Post by † Demon † on Nov 13, 2005 15:22:17 GMT -5
The long awaited part 2. Wont name any names *looks at Amaroq* but someone was bugging me about getting part 2 up... so here it is. Its not as impressive as part one.. but I like it nonetheless...
Demon suddenly woke from her dream with all the forces of a lightning bolt. She tried to regain her equilibrium as she looked around in a daze. She was shaking, but i was not due to fear; it was due to ecstasy. She sighed, long and deep as she ran her paws down her lithe form, letting a laughter split the silence; chilling any creature down to the bone.
"What a fabulous dream!"
She would never be the innocent varg she once was; now all she felt was a deep emptiness, and a deep sense of hate that would never hesitate to bother her. Her nights were filled with dreams (maybe nightmares) of Leohlic, and Serg's death. Oh, how she loved every second of them; and yet, it was her days that were filled with death and destruction. Her once gleaming pelt had changed into midnight shades, and her optics had changed from an innocent shade of green, to a dangerous flicker of poison and anger. Any creature she saw, she would kill for no reason; just the mere fact that it gave her a pleasure. Why should they be happy when she could never be? She wanted everyone to suffer, she wanted this grand little 'circle of life' to become nothing more just the circle of death; she wanted each and every wench who lurked around her to feel her agony, the only emotion she could truly understand. She had abandoned all teachings of her father, Kanis; to her, he no longer existed. And the friends she had in the past; they were nothing but a collection of jolly little morons who knew nothing about the world past their noses, or what they saw in front of them. She would never accept it, but she had become a female Leohlic. She now felt like he had, but Leohlic found death to end his pain ad bring him joy. Demon had nothing; she had no love, no caring; nothing to end this constant agony. She had only the opposite, but the way she embraced this insanity-- well, it would be something for all wolves to remember her by.
Demon loved to hate. She relished in it. It was a way for her to forget the pain, forget the agony of her life; she chose to give pain to others, just as she received it. She was once called 'Stormy', named after her black pelted father, but Stormy's life ended when her love, and son died. She chose a new name to match her new identity. She decided there would be no better name than one to strike fear, dread and seductivity into the hearts of all around her. Taking this on-board, she was reborn as Demon; a true spawn of Wolfbane.
After a few hours of having her fun, slaying any and all creatures that crossed this beasts pathway, Demon would return to her favorite spot; hoping for more pleasant dreams, and arousing memories. Of course, these dreams would blend around the death of her enemies, and the memories of her old life. Her motto for such things was simple, 'I'm the bittersweet Bitch'. The only problem with this was quite small, but aggravating nonetheless. It took her ages to actually fall into slumber; one of the only insomniac wolves she knew of. Yet, the soothing sound of whimpering creatures who'd tasted her wrath soon comforted her dying soul; after all, the sound of blood dripping from an ebony pelt was the best lullaby anyone could have.
"Stormy, what have you done..?" That voice; it sounded so familiar, so cold and crisp. It sent shivers down the blackened spine. Swinging her head round, her dark orbs searched hopefully; yet found nothing. "...M-- Markaz?" The beast was confused, she was now questioning her own sanity. Her dead mate alive? Impossible. "Markaz, is that you?" Silence. It was relentlessly flowing around her; strangling her lungs deep inside her chest. "Oh, so you do remember your real name after all these suns?" The voice was spiteful, and cold; almost angry at the shadowy femme. Demon couldn't understand it. She was in a haze, her eyes darting in all directions-- again, finding nothing. "Don't be no fool Markaz; show yourself. If you are real to my heart, you would not torture ones heart..." Again, the silence came yet this time it was short and sweet; a brief sigh carried on the wind, the sign of this invisible lithe form. For suns, Demon had wanted to feel Markaz' touch again; feel his fur brush against hers in the cold winter nights, experience the ecstasy he could always leave her in. Yet, none of it came true- it just left her more wrecked than before.
