▋♠♤ : Liekos Enthsamor
thirty-four ♠ male ♠ lorkin [coyote genetic] ♠ political knight
To be apart of the court calls for a certain exterior, a front to the ever present corruption of political war fare, in which one must be stoic and otherwise strong. It was a heavily immersed skill that one eventually perfected over time, bearing each lashing of Mann, each screech of an elf or ancient bell of a Gypsi. These fortified to a learning of calm exteriors and hard-lipped muzzles, a family forged under these fundamentals of politics and blackmail - the shadows under lining each diplomatic exchange running thick and deep; like bleeding grooves between fur. Here in the deepest pits of Laharl a family waited impatiently for the birthing of two sons, paws that tromped and claws that dug, each coyote bearing a snarl and a deeply rooted concern. For each litter graced was accompanied by the bereavement of a pup, a tiny soul lost after the first draw of breath, the mother weeping over her loss with crimson remains left in the tracks of her soft belly fur - never to raise the young.
The line was of small litters and many names, infamy marking the blood of these canines for their ruthless thrusts into society, propelling through the leagues of warriors and advisers with harsh snarls and maws curled in the darkest of sneers. They raised the pups fast, with a speed and flourish often frowned upon by similar mothers and fathers, the elders how ever, praised them for the olden ways in which they favoured. Thus, from the day Liekos was born unto the world, his life would be forever decided for him. Traditions made difficult for originality and individualism, for when his mother sputtered a cry and birthed him, the families praised over the first born son - the many ages of breeding coming down into his generation. Not one flickering, ocher gaze passed onto the smaller whelp, the tiny thing of fur and whimpers left abandoned save for the mother's love.
Liekos would come to never learn his brother's name.
The coyote was steeped heavily into traditions that would shape the way he viewed the world, his gaze would be narrowed and flawed, but none the less sharp and peering. Combined with the heady gaze of ochers and golds, his brow would be defined and become to later be described as a brooding glare, some that, in odd comparisons, was defined to be charming and handsome and otherwise desired. As many of his family, the pallet of his coat was mostly of muddy browns and clashes of ginger hairs, soft as any down in his graces as a pup. Beneath the softness of his coat though was the heart of a creature wanting to be set free, a beast that slumbered and would never be awakened. Liekos was of quick wit in his younger years, always willing to test the patience of tutors and family, curious on the concept of boundaries and limitation - he naturally pushed on these borders, 'least until the backlash sent him reeling with a sharp yelp.
Where did this curiosity go? For the coyote glancing to you today would be of silent murmurs and demeaning gazes, he debases everyone in his mind for the simple fact, that, he was corded into belief that his genetic was superior. With this complex being forged into Liekos from an early age, he grew up with a brutish arrogance; a harsh personality that made him a burden to befriend and a dislike among many other in the palace of Laharl. There were only a few times he came to glance at his brother, mistakes under the pretense of outings, his mother smiling with her claws curled around the thin shoulder of a coyote shorter than him by many inches. He didn't know then, despite their similarities, that the miniscule creature was related to him at all - he was taller, broader in shoulder and leaner at his furred hip, already the first tresses of black were beginning to fall around his ears, providing a scruffy exterior. The pup which clung to his mother was none of these things and nearly blanched in hues, paler furs that contrasted wildly against his own.
When he inquired after the other coyote, his father murmured something akin to shameful and sacrifice, but Liekos didn't understand the meaning of these terms. He associated shame with death, and sacrifice as means to an end and left it at that, he ignored the scorn and distaste in his father's baritone and dared not reflect on the paler pup, no matter how his mother clung to the weaker individual. Thus Liekos grew, corded in muscle and hardened by the traditions of old, pain thresholds were developed in the most brutish of ways, brutal nights being laden with bruises, fur scorched and his muzzle gaped wide in painful gasps. His ribs would be cracked, his head would be smashed against dirt-pact walls and he would be bashed with blunt-tipped sabres and lashed with daggers. Liekos bore these training days with grit and a determined spine.
But there were nights he wished to quit, he wanted to stop training, to stop learning. He envied the simplistic livings of other sons and daughters, for they did not have to spend hours rotating between studies and physical endurance. But looking back on it now, he wouldn't trade in his training for a life of affections and empathy, rather Liekos would come to be grateful of his upbringing. And looking at his reflection, with hair flowing around broad shoulders, he would thank his elders despite the bitter qualms. During his training as the Enthsamor heir, Liekos was the knightly prodigy, and as such, his parents discussed over potential matches - curious of their bloodline, the young coyote and had to learn that ancient wolfen blood pumped through his system, which would explain his rich coat that was blossoming in red-under tones that clashed with his creamy underside. He was nearing into his maturity, corded with muscle and standing proud like his predecessors, his hair was a tail at his nape, tied by a throng of leather and pulled back away from his strong brow and stubborn maw.
