the Brave to go into a fit. Hyperventilating he slowly moved forward, gasping for air as her blood scent filled his nostrils making his stomach give another sickening lurch. Panic swept through him. Where was her body. He couldn't find it! He could only find remains of where she had drug herself to escape. Blood against the ground. Larger paw steps. Possibly her assailant. Upon further speculation Gargoyle's scent arose over the others. Still fresh. He'd been there, but where was Asheni. Was she alive? But no. There were not two sets of foot prints leading away. The scent that Gargoyle left was only his and not Asheni's. Whatever he had done to hide her body was still noticeable. It took him only seconds for his experienced eyes and nose to find her well dug grave. The Chief had the decency to give her a proper burial, but why not alert the rest of the pack to her murder? An enraged snarl left him and a cry escaped with it. Legs shook and he collapsed in front of her resting place as memories flooded his mind. Fur glistened as clear tear droplets coated the emerald lined tears flowing down his face and glistened giving it the appearance of real green tears. Never before had the brute cried. So many emotions flowing through his body at once. Snapped. That was the perfect word. Snapped. He'd been aloof at first. He couldn't figure out why the dame had taken such a liking to him, and yet she persisted to constantly bug him. She'd shown him how to play, constantly healed whatever wounds he accumulated, kept him company when he needed it and been his best friend. In turn he'd been her best friend. She taught him the first signs of how to love another and how to show feelings to an extent. He'd been painfully loyal to her. Her time in Valhalla had pained him, and yet he visited her often to show his dedication to her as a friend. Then she'd returned and Crusade had returned afterwards and Cifer finally knew true happiness. He'd also learned anger. Banshee had been given what she deserved, and Cifer would have killed her had he seen it fit, but he let her go along with her pathetic rat. He was no monster. He had hoped to never see her blood stain her pristine coat again. He had vowed to protect her from anything like that happening again, and yet he'd failed her. Oh how he had fucking failed her! Pathetic as a warrior, he couldn't even protect his best friend in a time when she needed him most. She'd died. She was dead. He would never see her smile or hear her call his name happily out from yards away as she spotted him. She wouldn't get to be an Aunt to his children. Never get to grow old with Crusade and him as they lived out their days in Glaciem. Never again for anything. She was gone. It was his fault. All his fault. My fault. My fault. The words rung in his head, making him dizzy. The brute rose to his paws and shook his head angrily, tears flowing freely from strained eyes. That scent. Her killer. Forever locked away in his memory. He would kill the beast. Take it's life and torture him. He'd torture him. A guttural sounds left his throat. Half how of pain and absolute misery and half snarl promising of revenge. The bastard would die. Feel the pain his friend felt and he would feel fear. Large amounts of fear as Cifer would go insane and take out whatever rage he contained on him. There would be no mercy. Not this time. He owed it to his friend. Perhaps he would even see her in heaven if such a place existed. If he failed. He was positive he would rot in the deepest depths of hell. He would deserve it and so much more. He had failed her. Miserably failed her. With that he tore himself away from the scene, head lowered as he galloped away already working on tracking the scent of the unknown beast. Death. Death. Death. Die. Die. Die! Eyes would carry a crazed look to them as nostrils quivered as he followed the scent. His blood sang in a chorus. A beautiful and deadly chorus that screamed for the blood lust. Vengeance! Revenge! Adrenaline screamed for it. He wouldn't be satisfied. Not until he had avenged her. Then perhaps he would rest easily when he died. Until then he would be the reaper. Constantly hunting down this pathetic soul until he stole it. Even if it was the last thing he ever did. He would steal that life. He'd make sure of it. Speech, |