Spirits of the Earth

Sandaled feet kicked at the sand, clouds of dust swirling around tired, worn feet as the teenager sprinted onwards, keeping his lavender eyes straight ahead. Shouts sounded off behind him, a deep, indignant yell that sliced through the marketplace, accompanied by the huffing and puffing sound of someone's breath giving out. They couldn't chase after him forever, no, but Sekani had to admit that this was the longest time that someone had pursued him this far. Inside, he was pumped full of adrenaline — the mere thought that he might get caught this time around rather enthralled him, which was the only legitimate reason as to how Kani was able to keep going for so long. Every threat and shout directed his way only made him smirk to himself in a gloating fashion, heart pounding in his chest, letting his feet carry him across this wasteland.

He spun around, switching gears so that he was now running backwards — a skill he had picked up during his time with that band of thieves, which had proved to be handy on numerous occasions. Sekani couldn't help but let a grin slide over his features, seeing the shock sketched over the shopkeeper's face, more determined to catch him than ever. Effortlessly, he slid his hand towards his neck, bending his head downwards to remove the silver pocket-watch he had swiped from their store, swinging it back and forth on his index finger, lavender eyes following it steadily. "It'd be easier to give up!" Sekani laughed, and saw the old shopkeeper narrow his eyes in frustrated. Surely, he couldn't hold out much longer. Luck was always on his side when it came to this sort of thing — what made today any different?

Shaking his head, Sekani switched gears again, running forward, when the sharp sound of barking off in the distance caught his attention. It was like he was running towards them — which was impossible in his mind; where the hell would they come from? He heard the shopkeeper let out a hazy laugh, speaking of how his 'backup' had finally been released. As he spoke, lavender eyes searched the horizon, and sure enough, a pack of rabid dogs were racing towards him in the distance, eyes wild with an untamable hate. He held his breath, but only for a moment, because while the shopkeeper and given up the chase, the portly man was laughing. He was laughing and wheezing and trying to catch his breath all at once, while Sekani wondered how he could've underestimated the security around here. Damnit! Dogs? What next?

Back in Zantaric, it was easier to steal, but maybe that was because he knew his turf well enough. He skidded around an alleyway, twisted and turned through the streets and small buildings, feeling his heart jump up in his mouth at every turn he took. Finally, the lad felt himself stop, unable to carry on, the silver pocket watch clasped in his hand, its chain leaking out of his hands. He crouched down, placing his hand on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath, ignoring the sound of the dogs that sounded off in the distance. Locks of blonde hair that hung by the nape of his neck were drenched with sweat, along with his cream vest and khakis. Swears were uttered under his breath as Sekani felt his mind race, attempting to think his way out of this one. But somehow, the only words that came to mind were,

"Shit, I'm screwed."[/list]

He hated it here. There were very few places that invoked emotion in the werewolf, but really hot, bland placed did it. Such as Essyrn. But this is where the job had brought him. To this hot place, to this alley way, to kill some man he only knew the name of, and the description. S'ric couldn't recall the reason the twig of a man had a hit on him, or if he'd even bothered to ask. But this far away from home, the pay was worth it. Even if it meant he'd be in this sticky, bright heat. Because he'd had to shed his heavier, enchanted clothes, S'ric had remained in his human form for this hit. Blood trickled down his cheek from his temple, and down along his jaw where the man had been lucky enough to strike. There and his side. The thin black fabric he'd used for a shirt was torn, where a steadily healing sword would  cause the shirt to stick along his side. If there was pain, none of it registered on his stoic features or frosty blue eyes.

After eyeing the stick man's corpse for what had to be several minutes, S'ric leaned over and picked up the sword that had been used against him. It was light in his grasp... everything was... but this was unnaturally so. Some magical blade he'd stolen, made the man's reflexes unnaturally fast. It'd been the only reason he'd scored the hits he had. Not that the small cuts bothered S'ric. It'd take more than that for him to even be aware he'd been injured. With the blade reclaimed as proof of the kill, the werewolf turned to make his way out of the ally. And stopped. He took a deep breath as his head tilted to the side a little. Dogs. Did he hear... dogs? A hint of distaste washed over his features, a brief breeze of emotion across an otherwise frigid face. S'ric hated domesticated canines. Or dogs in general. Lesser breeds of his more animalistic cousins. Worthless, annoying... yappy. Each bark grated on his otherwise heat razed nerves.

Generally annoyed, he continued on his way. The body would be taken care of by scavengers. He wasn't hungry... and the twig man wasn't his sort of meal. He'd been dirty, little meat value there... He turned down an alley and then stopped as his blue eyes landed on a boy. Doubled over in what had to be flight. It annoyed the werewolf further that he'd not heard the boy. It had to be the dogs. The damned dogs had drown out the sound of his heavy breathing... or more accurately, it had been more annoying to him than some panting human. Considering S'ric was bleeding from his temple and side, with a bloodied sword in his hand... standing at an intimidating 6'8"... he was hardly the sight someone running away from anyone would –want- to see. Of course, the only other options were the dogs that were making their way here... Much to S'ric's annoyance. "They're after you," he said then, voice as bitter as the coldest of winters. The man could invoke frost even here.

As his heartbeats slid back to their normal rate, Sekani straightened himself up, mind still unable to comprehend how he had gotten into this situation. Lavender eyes slid back over to the silver pocket watch he had grasped in his hand, the silver chain attached to its top spilling out of his hand in a lazy fashion. The teen almost groaned to himself – why had he risked capture, just for this silly trinket? It was true that this sort of thing had never happened to the dark-skinned lad though – the shopkeepers he had dealt with had never bothered to keep a batch of dogs around, just for the possibility of thieves. Maybe he should've stayed in his own backyard after all. But there was no time for regrets now. If he didn't start moving, those dogs would probably rip him to shreds. Or worse.

