He is peaceable today, at least, in as much as Elijah ever truly can be at peace with the world. Hunger does not gnaw at him, rage does not bay at him, he is merely still in the shade of the trees as he exists for simply the sake of existing. Dirge is away again, his son given to wander further and further each passing day and yet in the embrace of the night the young male always wanders back to his sire, Elijah having come to tolerate the boy’s presence as he tolerates such little else. The memories of his former life have become just that, fragmented dreams that hold precious little sway within the confines of his mind, the half Angel boy drifting further and further from the blood of his Mother and those whom had struggled to raise him, each day seeing him drift closer and closer to the blood of his sire whose songs still caressed the night air from the depths of Asteraia. Even now, even so large and powerful as he is Elijah will not cross the borders of Asteraia. He cannot bring himself to be in the presence of the Demon King whom had ruled Moladion in fear for so very long. He does not see perhaps…..that he is surely far stronger then his sire. Larger, more powerful then Tobias ever had been- for the blockade within his mind is still firmly in place. He remembers the terrors of his childhood somewhere within that fractured expanse of his mind. He remembers the fear others saw within his own face- for Elijah alone is unfortunate enough to wear the black façade and emerald eyes that so marked the near legendary Tobias and the sire Elijah had never cared for- nor been close too. Tobias was the reason for so much, his death would bring a release of sorts to the male and yet he fears him still. For all his size and power- he fears that creature. It is perhaps all he fears anymore. There is nothing else worth fearing after all.

The two females are unnoticed, else ignored, he does not hunger, the scent of winter does not cling to them and as such they are unworthy of his attention as he reclines within the shadows, vibrant emerald eyes half closed as his snowy white form lazes languidly. One of them speaks and he allows one black ear to turn towards her, black head turned within that same lazy manner to regard her though he offers no outward display of emotion. Perhaps he does not care to. He cares for so little anymore. His mate is dead, his soul cannot imprint, his family fears him, neither Angel nor Demon seem to desire him- this crossing of both bloods and as such he has been left to wander. So much of him has slipped and faltered, so much of him has become animal and little else- because that is far easier then attempting to be anything more. A rumbling of discord rises within his throat, lip lifting slightly to display a flash of sizeable white teeth, a warning that he has no desire to be approached. He interests her? His mind is lazy from lack of true use, her words taking several moments to comprehend within his thoughts before his lips part at last to offer a response in rasping tones.

“….but yet you do not….interest me.”

He is intelligent, or so it would appear, somewhere beneath that wild exterior and feral gaze, each muscle within his form contracting as he lifts himself suddenly upward. Upon the earth he is a large creature, standing he is…beyond measure, his form towering the females, his bulk superior to near both their own combined as he steps on heavy paws from within the shadow- the red mohawk that has so long defined him rising upon his spine, standing out atop his white body and black head.

“Go…away.”

He never has had to ask twice before.