Lavender Ethos But I've Got Better Luck in My Head

There was something addicting in the way pointed teeth pierced sharp flesh that Cottongrass had never fully understood until then. And maybe it was the fact that the roles were reversed. That while he was the one pinned on his back there were no jagged ends digging deep into his muzzle until he could only whimper for forgiveness. It was enough to make him bite harder. Even if it was only for a moment before regret and guilt took over his body.

Because suddenly he was a puppy. One that had too many emotions and a violent temper in a stupid body that nobody liked. And he was always messing up. Even when he tried his hardest because his parents expected too much of him but he didn't know that. He never knew that and he only understood that whatever he did wasn't enough until the frustration bubbled over and his temper reared its ugly head. It was the part of himself that he hated. That he ran away from and never wanted to return to. And there were too many memories racing through his head. Of the countless moments he spent while his Ataataatsiaq held his shaking form and eased away the worst of his moods with careful whispering words.

("You need to be more careful, little umimmak. You need to have more control." Was the endless loop inside of his head. The words of his grandfather that would forever haunt him.)

It was enough to make him flinch and stumble to his feet. And every word Aytigin spoke might as well have been a bullet to the heart in the time that followed. His body trembled and his breath came in panicked huffs from between his quivering lips. Because he didn't mean to. He didn't want to hurt him, he just—

A broken whine came from somewhere deep inside of him as he stumbled backwards. He didn't stop. Not until there was enough space between him and Aytigin from him to deem safe. And once he reached that point he turned on the spot and ran on desperate limbs. He couldn't do this.

(This post was last modified: Jul 12, 2017, 07:22 AM by Cottongrass.)

As per usual, Aytigin wasn't blaming Cotton for the altercation. No, if anyone were to blame, it was the dark wolf himself. Which was why he hadn't attempted to bite back or fight in any way, only to step away from the white wolf and preserve himself. And he only felt justified in his belief when Cotton whined and bolted out of the clearing, faster than Aytigin could hope to catch up to. So he didn't even try. After all, he knew where to find the snowball, later, when they had both cooled down a bit. Because a little bite couldn't be the end of their friendship, and even though Ayti knew he'd screwed up, he didn't think it could've been bad enough to ruin everything.

But maybe it was. Maybe Cottongrass was completely done with him.

The blood was beginning to clot on Aytigin's temple, and he winced a little when it gave a twinge. But he deserved the pain; he deserved whatever Cottongrass had decided to inflict upon him. He'd ruined their day, and probably their relationship. The thought made him sick, but he couldn't get it out of his head. He'd done it with his mother, as well - the woman had been right to have hated him the way she did.

He wanted to go after the younger man and ask for forgiveness, but he couldn't find it in him to follow the white wolf. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned, heading off in the direction of Hearthwood River again. Perhaps he'd been stupid to leave.

{ fade }