Weight Of the World(Kirill)

[† §arabi]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,448,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/71tgsj.jpg]

Four years had passed since that dreadful day. Four years of utter torment and pain, and a mind filled with self hatred. Despising ones self is an easy task, but complete and utter loathing was hard to come by, even if your pain was due to your own personal sins. Sins that had been brought by a mass bloodshed, and a nearly broken and lifeless body. Kiska could not forgive herself for her sins, even if they had been brought on by anothers. Even as weak and near death as she had been, she would forever torment herself till a little of her pain and rage could be unleashed.

It had been four long years since she had seen another familiar soul, and though she had once knew many, there was but one she knew of that was still alive. The two soul survivors of the slaughter, but did he know she was alive? No, he didn't, he of all the others would have found her if he thought it possible. She'd smelled him from her hiding spot, for days till the scent had faded into nothingness. She'd been unable to speak, to call out for him, or even to move. Yet since she had regained her strength and function of her body, she had searched for him endlessly, with no luck. She'd wept through nights when she thought she couldn't go on, where she thought that giving up might be better than the hell life was putting her through, and then she remembered who she was, and though she had done horrible things, she was from a strong line, and giving up, despite how pleasant it would be, was not an option. So she wandered, and wandered, until days and weeks passed in a blur with little memory to follow.

She couldn't remember how she'd ended up on this god forsaken island, she'd been in the mountains of Russia, continuing her wondering as she had for years, and then, one morning, she was here, no snow, no cold, just sea, and forests, and a warmer climate than she was used to. That had been almost a month ago, and only now had she been able to continue her search, listening to whispered conversation by wolves who hadn't known she was there. She'd slipped by them like a pale wraith, gathering what Information she needed before she disappeared. One thing she had learned, that had lifted her spirits was that he was here. How her favorite cousin had ended up in this hell she didn't know, but for once, in four years, she had caught a break. She'd found him, she only had to close in on her target.

Yet a shadow had covered the small amount of joy she;d felt upon realizing she was so close to the only surviving member of her family. Her enemies were here to, she'd smelled them, and she had hear their horrid names whispered on the tongues of strangers. At least, she'd heard his foul name. Just thinking it had bile rising in her throat, and a snarl parting her lips. The usually calm rage flared, for but a moment, and then died as she forced herself to think of Kirill.

Kirill had been what she had been to her immediate family. He'd been a prince, a talented Vor among many. The best, and she had come in a close second. She often wondered if that had been the only reason she was alive, because she had forced herself to run along side Kirill, always competing in a silent game to be better, though just as well do her job sufficiently. He'd been a Prince, and she a princess, a key asset, yet she'd been torn down like a paper doll, watching as her family fell, in shocked horror before they had turned to her and beat her down like a useless wolf. She'd been out of practice due to her hidden young, being a new mother had her attention else where. She'd barely been able to crawl back to them, bleeding from her savage wounds. She'd fed them what she'd been able to spare, but they had drained her of their life's milk, till she'd nothing left to give them.

The memory had tears stinging her bright pale sky blue eyes. Had her stopping in her journey towards her cousins lands. how she tortured herself everyday because of that horrible memory, of the fact that she had been to weak to save them. There was not a day that went by that she didn't think of them, of the pups that had barely begun to live. She'd curled her weak, bruised and bleeding body around their lifeless corpses and wept till she couldn't cry another tear. She'd remained till hunger drove her out of that small den, and she'd used what little strength she still possessed to hunt down a buried elk carcass. Even that small journey had nearly driven her to complete exhaustion and death. Yet there had been only a few things that kept her going, vengeance, revenge, and justice. And Kirill.