"Ah, I can still taste the sweetness in your voice. Yet, tell me Stormy, how can such a sweet melody belong to one who has done, and continues to do such terrible things?" The voice was questioning Demon's morals, and way of life. To be honest, Demon wasn't actually sure on how this way of life came to be... it just sort of happened. Or that's how she figured it anyway. "I don't know how I became this way, Markaz; I suppose I enjoy giving to others what I receive every damned minute of the day..." Despite her best efforts, Demon couldn't see the form of Markaz; not in the shadows, not in the distant- nowhere. She HAD to be dreaming. After all, how can just a voice be heard? A voice that was starting to cause her a deep sense of fear; something she had never expected to feel again.
The invisible beast of her former mate gave a snort; one so angry, that it seemed to echo inside her skull. "Enjoy it? You enjoy killing innocence just to quench your lust for blood; a lust which will forever remain insatiable?!" Markaz sounded so angry, so furious at the fact that Demon spilled blood for his sake; to gain revenge for his death. The thing was though that Demon had only heard half of the story; she had been told of his crazed state driving him into the mountains, and a pack of rabid dogs tearing him to pieces; yet what really happened on that night was this amber-eyed male had jumped from a ledge- jumped to his death to save his mate from meeting her end. "Don't you understand me Markaz?" Demon was now questioning his sanity. The tables had turned quicker than lightning. "Their blood flows for your death; a vengeance if you will. Are you not proud?" Again the questions rolled from her mouth, her ears pinned against skull, and her orbs staring into nothingness- the whole reality seemed like a blur.
"Proud?!" snorted Markaz' voice, a laughing rage building up inside it. "You disgust me. I thought I knew you; yet the wolf I have watched over since my passing is NOT the one I fell in love with..." Silence took its toll. Demon was close to tears at this point, her hackles flickering as she controlled the bitter stubborn nature she now possessed. She wanted to yell, and smite this beast- yet knowing it was her former mate, the one she had been so willingly trying to get hold of.. it just seemed impossible to strike down such beauty. Sighing, Demon shook her head, orbs traveling to the ground. Her tone was mumbled, yet they held a secure bond of lust; a new lust- the lust to die. "Okay Markaz. So tell me... What do I actually have left other than hate, evil and so forth? After all, 'love' is no longer a part of ME. It died... along with you!"
More silence. This time it held meaning. Markaz was thinking upon her words; or trying to divert his ghostly anger elsewhere. Yet, what could he possibly do? Send a thousand drops of mist to choke her in her sleep? She'd like to see him try that, just for amusement. Yet, as her thoughts turned hastily sour, they were broken by his voice again- this time calm, as though all anger had faded, and he just wanted peace. But, deep down, Demon wanted nothing of the sort. She was angry that he'd ruined her lifeless plans, and plots; angry that she'd been proved wrong again. "Your love can never die Stormy... Our love can't die. Do you not remember what we told each other.. Stormy, we are one!"
At that point a blazing fury spilt from the jaw of this ebony female. She could no longer take the broken emotions and heartache. Glaring at the floor, she let her voice rise upto the sky, let herself snarl and spit, yell and cry-- she just wanted revenge. Nothing more. "Stop calling me that, you useless spirit! My name is Demon, it always has been! And it always will be! Deal with it moron!!" Silence. Her eyes traveled over empty mist-filled pathways that never seemed to end; surprisingly, she began to feel terribly afraid.
"Markaz?" No answer. "Markaz?" Only silence answered her calls. Demon screamed in ultimate fear, but all she heard was her echoing pain and agony; it was back and hurting her more than ever. Had she died; was this her eternal punishment? She tried to run down a pathway opposing her; each roadside lined with naked trees, all moaning in the wind-- unfortunately, the path never seemed to end. It was like she hadn't even moved. This was a serious case of dayshavu. She beagn to quiver with fear; the sound of her heart pounding in her chest, a lump building in her throat; making her want to throw up large amounts of stomach acid, or liquid of some sort. Tears stung her eyes, and giving up in the moment of things, she slumped herself onto the icy ground with a thump. Slipping slowly onto her belly, she let her dark paws cover her optics, as they slammed tightly shut; revealing more darkness than she bargained for. And, for longer than it seemed; maybe a few minutes (it seemed like hours) she laid there; on her stomach, paws covering her eyes, tears sliding down her shadowed fur. She was just like a hungry cub, feeling more afraid, more lost that she ever thought possible.
