Post by † Demon † on Nov 13, 2005 7:37:10 GMT -5
Apologies for my absence; college is hard to get out of the way of roleplay... and as for the other thread;; lack of motivation.
Her father before her had despised jealousy. It was ironic, then, that Nocturnia had made the trip to Draeg's whereabouts to find Cwen, who would only a few minutes later, be watching the proud and somewhat twisted varg be torn down by her now official mate. It was clear Demon had sympathetic views for Nocturnia; after all, despite their negative meeting in the castle; things had changed over the course of that time. This shadowy femme felt an urge to stand up for what she believed in; she wasn't going to let her last chance of a 'normal' life be ruined by this wench. Yet, all in all, at this point in time, the irony was lost on her. All she could realize now was that she had came here with one set purpose. To find Mayan. So she had left the shadows of the castle, made the short trek across the broken landscape to the Vale, in silence. For a while she ran, a thousand thoughts passed through her mind and were dominated by the night she had spoke with a young former castle dweller like herself. It was funny how things worked out when fate spun the wheel of chance in her life. For it all, there were a few things that stood out now in the file she had of the 'fortune teller'.
Thief. She was a god damned thief, and she was using Nocturnia; making him belief that for it all, she would remain there. Turn him into the thing he was not, good. And yet only a few days ago, maybe a week ago, Demon had just vanished from sight. No, not vanished. Demon was in hiding; plotting viciously how to rid of this female traitor, how to rid of this sickly 'good' who was plaguing her love. Amusingly, this black-coated beast knew the scent of Mayan very well; mostly because she had passed this land many times before-- it was the quickest route back to the castle, and the furthest route away from Koran; her 'supposedly' home pack these days. Now, she wasn't furious yet-- only annoyed, border lining anger. It seemed that her emotions were a roller coaster. Angry one moment, jealous the next, happy then, and back into the cycle with a spin. But for now, all she wanted to do was find out why Mayan had 'hypnotized' Noctunia-- why she had broken the fate of which Nocturnia, and her-faded-self possessed from this day; he had told her of the plan of the Gods, and that he was the floating soul of Markaz, it seemed. After all, Demon had done nothing to this female; although, the black creature had pondered on the thoughts of 'good' versus Evil many times. Yet each time, her mind seeped with anger as the plan came into view. Cynical, bitter hatred rose in the form of a snarl, but she shoved it aside with a shake of the head. Now was not the time.
Dark paws stopped a stones throw away from the outline of the cave's entrance. Demon stood there for a moment, debating. Was it right? Was it wrong? For now it didn't matter, and it wouldn't matter soon enough. All she wanted was to know why, to know why this female had come into her life for the reason of ruining it. And she called herself good. Again the cynical fury rose and this time it made her face turn darker than it was. Bitter and cold, she settled her haunches on cold earth. The Vale smelled like water; probably due to the 'all-seeing' pool not far off. There were many scents here, including a scent which though old, told her of fatherhood. Among them, then came Mayan's scent. With a distinct note of command, she howled. It was something that had no emotion in it, only the note that demanded her presence. Even if she had stolen Nocturnia's heart before herself, even if it was evil versus good, Demon knew she would not disobey the command. To do so would evoke her wrath, and to send her after the perpetrator with the cold and machine like will to find them.
When her short song ended, Demon turned her gaze back onto the cave. This place was the one that Markaz had called cursed. Maybe it was. Demon could not tell as of yet. There could be tensions between here, and her soul; as there now stood tensions between herself, and two other places. Balkar, and List. Markaz had hatred for them too, she had seen that. Why Balkar had such she could not tell, would not guess. Part of her knew it was Leohlic's hate toward her, but her grief for the dead male would not allow her to yet accept that Markaz did care once upon a time. One day she would, and with it, she would accept the emotions that came with her...well. Demon didn't know what to call him. All she knew was that both, him and herself, were seemingly in love; and that was all that mattered. So there she sat, a silent statue with dark fur and burning eyes. The call had demanded an appearance, and it would not be ignored.
