I would like to adopt!
Number: 3
Picture:
Name: To the mortals whom which he has aligned, and to himself, this outcast is known as Deimos. While this is not his true name, it is the only name he knows; his true name of power was withheld from him as a child due to his unpredictable and constantly shifting behaviour. Without his true name, he had no real control over his element.
The meaning behind the name? It was a name created by Mortals, for unlike some other Blessed Ones, Deimos was born after the establishment of humans on Earth. So as a replacement for his true name his father used the name the humans that identify themselves as Greeks use, meaning 'Fear' in their tongue.
Species: At one time Deimos walked proudly with his kin the Blessed Ones in the Immortal World. Yet his rather capricious behaviour as an adolescent quickly set him apart from the others of his family. With little sense of responsibility towards his duty over the elements of nature, something that had never occurred in the recorded history of the land took place; Deimos was banished. Sent to wander the Earth as a mortal, he has since then taken on the appearance of a Great Plains wolf, aside from the mark on his flank that is the sign of his lost heritage.
Thus he is known by the mortals.
Appearance:
Deimos has a vaguely bullet-shaped body, with narrow shoulders and wider thighs and muscular hind legs.
He is 170 cm long from snout to tail tip, (5.6 feet, roughly the average length of a Great Plains wolf) and weighs 50 kg (110 lbs, also the average)
Personality:
What words come into mind when you hear someone speak of the mountains?
Strong and intimidating, with enduring power? Fierce and everlasting, steadfast and solitary? High, desolate, lonely?
If so, you have correctly described both the mountains and Deimos himself. Old as the mountains themselves, he is just as strong as he was in the prime of his youth even though flecks of gray have long since appeared in his mottled pelt. Intimidating yet not cruel, harsh yet not pitiless, just yet not kind, Deimos is certainly a strange creature.
Rocks are hard, but even rocks have their breaking points. One can stand so sturdy and strike so strongly and still, once you turn your back, snap like a twig. I’ve known pebbles: rough enough to fall and hold form, but frail when lying next to the boulder. I’ve known dust: ones who follow and overcome the stones, but have neither volume nor shape. And I've known a mountain fall into what even dust would hate to become. And so the mountains die.
What images are invoked in your mind when you hear of snow?
Snow: fluttering gently, dusting the grass. Snow can be sparkly white or dirty gray, the perfect powder for skiing, or gritty and full of ice.
In an instant, it can change from a peaceful thing to a wild and uncontrollable blizzard. A fiery tongue, lashing out with the truth.
Frozen. Everything seems frozen to him.
His thoughts, his feelings, his heart. All numb and lifeless, all blank and cold.
Even his tears don't hurt like the sharp pangs of glass-like icicles that they were before...
It's all nothingness, white meaningless nothingness
Snow falls lightly, silently covering what once was warm colors and vibrant life.
And yet, no two snowflakes are exactly the same.
It is always falling, subjected to the winds torment, a constant victims of its whims.
And no matter how hard you look, you do not know its' face.
If only snow was as pure as we make it out to be.
Have you ever heard of the wanderlust, human? The fierce drive to travel, to explore the unknown, never to stop for any length of time? Of course you haven't. Despite your constant haste, you have never felt the burning desire for the unknown.
Something that is always very noticeable about Deimos at first glance is that he is taken with this aforementioned wanderlust. His matted and dirty fur wasn't quite what set him apart, though, nor was it the old gashes shown through his buff, ruddy and black pelt; it was something about his bearing and the strange look in his luminous eyes, something strange, an indescribable thing that no one can really quite put a finger on.
Deimos is extremely laconic and blunt most of the time, completely practical and no-nonsense. When he does speak, he is candid and will speak his mind completely and honestly, leaving no part of the truth out. He sticks to this unspoken rule, another strict part of his lifestyle. Even if he offends someone, he will not lie.
He was not like that as a pup, however, nowhere near. When he was younger he was constantly picking fights- loud, stubborn, and particularly rebellious to his elders.