Demon suddenly woke from her dream with all the forces of a lightning bolt. She tried to regain her equilibrium as she looked around in a daze. She was shaking, but i was not due to fear; it was due to ecstasy. She sighed, long and deep as she ran her paws down her lithe form, letting a laughter split the silence; chilling any creature down to the bone.
"What a fabulous dream!"
She would never be the innocent varg she once was; now all she felt was a deep emptiness, and a deep sense of hate that would never hesitate to bother her. Her nights were filled with dreams (maybe nightmares) of Leohlic, and Serg's death. Oh, how she loved every second of them; and yet, it was her days that were filled with death and destruction. Her once gleaming pelt had changed into midnight shades, and her optics had changed from an innocent shade of green, to a dangerous flicker of poison and anger. Any creature she saw, she would kill for no reason; just the mere fact that it gave her a pleasure. Why should they be happy when she could never be? She wanted everyone to suffer, she wanted this grand little 'circle of life' to become nothing more just the circle of death; she wanted each and every wench who lurked around her to feel her agony, the only emotion she could truly understand. She had abandoned all teachings of her father, Kanis; to her, he no longer existed. And the friends she had in the past; they were nothing but a collection of jolly little morons who knew nothing about the world past their noses, or what they saw in front of them. She would never accept it, but she had become a female Leohlic. She now felt like he had, but Leohlic found death to end his pain ad bring him joy. Demon had nothing; she had no love, no caring; nothing to end this constant agony. She had only the opposite, but the way she embraced this insanity-- well, it would be something for all wolves to remember her by.
Demon loved to hate. She relished in it. It was a way for her to forget the pain, forget the agony of her life; she chose to give pain to others, just as she received it. She was once called 'Stormy', named after her black pelted father, but Stormy's life ended when her love, and son died. She chose a new name to match her new identity. She decided there would be no better name than one to strike fear, dread and seductivity into the hearts of all around her. Taking this on-board, she was reborn as Demon; a true spawn of Wolfbane.
After a few hours of having her fun, slaying any and all creatures that crossed this beasts pathway, Demon would return to her favorite spot; hoping for more pleasant dreams, and arousing memories. Of course, these dreams would blend around the death of her enemies, and the memories of her old life. Her motto for such things was simple, 'I'm the bittersweet Bitch'. The only problem with this was quite small, but aggravating nonetheless. It took her ages to actually fall into slumber; one of the only insomniac wolves she knew of. Yet, the soothing sound of whimpering creatures who'd tasted her wrath soon comforted her dying soul; after all, the sound of blood dripping from an ebony pelt was the best lullaby anyone could have.
"Stormy, what have you done..?" That voice; it sounded so familiar, so cold and crisp. It sent shivers down the blackened spine. Swinging her head round, her dark orbs searched hopefully; yet found nothing. "...M-- Markaz?" The beast was confused, she was now questioning her own sanity. Her dead mate alive? Impossible. "Markaz, is that you?" Silence. It was relentlessly flowing around her; strangling her lungs deep inside her chest. "Oh, so you do remember your real name after all these suns?" The voice was spiteful, and cold; almost angry at the shadowy femme. Demon couldn't understand it. She was in a haze, her eyes darting in all directions-- again, finding nothing. "Don't be no fool Markaz; show yourself. If you are real to my heart, you would not torture ones heart..." Again, the silence came yet this time it was short and sweet; a brief sigh carried on the wind, the sign of this invisible lithe form. For suns, Demon had wanted to feel Markaz' touch again; feel his fur brush against hers in the cold winter nights, experience the ecstasy he could always leave her in. Yet, none of it came true- it just left her more wrecked than before.
