Malignant Felicity is a paradisaical abode to the faithful remains of a mighty pack. Once ruled by the magnificent wolf Genocide, now the wolves of this pack follow the laws of the Alpha Lance, son of Sorna, Beta and Genocide's best friend...
The sounds of crashing water fill your auds as you enter this tropical paradise. The tall trunks tower above you. The treetop canopy's seem to shade the beautiful land from the sun's rays. What a paradise this place seems. This place dubbed Malignant Felicity. As you draw closer to the boarders a stench slowly devours the air around you. The stench of death.
"Beware..." scream the birds from above you. "She kills for games. She kills for fun." Something deep inside tells you to listen. Your body tells you not to go no further. Do you listen or do you dare move into the pack borders. This could be a life or death decision...
Follow the Queen, or become a corpse that lines her border. The choice lies with you.
IP: 121.72.162.43
Posted on December 6, 2011 at 00:22:56 AM by Arcadian* Kazier
It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't coma back. You're left so alone that you can't explain. Damn, there's nothing like that, is there? I've been there and you have too. You're nodding your head.
It was like…sunrise. The malignant queen, in her marvelous curves, padding towards him, stopping short to utter his name. Her tones acidic and venomous and syrupy sweet, already he could smell Sidorio’s musk on the wind. The brutes never became friendly; after all, the first time they had met, it had all been a misunderstanding. Memories flashed and he inhaled sharply at her beauty, he hadn’t forgotten how she looked, but it still made him intake air sharply to see her, real and standing strong before him…and she was pissed. It suited her, really, it did, and nothing suited the blood bringer more than the look of lust and hate on her features. No doubt part of her wanted to paint every border with his crimson this very second. Part of him was uncontrolled and a paw lifted, an old habit he guessed; to go to her and to wrap him around her, almost protectively, as if she needed that. To inhale her perfume and hear the sweet voices she used with him once upon a fairytale.
Queens.
If a name could be said two ways, there was your prefect example. A 50/50 mix of controlled solider answering his queen and a longing, a tortured wontedness that wanted nothing more to over and claim her….but you couldn’t claim her. No one could, some faes could be owned and bought and sold. Not Queens. If you wanted Queens to be your property, you’d have to somehow learn to freeze and thaw the waterfalls that feel within malignant. They were beautiful, like queens, but they held a deadly force, one that couldn’t be tamed and could even change the landscape with enough time. A force of nature he dare not stare at, he kept his eyes on the ground, ever respectful. Sidorio would complicate things once he got here. Arc doubted that Sid would be on his side, so he remained quiet, waiting for accusations and questions that would most likely come. There was a chance he would be killed, although hopefully Queens wouldn’t attack him herself or else he’d have to fight her and eventually run for his life. He couldn’t kill her, not even in self-defense.
A first for him.
His profile lowered in respect to her and he thought he scented Kaizer on the wind. If Queens got Sidorio to attack, perhaps the arrival of her long lost son would change things, probably not a lot, but maybe, maybe, just enough. Kaizer bore little resemblance to himself and therefore he wouldn’t get the inherited hate. In fact, the little solider looked a remarkable specimen of the Demonica clan. Coal black and a red throat and jaw line, with a tiny bit of crimson on his paws. The thought usually made Arcadian smirk, but he kept his face impassive and cold. Calm, blazing emerald orbs stared at Queens paws. Wondering whether she’d say anything before Sidorio arrived…or perhaps Kaizer would beat him to it?
He never did have the luck of golden wolves. Sidorio slid out with an amused smirk on his face. No doubt wondering the exact same thing that Arcadian was. Was he future to be a rotting corpse on the borderlines or to be a newly punished solider among the pack wolves? Who knew? Maybe she could have a moment and claim him back, although it was highly unlikely. Queens liked to be respected and respect didn’t fall on the weak, the ones that picked up the forgotten and betrayed. Queens wouldn’t show such folly…and yet Arcadian couldn’t push the thought entirely from him mind.
He didn’t take his eyes off Queens when he heard Kaizer melt out of the brush behind him.
KAZIER// EMPEROR OF DEATH
Green fires shone out from the brush, coal black limbs pushed through the visual barrier and for the first time he laid eyes on the other sides of his bloodlines. A fae stood before his father, clearly pissed. Kaizer glanced at the crimson and ebony male off to her right with a smirk on his face. He had similar markings to himself and why shouldn’t he? He was, after all, partly his father, to what extent was guessed, but Kaizer didn’t have a snowy mark on him from Arcadian. He seemed amused and why not? IT was amusing to watch his proud father fold like a blade of grass before her. Probably in respect, he certainly knew his father wasn’t afraid of death and why should anyone? Why should we fear what only brings a peaceful end to the constant day-to-day struggle of life and pain? Kaizer moved forward, spacing himself from his father and upon approaching the border, he bowed and lowered himself to the ground and was ready to roll over and display his jugular if need be to please the Queen.
My lady, I am Kaizer. One of your sons, forgive me for the clarification, but I do believe Arcadian took me from the pack not long after my birth. I do not expect anything, even simply to be remembered. All I ask for is a chance to serve you, as I should have.
He had once asked Arcadian what he should exactly say and had gotten the scar on his left hind for that. A nice bite, no doubt, but he had got the answer loud and clear. At least his father had made him independent, if not a little hateful of the brute himself. Perhaps the queen would ask them to fight each other, or simply order her son to kill his father. He wouldn’t fight, probably run, maybe defend himself, but he wouldn’t truly fight and that disappointed the coal black brujo more than most things. His coal black robes shone in the sunlight and his crimson jaw line and throat made him look like he always had just ripped a throat clear out of a wolf. Crimson spattered his paws as well, although it was hard to notice on the obsidian killer. His orbs were the only sign Arcadian took part in his gene pool was the green fiery eyes that shone out of the dark coal face. His features showed impassive and flawless, apart from the scar some bitch had slapped across his muzzle. His first kill and he found himself wanting more, her blood was like a fresh new pool of water and he didn’t understand why he needed the blood. Arcadian had only laughed and called him ‘ a true demon’.
Well thanks Dad. Fuck you.
Replies:
- i'mma m o n s t e r - By Queens December 8, 2011 at 04:02:58 AM
TROUBLE: middle name - By NIKANDROS December 8, 2011 at 05:00:10 AM
don't tread on me - By Ariston December 8, 2011 at 08:25:05 AM
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