He is starkly different now, though. He always lowers his voice in any verbal confrontations he may rarely find himself in, to the degree that the other person raises theirs. This particularly takes place often when around Kota
Deimos is more perceptive than he lets on, gathering information on whatever he can. He is rather skilled at the espionage, yet uses the information gathered only for himself and his own private purposes.
He is even-tempered and thoughtful, controlled and very reliable.
Likes: Nature.
The golden curve of an eagles' beak
The prick of a rose's thorn
The graceful waves of the grass
The song of the sparrow
The shivering of the gnarled, moss-covered trees
The quaking of the earth
The bright, newly-born leaf buds
The crow preening in the pine tree
The shadows cast by the sun through the leaves in summer
The weeping of the skies in endless grief.
Thus is his likes.
His passion.
His power.
His life.
Dislikes:
His biggest dislike would be humans, and how they pollute the earth, sky, and water, choking the life and killing the land.
And turning a blind eye to the damage they cause, to the beauty they've destroyed.
The fact that grief and pain is all they can ever manage to create.
Background:
I always knew I was different as a pup. But I kept going, only because I thought so surely that it would get better soon. Any day, I told myself. Just try to act normal, to act like them. And surely then they will accept me.
In reality, I've learned, it's not that simple.
And then, finally, I began to realize that. What am I waiting for? Nothing will ever change. Life will go on just like it is now- Miserable. They don’t appreciate me.
The loner.
The one who is farthest away from the norm.
And then, in the middle of my masquerade of trying to fit in, something else occurred to me.
You are not born with a destiny. You have to make your own."I hate this." The voice whined from before me. "I'm tired, hungry, and sore all over."
There was a light scattering of snow from the night before that completely covered the ground, save for a few places where sparse grass peeked up from the otherwise unending blanket of white.
"What does not kill you makes you stronger." I snapped, faking gruffness. "And this won't kill you."
It had been like this for weeks, ever since I had started into the mountains with Kota. I had found the young wolf- little more than a pup- half dead by a human construction of some sort. I kept him with me until he regained his health, meaning to leave him behind as soon as he was well enough to care for himself.
He seemed to have a way of upending my plans, though, and here we were in the heart of the mountains. Kota had been following me around since I left the small village in the foothills to return again to the peaks. Winter was here, and with the weather up here being able to change in a heartbeat I found myself wishing he'd have stayed behind.
The pup had a right to complain; we hadn't eaten a half-decent meal in what seemed like ages. And while my own body was hardened to the condition of the mountains, Kotas' was obviously not. A small path of blood marked their path, a stark contrast against the white snow. I knew that we would have to stop soon, despite the fact that there was still daylight left. The rough stones in these parts had begun to wear Kota's soft paw pads down. Jagged peaks, slippery slopes, and rocky terrain leave you battered and bruised, scratched and worn, bleeding and broken.
"Stop now." I finally said
Kota nodded, weary and relieved. I raised my head, searching the bleak greys of the mountainsides for any hint of a place where they could shelter 'till morn.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kota's ears perk up suddenly. I followed his line of sight and smiled.
~~~
The cave was perfect. If it weren’t for the pup's sharp eyesight I never would've found it myself; it was little more than a darker place in a pattern of the bland mountains. A contented sigh escaped the pup's paw as he settled down in the corner, turning his head to lick the blood from his paw pads.
"This is wonderful." He murmured repeatedly between licks.
It wasn't what I personally would've called wonderfully comfortable, but it was certainly an improvement.
"Nothing to complain about," I agreed. As Kota curled up and feel into a deep sleep, I could feel exhaustion taking its toll on my own heavy limbs. I settled down myself, hearing the wind howl outside, and I knew a blizzard was coming. Grateful that we had found the shelter when we did, I rested my head on my front paws.
And almost as soon as my eyes closed I could feel sleep take me, and I slipped into the world of dreams.
