We've Travelled Different Roads

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TAG Silas Sigurd
NOTES N/A

Some poor, unlucky couple had tried to make camp in one of the stores lining the main street of the abandoned town as night had fallen. The silence in the night air was unusual — normally Infected roamed the streets at night, growling and snarling as they paced along the street looking for food. Tonight they were blissfully absent, making it the perfect place to make camp until morning. Well, it would have been perfect, if a certain Military dog hadn't been stalking the streets that night, hungry and looking for something to ease the need to feed. The thought of looking for food that night in the city slums was positively unappetizing to him, so instead North had made the drive out to the abandoned town, hoping he'd run across some unlucky drifter.

He was awarded with not just one, but two little lambs.

North stands in the empty store, figure ominously outlined by the moonlight that streamed through broken windows. His glowing, golden eyes are trained to the two bodies on the ground in front of him, fronts splattered with blood that leaked from the wounds on their necks. They didn't last long, and hadn't been appetizing enough to keep alive.

There isn't any empathy in North's heart anymore to feel anything towards the two innocent people he had just slaughtered. Instead, he merely grins and tips his head back with a satisfied chuckle, bloodied fangs slowly retracting back into his gumline, even as his own face and neck remain covered in blood. The silence is broken when he suddenly scents another Infected approaching the building. He doesn't know who — or what, if a lower level — it is, but a very small amount of possessiveness fills his body in reaction to his food, his kill. He wasn't about to share them with a lowly feral.

“I'm afraid this meal's already been taken,” he laughs, though he does not extend his fangs again as he turns around to face the intruder.

Posted 05-15-2021, 04:28 PM

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Rarely did Silas stick around the Abandoned Town.

In more ways than one, he found it too close to the Stronghold, if the frequent Military presence was anything to go by. Perhaps the only thing that pushed him to continue returning was the practicality of it all. There were supplies and other drifters to barter and trade with, even if he preferred to be on his lonesome, the benefits of trade were not lost to him. And, if nothing else, it was a reminder that even the end of the world didn't wipe away all remnants of civilized society.

Sometimes he even found himself looking forward to seeing familiar faces, if only because he knew their business was genuine. There was something about predictability he enjoyed. Knowing what to expect made him feel in control and confident in a way his life had, for a very long time, not afforded him. Unpredictability did not suit him. It made him feel vulnerable, weak, and powerless. That was perhaps, why he truly stayed away from this place until necessity deemed he must. Sometimes, those familiar faces never appeared again. Sometimes he found their bodies...or what was left of them. Sometimes he was the reason they were never seen again.

He knew, rationally, he should have felt guilty. They had lives and loves, hopes and dreams, yet hunger cared little about such things (and if he were honest, neither did he in such a state).

This evening, however, he was not hungry, yet was drawn to the palpable scent of blood all the same.

The store? The scent grew stronger as he crept forward in the darkness. Was this the work of a depraved human or one of his kind? The chuckling, so faint from where he stood, sounded as though it were teasing him, calling him closer. It sounded vaguely familiar, yet he pushed that possibility out of his mind. No. There was no possible way--

But there was.

'I'm afraid this meal's already been taken'

He blinked hard when he heard those words. What was said being far less important than the voice that spoke them. For a moment, Silas could not move, could not think. Surely this was a mistake. A coincidence. It had to be, for the red hot fury burning his very soul would have no mercy on an unfortunate doppelgänger.

But there was no mistake.

No coincidence.

It only took half of a turn for Silas to realize who laughed so arrogantly, threatening him off of prey he had no interest in.

Once that revelation came, he made no attempt to suppress his rage in fear of harming an innocent who had the misfortune of sounding eerily similar to the devil himself.

"Oh?" He sneered viciously, stepping forward in the moonlight to reveal his face, eyes turned a distinct shade of red. "I'm afraid this isn't something I plan to run from."

Posted 05-15-2021, 05:25 PM

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TAG Silas Sigurd
NOTES N/A

North isn't sure what exactly he was expecting, but it surely wasn't... This.

The bloodied grin that previously accompanied his expression faded just as fast as it was plastered on there, his golden eyes widening in surprise as a familiar voice hits his ears just moments before the owner of them steps into the light. No. No, no! This wasn't right. That couldn't be him. North is dumbstruck as he stares into the eyes of his brother — a brother he hadn't seen or even talked to in over eight decades. But it wasn't a familiar gaze — even without the unnatural red hue, the gaze was filled with contempt and hatred, a gaze that North had never seen before.

“Silas?” the name sticks uncomfortably in his throat, feeling practically raw with disuse. His mind beckons him to a time before he was Infected, must as he struggles to keep himself in the present.

