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Posted on June 12, 2014 at 07:39:20 PM by Zildjian
So many years have passed since Reyja and I have turned a blind eye upon Diveen, looking instead to the mountainous region of Spirane within which we could live peaceably. Without the discriminating eyes of Heyel and his Angellic brood, for always Heyel has seen fit to offer me no acceptance, my bloodline seen as a hindrance and a blight that his daughter should not only take me as a mate but to have been fated as my Imprint. I have always found great irony, that the first born daughter of the Angel King and his Queen would be created especially for the first born son of his first and greatest adversary- the wolf that had also been his mate's imprint. And yet, I hold no grudge or ill-will towards the lilac eyed man. Nor do I begrudge my own heritage. I would walk no more, ashamed for something I cannot help or change. I have come to accept that I will never have my father-in-laws acceptance. I didn't fucking need it. Not when I had Reyja's love. She, above all others, is my driving force. My motivation, my inspiration. My very muse. She has forsaken her forefathers, and cut ties with those that would deem themselves Angels. As such, I no longer feel compelled to earn Heyel's trust or praise. I have felt more free then I have in ages, no longer shackled and straining against chains in an uphill battle I was never truly meant to fight. Now, even the empire upon the mountain seems to be crumbling. It was a tragedy indeed that Moonglow and Alcide had lost their lives. They were good leaders, just and firm ... never patronizing or quick to judge. But in the wake of their deaths the mountain's foundation has fallen to shambles and disarray. I feel no loyalties to the string of Alphas that have come and gone endlessly. It was time for change. I can feel it beneath my skin, coiling within the sinew and muscle of my titanic frame, slithering like a constrictor... until the day has finally dawned that I have left Spirane's border for the final time. Reyja has been ghosting like a phantom, in and out of Spirane for months now. I know she probably seeks the whereabouts of our children. But I know also it is because she feels this same stirring. Over the years she has undergone a metamorphosis, the way a caterpiller builds a cocoon and emerges as a butterfly...Or in her case, a Fallen Angel. perhaps the first of her kind amongst the order of Angels. Perhaps it is so fitting then, that she should be Imprinted upon by a bastard demon boy. Massive paws illicit a wide, confidant stride, pacing with all the raw lethal elegance of a tiger on the prowl. There is purpose in such steps, each deliberate and swift, for a scent has tantalized the peripheries of my senses. A scent, that I had thought to belong to One dead. Ragnarok. My singular son. My scion. I have not seen the boy in years, and Reyja and I had come to the conclusion that he must have been felled somewhere out in the wilderness. It had been a painful blow after already losing Sara. Thus, when the vaguely familiar scent...rather reminiscent of my own father Lucian, touched my nares I was hastened to go and investigate. Masked indigos take keen survey of the topography as I track the scent, and after a half-days' journey I finally spy the silvered hide of a wolf... collapsed amid the forests of Enocra Wood. I approach with caution, for still it is difficult to imagine my son might truly live. Then again, he has the stubborn blood of angels and demons alike. A Soul that would be most difficult to destroy, to be sure. Circling wide at first and then drawing ever closer... the male's body is filled out and extensive. Nearly as large as I. The russet blanket upon his haunches an unmistakeable fingerprint to his unique heritage and a confirmation of his identity. His body writhes in the throws of sleep, as if my son is burdened by nightmares, the manner in which he's lain somewhat distorted in it's contortion, as if he simply blacked out and fell to the dirt where he stood. I step up beside his shoulder then, muzzle drawing close to the boys ear. "Ragnarok..." I speak in a deeply gravelled voice. Seeking to pull him from whatever dreadful demons plague his dreams. :: THE MASKED BASTARD :: Last Legacy of Lucian X Atreyu :: Forgotten Prince of Mirovis :: Lover of Reyja :: Sire of Saraquel, Zigzagel, Ragnarok, Yemaya and Lanori ::44" 215lbs Blood Ties To: |
Replies:
- 《she tells me she has a thirst for blood》 - By {reyja} June 17, 2014 at 11:31:05 PM
GATE KEEPER - By RAGNAROK June 26, 2014 at 05:21:34 PM
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