what i really meant to say [serg]

[† Demon †]

is im sorry for the way i am

Night. Night was now; it was her time. The anti-Tor gave a slight snort, breath fogging in the chilly air as she walked. She didn't know why she was still up, and most of that she blamed on two things. Insomnia, and nightmares. She cared none, to be totally honest. For the moment she was trying to clear her head, playing jump the border on Serg's territory. The winter was fast approaching, yes, but the north was still the north. It was already cold enough to see your breath in the skies, and patches of ice and snow began to appear all over the place. Demon had already aquired her winter pelt; it made her look a lot bigger than she was. She had, in all truths, her father's build. Not too large, but large enough to show she was no sassy-like pushover. Still, of all her fights, she had only taken wounds in two. The main one was actually with her dear ol' daddy-o. And being that her father was insane and reckless, somehow guessing most of the dark femmes moves up until he himself made a mistake. Wham, bam, slam. You're dead, old man.

Demon was without a doubt, an interesting piece of work. Mother's fur (though, as her father had, thick layers of muscle beneath it), father;s eyes, father's build, mother's pride. Despite all of this though, she had not loved either of them. They had been dead to her from the time she was birthed. After all, how sick must you be to abandon your own flesh and blood with another she-wolf? She hated them for it. She had learned to hate with time; her inner-child becoming locked away the moment the two ran off. They had been young and reckless, ready to take on the world; but not yet ready for a cub. So, with all else failing, they ditched her and ran off, wanting nothing more than each other. A real classic romeo and juliet. They forgot about her as they left, a dark femme in the making; who had cried when neither of them had said goodbye. She had forgotten how to cry in the following years after; a memory she cared not to reopen. Eventually, she learnt a new trick; she built a wall around herself, she grew cold.

Of course, those two star-crossed lovers didn't last long afterwards, now did they? Demon had heard all the rumours, all the stories. Went off to a new pack, and his mother had fallen for the Alpha. Daddy found them in the thralls of ecstasy and done nothing--then. Amusingly, when mother returned to their cosy little den, she was met with an angry mate. He snarled at her, they argued; ending in a bittersweet bloodbath. A scout had found them the following morning, dear ol' daddy outside the den and mumbling to himself, painted in blood. Poor sweet mother scattered all over the place. From that point on, little father was deemed insane and scarred, exiled from the valley with angry fangs on his heels. He had never been seen since.

Demon had, as she found the scent of her father, surmised he was not insane. At least, he was not insane, yet. Daddy had told her a cliff-notes version of his time in the unknown pack after mother's death. Met the old Alpha, fell in love, became beta. That was a surprise to the dark female. How the hell someone would trust a con-artist like her father was startling. How the hell would anyone fall in love with him was another. Down right hilerous in her eyes. He was one skilled actor though, she had to give him that. He could make a female feel whatever the hell he wanted her to feel. A slight chuckle escaped the addictive demon as she continued her walk, wanting so badly to find Serg so she could redeem old lies. She disliked this Dragga, that was wellknown; yet if friendships could be made, this female would soon rise in power. Stranger, you've become my biggest addiction, and my best kept secret... and I've only met you once.

Dark paws thudded quietly against earth as the Bitch walked, maw open and breath fogging still, the not quite new moon giving just enough light to set her hackles aflame in an unholy halo. Her optics were glowing now, and then, flecks of poison green in the shadows. She was nothing more than the specter of the true demon, of whom few had seem. She had not seen 'DemoN' in an age, and was growing anxious, worried, suspicious; had her 'other' side been stolen? Nor had she seen much of her dearest Koran, but that she blamed on the season. Vargs wanted to be avoided in Winter. She did. She was deeper in the icy banks than she wanted. She was in serious Tor-damned...
pain.

