Howl For Wolfbane.

[Kit]

OOC:YAEEE!!!!Read what I wroe in The Demons Apprentice it's funny.

[fell]

The setting was melancholic. The site frightening to all those who aren't claimed by tiny black hearts. Trees wreak of death, dark green moss enveloping their bulks. Even the heavens here take on a grim depressed glow, their purple black tones allowing for no penetration of light upon the damned holy land. This was the setting for corruption, the perfect site to turn that which was pure into its worst enemy. Strange how some are mystically drawn to darkness, some born unto it already damned to lurk forever searching for a soul. Other born pure of heart, never daring to think of ever turning to the Darkside, and then that elite group, the ones born light and innocent, but destined for darkness. Perhaps those are the greatest damned of all, for the have tasted of both worlds, and once you go dark how can your ego ever allow you to go back? Perhaps true evil derives from goodness, after all the Devil was created by the lightest of all lights, God himself. So maybe Lucifer was once good, and maybe, just maybe, God was the one who provided the injustice. But we can't say that now children, the almighty God in the heavens may just strike us down with his almightly little finger. One wave of is hand and the world is gone, dissipated into silent nothingness, all that was once living all of a sudden non-existant, deserted and lonely. It was with these tauntilizingly grim thoughts that our demonic Lord entered. Tresses composed entirely of ebon hues being lifted gently on the dry wind. The wind spoke as it snaked its way through the trees and around the specter. It words soft and inviting, playing through the shadowed wolf's listeners, swimming through his mind, the tones that were whispered spoke of days to come, possible futures to befall his land. Was it the voice of the almighty Fenris? But who believes those stories any more? They are just stories aren't they? No one has even seen Fenris, but they have seen Wolfbane. Anyway in his path as of now would see the dark angel, but was it the true spirit of Wolfbane? Yes, it was true the dead soul that lurked in the dredges of this body was that of Wolfbane, but he did not reveal all his secrets through this skin. So many things the varg were oblivious of, so many wars and conversations their eyes could not see, nor their ears hear. So all in all, no one ever really saw the full picture of Wolfbane, he kept the true secrets to himself, locked deep within.

The words of the wind continued to taunt our demon, telling him what of the future, past, and present. Feeding on his memories, and on his deathly aroma. But as this black vision navigated through his territory, something crossed his path. Normally any dark would pass it by, paying it no head or attention. And any light would stop to admire its dying beauty. But this strange being stopped, the halting of his appendages made no noise, claws gripped the sodden humus of the terra, hollow lifeless orbs gazing at the dying creature. The voices were silenced as it fluttered, aloft in the slight breeze that rank of humidity and sweat, the butterfly faultered, as if teetering upon the edge of indecision. Each flap of its minute wings sucked one more ounce of energy from its dying body, its brightly colored hues stealing what little light exsisted in this dreary atmosphere. Its thin, suple bodice, was sandwiched between two paperthin tissues, that sprang forth from its center, bringing with them the ability of flight. It wavered, tiny appendages so fragile and elegant. As our black wolfen watched this dying insect, so softly lingering in midair, its beauty still apparent even so close to death. His facade showed no sign of any emotion or any semblence of feelings, no movement was sent through his expanded bulk, sightless orbs focused solely on the withering life force before him. It seemed completley unaware of what was to come, its grace never failing its tiny form. Its montage of colors began to fade, its soul slipping from deep within. It began to wither, its old wings growing weak and incapable of supporting it any longer. Finally it drifted to the ground, hitting the moist earth so gently not a sound was heard. It wriggled in the grass, brushing the light covering of dust from its rainbowed wings. Finally with one last flutter of effort, its slender body releasing any last thread of life that still exsisted in its deceased body. A leg or two twitched, even after death its flesh did not want to give up. Our specter could feel its life being expelled out and into the lithosphere, floating to the heavens. Raising his poll he watched the spec of pure light ascend to the thick soupy clouds, eventually dissapearing within the sunset sky. Without a word escaping his maw, his ligaments stretched, relieving the soreness that had begun to congregate around his joints. As the howl traveled across the breeze, the voices once more assumed their position in tempting the varg, after a moment of recollection while witnessing the death of the butterfly. The deep tones that sauntered through the air, reconizable belonged to Kit, he had something to show our fiend. As his harks flew forth to the sound, pistons were set into motion, once more carrying the obsidian shadow through his land. When his worn pads finally stepped upon the blood soaked land of the Gates, he noticed that Kit and Ranur were together, the cocky eyed pup that had tried to insult our emotionless ghost. Another whelp was present. One that carried the stench of the Ancient lands, specifically that of Kar and Lit. Sunken portholes sampled her wavering scent, plume swishing irritably around his hocks. His crania bent to the side, before releasing the grip between his kissers and breaking into his mind bending song,

"A present for me Kit? You really shouldn't have, but I don't care for ones who wreak of the sickly fumes of Kar."

The tones like veneoum, and unmistakeable trait of the hellion. Maddening tones, icy and full of deeper meaninf than what was shown, laced with cyanide as it were. His cold gaze danced across each curve of the banshee pup's slvete bodice, so much like that of Lit's, but also displaying characteristics given by Kar. His mind sauntered upon the thought of Kar knocking up Lit, the insane crevices of his crania imaging him falling off her rump and apologizing for hurting her in anyway. A snicker was released, he knew the pup would not be happy with his taunting, but like he gave a F*ck. His masked feautures hardened, his cunning, twisted mind running swearing at the voices on the wind, as the continued to speak to him, and only to him. The sickness that had begun to infest into his skin, burrowing to his bulging veins, and swirling in his blackened blood.

[Kit]

As sad as it was to say Fell was Blades last remaining relative well no here was another Kelea.
No one in her real life to care for. It was sad...but Kit knew Shadowdawn and Risk would be good parent's.And Kit hoped he could do the same.
''Yes tell me about it. But she is your neice as is Kelea even if Kar was adopted he was some how related to Skop who was your mother's brother. Meaning you are indeed her blood relative. And how do I know all this well thats not inportantant. '' He watched Fell curiously wondering what he would say.]

[*~Blade~*]

Blade watched the beast appear, and she thought the varg that had bought her here was insanly impressive. This demonic creature was something she could not comprehend. All she knew was that..

"He is not a butterfly." Blade murmured at a level so only Kit could hear, her orbs narrowing. He was the exact opposite of her butterfly, respresentative of the light she called upon each morning. She stepped bravely into the darkness, raised her maw to the heavens and sung in a melodic howl. She raised the bright sphere in the dawn, greeting her many friends.

He seemed to eye her with such a deep loathing. She knew not what for, she was not at all like Kar. She was nothing like the varg. She was in exact repllica of her biological Mother. Lit. In every way, in every form. Blade knew he was her Uncle.. in a way.. She spoke louder now.

"I'm not a present, I'm Blade and I don't know who 'Kar' is but I don't smell like him." Blade pouted in a puppy like way, annoyed that she had to compared to someone she didn't even know and that she couldn't have her own scent. She had the same determination in her eyes that Lit had.

OOC - i resent you refering blade to anything like Kar, she is of Lit and Lit only thank you! -considers it a great insult to be compared to Kar-

[fell]

o.o.c Yes, I know. But Fell knows you are Kar's daughter and we all know how much he resented Kar. So I know your character isn't like Kar, but Fel could just sense that and hes just being an asshole as usual, don't worry Fell might have been comparing you, but I wasn't you could never be like Kar, nor would you want to.

[*~Blade~*]

OOC - hehe i've over it now ^^

[kelea]

OOC - fell? can you PLEASE answer?? Takali is also waiting to be killed