this bloodstained existance[o]

[europa]

Bloodstained Blade

Who was he to disagree with the will of the Universe? It had fated him to end up alone, broken and without will or reason to live on. Although the training that his father had given him was so deeply carved into him that he needed no reason to stay alive to live, nor did he need the will to. All he needed was a fight or the prospect of a fight to live on, to keep his existance there even though it was pointless. So, he lived on, despite his lack of a life to live. The Universe had not beaten him on that one and it never would, ever. He would live until the day he chose to die.

Contemplating his life was not a normal passtime for the powerful white tiger, although at that moment he had nothing better to do with his time. There was no hunting to be done, he had already trained himself to the point of passing out and he had no one to talk to except for himself and there was no way he was that crazy. He may have been a little insane, but not in the way that would allow him to talk to himself without getting any strange looks. Well, if there was anyone there to give a strange look, which there was not. As usual he was alone in a lesser inhabited part of the icy forest that the tigers resided in.

Like most of the striped cats Blade was not known for his social skills and his were even worse than the majority of the large stripey felines. He avoided everyone and anyone, including his nonexistant family members. Solitude was his best friend, as was the cool wind and the fresh scent of the forest in the early morning. He liked to be alone, solitary. It was the way he was and the way he would probably remain until his death. However he had not always been that way. Once upon a time he had been more social, with a family and cubs, but one moment had ended that all. One moment, a bear and bad timing that he all blamed on himself. Now he was forever alone, forever in solitude and locked in grief that was hidden deep in his mind.

Right then you would think he was not grieving. With his chestnut eyes lightly shut and his nose lifted to the slight breeze he seemed completely at peace with himself and the forest. Only those with knowledge of his moods and past would be able to see the tears falling behind that peaceful exterior and the bloodthirsty insanity hiding those tears from himself.

[mudbug]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=height,353,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,background-image: url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2eluhxz.jpg);,true] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" Grey paws, black stripes, and silver eyes cut through the forest life. Towering greens and browns fought to obscure his vision, but his discerning eyes saw past the maze of bark to the true contents of the land. Another form, orange in hue with stripes akin to his own belonged to this forest. Silver eyes watched the being look to the sky, uncertain in what the next move should be. Still his powerful body moved closer and closer, certain that the stranger should be made an acquaintance. It was his creed to hold all information imaginable. Information could never be taken for granted - as anyone in his field of work knew well. Having nothing better with which to fill his time, Sicario set out to acquire knowledge of every member of his clan. He was a being of shadow and solitude, but he was not antisocial. Meeting others, but never growing attached to even one was his mode of interaction. It was a flawless plan. Even his full name was kept a secret. Introductions were reduced to only, Sic. It would take a sharp mind, the likes of which he didn't think he had come across to this day, to realize that Sicario was the truth behind the moniker. His powerful legs came to a halt. Brushing his pelt against the rough bark of a proud pine, he called to the stranger in the tone of an old friend. "Hello, stranger. What brings you wandering to the forest, like myself?"