Willow Ridge like stark and lannister

Private thread for Angier. Want to join? Please PM beforehand!

SKÖLL ARCHER

March 18th; Well past nightfall; Clear; 21 ° F, -6 ° C.

Why Skoll had decided to come slinking around the pack den at this time of night, he hadn't been quite sure. One moment, he had been minding his own business, creeping about the borders and keeping an eye out for anything that was out of place or unwelcome on Archer lands; then, several moments later, he had been struck with an idea... A whimsical notion and need for courage and cunning. He left his post at the eastern borders, leaving the mountainside at his back. Through the budding willow branches, he wove his way back to the heart of Willow Ridge with his head low and ears swept back.

The gaping mouth of the den met him first and he tentatively approached it as though he had come in attempt to steal something from its depths. His eyes roamed about the area, searching now for a pile of agouti fur, wondering if the Lyall had slept outside for a change. He had to squint; Angier's coat, he knew, had changed with age, and suddenly, with the frost melting from the warming weather and spring rains, the man was easily camouflaged against his surroundings. Summer, though, would be a different story, when the vivid greens gave him away.

As quickly as the thought had come to full fruition, the desire to disturb Angier had gone. The air was too still and he held his breath, opting now to make himself scarce. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to come all this way. Perhaps it was better if he left his elders alone...

more hunter than wolf

(This post was last modified: Mar 21, 2016, 07:30 AM by Skoll.)

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

ANGIER LYALL

Angier had, indeed, been sleeping outside of the den, separate from Elettra, Ravenna, Niles and whoever else had decided to bunk with them for the night. With so many bodies piled within the moderate space, it had warmed up too quickly now than when it had in the beginning of winter. His ears perked as he caught the sound of movement, or more specifically, the motion of four large paws just barely leaving impressions in the ground. His clouded eyes slowly opened and he stared into darkness, an eternal night in which he could not see even the faintest outline of a silhouette against a star-lit forest.

With his head nestled on the ground between his paws, he sat in wait, anticipating the visitor's next move. If he hadn't been robbed of his sight by advancing age, he might have checked out the commotion several minutes ago, but the time seemed to drag. No one had seemed to realize that they were being watched. As painlessly as he could manage, he forced himself up into a sphinx-like position as to keep his head off the ground and give off the impression that he had taken notice of something that was awfully amiss.

The moment Skoll had begun to steal away, the Lyall let loose a growl in warning as he relied on his nose and ears to pinpoint just where the prince had backpedaled. "Do not think for a moment that I can no longer see you because I am blind." The words were heavy on his tongue, his teeth bared and his fur bristled as to make the Archer consider his choices a third or fourth time. "Whatever you want, you better go without it."

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SKÖLL ARCHER

One step backward had been one step too many, but it had been Skoll's luck to find just the man he had been looking for. At first, his fur stood on end as he considered the tone of Angier's voice, instinctively turning as to stare at the patriarch head on in genuine shock. "Whatever you want," Angier continued, "you better go without it." The prince pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and took the risk of drawing closer. If his step-father wanted to snap and bite, so be it; Skoll knew all too well that he probably deserved it.

"Angier, please," he spoke under his breath, his whispers blatantly urgent. He gulped down the dread that was beginning to seize his neck and shoulders. Talking to the old ex-Leader had suddenly turned into something like facing coiled rattlesnake (which was commonly conducted with Skoll and Angier taking the opposite roles than they currently held). Skoll's head bowed down low in a show of respect, even if his inferior could not see it.

"I only want to talk," he pleaded further, reclining forward in the dried grass with as much noise as he could muster. Hopefully, it would get his point across. The Archer, for once, was not here to cause any trouble. "I need-- I need your advice."

more hunter than wolf

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

ANGIER LYALL

Now this was strange. Where was the defiance? Where were the insults? The snappy remarks or those comments about minding his own business? Most importantly, what kind of scheme was this? That is, if it was a scheme at all? He drew his lips back over his teeth, sealing them after his tongue lashed out at the air and damped his nostrils. The Archer stank, carrying a hodgepodge of scents in his pelt; the most prominent of these were Hecate's and Morganna's, as well as fresh ivy and sweet grass. Upon being told that he had wanted to talk, Angier braced himself. The expression on his face reverted back to neutral.

"Then yer goin' ta kill me..." he flatly said, as if it had been a pure fact to begin with. There was nothing in his voice that suggested he was joking or even sad over such a revelation. He had it coming; he was sure of it. "Make it quick then." His head turned as his muzzle dipped downward. The ear closest to Skoll remained turned toward him. If his step-son wanted to talk, he was going to listen and listen well.

