Stories, Rambles, Notes.

[vox]

Mini-Stories between my own characters. Journals and ramblings, too.

ISON-

The reincarnation of Nerante. Though was not exactly born - a creator who was created through a deal with a demon. Was 'formed' through the remained of Nerante with a new mind that, slowly but surely, gained old memories and could soon enough recollect everything of his past. Though doesn't consider himself to be 'Nerante', merely can empathize with his past self and retains a certain degree of emotions toward certain individuals because of this. A desire for revenge not necessarily based on his own emotions.

A comet. Burning up in space, in a dark and empty void. Requires space. Surrounded by light. Destined to destroy and be destroyed. Creation.

Filled with the darkness passed down through Haakon->Caine->Nerante(Ison). Filled with great magical understanding. Is a dark and unspeakable magic, warped by watered down demonic origins renewed by deals made with demons. Outsmarted aforementioned demons.

All-powerful dark being. Possesses a power of seeing through worlds to blood kin, sometimes vision blurred for reasons unknown?

Thinks highly of himself. Desires revenge more than anything else. Against Caliver? Donovans? The whole of existence. Once harbored a soft spot for Ryssor, now empty- void. Possibly still kindles affections but has suppressed them.

CARVER-

A creation. Not born of Ison, created, though no less son of him and considers Ison no less a father. Strongest bond to Ison, his father, his creator, and his mentor. A 'servant' of sorts.

Embodiment of everything that should've been, with his own personality to boot- molded by how life has so far treated him.

[vox]

The following is one of Caine's dreams. In no way am I assuming this is actually what the characters in this dream would behave. I am not assuming authority or control over these characters. It is, again, a dream.

"Caine... Caineee..." His mother's sweet voice beckons him to rise from his slumber. Eyes opened gently to a bright world, a white mist-like shrouding five feet beyond him. Little paws stretch as he lets out a yawn and stumbles away from the faceless bodies of his siblings; distant memories. This doesn't frighten him, though, his mother's voice calls to him and he wanders from the den into the safety of Meurtrier's most secure territorial landmark.

It should strike him as odd that no one is around. As he walks on wobbly legs that slowly grow steady as he gradually grows with every step toward the throne; from which his mother's voice beckons him. Every step a step closer to his mother, to the throne, away from his siblings. Passing blank, expressionless faces. The distant hum of a pride talking so nearly muted he barely realizes it's there.

"Caine, darling, where are you?" The voice seems so distant, so soft. So unlike his mother, but yet it has to be here. It was so shortly ago as he had left the den, and looking back the world is shrouded in a light fog that he can't see through. The only way is forward, toward her voice. And despite how he may try to call out to her, he can't find his voice.

Halfway to the throne and he's gone from newborn to adolescent. His joints begin to ache, the voices seem louder, and his mother seems more distant. Familiar scents surround him - Former, Stella, Project - so many of them he can't name them all. A blur of faces through the mist as he continues to follow the distant sound of KIller calling his name. He walks faster.

Voices grow louder, he grows older, faces more blurred, some gone completely, scents replaced but some remain. He begins to panic and runs, logic kicking in. This can't be real. The mist begins to darken, the voices are a buzz. A static in his ear, like a bug that won't leave, crawling in and over his mind. Finally, he finds his voice.

"Mother!" Caine calls, his voice deeper, his body larger, passing bodies with blurred faces, so few recognizable, their scents finally registering. Funeral, Grenade, Reno, Najisi, Stella, Project, Novocain, Firenze, Ryssor.

He has to find KIller, her voice still calls to him, but it sounds rougher, sharp, weary. It needs him as much as he needs her. The mist is black, it's all black, the static is loud and it buzzes. It buzzes and it buzzes and he can't make it stop, he wants to cry out and scream and claw away at his head. Just make it stop.

Then silence. So sudden it doesn't register at first, the static an echo of his own mind. No faces, no bodies, no whispers, no static. No mother, no voice. Through the mist he walks slowly, guarded. He's well grown and everything aches. His bones, his muscles, his heart.

Ahead he spots something, a light in this dark unknown that surrounds him. And in that light, there is someone. It has to be mother! Caine begins to race ahead. His age no longer matters, the ache no longer matters. He was going to rescue KIller and bring her back home.

As he approaches, however, the form becomes clearer. Colors and the shape outlined do not reveal KIller, but instead....

"Father!" Caitlyn calls out, her voice dry, her body weak and frail. Caine freezes up before leaping forward - within the same moment that Nerante does. The blue monster cackling fiercely as he gets to Caitlyn first, planting himself 'protectively' over Caine's daughter. From the dark, walking up beside Nerante, is Ryssor. By her paws sits Atryn, and beside him the body of Nerante's cub, the one killed in the sick, ritualistic killing.

"You couldn't save them." Ry's voice echoes. "You couldn't save them, and Caitlyn was left to the torture of your enemies; and now you can't save her again." Ryssor speaks as she leans up against Nerante, the blue beast then raising his claws to Caitlyn - Caine leaping forward with a snarl, but instead finding himself jolting awake in the cold, surrounding by family in the cold alongside the rest of the prides fleeing the disaster.

He quietly shakes the feeling left over, raising his head to look around. Only after he has spotted Caitlyn and studied her breathing for several minutes does he rest his head again.

As quiet as always.