Altar of Fire lay it all on me

March 19th; Early evening; Overcast Clouds; 41 ° F, 5 ° C

He had gone as far as his legs could carry him. Days... Weeks... Months had passed since his release. The places on his face - where Vesna had used her teeth too roughly around his maw, where Anahera had swiped her forepaw, where Eremiel had reopened the wounds - had healed. That didn't mean it didn't still hurt though. Every night when he settled down to sleep, he trembled, whimpering to himself as he waited for slumber to find him; and, every morning, before he woke, the icy grip of fear snaked across his body, revealing from the darkness of his lids a shadow in the form of one of his mothers. At first, he anticipated a warm, loving kiss, but then he would see those sharp yellowed teeth, feel the sting of them in his muzzle and jolt awake. That was when he would start running.

The slush underfoot didn't make his trek any easier. In fact, what made it worse was adjusting to the blindness in his left eye. The blood and pain from refusing to give up his brothers' whereabouts had given way to corneal scarring, which ultimately robbed him of his sight. It could have been worse; Anahera had been ruthless. If her attention and focus had not been broken, he might have been eye-less for all he knew. It still hurt to blink, though, so all travel plans were usually kept for the evenings.

Panting, Samael came to graze his nose across the newly sprouted grasses of Fireweed Rise. Come summer, he was sure it would be filled with some sort of colorful flower. A few more steps and he crested a gently-sloped knoll. He scraped his shoulder across the rough edge of the altar, stopping to acknowledge with an inquisitive sniff. There was no one he recognized.

The Archer eventually collapsed, leaning up against the cold stone. He gingerly closed his eyes, just wanting to listen to the world for a moment. The Moon Mother would make her appearance soon in her waxing crescent form. Surely, she would have some more answers as to where his brothers and sister had gone.

(This post was last modified: Mar 19, 2018, 11:45 PM by Samael.)

Sven had wondered where the others had gotten to, having yet to see both Samael and Nuriel. Why should they come here, however? They had gotten away to explore the world, as far as he knew, not just bite at their fathers ankles and forever remain under the umbrella of their family. The man did not expect that something would've kept any of them, something physical and undeserved.

When he saw his younger brother, the injuries as vivid across his features as though they were fresh, a protective rage surged within him. Strong white limbs stalked through the sloughing snow toward the prone youth. Was he resting? Asleep? Run ragged?

"Samael?" he asked, slowing his steps as the distance between them grew to be only a few strides. He did not wish to startle the moon-born Archer.

"Who was it?"

Who dared mar his blood?

(This post was last modified: Mar 20, 2018, 01:09 AM by Sven.)

His eyes flew open as he heard his name, his instincts first urging him onto his feet. He had to be ready to take flight if the newly sprung situation called for it. The near-yearling shivered and shook, teeth clicking as he strained his good eye to pick out the other's features across the dimming fields. His ribs and flank pressed up against the altar, fur bristled and joints bent, as if he had been cornered. The journey had made him wild.

He flashed his teeth until he recognized that he knew that voice.

"Who was it?"

A half-whine, half-growl emitted from him despite his wiry tail tucking between his legs and his chin tucking to protect his throat. His ears were beginning to lift from their laid back position against his nape. Once his courage was gathered into his chest, he let out a full growl, realizing now the fullness of his physique. Out here, there were no little spaces to be backed against or hollowed places to be smothered into. He could run if he wanted, but this man before him was not one of his mothers.

He parted his jaws, revealing his jagged teeth in aggression rather than fear. There would be no words first; he had to make sure that the wolf before him was the one he was thinking of. He had to make sure he was not being played into another trap.

Sven stopped short, allowing only his words to cross the remaining distance between them as his brother acted with surprise and high guard at his presence. He could see it in his lone, intact eye, what was running through his veins and controlling his actions. There was a glimmer of recognition, but it wasn't complete. Sven's muscles remained rigid with anger, but none of it was directed toward Samael. If he hadn't finished them all off himself, he would've wondered if that ragtag group hadn't gotten to his younger sibling as well, for Eremiel's son reminded the alpha of what he himself must've looked like when Skoll had found him outside of the Dell's territory. Hunted.

He took a step back, considered using his words, but instead slowly lowered himself into the snow and then onto his side. His long legs stretched out and then stilled, head twisting to look up at the other male nearly upside down. His throatt was not fully bared, but remained relatively exposed. All in all, he was the picture of harmless and would allow his brother whatever investigation needed to convince him of this.

(This post was last modified: Jun 08, 2018, 11:15 PM by Sven.)