He placed a hand at his side, reaching for the Staff of Solis, and turned swiftly to his side, eyes widening at his did so. Near him loomed perhaps the tallest man Sekani had ever laid eyes on, his very aura frosty and cold, as if this man's innards were sculpted from naught but ice alone. Unconsciously did Sekani take a step back – his thief intuition unconsciously at work. He knew when he was not a match for someone, and the fact that this man was doing nothing but standing there ominously was enough to make him wonder just what he wanted. Instantly, the thief's mind jumped to conclusions, assuming him to be another part of the shopkeeper's arsenal of weapons he probably had stored up for thieves like him. For the first time in his life, Sekani found himself tongue-tied, sandaled feet glued to the floor, unable to move, even if he wished.

"They're after you."

With a chilling tone, those were the man's words, although Sekani found himself slightly annoyed. Here he was, in a life or death situation with all the stops pulled out on him by this persistent shopkeeper, and now there was some big hulking brute, looming over him, only to tell him what he already knew. Despite the fact that he knew this man could probably break him in half if he wanted to, the eighteen year old no longer cared about the possible threat that he held.

"I can see that," he grunted, placing his left hand on his hip, the other hand gripping the golden staff at his side. It was cold, unfortunately – he wasn't angry enough yet to defend himself with it, which would probably prove troublesome if those dogs were as vicious as they all sounded. "Did you come here to tell me the obvious, or turn me in?" His question only proved his paranoia, which didn't die down, even though the dogs were not the fastest in the world, and he was still safe – for now. He narrowed his eyes at the dark stranger, but couldn't bring himself to stare him down. The stranger's eyes were too cold to look into...[/list]

The barking was really starting to get to him. But the beasts would be close enough to sense S'ric. And if that didn't send them running, then a sharp growl would. Dogs didn't stick around S'ric for very long, no matter how feral. Most of them were terribly aware that the werewolf was more than a match. Animals didn't need a show of strength when coming up against something that could eat them. They just left. Which is what the boy should have done. Conversing with S'ric wasn't the wisest course of action. Especially an already annoyed, hot S'ric.

"Did you come here to tell me the obvious, or turn me in."

S'ric stared for a moment before his expression cracked with the faintest flicker of disapproval. Snappy comments on top of heat and dogs... He was really starting to get irked. With a soft growl added to his words, S'ric hissed in a low tone, "I don't turn in anyone. I eat them." Was he being threatening? Yes. Was he in a foul mood? Yes. Did he plan on taking that out on the first thing he came across? Oh hell yes. And this boy with his snappy comment seemed the perfect stress relief. Being a creature of decisiveness, and already making up his mind, he pushed the blade into the ground so it would remain upright, before taking a step toward the boy. Just one step, and every bit of him moved with an animalistic purpose that no human could match. With the reach that came with his tall frame, S'ric moved to grab the boy. Just his arm, and just to reinforce that he wasn't going anywhere unless S'ric wanted him to. "Would you prefer I turn you in?" He growled softly, watching the unfortunate boy that had the terrible luck to be here when he was in a bad mood.

Right now, S'ric could do one of two things. Leave the boy to the dogs and the people after him, or take him. On the one hand, there was no reason to deny the hunters their quarry. They boy had done nothing to really catch S'ric's attention, nor provoke him to do anything particularly violent. Though, with his wounds, he was starting to get a little hungry...

"I don't turn in anyone. I eat them."

Out of nowhere, with a primal instinct, Sekani's arm found itself in the stranger's tight grip — he was now, effortlessly, the man's prisoner. He tried to be mad about this, he really did. The lad had always thought that his temper could be unrivaled by anyone he knew, but today, one event just kept piling onto the other, and all of these occurrences were all so unbelievably horrid, he just had to laugh. A smirk crept onto his frail features, obviously oblivious as to the dangers he was put in at this moment. Either that, or, he was too stressed to give a damn anymore. Wasn't that how his father went out? He had went crazy by the stress of the streets, and sooner rather than later, he was locked up in jail. Sekani had promised that would never happen to him, but what if apathy ran in his blood?

"Eat me?" Sekani echoed, doubt etched in his voice.  He imagined himself literally being eaten, but could not see himself being a filling meal. The lad was far too frail — but then again, this stranger probably did not mean that he was going to literally eat him... Right? It was hard to tell — Sekani dared not look in his eyes, no matter how humorous he found this situation, there was still some sane part of him that knew that looking him square in the face was probably a bad idea. But then that little bit of sanity died, and pride took over, lavender eyes pulling themselves upwards towards chilling blue eyes — and regretting it. Still, he held his ground. "Dude, literally? Do I look like a filling meal to you?" Although he knew it would be fruitless, he attempted to remove his arm of the man's persistent grip, wiggled it a tad, but found the act useless. Shit.

"Would you prefer I turn you in?"

Sekani pondered that possibility for a few moments. "I don't think you're really giving me a choice here," he grunted sarcastically, suppressing a bitter laugh. "But honestly? I won't let you do either. There's no way in hell I'm getting my ass turned in, not after I've been running so long." His thoughts drifted back to his idiot father —  caught by normal shopkeepers in a compromising situation, one that could've easily been avoided if he had just kept his fucking head on straight. He hadn't even went down with pride either, but had screamed and bawled his eyes out, his sanity truly lost. Was he doomed to go down that road as well?

He attempted to keep eye contact, face full of defiance. There was no way he was getting out of this man's grip, and sure enough, what he had said before was a lie. If this man was going to turn him in, then he would. But Sekani would be... well, eaten, before that happened. "You can go ahead and try to eat me, you won't like what happens." A blatant lie, since his Staff was useless, and Sekani was definitely not going to be able to take this guy down. But even if he was going down, he was going down with pride... hopefully. [/list]

There were a few different human emotions that were lost to S'ric. Some he simply did not understand. He was too far gone for it, too wrapped up in the wolf part of him. And sarcasm was one of those emotions. It was very rare for him to express it, and he hated when it was used on him. Why? Because it was an annoying habit mortals had in that they attempted to feel superior through wit. Considering S'ric could break most people he met, acting superior around him only made his wolf bristle and his eyes smolder with irritated anger. What did some to cool S'ric down was that the boy had yet to meet his eyes. No real direct challenge, and S'ric had accepted that some humans used sarcasm when they were afraid. Which he could accept.

