Sex: MaleHe's way far back where Roose left him, out of sight of the others. Craw post will be coming tomorrow or as soon as I get time, feel free to carry on in the meantime <3
The tic in his lower eyelid was back.
"Maybe I shouldn't've come," he said, tail loosely tucked as he watched @Roosemooth come back, his voice wavering between two octaves. The tawny wolf was unable to stand still, and had spent most of the morning fidgeting, mostly rubbing the fur off his forelegs with his paws in worry. It was beginning to hurt, but the pain felt good. It distracted him from the churning sensation in his gut, like he'd eaten something just a bit too rotten, but wasn't quite able to vomit. "I got - I got pretty li'l @Cheedo for you, yeh? For him? I done enough. This is - this ain't necessary, yeh?"
Nevermind that it had been his idea to come along in the first place (or so he thought, anyway), after Roose had first told him that Craw had been found alive and well several days ago. Even hearing the name had been enough to upset his stomach. And nevermind that he'd said something along those lines countless times over the last few days, and each time Roose had had the right words to soothe him just enough until the creeping fear spread enough that he couldn't ignore it yet again. But then hope had germinated in the mud of his soul, hope that he could make things right, that maybe time really did cure all.
Breaker still felt as sick today as he did two years ago, at the memory of his brother's bloated and soaked body on the edge of the Eye, at all the terrible things that had happened before and after that day. Often he recalled the moment they had first met Craw, three years ago now, a pair of vagrant brothers out for adventure... and he wished that he could smack them both upside their stupid heads for listening to the Khai at all. If they could have known what a hornet nest they'd been walking into... Breaker would have taken Roake and fled until the ugly silhouette of the howling mountain was a distant memory.
Instead all he was left with were ugly memories.
The desire to be here and make things right with Craw and the others fought so viciously with the need to do what Breaker Vim tended to do best, which was flee, and all his turmoil resulted in was two increasingly pink forearms.
