- D a r k | W a t e r s - {Open}

[Sivoncé™]

His paws whipped across the rotted, charred forest floor without hesitating to gape at his surroundings as he once had; he already knew what this place looked like, what every space would look like in the valley. It was nothing but a shadow of destruction, now, and it did not entrace him like the unscathed mountainside. Rather, it made his pawsteps all the more swift.
Breathing hard, the dark brute drew to a stop at the edge of rippling waters, thankful he could no longer see his face in the fogged over lake. He did not wish to see his reflection in the face of the world; he had already seen it in so many places. And he was not fond of himself.
I have to find out who was attacking us....
He winced at the image of Secret Fang, the beautiful, refined she-wolf trembling and scared. It seemed unnatural, like in any universe, this should never ever occurr. Whoever had committed to infusing such feelings in her was a complete demon and abomination.
He frowned deeper now, remembering his own stance with the world.
If I don't get to live with a pack, then so be it. But I won't leave this place without at least the imprint of something good being left behind by my paws....it's not selfish. I don't want the glory. If it was anyone else, I wouldn't even be doing this right now. But whoever that was won't be alive for much longer. I'll find them. And then they'll discover I cannot die, and so they shall instead.
Perhaps they will respawn, too, but in the end, we all die, don't we?

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to sulk we go...
With a humorous little grin at her thoughts, a rather fox-like figure padded through the charcoal and ruin. Her legs were paintstrokes of ruby flame, and had one eye just the opposite-- an eye of ice blue. Turning her head slightly, the slim fae angled an ear toward the sound of pawsteps and directed her other eye (her all-black eye) to stare into the abyss of smoke surrounding her.
You can't see a damn thing...
But she could scent. And when she inhaled, a familiar odor tickled her nostrils. And it wasn't soot.
"Well, well, well... isn't it my lucky day?" she hummed to herself. "Looks like I got myself some company!"
She followed the scent of wolf until she happened upon a figure a few yards away, and sat noisily where she stood, waiting for the other wolf to notice her.

[Sivoncé™]

A change in the smoke behind him set Damien whirling around, a snarl forming on his maw, ready to tear down that filthy brute who had---
No. Please don't tell me it's her....
Ugh. She is so much worse than whoever that freakish brute was. Freakish doesn't even begin to cover her!
He snorted unhappily, glaring at the newly arrived figure.
"Well look who it is, Miss Spider-wolf!" He shook his head, the splashed some water on his face, forehead already groaning with the start of an ache.
This is going to be a very long night....
He resisted the urge to howl, forcing himself to calm down.
Maybe she won't stay very long, or maybe she was just sniffing too much wolf nip last time I saw her....

[.Rabid Lycan.]

"'Miss Spider-wolf'?"
Sanceul chuckled softly, standing up again.
"My, my... I must say, that's a new one!"
She padded swiftly and silently forward, looking and acting even more fox-like with every movement. It only took a moment to go from immobility to crouching directly beside the brute.
"Hmmmm... your name... it's on the tip of my tongue. Damien, was it? Or maybe Roger... nah, I forget. But tell me, how has life been treating you, hmmm?"[/i]

[Sivoncé™]

Damien eyes her oddly, a bit taken aback by her...
Eccentricity. If that wasn't a word, it certainly is now.
"Life? Life is a glorious thing!" He laughed softly, a smile coming to his maw as he remembered how he'd made a fool of himself in the snow-cloaked mountainsides, the conversations he and Secret Fang had thrown around, the joy and thrill he'd felt in his paws.
His smile was slow to fade, for even though his peace was shattered by the harsh claws of the other mountain wolf, he could not forget the happiest moments of his life and death, spent in the dazzling intensity that was snow with a she-wolf who puzzled him just as much as the world itself did.
But fade it did.
"Life is....." he searched for the words as he looked out across the dark-cut water.
"Life is a blessing. And one should never grieve when a blessing beyond your expectations leaves. They should be happy to have been graced by it at all," his tone was flat as he spoke of himself, his own unreasonable sadness.
"It's no wonder it leaves out bodies breathless."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Sanceul blinked, wholly surprised by his response.
...a blessing? This guy seems crazier than me!
"...that's all very good, mate. I'm guessing that you're an optomist, eh? Well, uh, not that I mean to rain on your happy-go-lucky parade... but isn't life basically a short prelude to the afterlife? I mean, you're basically going to end up living with the latter for all eternity-- shouldn't life be a little less, well... 'glorious'? Besides, what with all the stuff that happens during life, can't the afterlife be a sort of a blessing as well?"
Yeah, life is a blessing where all the idiots like Morgan are free to ruin other wolf's lives. That's just great.

[Sivoncé™]

Damien glared at her for a long moment, then could not restrain himself.
He burst into an explosive laughter, booming guffaws eechoeing around them.
"Life is just the prelude, is it? That's funny. You see, for me, it was the other way around!" He shook his head, still shaking with crude humor. "Oh, and what, life should be less glorious to make you feel better about going to hell? Nah. Life is glorious because if you can embrace it for what it is, a grand thing, then when you leave it behind, there is something even greater waiting for you."
He stopped laughing, but a smug smirk still remained on his face.
"Optimist? Me? Hun, I went to Hell and now look at me! Of course I'm not an optimist!"
He felt strangely drunk, speaking with the insane wolf. He didn't quite care how little or how much she knew of him or his past. Really, what would an insane wolf care, anyway? And if she was sane, she would just run away. Problem solved.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

"Don't call me hun," Sanceul snapped, uncharacteristically cold with a deep frown on her muzzle.
The white fae then paused, scowl fading and allowing his other words to sink in. Wait... what?
Tilting her head slowly to one side, she slowly woofed,"...have you've actually been to Hell, or is that just a metaphor?"
She curled her lip without waiting for a response.
"And anyway, you said to 'embrace it for what it is'. What is it, then? 'Cause I don't see anything in this world worth embracing!"