"Dude, literally? Do I look like a filling meal to you?"

What tiny bit of empathy S'ric had died the moment those words left the boy's mouth, and he looked up at S'ric. Actually looked at him. His grip was like steel, to the point he wasn't even aware he'd tried to wiggle out of it. There was a soft warning growl that came from his throat. It was one thing to look S'ric in the eyes, it was another to do so with the amount of defiance and disbelief the boy did. The growl was all the warning he would get... and the dogs had gotten much closer... and promptly silenced themselves. S'ric was more focused on Sekani, but would not hesitate to turn the mounting anger on them. He was annoyed to the point he radiated it.

Then, the boy continued to talk. "I don't think you're really giving me a choice her. But honestly? I won't let you do either. There's no way in hell I'm getting my ass turned in, not after I've been running so long."

That was the last of it. Sarcasm would be ignored, defiance even, but telling S'ric he could not do something while in a clear position of a submissive? Not only the wolf in him, but the man bristled. The warning was gone. There was no second chances with S'ric. He heard the dogs whimper then retreat from the area just as Sekani said the words that sealed his fate. "You can go ahead and try to eat me, you won't like what happens."

S'ric's free hand gripped Sekani's throat, enough to cut off another sound. If the boy tried for a breath, he'd manage to get a small one. S'ric wanted him aware for what he was going to say. The werewolf leaned over, bringing his face close to the boys, before whispering in a deadly soft whisper, "You're going to find that I do what I want, and there is nothing you –can- do about it." He hovered close to Sekani, his eyes boring into the boys, -daring- him to say one more thing that would push S'ric from verbal threats to something far more physical. He was hungry, annoyed, and now very intent on showing this boy just what sort of beast he'd run into. Sekani would've lucked out if he'd been caught by the shop keeper.

Before the dark-skinned lad knew what was coming to him, he felt the stranger's hand clamped around his throat. Like a stainless-steel choker, except worse somehow, because this man had fire waltzing in his eyes, and could probably snap it at any given chance. Alright, so he had pushed his limit — but somewhere deep down, he had known he had pushed his limit. His pride was his downfall, his brothers had told him that more times than the eighteen year old could count. He tightened his fists, panic flashing in his eyes as his heart raced nervously in his chest. Instantly, he could see his own death played out in front of him, this stranger snapping his neck and leaving him here on the sand to die, while the dogs came and kicked at his corpse. Shit. Shit. Shit. Swears raced through his mind like river rapids. No way in hell he was dying here.

"You're going to find that I do what I want, and there is nothing you –can- do about it."

Pride was the devil. Pride was that little insect that crawled in his head and made him do things he probably never should. Why did he always feel the need to be defiant, even when some extremely large man hand his hand clamped over his neck. Damnit man, he was going to die! He tried to let the reality sink in, but somehow it wouldn't. There would always be that small part of Sekani that thought he was invincible. Despite the odds. Despite that his neck could easily be snapped... The lad let fear sink into his eyes without much of a thought, wondering just how in the name of all that lived and breathed was he going to get himself out of this one.

Hell if he could talk. Hell if he could even breathe. He tore his eyes away from the man, lavender eyes casting downwards, wondering if he could even pretend to play submissive, even though on the inside, he was burning with rage. The Staff of Solis was finally heating up at his side, burning his thighs, but a lot of good that thing would do against a big brute like this stranger. Sekani barely even knew how to wield it, nevertheless use it in a proper fight. So what was the point? What was the point of anything? Now he knew why his father had been sent away laughing — because to a master thief, the thought of being caught was laughable. So he prayed that the stranger wouldn't see the delirium in his eyes, that urge to laugh this all away, and saw a submissive little boy who suddenly realized that he could probably die here. He doubted that chance though. He surely did doubt it. [/list]

The matter was already decided. The boy looked down, away from him, but the tension in his body wasn't a submissive pose. S'ric was more animal than man, he could read physical signs more than he counted on anything else. With a soft snarl, he released the boy's neck, but kept a hold of his arm. "You're coming with me," S'ric stated, his voice broking for no argument. Then, letting the boy have the full weight of his gaze, he added, "If you scream for help, or make too much noise in general, I'm going to knock you unconscious." S'ric was hungry, and wanted to get out of this heat. This boy would prove to be a good enough distraction.

Without waiting for an answer, S'ric twisted back around and pulled the blood stained blade from the ground. It only served to remind him he had his own wounds. The one along his temple had healed already, leaving a trail of blood, while the one on his side would take a little longer.
It had been the deeper of the two.

He glanced down the way he'd come, and the way the boy had shown up. Neither route was really an option. With an annoyed sigh, S'ric pulled the boy close, actually against his side. His grip was transferred, rather quickly, so that S'ric was holding him around the waist to his side. Sekani's arms were free, though that didn't really matter to S'ric. He'd been maimed before, his eyes even gouged out. Years, and his shape shifting, were on his side. If he had to turn into a wolf to drag Sekani back, than he would. Granted, it would only annoy him further. With his arm tight around Sekani, he looked up, judged the height, then jumped at one side of the building, using that to launch himself at the other, then back again. He hopped between the two until he landed on the roof, the full heat of the sun beating down on him. The faster he got back to his room, the better. He'd have a tub of water waiting for him.

Relief washed over Sekani as his neck was released, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Immediately did the boy clasp his hands at his throat, rubbing its base, wondering just how in the hell he had managed to get out of this one. He had seen his death as clear as day, to the point where he wondered why he was still breathing, but did not want to question it. As soon as he was free, his first thought was to leave – leave right now. Where had his pride gone? Perhaps he had finally managed to swallow it, but hell if Sekani knew or cared at this point. He had already planned his escape route – just make like a spider up a couple of houses, zig zag across the bazaar and he'd be in the clear! But unfortunately, that wasn't the case. No, apparently he was going to pay for being a sarcastic little schmuck. There really was no justice in this world, was there?