[Serg]

the day had ended, that was the only thought that echoed in the abyss of the midnight Dragga's mind. the night had finally come. where the darkness enveloped his dark fur and hid him from all that moved. even helped to hide him from the keen night-vision that his Balkar possessed. now that darkness had spread all over the lands of Transylvania, now that the shadows had come out to play; now that it was Serg's time to seek solitude in the sanctuary of the endless black. maybe now was the time he needed to sleep, but tonight, sleep evaded him, and why should he miss such a perfectly dark night by sleeping through it? but even if he wanted to sleep, there was a restlessness tugging at his innards. a burning feeling in his gut. his life had become such a routine, and he often wondered what had happened to that simple Balkar who had aspired only to deserve a place in the ranks of this very pack. the youngster had trekked across miles of open wasteland, wandered for miles and miles, searching for one thing only - Balkar territory. a place he had hoped to call his home. the rest of his life, all that had happened since joining, had not been part of the plan.

black tail sweeped behind him in a whoosh of chill air and he snorted; the breath escaping his lungs in a plume of white fog. rising up into the ice-cold air. fiery amber eyes watched it till it disappated into nothingness and a discontented growling tremor escaped his coal-stained maw. was there a point in his life he could pinpoint, pinpoint the exact point where it had all gone out of control? the moment he had met Eveline probably. the pair had started out despising each other. two young avrgs that fought, quarrelled, and Serg had thought he could hate no one more than he had that faemme. and then she had disappeared for a while. Serg had happily retreated back into his role as dutiful Balkar, causing chaos and spilling blood as ordered, as desired. it wasnt until years later, when he was older, should have been wiser, that they had met again. and there was something different. Serg snarled. maybe that meeting was the point where he had lost control of his life. where it had all spiralled into plans previously unknown to him. for before he knew it, he had a mate. Sarnes came next, and then the position of Second. he had never dreamed of being anything more than a simple Balkar, at elast he had felt in control then. and now? he was in command of others, sure, but back when he was just a Balkar, he had no responsibility. now he was running two packs, singlehandedly, for Eveline had disappeared.

growling at that fact, Serg slipped out of the shadows he had been pacing in and slid back into his habit of patrolling his borders. at least in that mundane task he might find his thoughts ordered. it was not the first time that Eveline had disappeared for moons. and any other varg might have found themselves pining for their other half. Serg did not pine. he refused to pine. he refused to feel. any sign of weakness, mental or physical, and he himself would resign from his position, for a weak Dragga was not a worthy Dragga. this did not do much for his personality, for he was slowly becoming the cold-hearted wolf that so many thought he was. but he didnt care much, those soft-hearted fools fear me and my Balkar, and they are right to. Wolfbane curse them, their opinions matter not.

his pace came to an abrupt halt as he realised he had been thinking too much, and a subconcious part in his head alerted him to the fact that there was a strong smell in the air. scenting it carefully Serg's lips curled up in distaste. now here was a varg he had not met for many moons. Demon.

Serg licked his lips slowly, he had met her in the summer, when his blood boiled with the heat of the damned sun, his temper stayed frayed, and his actions and words harsh and irrational. madness always pressed on him, especially at that time, and his memory of their meeting was, somewhat, blurry. fuzzy around the edges. he remembered none of what he had said, and little of what she had wanted. whatever she wanted, he was sure to find out soon enough, for she was coming his way. slowly, Serg sat back on his haunches, his black tail curling around them as he did so, calmly settling his muscular bulk down, waiting for the faemme to appear, and he did not have to wait long.
'hello Demon.' he growled.

[† Demon †]

Demon had smelled the Balkar wolf before she had heard him. In truth, she should have noticed him a while ago. Her brain was a fog of memories, and voices, and she was fighting with herself most of the time. Everyday the voices seemed to get worse, louder. Back and forth they argued, hissing and shouting as she sat locked in her mind, the rusty door locked. She wouldn't come out of it yet. She had to wait, she needed to regain control. She would sit back and watch the world on a screen, wanting to scream to the characters upon the screen, but knowing they wouldn't hear her. They would enter the dark room where the killer lay in wait. She would try, but it never worked. She had tried when her Balkar friend, Darkling had confronted her. She had tried to warn him, but he hadn't heard her. The screams she had heard were horrid--because they were a mix of his and hers. She had found his corpse the morning after she had fallen unconscious on the winter floor. He had bled to death. She had screamed. She had taken off and reached the castle.
What happened there she could not (or would not) remember, for her memories were always conflicting.