[Sivoncé™]

"Metaphorically speaking, the entire world is waiting for you to hug it," he snorted. "Just....go do something normal, ya know? Like make an idiot out of yourself by rolling in snow, or grass, or whatever! Just be, and be whoever you want to be. That's what's worth it." He ignored her first question, contemplating for a moment, then decided to answer.
"As you can see, metaphors are not my strong point. So why don't you figure out what that means for yourself?" He woofed carefully, the hysteria now faded from his voice.
He laid back, looking up through the haze to search for the stars, but none shone on this night. Or if they did, they were hidden from view. He stood up again, shaking his pelt roughly.
"Life is......anything you want it to be. If you want to sit there and wallow in misery, you can. If you want to be something more than that, you can, too. Nobody decides it for you," he murmured, thinking of Death and Flame and judgement. "They might affect you negatively or ruin something you hold dear, but they can't lock you in place."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

"'Hugging'? Yeah... no. I'm just fine right where I am, thank you very much. And damn skippy, no one decides it for you. After all, fate and destiny are just myths, right? There's no predetermined plan... it's all just up to all the dumb-ass motherfuckers on this square of paradise, right?"
She snorted disapprovingly.
"And who says I'm gonna wallow in my misery? What misery? I'm completely happy. Overjoyed." She yawned. "Enthusiastic, even. What wolf wouldn't enjoy my walk on insanity road, eh?"

((lmao- I met this police officer that kept saying 'damn skippy' over and over XD))

[Sivoncé™]

Damien sighed and silently counted to ten. "Fate and destiny? Pre-determined plan? You think life is a conspiracy now?" He snorted, restraining laughter again. "What are you really, a wolf, or some kind of depressant hippie herb? Fate and destiny do not exist. Chance. That's what's real. Not instinct, not even fight or flight, it's just chance."
He muttered crossly to himself, "How on earth do wolves who have all of this before them get so messed up? Are they so terribly blinded that they can no longer see the great gift they walk upon?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

For the second time that day, Sanceul lost her composure.
Pulling back her jowls to expose the white fang beneath, she swiped at Damien, lashing out to score him across the face.
"'Hippie herb'? Is that supposed to be funny? Well, my mother was a great Healer and believed in all that-- was she an idiot, then, too? Did she waste her life and--"
Sanceul's words died in her throat and she took a few steps away from Damien, looking in the opposite direction. Then, speaking as if nothing had happened, she muttered, "So chance, eh? Still seems a bit odd to me. I mean, if a wolf decides to have fun and kill someone, is it because the victim had bad luck, then? Doesn't make much sense to me..."

((Bitch slap! XDXD))

[Sivoncé™]

Damien had enough sense to duck before she could swipe him.
"Luck? No, no, you're confusing the two. It is chance that the wills of each wolf in this world take the same direction and collide. Either they come out new from these collisions, or they come out with wounds. Either way, they are marked by each prescence they cross." Damien shrugged. "Luck is too much like being favored by the things you call fate and destiny. Chance is seperate from all of this," he woofed.
"Oh, and a healer, eh? That would make sense why I don't recognize anything about you. I don't suppose there are many healers in Hellfire. But then agian, I take that back. I really wouldn't know about Hellfire. Or much of Tartarus. We'll just say that in my confinement, I do not believe I crossed paths with your mother."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

"Hmm, now that's surprising," Sanceul muttered, surprisingly unsarcastic. "Blood always seemed like the type to wind up in the flames, what with her freakish rituals of bloodlust and all..."
Shrugging, she added, "But I still don't see what's so great in this world. So what if there's chance? A collision of wills doesn't always make everything better! What's so great about the carcass floating down the river? The stillborn pup in the litter? The lunatic brute who goes around sodomizing innocent young faes? Sure, I can go hug the world-- but that doesn't mean that you can pretend that life's a complete, freaking blessing all the time!"
She scowled, growing a bit irritated, which was surprising compared to her normal attitude. It was actually quite amusing, too; she was a fairly tiny wolf for her age, and compared with the larger brute, she looked like she was barely out of her puphood. Yet by the way she was snapping at the moment made her seem like she could take on a grizzly bear.
If he weren't so tall I'd bite his ear off she growled inwardly.

[Sivoncé™]

Damien shrugged, shaking his head in frustration. "If there was no curse, how could there ever be a blessing? If there was no night, how could there ever be a day? If there was no light, there would be no shadows. If everything was good and grand and perfect, there would be nothing worth being thankful for. It's a tragic and heartbreaking and by all means harsh lesson. But also, perhaps, the spirit of that dead pup was much to saintly for the world and deserved, right away, the something better that was waiting. And maybe that carcass died fighting their last battle, brilliant and proud, and fell as a warrior. As for the bastards and demons that roam this land, they won't have anything waiting for them but a bitter end. I myself can garuntee you that much."
He froze, suddenly, the name she had muttered earlier sounding a little too familiar for his liking.
"Blood? You said your mother was Blood?" He winced, recalling the bitter, unwlecome memories of his own mother. If Blood was anything like Crimson, maybe Sanceul --
No. I am bound unfortunately to my mother's blood, and though I am nothing short of a shade, I have lived above her hate. Maybe Sanceul, strange as it would be, does so, also. Or perhaps Blood went down a new path when my mother seperated herself from the loner...