The forest was alive with spring. The warm sun slanted through the green leaves, criss-crossing the path with a pattern of light and shadow. All around me there were signs of life. There were birds chirping in the tree canopy, and I could see tracks from deer and fox. A light wind whistled through the treetops, disturbing the new leaves of the trees. It wasn’t cold, even though the sun had begun to wane.
These were the only times when I ever found true peace in my heart and a small respite from the heavy urge to move on.
I came out of the trees and found myself looking at the wide expanse of grassy plains. The long grass that swayed around me stretched on for what looked like miles. It moved akin to waves in the ocean as it was blown by the wind, tossing and swaying. On the horizon, I could see the beginnings of another forest, or perhaps it was the same one skirting far to the north around the plain. A river wound its way across the open grassland toward the south and the open, blue horizon. The plain turned into hills as it approached the eastern tree line so that where I now stood on the edge of the forest, he could look down of the village and the river below. Behind me the earth continued to rise, though it was now shrouded in a cloak of huge pine, oak and alder.
I saw before me through the tossing grass another figure, only slightly taller than me. My body tensed; this is why I'd come...thinking he'd be here.
Dreading he would be.
I could feel his gaze turn to me as he noticed my presence; those shockingly blue eyes. They didn't effect me like they did most people, but I still had the uneasy feeling those pieces of azure were cutting to my soul. A shudder went down my spine at the thought, though I knew it was absurd. And at the same time I gave an imperceptible wince as a thought entered into my mind, unbidden; I inherited those eyes from him.
"Father." I greeted coolly, forcing any kind of emotion out of my voice, leaving nothing but shrewd challenge. Despite his efforts at control, I could see him start, and there was surprise in his eyes for a split second. And then it was gone, and he was his normal and sardonic self, and it briefly registered in my mind that I could've been imagining it.
But in the same moment I knew that wasn't the case and that my suspicions were indeed correct, no matter how much I wished they weren't.
"How absurd." He said, finally speaking again. I could see the satire and petulance in his eyes, but just as well I could see that it was just a mask to cover curiosity. And….something more, something I couldn't quite put my paw on.
"I am not your father. You know this. What kind of foolishness has gotten into you?"
My lip curled into a snarl. "So...you're a backstabbing traitor and a liar." I said, forcing my voice into calmness.
Dion watched me for a long moment with an odd expression. "So you know." He said with his infuriating blankness, turning his head to the side. And then, quieter, where I had to strain to hear- "So be it." When his eyes stared into mine again, I searched them for any sign of guilt, remorse, anything to give me a clue to his emotions. But all there was a wordless challenge.
To face my fears.
To face him, to face the truth about my family.
I hesitated for a split second, before I slashed at his face.
Blood sprayed from my claws, and I heard the slightest hint of a gasp of pain. I didn't care. Frankly, I couldn't care less. I turned my back to his mutilated face. Turned my back on him, like he had me.
As I walked forward and making the unconscious decision to leave, and not come back, I remembered when I was a young pup, and how I had always daydreamed. Imagined what it would be like if Zialon was not my true father, and my true father was a strong wolf who loved me, yet was kept away from me against his will. Every time the story was different, but I pretended I actually had a brave, loyal father who would protect me and be there for me, no matter what.
And I abandoned that dream like he abandoned me.~~
I woke with a start. It took me a long moment before my mind was fully returned to reality, and when the truth of my locations and the happenings around me, I stood. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I turned my head around quietly, searching for the pup. He was there, curled into a ball, sleeping happily. His brown fur stuck out at random, rising anf falling gently with the timing of his breath. I knew I would not be able to sleep again, so I laid down myself, glancing outside.
Dawn had broken, leaving a purple haze just over the horizon. I lay awake, watching the rising of the sun, contemplating what had happened that day. After that time I had vowed never to let his anger control me like that again.