"Ah, I can still taste the sweetness in your voice. Yet, tell me Stormy, how can such a sweet melody belong to one who has done, and continues to do such terrible things?" The voice was questioning Demon's morals, and way of life. To be honest, Demon wasn't actually sure on how this way of life came to be... it just sort of happened. Or that's how she figured it anyway. "I don't know how I became this way, Markaz; I suppose I enjoy giving to others what I receive every damned minute of the day..." Despite her best efforts, Demon couldn't see the form of Markaz; not in the shadows, not in the distant- nowhere. She HAD to be dreaming. After all, how can just a voice be heard? A voice that was starting to cause her a deep sense of fear; something she had never expected to feel again.
The invisible beast of her former mate gave a snort; one so angry, that it seemed to echo inside her skull. "Enjoy it? You enjoy killing innocence just to quench your lust for blood; a lust which will forever remain insatiable?!" Markaz sounded so angry, so furious at the fact that Demon spilled blood for his sake; to gain revenge for his death. The thing was though that Demon had only heard half of the story; she had been told of his crazed state driving him into the mountains, and a pack of rabid dogs tearing him to pieces; yet what really happened on that night was this amber-eyed male had jumped from a ledge- jumped to his death to save his mate from meeting her end. "Don't you understand me Markaz?" Demon was now questioning his sanity. The tables had turned quicker than lightning. "Their blood flows for your death; a vengeance if you will. Are you not proud?" Again the questions rolled from her mouth, her ears pinned against skull, and her orbs staring into nothingness- the whole reality seemed like a blur.
"Proud?!" snorted Markaz' voice, a laughing rage building up inside it. "You disgust me. I thought I knew you; yet the wolf I have watched over since my passing is NOT the one I fell in love with..." Silence took its toll. Demon was close to tears at this point, her hackles flickering as she controlled the bitter stubborn nature she now possessed. She wanted to yell, and smite this beast- yet knowing it was her former mate, the one she had been so willingly trying to get hold of.. it just seemed impossible to strike down such beauty. Sighing, Demon shook her head, orbs traveling to the ground. Her tone was mumbled, yet they held a secure bond of lust; a new lust- the lust to die. "Okay Markaz. So tell me... What do I actually have left other than hate, evil and so forth? After all, 'love' is no longer a part of ME. It died... along with you!"
More silence. This time it held meaning. Markaz was thinking upon her words; or trying to divert his ghostly anger elsewhere. Yet, what could he possibly do? Send a thousand drops of mist to choke her in her sleep? She'd like to see him try that, just for amusement. Yet, as her thoughts turned hastily sour, they were broken by his voice again- this time calm, as though all anger had faded, and he just wanted peace. But, deep down, Demon wanted nothing of the sort. She was angry that he'd ruined her lifeless plans, and plots; angry that she'd been proved wrong again. "Your love can never die Stormy... Our love can't die. Do you not remember what we told each other.. Stormy, we are one!"
At that point a blazing fury spilt from the jaw of this ebony female. She could no longer take the broken emotions and heartache. Glaring at the floor, she let her voice rise upto the sky, let herself snarl and spit, yell and cry-- she just wanted revenge. Nothing more. "Stop calling me that, you useless spirit! My name is Demon, it always has been! And it always will be! Deal with it moron!!" Silence. Her eyes traveled over empty mist-filled pathways that never seemed to end; surprisingly, she began to feel terribly afraid.
"Markaz?" No answer. "Markaz?" Only silence answered her calls. Demon screamed in ultimate fear, but all she heard was her echoing pain and agony; it was back and hurting her more than ever. Had she died; was this her eternal punishment? She tried to run down a pathway opposing her; each roadside lined with naked trees, all moaning in the wind-- unfortunately, the path never seemed to end. It was like she hadn't even moved. This was a serious case of dayshavu. She beagn to quiver with fear; the sound of her heart pounding in her chest, a lump building in her throat; making her want to throw up large amounts of stomach acid, or liquid of some sort. Tears stung her eyes, and giving up in the moment of things, she slumped herself onto the icy ground with a thump. Slipping slowly onto her belly, she let her dark paws cover her optics, as they slammed tightly shut; revealing more darkness than she bargained for. And, for longer than it seemed; maybe a few minutes (it seemed like hours) she laid there; on her stomach, paws covering her eyes, tears sliding down her shadowed fur. She was just like a hungry cub, feeling more afraid, more lost that she ever thought possible.
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