Post by ivan on Dec 2, 2008 19:48:09 GMT -5
Wandering. Was that what you would call it? No, that wasn't the right word. He moved with purpose, with a mission. Albeit the Wolf had no idea what that purpose was, he still knew it was there. So wandering could not accurately describe what his motion was. That implied a sense of being lost, of knowing not what you were doing. Although Ivan had no idea where he was going, he still knew he was going somewhere. So what was it then? Was it a blind march? A dedicated tromp? Or was it just walking?
As he continued his march, he absentmindedly let his left hand hang out and drag along the surface of the Asylum wall. This place was Hell. It stunk of death and decay and it's very walls simply radiated with darkness. The cells held the bones of those not lucky enough to be let out before the shit hit the fan, and because of that they now had the unlikeable existence as local bones for this place. Nothing more then something to add lore to the old crazy house. Smiling lightly to himself the Wolf mused about all of this. Was there anything left in this world that couldn't be turned into a fairytale to scare children into behaving well? Mutants ran rampant as those left unscathed waged their unholy war upon one another. If this wasn't Hell, Ivan would hate to see the real place.
On silent feet the Wolf walked to the large window that stood before him, the view before him was one that still shocked him to look upon. Even with Wolven eyes there was little to see out there, there was little left worth seeing. Generators were all that was left to pump any lifeblood into this city, and those that still were running seemed to be few and far in between. It was dark out there, and not dark in the sense that it was hard to see. It was dark in the way that even Ivan had little idea what it was he looked upon. The city was dead, yet amazingly still managed to hold so much life within in. Starring out he couldn't help but wonder one thing; how the fuck had they let all this happen?
Had it been arrogance? A sense of being untouchable? The Immortals on the Council had all been veterans of the War, and most of them had been at Colgon Manor. Hell, most of the Immortals had even been fighting one another centuries before that. Had it been that little fact? They had survived all the wars that had been thrown at them, they had always walked away with a sense of victory and once peace fell upon the land they had thought themselves Gods? Ivan didn't know, he couldn't remember. It was funny, the treaty lasted for nearly twenty years, but all of that seemed gone after only two years of this. Two decades of peace swallowed in a heartbeat by little more then a moment of darkness. Was that how evil worked?
A clenched jaw and tightly balled fists were all one needed to see as they looked upon the Wolf to see this was not what he had expected. In his darkest dreams, his most twisted nightmares, he could never have seen this or even fathomed such a place. And that simple fact made it all worse. He had allowed himself to be surprised. Laziness and a sense of contentment had fallen upon his shoulders in the time of the Council, as he had served upon a blind group of leaders. He had watched close friends die, he had watched hated enemies give their lives for people only a century before they had sworn a genocide against. The Treaty had brought enemies together for the first time in nearly a millennium; then it had raped it all away. They had allowed everything to taken away from them by a sniveling Vampire and a group of unruly rebels. They had allowed the War they secretly wanted to spill over, and in that moment they had created an evil far stronger then they had wanted.
Snarling loudly the Lycan grabbed the arm rest of a long rotted and decayed couch, and with the ferocious strength of an enraged beast hurled the thing as if it were nothing. The sofa flew out the window, and bringing with it the sound of shattering glass. Breathing calmly, the Wolf starred at the glass shards upon the floor and had a grim indifference in his eyes. Was that all that was left? Destruction? Violence? Was there nothing else in this world that could make sense to him? Stepping towards the mutilated window frame, the Wolf felt a cold winter breeze rush through and dance across his body. He, however, felt nothing. It had been that way for nearly a year now, ever since he had allowed himself to lose control..
"Stop it!" The first words uttered by the carnal beast. They were a threatening command directed only at himself. He had made peace with his actions long ago; there was nothing he could do for her now. Becoming nothing more then a depressed lump of nothing would bring only more trouble his way. He had done what he had done, that was simply something the Wolf had to accept. And in his desperate attempts to come to grips with those past actions, the man had looked for any possible positive to his situation. It was in these moments of self-searching that he had found something within his body that he had never seen in such a way before.
The parasite ridden blood that surged through his blood, his blackened blood, was something that gave him an edge. He was no longer an ordinary Wolf, and that was his weapon. He was now something like Strike, the only being of a certain breed. However, unlike the Kragarian, Ivan's was not something of birth or a noble breed...he was the victim of a virus. A parasitic disease that surged through his body. His golden eyes, the black veins that covered his body, all of these things were proof of what he had become. All of these things were constant reminders of what had been given up to become this.
