= I Dropped My Halo =

She is unusual, this one, coloured oh so like myself and yet perhaps slightly imperfect, although truly there are few whom can be given to hold the perfection of myself and the flawless alabaster that cloaks my superior form. Selective breeding can truly work wonders and indeed I hold a greater understanding for the traditions of the Angels, of my blood, then I ever did before my own fathering efforts. Choosing the right female, choosing another of substance and high breeding is�.critical to the production of genetically superior children. Perhaps our ways are confusing to those of a lesser pedigree and yet, the reason myself and those of my blood put so much effort into selecting the right partner assures a far superior race of blood. Love is all well and good, but love alone will not correct blood-born flaws and as far as I am concerned, the ridiculous amount of loners producing unsound, blind or deaf puppies is enough to turn anyone to a life of celibacy. I snorted softly at my own in thoughts before I was given to come to rest behind the female whom had so managed to capture my attention, my head tilting slightly in contemplation of my own words. What was so interesting about the woods? Hmm, very little as far as I am concerned, in fact, I see little other then trees and a clouded sky that promises snow. Well, at least that is fortunate, snow may well be the one and only time when one such as myself and the feminine figure before me, may be given to truly hide, our pelts allowing us a camouflage like no other. Any such thoughts however, were ended by the delicate creature before me and her answer to the question I posed. Hmm, how very intriguing.

�Well, well, aren�t we philosophical? I assure you though, darling, that the world is not the only thing aching. Winter and old age do not work so well together I am beginning to find.�

I never speak of my age, let alone complain about it and yet, for whatever reason I felt content enough to do so in the presence of this near ethereal stranger, the words laden with a mocking self-depreciation that saw a smirk curve across my lips all the same at this reluctant admittance that perhaps I am not so young as I used to be, the chill in the air each morning truly beginning to set an ache into limbs near 19 years old. I allowed the violet of my gaze, the colour passed from my own father to myself and onto so many of my children, to rest upon the misted depths of her own. Unusual eyes, truly and yet�familiar all the same. A loner she may be, yet there is evident quality within her form and indeed I take great curiosity in this. It is not so often that anything of true value wanders these woods without the mark of pack. I allowed one eye to lift slightly, ears pressing forward at her high-pitched words once more, my tattered, torn left ear flicking as much her own in a shared mannerism I may well have noticed had her words not been�.ridiculous.

�I was watching you merely for lack of anything else to observe, it is not so often that I�m given to find another in this area, then again, since I rarely come here it makes such a point entirely invalid.�

Speaking in circles can be oh so delightful sometimes and really, I probably shouldn�t tease at the girl, yet I find myself enjoying this momentary company and truly it is within a good nature, at least for now. I paused only momentarily in these introductions, the weak sun illuminating the dazzling white that decorated my frame before those dangerous violets turned back to the girls muted murmurings. Estelle. Hmm. I allowed a momentary simper to trace my lips.

�Estelle, stella, conveniens esse, quia cum sit in promptu.�
(Estelle, the star, fitting really, for one with obvious quality.)

I spoke smoothly, easily in the Latin tongue, the tongue of my blood and birth, my first language and one that rolls as easily as silk or the heated blood of pry across my lips. Ancient words, as old as time themselves, as old as the traditions and blood to which I was born and raised and words that mark me for what I am. Of the Angels. The only ones permitted to speak such language. I was doubtful indeed the girl would understand and yet it mattered not, my head dipping slightly in greeting all the same, though I remind where I start, continuing to observe this silent, graceful female.

�Heyel, King of Trenus and now Guardian of Diveen, sire of Alphas, mate to one, soul of another and Master of Assassins, unofficial King of all Moladion. That darling, is how one gives a greeting, it eliminates the need for frivolous conversation later on and several moments spent learning of each other�s positions in life.�

She may not know who she is- but I sure as hell know who I am. Another smile, teasing, light, moved across my features as I chuckled softly.

�and yes, egotistical and arrogant as well, but I make no apologies.�

the living legend
The Assassin King

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