And before I knew it, the sun was completely past the horizon, and Kota was stirring. The pup tottered unsteadily towards him, yawning. He was obviously more asleep than he was lucid. He shook himself in a vain attempt to flatten his fur. At this point in time, it looked more like soft spikes jutting from his skin than it did actual fur. With another yawn, he resigned to the hopelessness of grooming himself and lay down beside me. I gave a small start, but quickly hid the reaction. The pup watched the falling snowflakes with wide eyes. I rolled my eyes, stifling my amusement. I remembered the first time I had seen snow as a pup. It had thrown me into a frenzy; I had been on mortal earth for a very short amount of time. It never used to rain nor slow in my old homelands, so the new sensation was exhilarating and more than a bit frightening before I learned what it was.
Oddly depressed by the thoughts of my old home, I stood and exited the cave, leaving Kota lying there alone. The blizzard had diminished, leaving a thick blanket of snow over the ground. The blinding light of the rays of sun against the snow forced me to squint. It was an improvement from the constant greys, in any case. Spring in the mountains was dull at best; gray stones, a gray-blue sky, and a few tufts of green grass. At least it was better than the gray stones, gray skies, and gray grass of winter.
Except for when the harsh weather ruled, as it did often. Now was one of those times.
I could sense Kota watching me with sympathy. It occurred to me how I must look; completely alone at the top of the world. I don't need your pity, boy. I thought, unable to stop the vehemence that filled me. I was vaguely aware, somewhere in the back of my mind, in a place not overwhelmed with anger, I knew that I had to leave. Now. Before I did something I would do something I regretted, and broke my vow.
~~
The best place to be in the entire world is climbing up the side of a mountain. Period. The exciting rush of emotions that engulf your entire being as you make your way to the top is intense in itself, but just taking a minute to stop and soak in the moment of where exactly you are brings about a whole new perspective of the world that just can’t be beat anywhere else on this mortal earth we share. As you look down from where you began your journey upward, you begin to slowly take in the amazing view placed before you. Down a thousand feet or so, you see some of the bluest and clearest lakes for miles. About one or two of them, hanging around the tree line, untouched and as pure as they must have been a hundred years ago. They could almost compare to the forests of my Immortal home. Lower still, you can look down onto the valley, where the packed in, sweeping pine trees form a sea of dark green that only give way to a far off remote dirt road spiralled out like a string across the valley. Then you take a look up, and at least for that very moment, you are gazing at the most beautiful snow-capped mountain peaks you have ever seen in your life, thrusting their way up into the cloudless sky.
And there was never any other place where I thought I could be totally and utterly happy.
I felt the fury leave me as I gazed down at the world at my paws, replaced by a complete calm. A peace with the world, with the wild. A thin river had wound its way through the rocks by my side; proof that even the mountains can be defeated with time. Cool liquids rush over the hard rocks of the high mountain passes. The water flows in a torrent to the valleys below. Ever flowing, never-ending, it travels onward from the celestial height to the land below like the bird swooping from its greatest altitude to the sea below in attempts of catching its prey. Along its travels, it tears through the scenery piercing the landscape in a flash of golden light fused with blue. All about it greenery flourishes in the dazzling, blazing in the luminescence of the burning dawn light; they blossomed with colours: amaranth, topaz, and cyan.
It was enough to take my breath away.
And yet I remember the beauty of the land I came from. No, beauty was too weak a word...it could not be described by any word in the language of mortals. This was a pale shadow compared to the wonders of my homeland.
And as quickly as the happiness came, it left again, nostalgia taking its place. I felt a sudden rush of emotion, and choked back a sob. I mentally berated myself. What has gotten into you? You can't start crying like a foolish, broken-hearted pup. You have nothing to complain about.
What brought me out of my depressing thoughts in the end, though, was no amount of willpower. It was the sound of crunching snow behind me that brought me back into reality.
Kota had never really been all that good at being quiet back in the human's village. Up here it was even worse, with the dead foliage he was constantly tripping over. While the snow was still deep enough to cover the majority of the stones and flora of the mountains, it still crunched under paw, irritably noisy. Particularly to one who was loud to begin with.
"You can come out." I spoke behind my shoulder, without moving my gaze from the mountainside. I heard Kota scramble on the ice towards me, slow, hesitant. I could feel his reluctance as he moved forward, stopping a few fox-lengths behind me.