His arm was held prisoner again, and the stranger was barking another order, which all spelled out to the simple fact that he wanted Sekani quiet. The lad bit his lip, knowing what would happen if he could not hold back his laughter once again. Fuck, why was everything always so funny to him all the damn time? When had life turned into a joke? Probably when everything had started getting complicated. Probably when he had learned that even though his dad was, literally, a psychopath, the only person he had ever cared about was his own son, who he had even betrayed in the end.  Swears raced though his mind once more at the thought.

Without answering the man – what does what say to such statements? – the stranger pressed Sekani to his side and leaped up the nearest building, causing Sekani's heart to pound in terror as he did so. Heights! He hated heights with a fiery passion – there was a reason why he was a petty marketplace thief, and that was because he didn't have to deal with heights! But here was this crazy psycho who was jumping up frickin' buildings? Sekani suppressed a swear, along with the many questions that popped up in his mind like

where the hell are we going? and just what in god's name are you? and why are you doing this? He knew better now, but couldn't help his anger at this whole situation – he was practically being treated like a toy. The Staff of Solis burned in his side pocket, but again, it was useless. What could he do against this large man? Any attempt would probably make what was going to happen to him worse. [/list]

S'ric paused on the roof to get his bearing, glancing around with narrowed eyes in the bright light. He hated it up here. Rather, he hated the bright light. With a soft growl of continued annoyance, S'ric began making his way in the general direction of his temporary rooms. It took him a moment to determine which direction it was. Thankfully, his room was on the top floor, with a window.

What he'd forgotten was the deep wound along his side. The side the boy was currently pressed against. What had started out as a small distraction when he'd hoped up the side of the building turned into a much more insistent tug at the back of his mind. It stung with the boy pressed against him. And that made him shiver, and his eyes glaze over briefly. S'ric –liked- pain.

His jaw tensed as he hopped over the gap between one building and another, this time the jolt along his side more pronounced. Had the wound torn open from the jostling? Was that why it stung so sweetly? He crossed another roof and made another jump. This time, when he landed he had to pause. Yes, his wound had been torn open. And yes, it felt deliciously sharp. His hand dug a little into Sekani's side as he took a deep breath. Not much farther. S'ric didn't care he was bleeding down his side, and all over the boy. He was more distracted by the pain, and the way it raced up his spine and made him shiver.

Two more hops and even regular walking was starting to distract. With a soft growl, this one of a more subdued nature, he finally found the alley where his window was located. The werewolf took a moment to judge, then shifted his grip on the sword and threw it like a spear in the window. He heard it crash against the floor. The window was beneath where they stood, on the opposite side. After collecting himself and ignoring the way the pain thrummed along his body, he made as if to jump into the ally... and grabbed the edge of the roof with his free hand. This caused both he and his prize to bang against the wall. His grip tightened as he shivered with pain, then braced himself along the wall. This gave him the right angel to actually throw Sekani into the room much like he had the sword. He was right behind the boy, so there was no hope of him getting out.

The room was rather sparse. There was a bed, a desk, and the tub he'd been waiting for. He'd had the water drawn up, expecting to return shortly after hunting down his quarry. The guest had been unexpected, but that was fine. S'ric's side was bleeding freely, and he shivered again now  that he was free to focus more on the sensation.

Sekani had been treated like a lot of things in his past. He'd been the scapegoat, the one on the pedestal, that guy that everyone seemed to have a beef with... But he'd never been treated as a playtoy before. No, he had never been treated as an object before. It still baffled him how this large stranger could merely just grab onto him and start ascending the tops of buildings like he was your friendly neighborhood superhero. But he wasn't friendly, and hell if he was any damn superhero. With every leap the man took, Sekani felt his stomach turn inside out, and felt as if he was going to heave. But he doubted the stranger would like that, and would bet his Staff that anything he did to annoy the stranger even more was only going to make his life even more of a living hell at the moment. So he constantly choked down that urge to puke – literally.

But now, here was something to make the "ride" even more unpleasant – blood. Sekani had seen blood before, had shed it, had shed his own, but apparently, this stranger had gotten himself into a little scuffle, and had a wound that was spilling out ruby red blood from his side, the side where Sekani was pressed against. He gulped, trying to calm his breathing, trying to ignore the fact that this stranger man's blood was all over his sides, drenching him even. What was he to him? Just some tool to carry around on buildings and bleed on? Yeah, sure, why the hell not? Sekani took deep breaths, trying to keep his anger under control. Should the Staff of Solis make itself known in this sort of situation, who knew what the stranger would do to it. The Staff was the only piece Sekani had left of his father, and could not loose it, especially not now.

The last jump was probably the worst, for the man grabbed at the roof of the building, slamming both himself and Sekani into the wall. He heard the Staff of Solis make a jingling sound at the slam, which was his first and foremost worry. His second worry was that his head felt like a coconut being split open, which couldn't be good... His whole side stung, like fire ants crawling up his skin, but Sekani didn't have time to dwell on the uncomfortable feeling. Sooner rather than later, he was thrown into the room, and because he was so frail, flew perfectly through the window, body skidding across the floor until he hit the wall. Groaning to himself, he clutched at his side, looked onwards with amazement at his hand, soaked in the ruby red liquid. He couldn't help but laugh, but this time, he was obvious delirious. "Nice place you got here. You drag people here often?" was his quip, apparently forgetting what had happened the last time he had spoken to this man. He let his arm fall free from his side, tired, pushing the Staff deeper into his pocket. It didn't matter what happened to him, as long as the trinket was safe...

S'ric took a moment to get a hold of himself and ignore the wound. The black shirt was ruined, what with the gash and blood soaking the side. With a disgusted look, S'ric actually tore it from his body. With the light fabric gone, Sekani was left with a rather extensive view of his torso and the plethora of scars decorating it. From the small, and barely noticeable, to a deep rend that went from the middle of his chest to his belly button. Like someone had tried to split him open vertically. And while S'ric was a scarred man, he was also nothing but muscle. Not the sort that was bulky, but more like tempered steel. Slender, powerful, it oozed from him. Each movement caused a play of muscle motion beneath the skin, a look that was not wholly human.