A younger brother he practically raised on his own; adoring and loving, they were never very far from each other's side. But an accidental one night stand had the teenager running from his responsibilities, leaving his younger brother to be by his mother's bedside as she slowly succumbed to her illness. His desire and need to be loved by someone, anyone, manifesting into bad habits that scared his own brother away as soon as they finally reunited again. Anger, hate, loathing — his last few memories of his brother are tainted by undeniable betrayal. As his mind begins to process the fact that Silas is here in the flesh, he slowly begins to recognize what the realization actually meant.

Silas had been turned as well. He was now also an Infected Level V. They had survived the Military's purge and lived on until they could once again regain their humanity, and yet—

“So you were turned as well.” It's flat, emotionless — he hides his pain behind a mask of boredom. He wants to choke on the words as he says them, unable to quite process the flood of emotions that flood through him. Instead he chooses to latch onto the one emotion he does recognize.

“If I knew you were dropping by for a bite to eat, I would have saved you some,” he laughs, pointing at the dead couple with a bloodied hand. “Not exactly the same as a home cooked meal, though.”

Posted 05-16-2021, 12:51 AM

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Was it too much to hope that his brother had grown a brain in the decades between the last time they’d had the misfortune of seeing each other?

Apparently so.

His brother’s tone, so empty, so emotionless sent red, hot fury through every fiber of his being. That was the welcome he got? A redundant, dumbass fucking comment. And as though to add insult to injury, his brother had the audacity to laugh and make a stupid fucking joke. For a moment that felt like it lasted an eternity, Silas stood as still as death. His red eyes burned brightly with furious, murderous intent as he was overwhelmed with all of the unaddressed pain and anguish he had repressed over the years.

The abandonment.

The sickness.

The rage.

“That’s it?” he snapped. “You find out I’m still walking on this damned planet and all you can fucking do is make a joke?” He drew closer, a deep, enraged growl rumbling in the depths of his chest. He was shaking in anger, the heat of his fury nearly felt like it was burning his skin. It was easy for the angry words to fall from his lips. “Do you have ANY idea what you did when you ran off? Do you know what it did to Mom? What it did to me?” Of course he didn’t. North didn’t know anything.

“Did you know I got sick? That I cried every damn night for my big brother in the hospital? The brother who never came to see me? Who couldn’t be fucked to come to Mom’s funeral? Do you know what that was like? No. You don’t. Because you don’t care. You never cared. You left us alone. You left me alone. I wasn’t ready North. I needed you. We needed you. And you left.” Even in his rage, his voice cracked from the weight of emotions consuming him and the heavy pressure of impending tears behind his eyes.

“You’re a fucking coward, North. Just like Dad.”

He didn’t hear what his brother might have said. He didn’t care. Nothing could be said now to stop him from giving into his wrath as he rushed forward with a furious scream, reaching for his brother. He didn’t care where. He didn’t care what. All he wanted was for North to experience pain and he threw everything he had into his attack.

You deserve to suffer.

Posted 05-19-2021, 12:39 PM

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TAG Silas Sigurd
NOTES N/A

In the moment, perhaps his reaction to seeing his brother after more than eight decades was nothing short of heartless, but the confusing emotions racing through his body and his body makes him ill-equipped for a proper response. He's high on blood and the mutated virus inside his veins is screaming at him to do something about the other Infected in front of him. He keeps the grin on his face but he falls silent as his brother suddenly begins to speak to him and that voice that rings in his ears is achingly familiar. Apparently time didn't completely erase one's memories of the past.

But even as his heart aches, there is no love between them. He could feel the tension in the air, the anger practically flowing off Silas like waves of magma. North's tongue stills as he listens to a lifetime's worth of anger pour from Silas's mouth, from irritation towards how North had greeted him, to how he had ran off and left not only his baby's mama, but his own family as well.

It's eerie how there's no spark of guilt at the memory.

Silas continues his tirade, but even as North's adrenaline begins to pick up as the other predator draws closer to him, he can't help but feel a lack of empathy at Silas's words. North had changed a long time ago, and after eight decades, he wasn't about to feel remorse for a decision he had gotten over a long time ago. He sneers, but that's not even the worst of it. Blood rushes in his ears and his own heartbeat overwhelms him when Silas says those cursed words: Just like Dad.

“How dare you—” he snarls in a crazed tone, the smirk gone from his face now as anger overwhelms him. But whatever he's about to say next gets cut off when Silas suddenly turns on him.