"You're not mad?"
The small voice made him seem younger than he was.
"I was," He admitted. "Now come here."
Kota quickly strode the rest of the distance between us. He watched me cautiously for a long while. I glanced at him. My look wasn't exactly friendly, but it wasn't unkind. Boldened, Kota straightened.
The silence between us was long, but not awkward or uncomfortable. A contentedness, a peace between us and the power and might of the mountain, with nothing to be heard other than the faint whisper of the wind as it brushed against my ears.
I glanced down at the young one beside me, with the first hint of a smile since I had found him. I realized that Kota had managed to capture a place in my so carefully guarded heart. For a moment we stood, elder and pup, silently appraising each other. We may not be what a normal person would call friends, but there was one bond we could immediately agree upon.
Mutual survival.
"Well." Kota spoke, suddenly breaking the fragile silence. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."
I couldn't help it; I rolled my eyes with slight amusement. Turning wordlessly away from the gorgeous sight, I strode away, senses alert for prey. Quickly registering what was going on, Kota followed my lead, his path a good distance away yet still parallel to mine.
And so as the sun found it's way higher into the sky the two hunters left the cliffside, with only the pale sky as a silent witness to their departure.
~~~
Around an hour later from my departure from Kota I sat under a rocky outcropping, licking blood from my maw. The hare had been pathetically scrawny, and hardly made a good meal. But at least it had taken little effort to catch it. I had searched for prey until rain had begun to fall from the now cloud-darkened skies, before finally giving up and taking shelter as best I could under the stone's protection.
I don't know what alerted me to the presence of danger. Perhaps I had heard something that my mind never registered.
Perhaps it was some odd, protective instinct.
Perhaps.
But either way, something caused me to turn my head to the old, weathered tree a few feet away. It had long since been stripped away of leaves, though the branches were so twisted and thick I couldn't see past them. There was no wind at this point in time, yet I saw something stir within it. It seemed to curl, far different than the manner of a twig, even if there had been a breeze.
Before I had even seen the eyes I instinctively moved back from the remains of my prey and the stone, to prevent being backed into a corner. My body moved before my mind, seeing predator.
And recognizing itself as prey.
Right as my numbed mind began to sluggishly recognize what was going on, the cougar pounced.
~~~
My mind remembered little, and submitted to letting my body do all the work.
Sharp claws, shredded fur, the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. Biting, clawing, rolling desperately, the two creatures thrashing. Fighting for our lives.
He was wounded. The thought registered briefly in some forgotten, pushed-back corner of my mind, the only part not fully concentrated on clinging to life. He was limping, and half-starved. Of course he was, I then realized. If he was in full health, I would've been dead before I'd even known what had happened.
I felt my efforts at fighting growing weaker and weaker with my bodies' exhaustion. An ear-splitting yowl, echoing from the stone walls. Pain, slicing through my shoulder, brought my own screech to mingle with that of my adversary.
The pain brought me back. I slashed with more intensity.
I would not lose this fight, I thought with all the stubborn rebellion I could muster.
I would live.
Another pain-filled screech came from the big cat, even more blood curling than the last. The red of sticky blood, the blackness of unconsciousness spread across my vision.
I gave a ragged gasp, forcing air into my unwilling lungs.
Then I knew no more.
~~
Alive.
I'm alive. I don't know how, but it must be true. I can feel pain; I can see my blood gushing weakly from my wounds.
I couldn't see the puma anywhere near. I forced myself to my paws, trying to ignore the splitting pain that erupted in my head as a result, causing me to stumble and slip on blood. My own, or that of my enemy? I wondered vaguely.
I glanced to my right, my eyes silently following a trail of blood leading to the place where the cliffside suddenly ended and open air began. I walked towards the edge, slowed by both caution and pain. I looked over the stark rocks and winced at the pale body that lay at the bottom.
I turned away from the gruesome spectacle, grunting with the effort of it. It had begun to rain. My blood mingled with it, the rain that appeared to me as tears from the opening in the heavens.