The cut along his side continued to trickle, momentarily drawing his attention before S'ric pulled a knife from a sheath along his hip, then promptly buried the blade to the hilt in the wall. Only then was he aware that Sekani had said something. S'ric looked back to the boy, and noted that he was covered in S'ric's blood. He was about to be... nice-ish... or rather, lazy, by telling the boy to clean himself up. However, since he'd thought to keep talking, S'ric made his way over to Sekani. He growled a little, annoyed, but not as much as before. He wasn't in the direct light of the sun, the shade of the room was cooler... and the pain had dulled the anger into something a little more... manageable. At least he didn't feel like breaking the boy... But he was hungry. So the annoyed look turned into one a hawk might have for a mouse.

However, S'ric wasn't about to go munching on Sekani... unless he was fully healthy and would survive said munching. That was the only reason S'ric stopped at arms length away, studying Sekani for wounds or the like. "Is all that blood mine?" he asked then. S'ric couldn't see or smell a wound, but the air was thick with the stench of his own blood. It was a heady smell, one that further soothed his anger and was steadily bringing to light a more... hungrier side. And not the sort that simply wanted a meal.

His mind was only filled with plans and schemes on how to escape from his place. Of course, there was some intelligent part of his mind that told him attempting to flee was a bad idea, but Sekani was never the sort of person who listened to his instincts, oh hell no. He doubted that he could bring himself to be angry enough to actually activate the Staff's power – the lad was too perplexed to feel anything else at the time. This whole situation was compromising and extremely embarrassing to say so in the least, but nothing had provoked enough anger to get the useless weapon to work. Stabbing the bloke in the eye with it's end probably wouldn't do anything either. This guy probably was hardcore enough to eat out the eyes of innocent souls for breakfast. The teen let his head loll to his side, the stranger coming up into full view again.

The man was littered with scars, which intrigued Kani more than it scared him. What the hell kind of battles did this guy get himself into? And who –  or what –  could be strong enough to actually pierce this guy? He didn't want to know, definitely didn't want to know. He sort of wished he could un-see all of the scars, for such a sight would probably burn its way into his nightmares forever. At least he would have something to talk about if he ever got out of here and saw his brothers again. The lad could see them now, him telling a tall tale of how he had been captured by some total stranger, almost strangled, and then was dragged across rooftops and actually tossed into his room. They wouldn't believe it, of course. Too bad the ride hadn't given him any physical scars... He was almost sorry he had no proof of this strange ordeal.

Lavender eyes perked up as the stranger neared his way towards him, wondering what else could possibly be in store. He did not dare look the stranger in the face again, so instead, he concentrated on his feet, biting his tongue back, ordering his defiant lips to shut up, just for once in his life. At the inquiry if the blood was all his, Sekani bobbed his head up and down, that delirious smirk still etched onto his features. "Yeah, this is all yours right here," Sekani informed, holding up his bloodied hand, twisting it about in order to examine the crimson liquid that stained his skin. He looked up to towards the stranger again, lavender eyes curious. "What the hell happened to you anyway? Someone try to snack on you?" He laughed at the prospect, not able to imagine it. And it was then that he remembered the stranger's words. "I don't turn people in. I eat them," he had said. Lavender eyes went blank at the memory, and he quickly turned away from the stranger. He muttered a single vulgarity under his breath, and decided now would be the best time to start believing in a god.

S'ric smirked then when he was told the blood was all his. Excellent. Exactly what he'd wanted to hear. He was hungry, very much so. While the wounds had done little to no real damage, and the blood loss was minimal, he was hardly going to pass up on what he'd brought back to his room. If the boy hadn't been such a smart ass, then the situation would've been different. S'ric leaned over as though he was going to grab Sekani, but instead, reached for the blade he'd thrown in first.  He carried the proof of a job completed to the desk, setting it on the top before turning back to Sekani.

The werewolf glanced between the boy and the window. The odds that Sekani could get away from him were incredibly slim. It would be terribly amusing if the boy tried though. This time, when S'ric moved back over to the boy, he dipped a hand in the water and ran it through his short, white hair. He was still so very warm, and though the wound didn't hurt as much, it was still enough to be wonderfully distracting. Enough so that he contemplated spending some of his energy on the boy. It'd be good for him. A way to relieve some tension before he made his way back to Hyoite. His smile turned feral as he pulled Sekani to his feet with a sharp grip, though released him when he was standing. S'ric's attention slid from the lavender eyes, to his neck. The excitement of the pain was visible in that look, and what he was planning was written it the way he walked toward Sekani, almost like he was stalking him... and maneuvering him into the corner.

S'ric had no intention of keeping Sekani. This would be a onetime thrill for him, a sort of meal before he went back on the road. Something to tide him over. Temporarily. And since he didn't need the energy that he'd get from feeding... it did mean that he might be able to wear himself out with the boy. S'ric never had a preference when it came to gender.

The teen enveloped himself in a daydream, where he had decided to be normal for once and hadn't stolen that damn silver pocket watch. Maybe he wouldn't be here if he wasn't the biggest kleptomaniac on this side of the sphere. Or maybe if he had a leash on the rabid dog that was his own pride, he could've been in a peaceful alleyway by now, kicking back in a tattered fabric chair while listening to the birds tweet as they flew on past him, not a care in the world. However, this daydream was quickly shaken out of him as the large man reached towards him, only to pick up the sword that he had also thrown in the room along with him, setting it on the table. A more alert Kani would've wondered where the blade had even come from, but it wasn't like he cared or anything. Right now, the only thing that mattered was escape. Too bad he could only go out the same way he had come in.