The pale beauty paused, lifting her head to peer about her surroundings. These lands were desolate, empty, almost useless. Nothing like her beautiful Russia. Nothing like home. But he was here, or so she had heard on the winds. It seemed that her beloved cousin had made a life for himself, a leader of a pack of hellions, or so she'd heard, she knew her cousin, and hellions would not be raised from his paws, soldiers, maybe, but not hellions. She wondered how he could start this new life, start over with their enemy so close. She wondered if he even knew. How could he not on this island? It was so small compared to the endless forests of the Russian wilderness.

Kiska was a pale wolf in color, save for the black and gray blemishes that covered her head, neck, and back. Yet most of her somewhat small body was pale creams and pure whites. Despite the very, very slight discoloration in her left eye, which could have easily gone unnoticed, Her eyes were a bright, sort of sky blue, and they stood out in her pretty face like pools of pure liquid. Kiska was a beauty, and had been dubbed such many times since she'd been born to her family. She'd been the light among them, a pure fire that burned bright, with laughter that could bring even the most sullen and depressed out of their darkness. She was a soldier, a spy, and a warrior, and for so long, not one had mattered, not till now, till she'd found two things she'd been looking for. Redemption, and Revenge.

She'd often wondered if she'd continued being a Runner for her family if they would still have been alive. Her soul duty had been to race across the frozen wasteland to seek out their hidden spies, to be a wraith, a hidden entity, undetectable, to gather the information their spies had collected and take it back home. She'd been the best, and more often than not her job had her heading directly to Kirill. They had gotten along well, at least, that's what she could still remember. Actually they had been close friends, mostly because she herself had a bad tendency to get in a risky bind. He'd gotten her out of trouble countless times. Yet as hard as she tried, the length of time between then and now had nearly washed away the good memories, the trouble they laughed about later. It hurt her heart to realize now, that her own grief and pain had stolen the memories she had once treasured.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she stood at the borders of her only relatives pack lands. She knew better than to cross them, but her life had taken a turn years ago, and everything she did, she longed for death. If only to see her young again. She didn't call out for him, didn't sing that precious announcement of her very presence. No, she continued walking, picking up her heavy paws and stepped over the boundaries into a territory that was not her own. She didn't care, she could fend for herself quite well, it was just a matter of how much she wanted to see Kirill. She figured if she ran into one of his soldiers, she'd simply ask an audience with the King, if the denied her, well, she'd show them exactly what she thought of them after denying her a meeting with her own flesh and blood. She was so close, there was no way in hell that anyone could stop her now.

[/size][/color][/blockquote][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table]

[© freedom]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,487,true]