Time seems to slow to an almost stand still in the moment. He sees his brother — sees a monster — rush towards him, and in that moment his body screams to fight back. The predator in him quickly rears its ugly head and snarls back in acceptance of the challenge, every fiber in his body on fire as he tenses for a fight. The Military dog in him can pinpoint every single weak spot in Silas's attack, his mind instinctively telling him how to react, to use the other man's sloppy movements against him.

But he doesn't react. He simply braces himself for the impact.

Nails tear into flesh moments before he's thrown back against a wall, a grunt leaving his body as the two of them collide. Like two animals they howl into the night, but even still North doesn't lift a finger against the wrath of his brother. How could he? He practically raised the other man.

“How dare you compare me to Dad,” he pants as he struggles to at least keep the attacks away from his face, already bloodied from his kill — fangs bare themselves in a snarl at Silas. “I fucking raised you, and this is the thanks I get?” He fists the other man's shirt and drags him even closer, wild, yellow eyes staring into red ones. “You're acting like a pathetic child.”

Posted 05-29-2021, 03:52 PM

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Bright, seething hot rage had been consuming him since North had abandoned him at the age of thirteen. It had been the driving force of his life, even after he had fallen in. One could argue this fury was the only thing that kept his going between hospital visits, even after his mother had died. He never thought he would see North again and yet, now that he did, now that he had a chance to finally release all the wrath and bitterness, he felt nothing but unsatisfied. He was disappointed, underwhelmed, and that in turn only made him angrier.

He had wanted North to fight back. He had wanted a reason to know that somewhere, anywhere his brother felt even an ounce of remorse for what he had done. But as he tore in to North, slashing and screaming and digging, he received no resistance. Nothing. What? How was that possible? Why was he just taking it? Confused and wishing North would do something, anything, Silas’ attacks grew sloppier and more vicious, but still, there was nothing. Nothing but an apparent distaste to being compared to their Dad, and a demand that he be grateful but ultimately, nothing Silas wanted.

Furious, he screamed at the top of his lungs. “You left me you fucking coward! I was thirteen! And least Dad did me the favor of never being in my fucking life! You ruined it! You ruined everything!’” Blow after blow after blow, even after he had been dragged by the shirt, continued to fall upon a beast that would not fight back, that would not give him the dignity of a battle. It was humiliating. It was insulting. It was everything Silas had felt for the past century -- defeated. He was panicking. He was shaking with fury. He was feeling crushed all over again and trying to do everything in his power to avoid that defeating sensation.

But nothing was working.

“Just fight back! Damn you! Fight back!” Even as he screeched, his blows became less powerful and less frequent until they stopped entirely. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fucking right. He had wanted a fight. He had wanted to slip blood and know that there was something within in his brother that gave a fuck about any of this, but the only thing he found was arrogance. Arrogance and no hint of accepting what he had done. The tears he had been struggling against leaked from his eyes in spite of himself.

"Tell me why, North. Tell me why you left me behind. Did I mean nothing to you? Do I mean nothing to you now? Why won't you be a man for once in your fucking life and fight me? Own up to what you did you goddamn bastard." He tried to stop himself from weeping, from feeling so weak, but he couldn't stop himself. He tried to wrest himself away from his brother, as if he being so close to him now burned. "I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. I thought all this time would change you, but you're just as much of a coward as the dad I never had the misfortune of knowing. Fuck you, North. Fuck you."

Posted 07-27-2021, 08:39 PM

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TAG Silas Sigurd
NOTES N/A

Yellow versus red. North doesn't take his eyes off of Silas, not even when the man's blows continue to tear and rip apart skin, the scent of blood filling the air — his blood. Much as his body screams at him to fight back, or at least protect himself, he instead allows his brother to take his rage out on him. North simply couldn't find it in himself to defend again such justly earned rage. Pulling Silas closed made it harder for the man to attack him, but blow after blow kept coming, even as they began to grow sloppier and sloppier with their aim. It becomes less of Silas wanting to strike a victorious blow, and more of him just wanting to vent his anger.

North knows it — even without Silas telling him, he knows just how angry his little brother is. He doesn't blame him, really, but the virus in his veins also cools his desire to make it better. There's instead a cold anger that bubbles beneath his surface, keeping him from lashing out entirely while also keeping him from apologizing for what he'd done in the past.

He hears the pain in Silas's voice and winces when told he'd ruined everything — but the snarl on his face doesn't disappear, another warning growl in his chest as Silas once more compares him to their father.

