Thread: The War's Beginning -- Mali and Skies

Elias was the apple of his father's eye. He stood tall and fought like a Chinese myth--he has style, he had grace, he was Miss United States. Wait, what was the United States? Anyway, Elias had charm oozing from his finger tips and it was something that his father hated, so it was Josiah's goal to keep Elias busy with fighting and diplomatic situations. Through this, he became a very skilled fighter and no one was his match. Additionally, he was excellent in diplomatic scenarios, but he had a short attention span. Peace between clans didn't interest him. Instead, what did interest him was the constant battle between vampires and werewolves. Over the decades, he'd amassed quite a kill count involving the savage beasts. Nothing confused him more than when his father took one under his wing and trained her like she was his own, but she wasn't his own. She would never be one of the vampires, and this was what his father told him over and over. Elias figured out quickly that she wasn't the same. She didn't have the same viciousness in her eyes, but there were some similarities that he couldn't deny. His father was correct when he said that they were all savages in the end...right? Elias couldn't help but remain curious about werewolves. The ones that his father bred were different from the ones he'd sliced in the field. These ones could control themselves. How far could they control themselves? Obviously they still needed to be contained like a virus. Werewolves were viruses. This day wasn't any damn different. Josiah had been riding Elias all day like a prized pony to fight until his fingers became stumps. Tired, sweaty, and dirty, Eli stood on werewolves his father had released to attack him. They were insane with blood lust and wanted nothing more than to tear his vampire skin like sloppy, wet paper. Eli looked at his father with as much hate as some of the wolves, hating that he put him through such turmoil. The situation was remnant of first world problem tags. Is that all you have for me, father? Have I killed all of your pets? Eli asked Josiah arrogantly. Josiah wasn't pleased he snorted and walked away, leaving Josiah with the pile of werewolves. One order was yelled out as he walked away, Clean it up! Eli snorted in return just like his father. Like he'd clean up the mess that his father caused. Blood dropped from his arm, a gash one of the wolves had given him on an ambush. It had already begun to heal slowly, but being an attack from a werewolf, it would take a bit of time. Get your servants to clean it up, he commented, dropping the sword with a clang against the cobblestone. Eli wanted to relax and let his tired body rest. Still dirty, sweaty, and blood, he began to walk around and eventually found himself in the lower quarters where the werewolf pets were kept. For some reason, he found himself wandering around occasionally to watch the way the wolves adapted. Thanks to the collars around their necks, they couldn't turn. Sometimes they would fight over food and Eli would watch, throwing extra food in the cage to see what would happen. They didn't all fight, but the ones that did reminded him more and more of the creatures he'd fought on the outside. A voice echoed down the hallways of a girl screaming for another to do something. Eli was curious and began to follow the sounds. It didn't take him long to realize that the voice came from Delphine. Eli's upper lip snarled a little, but he continued to follow the yelling and grunting. What the hell was going on? The moonlight kept much of the path lit, but Elias remained in the darkness while he watched so he wouldn't disturb the scene. That was what he considered the death of Delphine's comrade--a scene. With curiosity, he watched as she began to turn. Lorraine, the other wolf, apparently couldn't control herself. Eli continued to watch as he moved closer for a better view. The silver spiked collar ripped through her throat and caused blood to flood the floor. By the looks of it, she wasn't the first. Vampires never cleaned these areas. Blood splattered on Eli causing him to jerk a little from surprise. Delphine continued to stare at the body and it felt like forever before Eli opened his mouth. That was violent, he commented. The sentence had a lack of empathy. It was as if he'd watched two animals tear each other apart for learning purposes. There was an extreme detachment for the fact that Delphine had just lost her friend or a fellow supernatural creature had just died in a cruel, violent way. One of his hands came up and rubbed the splattered blood from his face. If there was anything he hated most it was having werewolf blood on his face. It was bad enough that the gallows smelled like wet dog mixed with fecal matter, but it wasn't like he had to have shit smeared on his face.