[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/2a82ekn.jpg] Kirill let out a deep sigh, frustration and anger filling his soul. It was not the kind of anger he was used to, it did not turn his vision red or send him snarling in anger at the nearest object. No, this type of anger was quite different. He felt like he was drowning, cold and freezing in the ice lakes of Russia without a way to get his body back up to the surface. His chest was hurting, his head swimming in pain, even his paws were sore and he had not been walking that long. Nothing had happened to Memphis, Arden or Naomi; nothing had hurt his unborn grandchildren. The war had not yet started, and none of his pack had been killed or fled his ranks in the past few days. There was nothing that had recently happened that would have made Kirill feel this way, it was the past nightmares that were drowning him now. He had to get away from his family. He could not let anyone see him like this, not even his mate whom he shared everything with. Memphis knew why they were fighting Dragunov Solokov, she knew why Kirill hated the bastard with everything in his soul. She understood that Solokov had killed her mates family; but it was different for Memphis. She was plagued with the things the bastard had done recently; how he had basically killed Anastasia, how he had raped her, how he had threatened their very existence. All these things ate at Kirill just as much as they ate at her, but there was even more darkness that had cursed Kirill that just the horrors that had happened on the Island. Everyone knew that Solokov had killed off the Vory V Zakone. Everyone knew that Kirill was the last of his bloodline. No one knew the things that Kirill had seen. The blame that he placed upon his body every day. They did not know the demons that ran through his mind and the hatred he had for himself. For allowing his family to be killed. Maybe if he had been there, he too would have died. Maybe there was nothing he could have done to stop the massacre and his blood line really would have been completely extinguished. But maybe not! Maybe if he had been there he could have been that last stone on the scale and things would have tipped in their favor. There was a darkness in Kirill's soul, a blame that never would go away and a hatred that he would never be able to get rid of. He hadn't been on a mission when the massacre happened, he had caused his own families death. It was because of Arden's unborn puppies, they were the reason that he was drowning in his own memories. His memories had not been this bad when Anastasia and Dante were born, maybe a part of them knew that the children would not outlive the father. When Arden was brought into his life he did not relive his past because though Arden was his son in every way- he was not his blood. His son would not be cursed the way the father was. But these children, the ones still growing inside of Naomi's swollen belly; they may not be his blood, but Kirill felt a connection to these puppies that he had never felt before. They may not have his blood but Kirill had a strong thought that they were going to be Vory one way or another. The comforting and happy thoughts that had been a blessing to his tarnished mind for those few minutes had quickly vanished once again. The thought of puppies, of being in a family and looking after a pregnant female brought the large Russian to a whole nether string of thoughts. Kiska. His favorite cousin, he had not thought about in years- the memory was too painful. She had just given birth a few days before the massacre, but by the time Kirill had gotten back to his families bodies there had been no sign of her. She had kept her den secret from even her own family, and though Kirill had searched and searched he could not find either her or the puppies. He highly suspected that Solokov had taken his cousin and used her for whatever their wishes may be- tears came to his eyes when he thought about it. Kirill was a large monster, getting his size and appearance from his father. His coat wasn't as thick as it used to be because of the heat in the land that he lived; but he was still soft and fluffy to the touch. His muzzle was shorter than most wolves, because of his Russian heritage, and though he was not a giant in size he was easily taller than his maned wolf mate and weighed at least 200 pounds. Kirill was a beast, his average coloring made him blend in with most wolves, while his size granted him an advantage in most fights. He was a handsome brute, always getting himself in trouble and picking fights at the right time. Most handsome young males had their wing man, a brute who could take the friend away if need be, who was there if fights broke out or trouble started. Kirill has Kiska. He could remember the trouble they used to get into. The fights they used to start. The trouble he would help her out of, and the shit they would get each other into. Having been born almost together, growing up in the same training, being from a family who loved and adored the next generation- they have thrived. It was one of the reasons Kiska had kept her young away from her family, the Vory were a proud race and when their Princess bred outside of their standards they were none too happy. Kirill had stood beside her through the pregnancy, snapping and snarling at anyone who dared to even look at her longer than was needed. He was a Prince. She was a Princess. They were best friends, and he knew that if Kiska was alive today he could finally start forgiving himself for the horrors in his past. Letting out a deep sigh Kirill glanced around him and realized that somehow he had found himself in the outskirts. This was not the place he wanted to be. Not because he was scared of anyone, it was simply because he was not in the mood to deal with newcomers and going through all the bullshit of their acceptance. The only part about being an alpha that really irritated him, the job never stopped. Of course he had Memphis, and normally he had Arden, there was Sin as well. But the wolves just kept coming and coming, in reality he shouldn't be complaining. Letting out a deep sigh he sat down on the ground and looked across the plains. There was someone here, he could feel them on the back of neck. He was not afraid of course, he was more irritated than anything else. Who was this bitch? A particular memory hit Kirill's mind at that moment. He could remember their last day of training, and how him and Kiska had been separated for the first time. He was dubbed an infiltrator, a beast who would tear things apart from the inside. His cousin has been dubbed a Runner, a spy, someone trained in the art of going deep and staying silent. Both jobs the same, yet both so different at the same time. He could remember looking at his pale coated cousin, a wolf who was more a sister to him than anything else, and giving her the first nickname that had ever been in the Vory family. Of course he prided himself in being the first to do so, he had been young and reckless. He remembered Kiska coming up and licking him on the cheek, telling him to watch his back. Eyes opening wide Kirill stood up quite suddenly, calling out a single word. It couldn't be, not now, not here. It would be insane, impossible. It would be just like her. Kiska, the Ghost, here? "Призрак!" Muse;; Shitty day Word Count;; 1372 Authors Notes;; Not as good as I hoped. Sorry! Copyright;; Kirill and this post are both strictly © to Freedom. Table made and © to Sarabi. All theft will be found and dealt with strictly.