Even if he did make it to the window, what was he going to do? Jump out, only to land with broken bones and perhaps even a cracked neck if destiny found it fitting? He grit his teeth at the thought, digging his nails into the palm of his hand until they left small half-moon markings on his skin. Soon, he found himself just wondering if he was going to die. Sekani had a feeling that if this man was going to kill him, he would've done it long ago, when his throat was around his neck. Unconsciously did the dark-skinned teen run his hand up and down the base of this throat, as if to ease its previous irritation. No, perhaps he was just going to torture him — maybe stick a few needles under his skin while pounding the crap out of him... or some other crazy thing. Hell if Sekani knew! All he knew was how to sit there and hope he'd get out of here breathing.

Watching with wide eyes as the man ran grabbed for his arm, Sekani cringed inwardly, hating the feel of his fingers. Now on his feet, the lad still kept a hand near his side, as if the action alone would sop up the crimson red blood from his clothing. The silence irked him to the point where he wanted to scream for the sake of screaming, but knew the man would probably get irritated which such an action. Irritating this guy when he was on his turf wasn't really on Sekani's To-Do List... And speaking of irritation, why was he staring at him like that?

The stranger's footsteps echoed ominously on the floor, the sound enough to make Sekani start taking feeble steps backwards. "Whoa, dude, you're freaking me out here," Sekani stammered. "You 'member what I said, right? I don't taste good — not at all. Horrible, in fact. Really. I wouldn't lie to you." He curled his hands near his chest, as if such an action would keep the stranger away from him, and wondered why he was so scared. He could recall his days as a leader when he had put his life on the line for those in his gang of thieves, and had practically been their god, back in those times.

Well, where was his god now?

It'd been awhile since S'ric smiled. And he did now, after hearing the boy proclaim, "You 'member what I said, right? I don't taste good — not at all. Horrible, in fact. Really. I wouldn't lie to you."  S'ric's smiles were never a good thing. What usually made someone look happy, nice, welcoming... made S'ric look more dangerous, almost feral, with a hint of sensuality. It went hand in hand with the way he walked. Predatorily. There was no where the boy could run, no where that S'ric couldn't follow. And that sort of confidence added to the already dangerous smile.

The werewolf edged closer to Sekani, leaving only the wall at his back. But S'ric didn't stop until he was against the boy, a breath of air between them. All it would take was a deep inhale on either of their parts for them to touch. S'ric was still quite a bit taller than him, which made it even easier to be quite intimidating up close. He leaned down and took a deep breath as his face brushed past Sekani's, before moving toward his neck. His body leaned against the boy's then as his lips brushed down his neck, to the junction where his neck met his shoulder. After a brief pause, a deeper breath, S'ric bit him. Hard. While in human form, S'ric's teeth were not  -as- sharp, nor as prominently pointed, but that didn't mean he couldn't puncture skin this way. Which he did now. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, drawing a very content growl as he turned the bite into a sucking kiss, drawing more from him.  S'ric had a fetish for blood, he loved the taste, the sight, or being the reason that it was spilt. The taste of it, combined with steadily aching sting of his wound, was leading his mind down different avenues of what he could do –with- Sekani.  

[ heh, sorry for short T^T ]

[ that's quite alright — quality before quantity and all! ^^ ]

He was smiling. Why was he smiling? As soon as that grin painted the stranger's face, Sekani knew it would haunt his nightmares — assuming that he would ever live to have a nightmare again. He could recall a time when fear was something easily explained. Fear was a pack of wild dogs chasing after you, fear was the idea of being captured and locked away forever to rot in a cell where the light never dared to shine. How long ago was that? Just a few moments? Now he wished he had been thrown to the dogs, or even to the angered shopkeeper, or even to the toughest security guard that Essryn had to throw at him. Dogs were predictable, easy. They'd rip at you until you stopped moving, and maybe even stop to feast. Humans were predictable, easy. They'd tear you down mentally until you were naught but a speck of dust at the side of the road, and maybe even stop to laugh. This man, this thing, he wasn't human. Sekani knew that now. Perhaps it had taken him way too long to bite the bait.

As the stranger loomed closer, Sekani felt himself backing up, flattening himself against the cold wall, making like he did in the streets and pretending to be invisible, as if this tactic would work in a situation like this. Before, he hadn't realized the amount of danger he had crept himself in. Not even when his neck had been grabbed, or when he had practically been thrown into this room like a toy that was uncared for. Now he could practically smell the stranger's danger spilling from his system. His heart raced, jumping in and out of his throat, to the point where Kani was scared that it was going to explode. He really is going to eat me, Sekani realized at that point in time. That single thought replayed in his mind at a thousand miles a minute, until that opinion became fact, sealed away with teeth slicing through his flesh.

A scream ripped from his throat as he clenched his fists in pain, the yell deep and yet hoarse, his lungs and heart on fire as the man began drinking his blood, as if he were a particularly tasty drink. It was an uncomfortable sensation, feeling the blood leave his body and steam into the man's mouth, one that made Sekani exceptionally queasy, made his lung forget how to work properly, his breathing uneven, tense. The lad placed his hands on the man's shoulders, as if to shove him away, but eighteen years of never getting a proper meal did not a strong lad make. He cursed, a stream of vulgarities leaving his lips — incoherent, like this whole situation had become.

Screaming was bad for two reasons. The first, and most obvious, was that it alerted others nearby that something was going on to cause pain, and thus usually resulted it someone being too curious for their own good. The second reason was neigh impossible for Sekani to know, but more important than the first. S'ric –liked it- when his prey screamed. He even shivered again, physically responding to the sound he'd caused from the sarcastic boy. Hand in hand with the taste, well, it made for one rather excited werewolf.

As to the attempt Sekani made at pushing S'ric away... he'd have a better time telling the sun not to rise, and probably get better results as well. S'ric didn't do anything unless he wanted to... or someone was strong enough to make him. And it had been years, centuries, since there had been someone capable of telling the tall, frosty wolf what to do. And he'd killed anyone that had attempted thus far. Really attempted. The pushing an his shoulders was no real attempt, but rather a meager gesture from someone S'ric deemed... well, usable. There were three classed of people to S'ric. Usable, in that they didn't have the strength to be dominant on their own, in which case he could do whatever he wanted to them. Boring, in that the appealed neither to the wolf in him, nor the man, and so he generally saw them as one man saw a cow. Live-stock, but tasty under the right circumstances.   And the third were dominants. Potential threats, direct challengers to his authority, and the sort of person S'ric generally broke in half given the right provocation.