"A trade off...?" The words he spoke gently to himself were ones that only fueled the fire within himself. A trade? He now referred to such things as a trade? Snarling loudly to himself, the Wolf spun around on his heel. He was tired of the view, tired of looking into nothing and within it seeing everything. Stalking down the halls, the Wolf felt a sense of anger, of menace lurking within himself. It was something he hated. He knew at one time he had been good, he had been a Wolf who wanted only what was best for his kind. But what now? Had he truly come back because he wanted what was best for Wolves? Or had he come back for something more selfish, for something darker?
Stopping suddenly in the corridor Ivan took a deep breath trying to calm himself. Closing his eyes the Wolf attempted to calm himself. He was here for the good of his species, he was here to do what. ' And if that is what you must tell yourself, Ivan, so be it. Though we know it is a lie...' That voice. That hollow sound that rang within him, what was it? Was it his conscience, was it his secret desire? Whatever it was Ivan had no idea, though he knew it was something he despised. His eyes shot open, those golden orbs shining with defiance, with hatred...and at the same time knowing those dark words to be true.
His powerful fist struck the steel door to the cell of the Asylum with the force that a maddened creature could summon. The dented door struck with cell wall and clanged rather loudly to the ground, not that the beast cared at all for anyone who heard. Breathing heavily Ivan attempted to calm himself, attempted to regain control. Of everything that had changed in this world, of all the darkness that had been allowed to take root he often found himself wondering; had he too been so deeply affected by it all? At times he could almost convince himself he hadn't been, but other times he wasn't so sure anymore.
Swaying on his heels, the Wolf once again starred down the corridor to the window. His eyes focusing out into the darkness, out into nothing. Perhaps that was why the city was such an attraction to him. It was so dark, so full of cruelty and menace; but at the same time there was something more to it. Standing to his full height the Wolf found himself once again standing before the destroyed window, breeze soothing his body and soul. Was that what he loved so much about this view? Or was it the Beast within him that loved the sight of such carnage and horror? Was he pleasing the Man or the Animal...?
Or better question; which one was he anymore? Was he the man who wished to only help his pack mates of old, or was he the Beast who wished to take the pack for himself. Was Ivan even Ivan anymore..?
As he continued his march, he absentmindedly let his left hand hang out and drag along the surface of the Asylum wall. This place was Hell. It stunk of death and decay and it's very walls simply radiated with darkness. The cells held the bones of those not lucky enough to be let out before the shit hit the fan, and because of that they now had the unlikeable existence as local bones for this place. Nothing more then something to add lore to the old crazy house. Smiling lightly to himself the Wolf mused about all of this. Was there anything left in this world that couldn't be turned into a fairytale to scare children into behaving well? Mutants ran rampant as those left unscathed waged their unholy war upon one another. If this wasn't Hell, Ivan would hate to see the real place.
On silent feet the Wolf walked to the large window that stood before him, the view before him was one that still shocked him to look upon. Even with Wolven eyes there was little to see out there, there was little left worth seeing. Generators were all that was left to pump any lifeblood into this city, and those that still were running seemed to be few and far in between. It was dark out there, and not dark in the sense that it was hard to see. It was dark in the way that even Ivan had little idea what it was he looked upon. The city was dead, yet amazingly still managed to hold so much life within in. Starring out he couldn't help but wonder one thing; how the fuck had they let all this happen?
Had it been arrogance? A sense of being untouchable? The Immortals on the Council had all been veterans of the War, and most of them had been at Colgon Manor. Hell, most of the Immortals had even been fighting one another centuries before that. Had it been that little fact? They had survived all the wars that had been thrown at them, they had always walked away with a sense of victory and once peace fell upon the land they had thought themselves Gods? Ivan didn't know, he couldn't remember. It was funny, the treaty lasted for nearly twenty years, but all of that seemed gone after only two years of this. Two decades of peace swallowed in a heartbeat by little more then a moment of darkness. Was that how evil worked?