Sometimes she remembered a male. Sometimes she didn't. She had followed the dark Gods in her head blindly, and they had led her to sanity. She came to her senses long enough to find her real father. Her father had gone mad. He had. Demon could smell it on him. That was incredible to her. The fact she could smell madness. Apparently her father had as as well. He had called her crazy before the final blow was struck. Demon did not remember all the curses she had flung at her father. She had only screamed to him about the death of the god who her dark father had began to call for. She had lost something there. Still, she had come to this valley long ago to crush the last bit of her father in some unknown female. And she had managed it. It was beautiful. Now she found her attention turning to the male nearby, and she came back to herself. She found the other wolf to be none other than the Dragga, Serg. Demon wanted to tell him to find his place. She wanted to be nasty. But she couldn't. She just couldn't.

Her ears flicked up as Serg spoke. She was slightly amused at the strength (and in turn, pride) she could hear. He wasn't that scary, well at least... she didn't think so. Demon, on the other hand, did scare others, but her macabre aura was something she had always held. She was something dark, and twisted inside. She guessed it had slipped out sometimes to her mask. Dark muzzle titled down slightly as she watched the other in his pride. She had not hurt him. She hadn't hurt the pack. She had done nothing--only come to this pack and wandered around when she could not sleep. She guessed maybe the rumors had hit here too. Rumors that spread faster than smallpox, or cancer. Maybe it was how she looked. Take the skin and peel it back... doesn't it make you feel better? No, to tear her open was to find things nobody could imagine in their wildest dreams.

"Nice evening..." She mused lowly, more to herself than Serg. After a pause, she spoke again; poison optics still watching the Dragga. "You're Serg, aren't you? The big bad wolf of the Balkar?" A smile paused briefly on her lips; she had forgotten what a good feeling being nice, once in a while, could cause.

[Serg]

Serg’s burning amber eyes, usually burning with an intense heat, were now faded only to a simmering flame, he was still looking out into the dark shadows that seemed to lessen in their intensity over the borders of his lands, out into the meaningless lands beyond. They were not of his concern, and yet he knew what lay beyond them. Somewhere out there lay the territory belonging to two vargs he despised more than most. Cwen and Draeg. Oh the faemme had betrayed him, had weedled her way into Sarnes, and then smuggled in that young arrogant varg who had followed the couple around like some form of parasite. She had been there when Cwen had been pregnant, bearing a litter without Serg’s permission, and hiding that Huts in his lands. The name came to him as he thought on, and his eyes flashed suddenly. Yes, she had been easy to get rid of. Too big for her boots. She had thought herself worthy and skilled enough to hold her own against him. And although he had given her wounds enough to prove her wrong, and, he had heard; wounds that had later proved fatal, her death had seemingly not been so useless to the couple. For she had delayed and prevented Serg from tracking down his victims, and Serg had had no luck in finding them, for they had covered their tracks well, and for the most part, all Serg had been able to smell was the blood of the youth that had been with them.

So the traitors had evaded him; and soon after, gained the pack GeRad. Which in truth, only made things much more interesting. They might have one pack, but Serg had not only the Balkar, but Sarnes, however, Draeg, the amber fool, was rumoured to be a popular varg. If it came to war, which Serg thought it might, the war would probably end up dragging more packs than concerned the rivalry between himself and the Alphas of GeRad. Yes. There will be blood, and pain, and anguish. But Serg had a better plan for his loathed enemies. One that would hurt them more deeply than any mortal wound could.

Serg growled deeply, then his attention turned back to the faemme Demon as she spoke.