Even when told he should fight back — that Silas wanted, need it — he doesn't make a move to lay a hand on his brother. Nothing past keeping him in place with a firm grasp on his shirt. North's yellow eyes are blazing, his entire figure tainted by the crimson blood still splashed over his features, making him very much a monster rather than an apathetic human, still caring for his kin. He waits in silence as Silas's attacks begin to falter — waits until the blows stop and his body is finally allowed to heal from the onslaught. An unhappy expression twists his face when he sees tears begin to fall from Silas's eyes...

But where is his compassion? His empathy?

Silas tries to pull away but North keeps a grip on his clothes, keeping his brother within hitting distance as he continues to pour his hatred from his soul. Only when Silas stops screaming at him — when he finishes pouring his heart out to his older brother — does North react.

“Are you finished?” Cold. Heartless. Like questioning a child that had just finished throwing a temper tantrum.

He uses his grip to violently shove Silas away from him, putting space between the two of them so their hateful gazes could match with one another. North draws himself to his full height, looking down at Silas — then suddenly lets out a sigh and lets his tense body relax. His shoulders seem to almost curl in on themselves as he lets go of the breath he'd been holding ever since he saw Silas framed in the doorway of the abandoned building. North lifts one of his arms, using the sleeve to wipe away some of the blood that began to dry and feel uncomfortable on his face.

“Clearly you don't hate me that much if you decided to spend your second chance at life looking for me,” North begins with slight amusement in his voice; was it to hide his shame? “I will not fight you, Silas, so if that's the reason you came looking for me, then you may as well leave now. If you want to talk, then we can talk, but let's get one thing straight—”

“I never abandoned you. I never meant to hurt you. I was running away from myself, my responsibilities... I was running from a life I had lost control of. I always had the intention of going back for you. I will talk if that's what you want, but compare me to dad one more time and I will walk out that door,” he finishes, the adrenaline already leaving his body and leaving him simply exhausted. But somehow, he always knew this day would come.

Posted 08-08-2021, 10:41 PM

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‘Are you finished?’

Those three words alone were enough for Silas to scream all over again, though he didn’t in the wake of being so violently shoved away. The lack of noise, however, did not equate to a lack of rage. If he had not exhausted himself, he would have thrown himself at his brother again and tear into himself all over again in search for the compassion he had always longed to find. Instead, Silas found himself trying to bore holes into North’s head with the intensity of his hate-filled stare. The tenseness of the moment had him on edge and ready to attack all over again in spite of his exhaustion. But then, North sighed and…relaxed. What?

But the reason why quickly came apparent as his brother spoke to him.

As angry as he was that his brother refused to fight, the chance to talk meant more than his bloodthirst. Talk. All he had ever wanted in his life before now was to talk. When he lay sick in the hospital, he had only wanted to be with his brother, to speak with someone who knew his secrets and understood. It was insulting to receive in such a way now — had a one-sided attack really been all that was required? — but all the same he would not refuse it. The nagging feeling in the back of his mind that North would disappear again urged him to calm his boiling rage enough to be reasonable.

At first, Silas was going to tell North that this ‘second chance at life’ was not what he wanted. He despised being a monster. He took on pride in what he was forced to do to survive. At times, he wished he had died in the hospital and never received the transfusion that would alter his life forever. Being a beast was what earned him his scar, or so he assumed. The time he did not remember was just that, though he often found himself wishing he could have forgotten North too. To life without such pain, such anger, would have been a blessing, but he was reminded of it all over again when his brother said something so fucking stupid.

“Don’t you get it?” he asked, his voice strained. “It doesn’t matter what you meant to do. The fact is you did hurt me and you did abandon me and now that I’ve found you, you’re threatening to leave me all over again because I have the balls to say something you don’t like. That’s not how it works, North. You don’t get to just throw your hands up in the air and give up. You don’t get to just forget and move on without consequences.” The strain in his voice only increased with his anger.

“Did it ever occur to you that I was a part of the life you ran away from? Did it ever occur to you what that would do to me? To Mom?” When he looked at his brother, he paused, shaking his head with an indignant scoff. [b]“Who am I kidding? You don’t fucking care. You never have. It’s always been what North meant to do and never what North did. I’m not something on your to-do list to get to when you feel like it, North. I’m your fucking brother.” As if such things needed to be said.

“I needed you, North. I cried for you. I wondered what could have been so bad that you didn’t bother to tell me where you were going. But now that I see you, I know that nothing has changed. You’re still as uncaring and selfish as you’ve always been. You mock me and laugh at the pain you caused. And here I hoped this damned disease might have changed something.” There was an edge in his tone, and though his body remained tense he did not move to strike.

“But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because despite the fact that you hurt me and despite the fact that you refuse to admit what you’ve fucking done, I still love you.”

Posted 08-31-2021, 10:01 PM

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