His protective instincts.
Staring at the little hair like it was a Demon, he put his paws to his head and literally howled in his confusion and conflicting desires.
"Tarrin!" Sapphire said in sudden concern, "are you alright?"
Allia, however, had narrowed her eyes on the little hair, and the truth opened itself to her. "May the Holy Mother forgive her," she said in a trembling voice.
"Who is it?" Keritanima asked, then she too seemed to understand. "Oh, Goddess!" she wailed, putting her hands to her muzzle.
"Who?" Sapphire asked in a voice that would brook no opposition. "Who has done this?" Jenna looked at the little hair, and she put a hand to her stomach as her expression turned a bit sickly. Sapphire put a hand on her and made her look into her eyes. "Who did this?" she demanded. "It is white, and it looks like fur. Was it Jesmind?"
"No," Jenna replied in a weak tone. "It was Jasana."
To: Title EoF
Chapter 8
The world was tearing itself apart.
Struggling to remain standing, struggling to remain conscious, Tarrin wilted against the boxes behind him, paws to his head as the awful truth struck down on him, crushed beneath a weight that he could not bear. Jasana. Jasana had been the one to turn him. His own daughter!
It was a truth he could barely comprehend. The depths of his shock and betrayal were equalled only by the love he had for that little girl and his need to protect her. It went over and over again in his mind, seeing the single white hair, realizing that the scratches in the floor came from Jasana's claws, his expanded memory allowing him to look back on the conversations he'd had with his daughter and pick out every single one that had warned him of this possibility. Of course, that Tarrin was ignorant of the depths of her determination, and even now he was stunned that she would actually do what she had done. But Jasana had proved one thing in the time he'd known her, and that was that she was capable of almost any action if it meant getting what she wanted. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to know what she had done, but it was something he could not ignore, not deny, not forget.
The room spun around and around like a top as mental shock wreaked havoc on his physical body. How could she do it? What possessed her to risk his wrath, when she knew how he would react? How could she betray him so utterly? He couldn't understand it, he just couldn't understand it! Feeling his knees buckling, he turned and leaned over the boxes, his tail convulsing and trembling uncontrollably. How could she have done it? And why did it have to be her? If it had been anyone else, he could have justified his rage. But he could not bring himself to harm his daughter, and it meant that his righteous indignation had no release, his fury had no outlet. It only made him more furious that it was her, that one of the most dear people to him had been the one to betray his trust. That rage built up inside him, mingled with the shock and confusion and consternation and chagrin that came with finding out that his own daughter had been the one to betray him.
Claws sank into the wood as his mind, overwhelmed by incredibly powerful, intense emotion, began to lose coherence. The rage was overhwelming, and it wanted to go up and destroy the girl. But she was his daughter, and he could not bring himself to harm her. His need to lash out at her was defeated by his very powerful instinct to protect her, and the frustration of being unable to satisfy his dark need was like an infection in his mind, festering and consuming rational thought, a rusted nail driving into his brain and leaving nothing but pestilence in its wake. Claws sank deeper and deeper into the wood as his fingers clenched, as a buzzing between his ears made it harder and harder to think, as his vision seemed to fade and become hazed. All rational thought seemed to flee from the fury building inside him, fury at Jasana, fury at his frustration, rage caused by knowing that one of the people he loved most dearly in the world had done such a terrible thing to him. Jasana had done the unforgivable, but he could not pass judgement on her. Her position as his daughter both made him even more furious at her for her betrayal, but also protected her from his retaliation. It was a trap, a deadly cycle that only caused his fury to build higher and higher.
Like the snapping of a twig, Tarrin's rational mind lost control, and it succumbed to the rage. Eyes exploding into the green aura that so clearly marked his anger, unholy beacons of pure evil, Tarrin threw himself into his rage. Claws crushed wood beneath them, pierced them, and the Were-cat was suddenly overwhelmed by an overpowering, almost mindless need to destroy. If he could not destroy the one responsible for the rage, then he would destroy everything else.
With an animalistic roar, Tarrin hefted up the wooden crate caught in his claws, lifted it over his head, and then hurled it at the wall with every bit of strength he could muster. It struck the wooden wall with such incredible force that the stones of the wall were actually buckled by the impact, and the wooden crate literally exploded into tiny shards that flew all over the room, with enough velocity to drive into the Were-cat's chest and arms and become lodged, like huge splinters. The pain barely registered on the Were-cat as he clasped his paws together and smashed them down on the crate that had been below the first, sending wood and pieces of old crystal that had been within it flying in every direction.
It was a rage unlike any other he had ever experienced, and even the Cat within understood it, in some deep, instinctive manner. There was no thought, absolutely no thought, only the burning, blinding, utter and complete rage, complete fury, almost pristine in its elemental purity. Fury destroyed thought, rage swallowed up memory and experience, transforming the dual mind of the Were-cat into nothing more than a murderous machine reacting only to stimulus, unable to even think in the submerged manner in which it usually did when operating in a rage. There was no thought, no thought at all, only driving, insane fury and an overwhemling compulsion to destroy. And since memory and experience were locked away by the rage, the unthinking mind could not reach out and smash things with Sorcery, which would have been its first response had it been in a normal enraged state. The unthinking mind could only lash out physically, could only satisfy the need to destroy with claws and fists and feet and teeth.
"Goddess!" Jenna called in shock as they scrambled to protect themselves from the flying shrapnel. "He's lost it! Everyone get out now!"
On hearing the voices, the Were-cat turned around and found himself facing four females. In his fury, he could not recognize any of them, they were all but red-tinged figures, objects to destroy, things to kill. With a snarling, hissing roar of challenge, the Were-cat dropped into a deep slouch, paws wide, ready to kill these unknown figures. Two of them backpedalled furiously, one stood stock still, but the last drew two weapons from beneath a baggy garment and brandished them at him. "Go!" that one shouted, though in his current state, the Were-cat could not understand the meaning of the sound. "I will keep his attention!"
The Were-cat lunged at that armed figure, but even in his rage, the Were-cat was honestly taken aback by the lightning speed of this adversary. With such grace and quickness that seemed impossible, the figure danced to the side of him, and he barely registered feeling a sword slice into his side, but felt no pain. The Were-cat, beyond such concepts of fencing and strategy, mindlessly flailed at the figure, but its speed and reaction to his blows were so complete that he may as well have been trying to catch fog in his paws. In but a heartbeat, the Were-cat was struck many times, but each wound healed over as quickly as the sword was removed. The blows only served to enrage him more, if that were even possible, and the other three figures dissolved into meaninglessness as the Were-cat focused on destroying this speedy one before him.