Tilting his blackened head to the side ever so slightly Serg surveyed her coolly. ‘Yes. I am Serg.’ He replied, ‘It’s Demon isn’t it? I vaguely recall that name…’ he trailed off and shook his head. He had had more important things to worry about than struggling to recall a name that had been told to him when he had been of less sane and calm mind.

[† Demon †]

]Short and sweet]

Demon, like Serg, felt she had no need to really remember such names; the bad terms between these two were thick in the atmosphere, so thick she could taste it. But, unlike Serg, however, she had not been bothered by summer heat at the time, so names were not much of a bother to the dark coated she-devil. Knowing she had gone off track, it finally kicked her--smack, bang. Right in the left side of her pretty little skull. Had she not come here for a reason; a dark seductress with a dark purpose? Yes, she had. And, only a minute or two after meeting this Varg, thoughts had gone. They had connected onto a sense of Cwen--Demon knew for a fact that Bitch had left Serg's pack, and bore pups outside rules and guidelines, as though not concerned by them. If a war broke out, she would be there to watch, Demon was stronger than Cwen...and despised her little lover with a passion. They had fled from Serg's grasp, she would not. She would embrace his hatred, his anger, his rage. And for it all, she would grow stronger, maybe just forming a tiny speck of friendship between the rats and herself. This, by far, was her most stubborn sort of pride...it was the pride that made her stay and follow through on her little perks and preaches. She wanted to succeed where both her father, and his filthy lovers had failed. Demon wanted to be able to see them both, rotting in the depth of hell--she wanted to laugh at them, mock them because she would succeed and they had not.

Considerably though, an entirety of pack's seemed to have failed. Given, Kanis had found alliance, and stayed the longest, but he had died. Romn had been there and played is part, leaving as well. Maverick ran at first, and Keechak came in his stead. She too ended up fleeing, and the cold Storm had returned. It was short lived; she ended up leaving without telling dear ol' daddy. That was a mistake. When given power, the dark male would have gone mad. He did. He fled without a word and found his daughter. Demon had come to Balkar terrain as it was falling. Tamra had arrived, and the two proposed a friendship--she accepted, yet only a while ago, he left. It was like friendship between Balkar leaders, and her family were cursed or something.

Curse or not, Demon would not give up. She would stay there until hell froze over, and she would do so grinning bitterly. Out of the blue, pain shot up her left side and she winced slightly. Her weight went off of it and she caught herself, taking a s second to smoothly sit back onto her dark haunches. It looked natural, like she had meant to do it all along. Black tassel swished once behind her and was silent, and her head lifted slightly to look at the other varg. A question was asked and her eyes shimmered slightly. Did he remember? Simple enough. A second or two of weighing her words took place, and then she spoke quietly.

"My father knew you. I spoke with him about this pack...you were mentioned..."

Cold and calculated, nothing important mentioned; the bittersweet Bitch was quiet again. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face--like a friendly mask that a serial killer might wear. Her eyes showed otherwise; words scratched against dirty windows hidden behind tattered curtains.

[Serg]

a slight crease appeared between Serg's eyes, the sign of thought and confusion mixing in his mind. thought coming to no clear conclusion and confusion prevailing. Demon's father had known him? the thght was new to him, he himself could not recall ever havign met a varg that professed to have such a faemme for a daughter. his smouldering amber eyes took a sidelong glance at Demon. mind you, if he had a daughter as such, would he admit to it? a sly smile almost pricked at the corner of his mouth. he was remembering more about the rumours he had heard. gossip travelled all over Transylvania, and Serg listened to it, in case there were important snippets he could use. occasionally there was, yet most of the time the game was like chinese whispers. something could start off trivial and innocent, and after a while of gossip, would be perverted into something ghastly and shocking. it mattered not however, and he would keep his maw shut on such matters, till he found out the purpose this faemme claimed to own as to why she had good enough reason to be prowling along his borders. his amber eyes slid off her form and again resumed their former position; gazing into the distance.