Fortunately for the world, he –looked- damned dangerous and intimidating. Which was a big warning to anyone that talked to him to best tread lightly, or else the thin layer of ice that was his apathetic view toward everything would shatter, and a sadomasochistic beast that lurked beneath would be set free.

The werewolf drew away, licking bloodied lips with a smirk. After which he promptly pushed Sekani toward the bed as he lifted a finger to wipe at a trail of blood that had started to fall down his chin. Rather than wasting, he sucked on the digit briefly before advancing on Sekani. He was going to have a bit of fun.

Slowly, the thief's screams died down as he got used to the feeling of the stranger's lips sucking on the base of his neck became familiar, less uncomfortable, but more embarrassing as time drew on. He hated this closeness – hated people touching him, or prodding him, or even simple things like hugs from strangers. So it was no surprise that this big hulking brute was doing a lot more than just breaking Sekani's personal bubble. Eventually, he stopped struggling against him, too indignant to even mouth off a verbal protest, but just grit his teeth and bore it. Maybe if he was lucky, the man would drink his fill and toss him out the window. Sure, he'd break a few bones – but Sekani would prefer a busted arm or leg to be here any longer.

The Staff of Solis was completely cold in his pocket, as if being someone so chilling had made the weapon refuse to work. He let his arms drop to his sides and clenched his fists at the thought – if there was anything the boy hated, it was being powerless. How could someone like him be put into a situation like this? He had always thought so highly of himself, running around the streets of his former home, Zantaric, as if he owned the place. He had once been a leader, once been a role model, and now? He was someone's playtoy. Damn fate, and how it could so easily turn the tables on him! He wasn't sure what to blame – his naivety toward the world and how it worked, or his own cockiness, not being able to recognize danger when he saw it.

But that was the thing. A part of him knew that this stranger could easily snap him in half if he pissed him off enough. So why did he smirk at him and stare him down, as if he was immune to death itself? He had always bragged, back when he was younger, that he would rather die, or become crippled, then bow down to a power greater than itself, and loose his pride. Was that why, he tempted death? But no, when that man had put his powerful hand around his neck, and death had been mere minutes away, what did he do? Sekani had backed off – easily submissive, not wanting to die. He was human, he knew that now. Knew that he would indeed kiss the hands of those who were more powerful than him. He hated this horrid truth about himself – hated knowing that he was no better when it came to the average human. In the end, he would do anything to survive... So much for pride.

Finally, he drew himself away, and Sekani felt a twinge of rebelliousness rise in his throat. "Fuck you," he coughed out, anger and exasperation mixed in his throat, hands quivering as he stroked his neck, where the stranger had been feasting. The beast wasted no time however, and prompted Sekani towards the bed. He bit his bottom lip, backing up towards the bed unconsciously, just wanting to get away from this beast. The thief cursed as he realized where he had been prodded to, back pressed against the edge of the bed, unwilling to bring himself to get on it. No, fuck no – this sort of thing was not supposed to happen! He could suck all the blood he wanted, he could physically eat him for all Sekani cared, but he was not getting in that bed... Sekani wished he could say that he'd rather be dead, but the thief already figured out that he would do anything to survive. Pride bit at him though, told him no, stand whatever ground you have. The darkskinned teen knew he literally had no footing. That this stranger was totally and completely in control. He tried to ease up onto the bed, he really did, but could not bring himself to do so. Lavender eyes cast themselves towards the ground, squeezed shut, as if doing so would end this nightmare forever.

The smell of blood, his and the boy's, was thick in the air. And nothing excited a hemotaphiliac like the scent of blood. The coppery taste was still thick on his tongue. It was a taste that lasted, a taste that the werewolf adored more than... well, more than any other taste. His enjoyment of the simple taste was borderline erotic. Like a hunt, the prospect the taste of blood implied was more than enough to make him highly alert and sensitive... more susceptible to the possibility of something carnally painful. The difference here was that he wasn't going to completely devour the boy... though some part of him wanted to, and if the boy didn't act too rash, he might even survive this encounter. S'ric wasn't in the habit of killing unless he was hungry, there was real sport, or he was getting paid for it. He wasn't hungry for flesh, the boy wasn't much of a challenge, and he sure as hell was not getting paid for it. So far, the odds were in Sekani's favor, though the situation could certainly be viewed as, well, fatal.

Had the boy just said 'Fuck you'? Sekani's luck seemed to be holding out, because S'ric wasn't the sort that was set off by verbal threats, insults, or taunts. It was all in the body language, all in the look of someone. Tone counted for little. Intent was what really mattered. And as an animal, reading body language was second nature to S'ric. Sekani had no intention of attacking him. Maybe a bit more defiance in him, which was a delight to S'ric, but nothing that made the dominant werewolf tense with aggression. No, this was purely the hunter stalking the hunted, not a fight for power.

S'ric approached the boy and with an almost idle push, applied enough strength to either tip Sekani on the bed... or if the boy twisted, make him hit the edge of the bed and fall to the floor. Neither were a good place to be, and both promised to end badly for Sekani. Not that S'ric had a preference. The floor was just as viable as the bed, though it did have more room to... work.

Wishing that he had never touched that tender spot on his neck where blood had been drawn, Sekani removed his hand from its base, refraining lavender eyes from looking back down on his hand. He was not afraid of blood, no, but the mere fact that this beast had drawn the crimson liquid from his own neck was enough to make him want to pass out. It was strange, how he found out all these little weaknesses in his own persona, now that he was faced with true hardship. He used to think he had it hard – being born without a mother in the depths of Zantaric, loosing his father before he had even hit double-digits, wandering ever since... This beast was the epitome of reality – how life was never fair, and even if you thought you had it bad, it could – and would – always end up worse. What a strange, strange world he lived in...

