Redsand Canyon Like you held onto Light

I just thought that the world would be better off without me. Says he. 

Donovan is interested by his outlook on life this most unfortunate aspect of his life. The constant struggle for forgiveness. Donovan wonders what it’s like to strive for forgiveness like that. Perhaps he sought it out with Aphrodite. Yet he became bitter in the end with himself. It made him worse, so much so that he attacked Dawn for simply being in the same pack as her. For fun too. Just to get a rise out of it. Now, where Hemlocke believes he is the devil, Donovan knows he himself is, at the very least, a piece of shit. Yet currently he has no qualms with himself. He’s free. He’s accepted who he is, even though he still fights with himself — denies things. He is what he is.

This half devil is having problems doing that — accepting himself. So Donovan gazes to him as they walk. “It is not.” He hums casually — matter of factly. Referencing the part of the world being better without him. “Perhaps the Gods hear your pleas, but you are too blind to your own self loathing to accept it.” Comes his response. His voice soft and casual as he offers the idea to the other.

There is a smile, soft, that it is almost hidden over the blackness of his features-inky lips on inky fur. He says the world would not be better and it is not often others think well of him. It reminded him of his time in the Bracken, with the two golden women long lost by him now. Skyward....

Heheh... A small chuckle breathing from parted inky lips and he shakes his head delicately at himself. You might be right there. The Gods had not shown him a sign he was doing right by them, but maybe that was their point. As a son of the Devil, they made to test him harsher then any else, to see his full worth. Maybe they wondered if he would break, as he had this day. But it would seem he had not fallen without getting back up, had he? It was he, Donovan (and Nyra literally) who had helped him back to his feet again. 

I guess I shouldnt feel I wasted my life trying to be good, whether I go to Hell or not...At least I tried, right? Slim shoulders then take a roll. It wouldnt be a life wasted by anyone I help, either. If, in the long run, the Gods didnt care of his efforts, at least all those he had tried to care for whilst living would remember the kindness which he had given.

Kynareth’s nodding at the others slight realization that he has a purpose in this world and it’s not to suffer. The hellhound is odd looking yes, but so is Donovan. Surely, if Hemlocke sticks around long enough, Kyn can beat some sense into the guy that he’s not just garbage cause he looks weird. Hell, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely attracted to the look too. The male isn’t ugly that’s for sure.

Still, Donovan can only convince him so much. The rest has to come from him. “See, peaches, you got a purpose here. You help, we accept you, we don’t care what you look like or whatever fucking crazy ritual brought you into this world. You’re a Saint and we stick out for each other. Fuck whatever anyone else says.” He meets his eyes intently. “And yeah at least you tried.” He smiles almost softly at the other. A fire in his own eyes as he speaks, determined to get the other to realize he’s more than just a monster.

Wanna wrap this up with your next post?

It was definally true to say when it came to appearances, at least in the wolf world, Kyn and Locke were an odd pair. Kyn, with his short and boxy snout, heavily corkscrew tail and stripped patterns all throughout. And Hemlocke, as tall as Donovan was alone yes far more slender with a waste not usually found in wolves. Squared off muzzle just the same and worh ears far to large and oddly pointed and long. Weird folks, they were. However, Kynareth knew this of him due to his dog nature. Hemlocke however, thought his odd looks were due to being 'the devil's son', not knowing of course that at the particular state, his mother had been rightfully mad. Hemlocke's true father was shepherd, no devil. 

Then the striped man went onto say that Hemlocke could help along the pack and they would accept him- No matter the looks, no matter the original, no matter the wild religious ideals he spat. Hemlocke Grove was a Saint, he was family. Thank you...so much. His baritone voice whispered, his expression soft to the man who openly accepted him without a single fuck given. I'll do what I can to take care of you all... I promise. If only they'd give him the chance, see that he wasnt just some monster. Scary, perhaps, especially in the dark, but definitely not a monster.

Yep! Sounds gucci to me!

He’s glad his words could at least slightly sway the hellhound and convince him he is at least not just meant to die and suffer and all the crazy shit he wasn’t talking about. It seems as though the truth Kynareth speaks has some meaning and Hemlocke takes it to heart — so does Donovan. He means every word he says for he too is a freak by lame man’s terms. To hear that because of Donovan’s acceptance of the odd but — in his eyes — beautiful creature before him that he pledges himself to the Saints. 

Kynareth smiles softly and stops in his tracks. “Then you are welcome hear no matter what. We will fight with you, cry with you, hunt with you and so on. You are a Saint and I’m willing to die for those who give me the same treatment.” His words are said seriously, deeply. 

Then with a few moments of bated breath he sighs. “For now, I must go find Derg, the other alpha of this group, and inform him of your decision to give yourself to the Saints.” He smirks — a charming, confident smile. “Meanwhile, make yourself at home and get acquainted with your pack mates.”

With that, he would listen to whatever their newest addition had to say and offer a polite nod for a goodbye as he pads off. A single glance of yellow back to the hell hound before he’s off.

Just slipping this small bit then archive.

 

To Donovan's words, all of them, does Hemlocke smile, shaded by the impossible darkness of his coat throughout. He'd have a family of a sorts he never truly was able to have savor his single mother. A family of hellions, but given their rough nature it only meant they were willing to do anything for their own- their leader here made that much clear. A wave of curled tail, Hemlocke offers a silent dip of his muzzle and makes way to find a place to hide from the morning's light to come.