It was here he first met another Candide other than his coyote family, she was beautiful, in a rough sort of finish, donned with a curious nature that Liekos found difficult to keep up with. She was more interested in nature than she was in potential companionship, but his parents continued to goad him along, saying that the she-wolf would need time to woo and cajole in his favour. Liekos wasn't sure of the Enthsamor and Athuis ties and he still isn't sure to this day. All he knew was that their families had forged a potential pair between him and Talanna - and he had tried to befriend her, even going as far as to follow her out on her usual journeys to the river and back. When he came to give up on the three months tirade of trying to win her heart, Liekos had come to feel adoration to a particular she-wolf of black fur and crimson eyes.
To say that Liekos fell for Drea on first sight could be plausible, but ask the diplomat up-front and he'd be likely to deny such matters. In truth, deep in the sections of Laharl, the coyote male had been infatuated from the get-go. Something about her prodded his curiosity to inquiry after her, completely forsaking Talanna on days he was scheduled to be within her graces. Whether the elder sister noticed, Liekos wasn't sure, but he found himself undoubtedly drawn to the ebony-furred wolf and her red eyes that he thought to be the sweetest of carmines. His family, feinting their ignorance, did nothing to thwart his advanced on the younger Lorkin, in fact they thought it to be a tactic in order to get closer to Tal.
They couldn't of been farther from the truth.
One evening, after spending time with Drea, Liekos had returned to the elevated estate of his family that had been granted in association with their political advancements. Her scent clung to his fur, a careless notion in which he forgot to perform in cleansing himself to avoid further suspicions. His father though, keen as ever, approached his son under pretenses to inquire after his progress with Talanna, prepared to deliver another lecturing on courting delicate dames [of course Tal was anything but delicate, Liekos could still vouch for it] but the assault of Drea's tangible calling still peppered his armour and furs; he felt almost enveloped in her.
In traditions of old, the black was the signal of the taint, the red eyes that he cherished told to be of the Varg hate. Liekos denied these things against her, claiming that her soul was not warped and that she was innocent under these tales of fear and despair. He used his studies to quote the wolves of old, tried to dispel the old-bourne hatred that many directed towards the one he cared for. His father could only deny his son everything, stripping him of his schedules to be in the Athuis family and murmured threats toward the family in which they had been bonded to for so long. Here Liekos's family snarled and raged against him, calling him foolish and tarnished, murmuring that the bitch-Varg had soiled his good name and heart - he was nothing more than a shameful prodigy now.
The knight only snarled right on back, stubborn teaching keeping him firm in his belief and support that was never wavering. They cheered and simultaneously wept, his mother just smile - a broken grin - and told her son that she was proud of him for standing true to the she-wolf, but it wasn't his decision in whether or not he was to court her still. The coyote, his mind trained into obeying his masters, could only go along with further plans and Liekos found himself holding the paw of another wolf; a dame of insignificance and charm that paled in comparison to the ones he had felt for. If he was honest with himself, and Liekos tried to be, he had never let his feelings for Tal go, but his cherished affections for Drea had over-shadowed the potential to be the mate she needed. But he dared not approach these subjects, not even now, with his soon-to-be pride smiling at his side and murmuring of how strong he was, the coyote could only nod in agreement.
He was strong, but inside he felt weak.
The she-wolf he married for a year was from a lesser family, their bloodline catering to mechanical savvy wolves rather than warriors. He got her with child soon after the reluctant marriage and with his own dependent family, he had to think ahead of his political and knightly careers. Liekos was hesitant to leave Laharl behind, but the halls and chambers spoke of dark fur and red eyes he had not seen for so long and a love he never got to have. He didn't love his pretty, pale-brown wife and did not care much for the litter she was to give. Rather, Liekos was sighing his life away until he suggested the move to Midgardr, here he would be a voice for the Lorkin, striking an intimidating figure in the circle of counseling, bickering individuals of every race. Here he came to meet the Gypsi elders, here he saw the elves and the stubborn-strength of Mann.
He was inspired by many and all, and on the night he was given his pups, he told his mate the truth - of how his heart belonged to another. She simply accepted the truth, for she adored him, but could never love him as she too admitted to cherishing another. It was a bittersweet truth and realization and the coyote male held his son and daughter - both a soft down of red and pale-cream fur and sent them back to Laharl with his promise of coin and status - his family would never go hungry or cold. From this point the Lorkin became infamous for his heritage and snarls, his refusal to back down to any and all and his promise to find the one he cherished above all others.
For even if Drea had gone to the Varg like the rumours said, Liekos would hunt her down even at the cost of his life.