And then another thought forced its way into my numbed mind. My wounds.
This is it.
I'll die soon.
And unwittingly my mind began to think about my past, my childhood. My time on Earth, both the good and the bad.
Of the realization I had made back then. And I made another one, right here, with the life of my own body leaving me, like the mist of breath in winter,
After all I have been through, some how I still stand.
I am still here. I am still alive. And I will survive. I will live on.
I tilted my head to the skies, letting the rain splash over my already-drenched face.
"Bring on the Rain" I whisper, "Bring on the Rain"
~~~~~
Lineage:
A brief summary of the lineage of Deimos; the events that have driven his life up to this point and continue to shape him millinia after their happenings...
It all began with the Celestials; beings whose power far exceed the Blessed Ones.
The only Immortals with power of the stars.
And most importantly, the parents to the Guardians that keep Mortal and Immortal worlds from whirling into chaos.
No one knows what the Celestials truly are or where they came from, or even if they still live. The exact identities of their children for an endless number of generations are unknown as well.
So I shall begin this tale of bloodline with the oldest known Guardian; Denau.
Little is known about Denau. Even his mate is shrowded in mystery; all that is known about her is that she borne Denau many sons on the Immortal world before the two dissappeared from life and history, leaving behind their many offspring.
The eldest of these where those to take on their mantle of the most powerful known non-celestial beings.
Raiu was the real leader of the three. Wise, shrewd, and practicaly radiating command. When it came to Raiu, disobedience was not an option. With the powerful Guardian in charge things ran smoothly, though rebellion could never be stifled.
Raiu might've been the ruler, but when it came to bashing heads, his younger brother Thanados was the one with the touch. Fierce, unwilling to tolerate disorder or chaos of any kind. Quick to anger and quick to judge, Thanados usualy ended up causing more harm than good.
The middle and less noticed son was Xesat. He contained more power than his two brothers combined, but had little control over it. When he called for his powers for the first time, it was utter pandemonium. So Xesat dissappeared into the shadows to master his own element; one which his brothers can only guess the specifics of.
Raiu's current and 'official' mate goes by the name of Airlea. A vain she-wolf, Raiu stays with her only because her dying father has high power amongst the blessed ones, power that Raiu would inherit if he could indure Airlea until the sick Immortals' death. He's sure that he'll be able to bribe or threaten someone to dispose of her in some way after the matter.
While Airlea took care of the eldest twins since birth-if you could even call her actions care- she was not their birth mother. Her pelt matched that of her son's enough to convince most everyone she was their actual mother.
Raiu's first mate, meanwhile, was called Leda. A small-built she-wolf with ebony fur, she was an Immortal but not a Blessed One, with very little power. She was the true mother of the eldest twins of Raiu, and died giving birth to Raiu's son Chaos. Leda was the only one who had managed to truly capture Raiu's gaurded heart, and it pained him when she died. No one besides Airlea and himself knew about any of it, though.
Artemis and Dakola are Raiu's eldest twins. They were raised solely by Airlea, still thinking after so many years that she is their mother. They do not care for her at all, though. Chaos is the second eldest of his many sons. He was born not long after the twins' birth; they were young enough to have forgotten what little they did remember of the time of his birth.
Dakola left the Immortal world as soon as he was able to take on his duties there in disguise as a regular wolf.
Chaos, who was born without power of an element, resigned himself to settle with his mate Mania, living his life as a double agent and spy.
It was the street-savvy Artemis that continues our bloodline towards the young outcast. Deimos was the son of the aforementioned and the Immortal Dion. While Dion was a Guardian over his own element, he was looked down upon as a blackgaurd. For this reason, Artemis hid their only living sons' identity, claming him as the son of Zialon- which, really, wasn't a far strech. Since Zialon was Monster and not Immortal, it could easily be assumed that Deimos was Monster and not blessed with a power of his own.
Which is what Deimos grew up believing, although he suspected otherwise.