[† §arabi]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,448,true]

[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/71tgsj.jpg]

Sorrow followed her like an invisible wraith, a ghost of pain and grief. For so long it had followed her, brought her to tears, and dragged her to her belly, when nothing else had ever been able to. She could remember collapsing through the barren winters of Russia, weeping and screaming at the sky, cursing the dawn and god for the pain he brought her, for what he made her do to her beloved pups, children she and her cousin had protected viciously when she'd been pregnant. She'd fought hard to keep them, to stand tall, and proud for the bastard pups, and Kirill had stood with her. Nothing had been able to get through them, not when they stood together. Never together. Yet just as soon as he'd disappeared, everything had broken. She had been broken.

A heavy sigh parted her wolven lips, making her pause as she lifted her head and looked at the wasteland around her. Despite it all, this horrid place, she wouldn't give anything to return home, not if her cousin was really here. She prayed silently that her mind hadn't continued to deteriorate, at least, where her family was concerned. She had dreamed of this day, of seeing Kirill, the last of her blood left, she only hoped that her mind and sensed were not playing tricks on her, for such tricks would be cruel and heartless, even for god to deliver her after all he had done.

Drawing in a deep breath Kiska froze, her pale icy eyes shifting downwards and then to her left as if following an invisible trail. His scent was so strong, fresh, and she could almost feel the heat of his passing. It was her beloved Kirill, his scent swallowing her like a tide, and crashing down with a jolt of reality. No, this was no trick, god could not create such a scent. Not and it be a complete lie to her senses. Her pale eyes peered in the direction the scent had led, and she just stood there, staring, alert and on edge. Never had she truly believed she would find him, her searching had merely given her something to do, something to try and accomplish, a mission, a job to keep her going, so she could feel, even just a little, that she was useful in some small way.

For so long the attack haunted her, it had crashed into her family like a giant iron fist, like the hammer of god stealing the life from her family, from the ones she loved despite their displeasure in her choice. She had often wondered if the reason for their fall was because of her sin, because she mated with an outsider, an outsider that had never been a true love. He'd been a rouge, someone passing by that she'd run into, their flirting had led to passion and then, weeks later, after he'd gone, she realized she was pregnant. It had never been on purpose, but even doing what she had had been frowned upon, at least, for the females. She could remember her fathers wrath, the rage when he realized her belly was swollen and she had no Vor mate to show for it.

Fury, she remembered fury. She'd told only Kirill at the time, and she had put her whole heart into her eyes when the fear leaked through. She trusted him to help her, to save her from their family because of what she done, something she would have never, at the time done different. The pups she had carried may not have been full Vor's but they were hers. Kirill had merely looked at her, and smiled. He had stood by her night and day, and the day she'd told her father he had been there to intercept her fathers attack. Her father had meant to beat her till she miscarried, that she knew, but Kirill had saved her and ever since had been at her side. Till she vanished. She'd only disappeared from even Kirill when she realized the pain was because the pups were ready for true life, and she had disappeared to her hidden sanctuary from everyone. She hadn't even told her cousin in fear someone would follow him and hard her young when she ventured out. Had that been a mistake? She believed it had been.