Her father before her had despised jealousy. It was ironic, then, that Nocturnia had made the trip to Draeg's whereabouts to find Cwen, who would only a few minutes later, be watching the proud and somewhat twisted varg be torn down by her now official mate. It was clear Demon had sympathetic views for Nocturnia; after all, despite their negative meeting in the castle; things had changed over the course of that time. This shadowy femme felt an urge to stand up for what she believed in; she wasn't going to let her last chance of a 'normal' life be ruined by this wench. Yet, all in all, at this point in time, the irony was lost on her. All she could realize now was that she had came here with one set purpose. To find Mayan. So she had left the shadows of the castle, made the short trek across the broken landscape to the Vale, in silence. For a while she ran, a thousand thoughts passed through her mind and were dominated by the night she had spoke with a young former castle dweller like herself. It was funny how things worked out when fate spun the wheel of chance in her life. For it all, there were a few things that stood out now in the file she had of the 'fortune teller'.
Thief. She was a god damned thief, and she was using Nocturnia; making him belief that for it all, she would remain there. Turn him into the thing he was not, good. And yet only a few days ago, maybe a week ago, Demon had just vanished from sight. No, not vanished. Demon was in hiding; plotting viciously how to rid of this female traitor, how to rid of this sickly 'good' who was plaguing her love. Amusingly, this black-coated beast knew the scent of Mayan very well; mostly because she had passed this land many times before-- it was the quickest route back to the castle, and the furthest route away from Koran; her 'supposedly' home pack these days. Now, she wasn't furious yet-- only annoyed, border lining anger. It seemed that her emotions were a roller coaster. Angry one moment, jealous the next, happy then, and back into the cycle with a spin. But for now, all she wanted to do was find out why Mayan had 'hypnotized' Noctunia-- why she had broken the fate of which Nocturnia, and her-faded-self possessed from this day; he had told her of the plan of the Gods, and that he was the floating soul of Markaz, it seemed. After all, Demon had done nothing to this female; although, the black creature had pondered on the thoughts of 'good' versus Evil many times. Yet each time, her mind seeped with anger as the plan came into view. Cynical, bitter hatred rose in the form of a snarl, but she shoved it aside with a shake of the head. Now was not the time.
Dark paws stopped a stones throw away from the outline of the cave's entrance. Demon stood there for a moment, debating. Was it right? Was it wrong? For now it didn't matter, and it wouldn't matter soon enough. All she wanted was to know why, to know why this female had come into her life for the reason of ruining it. And she called herself good. Again the cynical fury rose and this time it made her face turn darker than it was. Bitter and cold, she settled her haunches on cold earth. The Vale smelled like water; probably due to the 'all-seeing' pool not far off. There were many scents here, including a scent which though old, told her of fatherhood. Among them, then came Mayan's scent. With a distinct note of command, she howled. It was something that had no emotion in it, only the note that demanded her presence. Even if she had stolen Nocturnia's heart before herself, even if it was evil versus good, Demon knew she would not disobey the command. To do so would evoke her wrath, and to send her after the perpetrator with the cold and machine like will to find them.
When her short song ended, Demon turned her gaze back onto the cave. This place was the one that Markaz had called cursed. Maybe it was. Demon could not tell as of yet. There could be tensions between here, and her soul; as there now stood tensions between herself, and two other places. Balkar, and List. Markaz had hatred for them too, she had seen that. Why Balkar had such she could not tell, would not guess. Part of her knew it was Leohlic's hate toward her, but her grief for the dead male would not allow her to yet accept that Markaz did care once upon a time. One day she would, and with it, she would accept the emotions that came with her...well. Demon didn't know what to call him. All she knew was that both, him and herself, were seemingly in love; and that was all that mattered. So there she sat, a silent statue with dark fur and burning eyes. The call had demanded an appearance, and it would not be ignored.