"I'll let you know that @Craw was 'ere," he whispered, "if that's any concern o' yers." He meant to continue on, but he wasn't sure now if Skoll had reached his limit when it came to silently fuming. The air around them was much too calm, as if he had been caught in the eye of a storm. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more fer ya. Jus' please know that."

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SKÖLL ARCHER

His admission of wanting advice had been brushed away, taken for a ruse rather than a genuine request. It hurt, of course, just as it always did; but, Skoll knew better by now that after three years of this same ol' routine, the gag was getting old. Losing Piety, finding Hecate, succeeding and failing at fatherhood, and seeing his sister seize the throne of Willow Ridge had sobered him up. In shedding off his adolescent ways, he had matured in a sense to realize that under his Uncle Nicolo's reign, all that he could have had - and could have held on to - was at stake. If he did not regain back what he had willingly relinquished when he had gone to search for Isolde, the life he had only begun to start with Hecate was at risk.

"N-no," he stammered. It wasn't like him at all to stumble over his words, drawing close as to touch his muzzle to Angier's cheek. He gently used his nose to draw the old man's snout up and level it so that the elder still looked dignified. It was awkward and full of unnecessary half-steps on Skoll's part, but he hoped the Lyall would remain in place. "No... Father--" All right, maybe this was him going out on a limb, just waiting to crash. Hard. "Angier... I can't. I won't, and I'm sorry. For everything. You... you've done the best you could, I'm sure. I'm the one whose sorry for how I've treated you. I didn't know any better then."

A wince morphed his white-furred lips as he attempted now to draw Angier's head to his forelimbs, pressing his chin to that tawny temple in some sort of awkward embrace. He had done this a few times with @Morganna but for some reason this had been so much harder to do, even with the Lyall already lowered on the ground at a more manageable height. "What was he here for?" he asked, shifting so that he sat down now at the subordinate's shoulder. Impulsiveness brought him to sweep his nose about the air around the patriarch, finding nothing too out of place just yet.

more hunter than wolf

(This post was last modified: Mar 18, 2016, 09:05 PM by Skoll.)

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

ANGIER LYALL

If Skoll had been anything like a true prodigal son, Angier might have considered him as "returned" or "home to stay." As it was, all this seemed like was a sore attempt to correct all that had gone wrong between them in the past. The Lyall was not sure of anything until he flinched at Skoll's touch, feeling his head gently being guided to its previous position when he had attempted to stare the prince in the face. He obeyed his superior; it was only right. Then the words came, the most important of them all being uttered only once then taken back as if it had never been said at all: Father. Something smarted in his chest, as if he had been stabbed with an enormous black hawthorn barb.

Between the both of them, they knew quite well that this was a pressure point, once an open sore that Angier nursed for as long as he could manage before Elettra's words sunk in to make it scab over. Skoll had always been his father's son: chaotic, selfish, unpredictable, and wild. None of Angier's pitfalls as a paternal figure had been his fault, only Kiche's for his absence. But, this... Angier's ears fell back. This was clearly a cry for help. He unwillingly pressed himself against Skoll's chest, remaining there for as long as he dared, still waiting for that swift strike to his throat that would end him for good. It never came; and, when the silence had become overwhelming, he hastily attempted to find his words again.

"I think ya ought ta speak with 'im," he answered, stiffly removing himself from the Archer's embrace. "But what d'ya want?" His impatience was beginning to show, the wariness, though subdued for the most part, still apparent in his tone. "You an' I both know that if this is what I think yer askin', ya should've asked me years ago. I can't see, Skoll; I am old. My back hurts, my shoulders ache, I cannot walk for long anymore. What use am I to ya?"

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SKÖLL ARCHER

The skin at the back of his neck felt as if a herd of tiny hedgehogs were crawling across it. He fought the urge to shake his head, even as Angier pulled away. His heart sank in his chest as the older man told of his age and blindness, how his shoulders and back hurt. Clearly, an opportunity to be had had passed Skoll by without even a second glance. Inwardly, the prince cursed at himself; he had taken his step-father for granted.. in regards to everything. All this time he had wanted his mother's consort dead and, only now, did he realize that he had a once powerful ally in the tawny brute.

Saddened eyes looked over the patriarch quietly, but he could not stifle the whimper that seeped from his lips. "You are not useless," he grazed his nose to his inferior's ear, wondering if the touch would make him flinch or taken as a sign of comfort. "I just... I need to know that you'd be there for me, if... if something happens."

Anyone who was well-acquainted with Skoll would have taken this as some sort of trap being set up. Skoll knew this; he took care to hone in on Angier's face, worried beyond measure. This was no scheme, no pit in which his victim could not climb out of. The prince wanted to be sure that the Lyall understood, by the tone of his voice, that he meant every word.

"I'm... I'm sure Morganna wanted you at that meeting tonight," he murmured. "Let me walk with you there."

more hunter than wolf

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away