A clenched jaw and tightly balled fists were all one needed to see as they looked upon the Wolf to see this was not what he had expected. In his darkest dreams, his most twisted nightmares, he could never have seen this or even fathomed such a place. And that simple fact made it all worse. He had allowed himself to be surprised. Laziness and a sense of contentment had fallen upon his shoulders in the time of the Council, as he had served upon a blind group of leaders. He had watched close friends die, he had watched hated enemies give their lives for people only a century before they had sworn a genocide against. The Treaty had brought enemies together for the first time in nearly a millennium; then it had raped it all away. They had allowed everything to taken away from them by a sniveling Vampire and a group of unruly rebels. They had allowed the War they secretly wanted to spill over, and in that moment they had created an evil far stronger then they had wanted.
Snarling loudly the Lycan grabbed the arm rest of a long rotted and decayed couch, and with the ferocious strength of an enraged beast hurled the thing as if it were nothing. The sofa flew out the window, and bringing with it the sound of shattering glass. Breathing calmly, the Wolf starred at the glass shards upon the floor and had a grim indifference in his eyes. Was that all that was left? Destruction? Violence? Was there nothing else in this world that could make sense to him? Stepping towards the mutilated window frame, the Wolf felt a cold winter breeze rush through and dance across his body. He, however, felt nothing. It had been that way for nearly a year now, ever since he had allowed himself to lose control..
"Stop it!" The first words uttered by the carnal beast. They were a threatening command directed only at himself. He had made peace with his actions long ago; there was nothing he could do for her now. Becoming nothing more then a depressed lump of nothing would bring only more trouble his way. He had done what he had done, that was simply something the Wolf had to accept. And in his desperate attempts to come to grips with those past actions, the man had looked for any possible positive to his situation. It was in these moments of self-searching that he had found something within his body that he had never seen in such a way before.
The parasite ridden blood that surged through his blood, his blackened blood, was something that gave him an edge. He was no longer an ordinary Wolf, and that was his weapon. He was now something like Strike, the only being of a certain breed. However, unlike the Kragarian, Ivan's was not something of birth or a noble breed...he was the victim of a virus. A parasitic disease that surged through his body. His golden eyes, the black veins that covered his body, all of these things were proof of what he had become. All of these things were constant reminders of what had been given up to become this.
"A trade off...?" The words he spoke gently to himself were ones that only fueled the fire within himself. A trade? He now referred to such things as a trade? Snarling loudly to himself, the Wolf spun around on his heel. He was tired of the view, tired of looking into nothing and within it seeing everything. Stalking down the halls, the Wolf felt a sense of anger, of menace lurking within himself. It was something he hated. He knew at one time he had been good, he had been a Wolf who wanted only what was best for his kind. But what now? Had he truly come back because he wanted what was best for Wolves? Or had he come back for something more selfish, for something darker?
Stopping suddenly in the corridor Ivan took a deep breath trying to calm himself. Closing his eyes the Wolf attempted to calm himself. He was here for the good of his species, he was here to do what. ' And if that is what you must tell yourself, Ivan, so be it. Though we know it is a lie...' That voice. That hollow sound that rang within him, what was it? Was it his conscience, was it his secret desire? Whatever it was Ivan had no idea, though he knew it was something he despised. His eyes shot open, those golden orbs shining with defiance, with hatred...and at the same time knowing those dark words to be true.
His powerful fist struck the steel door to the cell of the Asylum with the force that a maddened creature could summon. The dented door struck with cell wall and clanged rather loudly to the ground, not that the beast cared at all for anyone who heard. Breathing heavily Ivan attempted to calm himself, attempted to regain control. Of everything that had changed in this world, of all the darkness that had been allowed to take root he often found himself wondering; had he too been so deeply affected by it all? At times he could almost convince himself he hadn't been, but other times he wasn't so sure anymore.
Swaying on his heels, the Wolf once again starred down the corridor to the window. His eyes focusing out into the darkness, out into nothing. Perhaps that was why the city was such an attraction to him. It was so dark, so full of cruelty and menace; but at the same time there was something more to it. Standing to his full height the Wolf found himself once again standing before the destroyed window, breeze soothing his body and soul. Was that what he loved so much about this view? Or was it the Beast within him that loved the sight of such carnage and horror? Was he pleasing the Man or the Animal...?
Or better question; which one was he anymore? Was he the man who wished to only help his pack mates of old, or was he the Beast who wished to take the pack for himself. Was Ivan even Ivan anymore..?