The sun was at its peak as Léon gazed at his Hamilton pilot wrist watch. Perhaps, he had come a tad early. He twitched his lips in a subtle smile. He couldn't believe how nervous he was. He hadn't been on a date for about a year or more. He wasn't keeping score anyway. Many did not know it, but he had a complex. Léon shook his head and breathed a sigh. How gullible they were over looks. Women and men gushed over his genes. If only they knew what he was. Not only was his Lycanthropy, reason enough to be scared, but he had an ugly scar slashed across his back and another on his calve. He hated getting naked and answering questions after sex. He felt ashamed of it. He'd only dated girls from Lycan decent. It was easier not to hide and lie about the battle scar where he'd lost the title of the Alpha to his oldest brother, Hilsea.
He felt choked to say the least. He felt his abilities and needs limited beyond his will and desire to be free. He yearned to be free like the humans. If only they knew how lucky they were. He was chained within himself, unable to trust anyone outside his family.His ancestry was a dark one. He was from an ancient race of Rouxgaroux or L'oup Garou, Rougarou, Rouh-ga-Rouh, or Rugaru, all these various appellations, derived from the Frankish Garuf, which meant, man's metamorphosis into an animal... beast, to be precise.
Léon traced his ancestry which began in Laurentian, France. His ancestors had prowled the Acadian forest regions from time immemorial. Those were dark times. His grandfather, Keighley Parcifal, custodian of their Lycanthropy history and lore, had told him about their gruesome past, where they'd lived no less than mere beasts, blinded by their rage and need to feed on human flesh and blood alone. The havoc the Rougarous wreaked for hundreds of years, perhaps thousands, was unspoken of in the present era. Now, the race was spread all over the globe. Some of his distant relatives moved to New Orléans, some moved to Canada and formed their clans and packs, but his family had remained in France.
There was very little documented about their ancestry, anyway. Just horreur. And so, no one really knew how they'd originated.Ancient cave drawings found at Les Trois Frères, in France, depicted their ancient beliefs and ritual practices. But it was only a fraction of a look into the kind of species the Lycans were.
Some purported that Lycanthropy was a curse, a spell at best from a witch, who'd fashioned her captured enemies in to serves and guards, who protected her in her slump as she wove powerful spells. Léon didn't believe the tales for a second. It was preposterous. Witches existed, he had many friends in that category. They possessed great power, but that power was beyond the ability to forge life as powerful and beautiful as Lycans.
Like all creatures, Léon believed Lycans were created to walk the earth and posses it alongside, humans, mermaids, Vampires, though he was yet to meet a vampire and merfolks. He'd only heard stories of them. It seemed they too like the Lycans had the ability to cloak themselves and dwell discreetly behind their secret veils.
Humans were cynical as to the existence of the supernatural beings. Many especially in Louisiana and New Orléans still celebrated the annual Rouxgaroux festival as a folklore festive period, not as a fact. Little did they know the Rouxgaroux was as real as time itself. Only a few had conviction that there were being beyond the physical and such humans were branded insane and conspiracy theorists.
Léon had his own undeterred convictions. Whatever god, authored human life, authored all existence and creatures, including his race.
There were even Lycans that were religious people, staunch believers even within his own clan. Whether it was used as a cover or curiosity, these Lycans were streaked across every denomination in every religious institution.
They were equally made with humans by one creator. So, they believed.
The only difference was just one specie that had fought for dominance and crowned itself owner of the earth. Humans.
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Néon Raider ♉
Werewolf"I see your soul, Léon Parcifal. I do not care for the material habit, only the soul. And yours is beautiful." Ivory smiled entwining her fingers with his. His intense eyes peered into her soul and as he spoke, she couldn't keep her feet from wobbli...