Pain squeezed her heart as she stared off into the distance, her eyes following the trail he had taken as if she could see the very air he had disturbed with his passing. What would she find when she came face to face with him? What if grief and pain had forced him to forget her? Nothing would be left for her if that was true, surely death would be better than having Kirill not know her. The mere thought had her almost weeping, but she turned from her path inland and followed it, as silent and quiet as she had ever been. In the four years that she had but one mission, she had tried hard to keep her skills in check, and though she may have not been as good as she once was, she was still able to become invisible, it was what she did. She was a ghost, a silent unseen entity that no one ever noticed.

She crept along the path, her eyes watchful, audits flicking back and forth, listening to anything that could or would sneak up on her. Nothing was out here, but then again these wolves were Kirill's wolves, who knew what he taught them. The thought had a smile creeping across her face, the first smile she had dared the world to see since she'd been taken down. Nothing had been worthy of it till now, because she could just imagine how his soldiers would turn out. Kirill was ruthless, but strong and caring when there was a caused to care about, he was a warrior, and would no doubt train his pack to be ones as well. It was an amusing thought, honestly, but as she reached thicker patch of trees, she stopped, and the sight that greeted her had relief wash through her.

There he was on near the very borders of his land staring, his mind in his own thoughts. To her he seemed larger, bigger than she remembered, but it had been so long since she had last seen him. She felt smaller to the world around her, had since she'd been beaten like a normal wolf, taken down and mauled like useless prey. They had ripped open her flank, her throat, and nearly blinded her, and despite it all, she had survived. Somehow, she had survived.

For a moment she felt peace, at ease with the horror of her life, her cousin, her brother, her family, stood only yard away, he was alive, thriving and well, and she'd finally, finally, found him after all these years. Yet she knew that this feeling wouldn't last, knew it in her heart because the Solokovs were here, and no doubt trying to pick off Kirill himself. She couldn't let that happen, no, not him, he was the strongest of them all, even if he hadn't been there to save her. She didn't blame him, she never had, he'd had his own life even then and even the great prince needed time to himself. She understood that, though she wondered if she had kept up with her duties, and not birth her young, if her family would be alive, would they have stood a chance if both she and Kirill had been at each others side?

Shaking her head she watched him for a moment, standing, watching him from the shadows. She knew she didn't need to move, knew he would realize the disturbance around him. Knew he would feel her pale cold eyes boring into his back "Призрак!" That single name, the word shouted to the wind, had her heart breaking. How could she have forgotten that name? His name, the one he had dubbed her when they had been freed from the ruthless training. His name, the only one to say it to her face. Others had whispered it, told little stories to the pups about it, but only Kirill used it in placement of her true name. That familiar Russian brogue had her tears finally spilling over and soaking into her pale cheeks. She had not heard another speak her language in years, she had avoided all signs of wolven life in Russia, and now, it nearly tore her in two.

”о времени вы поняли мое присутствие кузена. “ "About time you realized my presence cousin." She whispered softly. Her own voice sounded strange to her. It to had not been used in many moons, and though her voice was like silk, smooth, and sweet, an asset in any job, there was a slightly rough note to it that spoke clearly of its lack of use. Slowly, Kiska stepped out from where she had silently hidden herself, walking towards him, her eyes trained on his massive form. He was indeed a monster in size, he dwarfed her, made her seem like something tiny and petite, when she was barely just. She was small, and she was on the petite side, but her thick coat usually made up for that factor. Her small size was no way to judge her however, because she would more than likely rip out your throat if you weren't to careful.

”Он был долгое время, двоюродный брат ... Как я мечтал об этом дне ... Почему ... Почему ты оставил меня? “"It has been a long time, cousin... How I have dreamed of this day... Why... why did you leave me?" She whispered, tears in her eyes, and a soft sob tearing from her throat. No one had ever seen her cry, not even her beloved Kirill.

[/size][/color][/blockquote][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table]

[© freedom]

!! ATTENTION !!

This thread is currently being HELD. This means that it is not allowed to be moved to the archives. Due to both parties being museless at the moment, and it not clogging up too much space, it will be held for as long as needed!