The beast pushed him – a brief and swift gesture, but with enough force to break Sekani's will, ending up on the bed, which would now serve as his prison. What would he have traded to not be in this position, to not be the prey of some stranger, one that he barely exchanged words with – one who was going to destroy what Sekani held most dear to him – his pride. Damn pride! What was it good for, except putting you in these types of situations where one could not wiggle out of, except at the cost of death? He blamed his father for that – he had went out without a bang, had lost his sense of self-respect, and Kani had vowed not to be like him. And look where it had got him? In a full blown nightmare – one that he'd never awake from.

Like a rat running from the hands of a child, Sekani edged towards the corner of the bed farthest away from the beast, pulling his knees up to his chest, like the barrier was enough to keep him away. "Fuck you!" he shouted again, but from his stance, it was obvious that his words meant nothing. How could one ever take a frail eighteen year old seriously, who was curled up into a ball, almost shuddering from what he could assume was to come. "You're a fuckin' psycho, dude! Seriously, is this how you get your kicks? Raping some random dude off the streets – seriously?" He groaned, clenching his teeth together until he felt like they would shatter under the pressure. Fuck, he really was screwed – probably in the most literarily sense of the word.

It was always so terribly amusing, in the darkest sense of the word, that most of the people S'ric came up against were the sort that should've fled at the very sight of him. Those that knew how to fight, and knew how to size up a man, generally left the tall werewolf alone. Though it was not immediately obvious he was a shifter, S'ric was 6'8", very tall, and radiated an animalistic violence no human could match.  What then prompted people to provoke him? Generally S'ric didn't pay attention to anyone because they were beneath his notice. Those that challenged him in some way, however, blipped on his radar. And they either died, or ended up complaining because he was apathetic about how they felt about what he did to them. Which made the werewolf vaguely convinced that humans in general had no survival instinct. Even the domesticated dogs had known to run from him. And they were stupid.

It was no surprise to S'ric that the boy edged away from him, to the corner. Like distance would make S'ric go away. He was about to crawl after until the boy opened his mouth. They always did that... "Fuck you! You're a fuckin' psycho, dude! Seriously, is this how you get your kicks? Raping some random dude off the streets – seriously?"

Oh.

S'ric smiled then, feeling particularly sadistic given his rather bad mood concerning the heat. This boy wasn't the sort he'd keep. Too much bark, no bite. Which meant there was no desire to claim him, and thus no need for sexual gratification. No need. Might lead to it if the boy kept up this yammering. S'ric stared for a moment, the smile still in place, before turning to where he'd left his knife in the wall. It was little effort to pull it out, after which he turned back to the boy. If the boy was so very against that sort of action, then S'ric had something else equally pleasing in mind. And people said he wasn't considerate.

Strangely enough, it became harder and harder to breath after his little outburst, as if inside, he had known that such a move hadn't been a smart one. The thief's heart thumped uncontrollably, to the point where he had to clutch a jittery hand over his chest, squeezing it harshly, clutching bits of his soiled beige vest in the process. Despite his previous fear, there was some new sadistic aura that hung in the air after his outburst – one that didn't sit too well with Sekani. Before, the beast's moves had been almost predictable. He could see where this all was leading, which had lead to a rebellious cry in protest. But now, he seemed to smile, one that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life, and walked towards a dim corner of the room where a sword sat idly in the wall, which was withdrawn effortlessly from it's holder.

Oh, shit.

The beast advanced towards him with that same smile plastered over his unforgiving features, sword in hand, coming close – too close, closer than Sekani would've liked. He was stubborn and full of pride, sure, and maybe he couldn't take a hint sometimes, but an insanely tall monster coming at him with a sword in hand was enough to get him to shut up, for now. However, he couldn't voice his obedience, was too choked up to do so. Constantly, he was hanging between the possibility of life or death, but that stubborn side of him wanted to get out of this without any humiliation. Oh, it was a hopeless wish, he knew. In fact, he wasn't even sure why he held onto such a ridiculous hope – perhaps it was the only thing keeping his sanity at this point...

He opened his mouth, eyes dancing in choked up tears, but nothing but slurred stutters came from his vocals. If this had been another time and another place, perhaps he would've thought it was amusing to find that he had been reducing to this blubbering, pathetic mass of a thief. All he could think was don't kill me, don't kill me, as his lavender eyes locked onto the sword. Was he a coward, for loving life so much that he would rather be raped than killed? That was how his father would like at this, should he still be sane. Where is your pride, he would ask. Sekani would answer that it had been tossed at the window, as soon as he had been tossed in.

All he could do was bury his head between his knees, drawing himself up into a tighter ball. It was not much of a response, but the beast had caught his tongue – and probably wouldn't hesitate to literally cut it out, if prodded.

So it would see the boy had thought not talking a better course of action now that S'ric had a hold of a knife. Imagine that. Why the human race acted in ways that would result in more pain for them baffled the werewolf. Not that he really cared. Since it was their inability to run from a fight that led to amusing night for S'ric. He shifted on the bed, kneeling as he leaned forward to grab Sekani's ankle... effectively pulling him away from the wall by it. Not only did S'ric pull him flat on the bed, but he pulled Sekani so he could position the leg he had ahold of to one side of his hips, shifting to be between his legs. S'ric happened to like being this close because he liked it when they squirmed. Everyone did. With a precise flick of his wrist, the knife blade was benead the hem of Sekani't shirt, pressing along his lower abomen. Cold, impossibly so given the heat. His smile remained fixed, a warning of what was to come if there ever was one, before he jerked up with the knife as though to gut him..... and cut his shirt. Only his shirt. S'ric was extremely proficient with knives. Centuries of their use along with his sharp reflexes meant that if he wanted to hurt Sekani, he would. And if he just wanted to cut the fabric, that's all he would cut. For now.

S'ric growled a little, using the tip of the knife to push the fabric off of his body, exposing it to S'ric. He leaned over Sekani, a hand next to Sekani's head to hold his upper body off his, while the blade was held close. Where to start, where to start?