'your father? what was his name?' he asked casually, his tone staying the same as it hasd been before. parents, were more trouble than they were worth. he had evaded his former pack, and when he had returned, it was only to find that his brother, his insane brother, had long robbed him of the glory of killing off his father. however, Serg had not left with teeth unstained. no, he had killed his brother. his sister too. and if it had not of been for his mother and his other sister, his rage might have extended onto his brother's pups. maybe it would, if the little Dragga his brother had sired became too much of a threat. family politics, were always too irritating to have to deal with.

'so tell me, Demon, you must have a reason for prowling along my borders? since you are not of this pack, i highly doubt you're patrolling the borders like so many of my Balkar are when they walk this path..' Serg commented, his amber eyes still burning out into the distance. in fact, he was looking in the exact direction GeRad lay. Cwen and Draeg's pups would be lying asleep in their cosy little den. but they were mere puppets in his master plan. no, he was not after them. not officially. he had to wait for his bigger and ultimate prize to come along. yes. he would have to be patient. they would be lulled into a false sense of security. and then he would strike, and the both of them and their soft hearts would break and fall, and he would have his revenge.

[† Demon †]

Demon herself wondered why others found her so terrifying. She had settled on the fact she had the eyes of a murderer. Granted, others were more fierce looking like his father, with a battle scarred body and gleaming canines, but her eyes were different. They were not as mad as her father's, but a cold kind of not-quite sanity and etched writing that it made impossible to actually see into them. The names of those she had killed (or believed she had) were written on the walls in blood, the blood of the victims. Demon was not insane. For each kill she knew exactly what and why she was doing. And each time the dark wolf used an intellectual sort of coldness to kill -- except with Nosfa. Oh her father had driven her over the edge with his words and fangs...and he had fallen.

Serg spoke and Demon was jerked from her thoughts. Head turned toward the shadow-furred wolf and she listened quietly. Yes, Serg did know him. So did many of the other Balkars. One of that had been screwing around with her family. Demon wondered sometimes about this pack's loyalty--Serg was part of that list. So was many more. She did not trust them so far as to call them enemies. Her mind kept a short leash on those and as of now, she had none...except, perhaps, the dark she wolf called Cwen. It wasn't quite enemies there. The same was true with Draeg. These were different. Stranger than fiction...

Similarities. Darn, they had the same colored eyes, and that odd halo. True, Demon had her mother's coat, and leaner looking build, but that was different. And she was her own wolf in so many ways that her eyes and face were different. Father had a think line of fur around his cheek-bones, mother did not. Demon was stuck in the middle with longer fur, thin and the shag-styled mane she'd gained so many years ago. Left eye was scarred up from fighting, but in any state she thought it showed her courage. The dark devil was a freak. But she saw the look on Serg's face after mentioning her father the same way he had seen the Bitch cringe. Interesting. And then came the question that had not been asked yet, no one else dared. It was like they knew she had done it...

Paranoid. Schizophrenic. That was her father. Mother had not been in him, no, only in his mind. All of it was in his mind. Demon had seen that when she had turned into the she-wolf who had sired him in her father's mind. But Demon fought back that image with blow after blow, and it ha not been until the end Nosfa remembered who she was. In a way, it was better that he should have seen his daughter finish him off then a corpse. And oh the dark gods, Demon had been grinning then when the blood covered her maw, grinning as her own blood stained father's white undercoat, and grinning when the dark Alpha had fallen. But now she was not grinning, now she was looking calmly at Serg as she told only parts of the story, in a voice quiet and mundane.
"His name was Nosfa -- he went mad with power. He had never before been given full control over others without someone to keep him in check. He had always been mad, you know... once he found his mate was cheating on him he had gone mad. True, he had been able to suppress it, but he could not deny the fact he was crazy. So he ran off to find Kanis or someone and convince them to come back. H found me. After we spoke, he ran off. I suspect by now he's dead--walking around with blood on your coat is a beckon to anything that can kill."
Silence.

"Oh, and I'm here to make a pact - Alliance if you will..." Her tone was sneaky, almost devilish with a tainted flirtatious strain within. Poison orbs flickered. Silence once more.