Shroud of the Lost Here's a toast to the night to the ghosts in my life

A world class failure.

If there was a better statement to properly describe Galen Vuesain and his inability to keep anything good in his life it was unbeknownst to the swarthy man as dark limbs wearily trudged the final miles that would bring him back to the place the Cove had christened as their new home. How many moons exactly had passed since he slunk into the cover of the night in order to search for his missing daughter was amiss to him, albeit he knew he had been gone too long and it was time to turn around and temporarily accept defeat. Once more turning up empty pawed with nothing to explain his latest disappearance act.

Would it matter, though, if he even returned?

His relationship with his best friend had become a dilapidated relic of its former glory, ready to crumble to dust any moment now. The children he helped bring into this world had no inkling of their covert relation to the swarthy man, yet, now one was out there somewhere lost and who knew in what type of condition. Hell, he couldn't even track her down! Galen was a failure as a friend, as a father. As a man. The guilt caused an all too familiar tightness in his chest that he couldn't shake no matter how hard he shook his pelt to try.

Sighing heavily Galen trudged onward, golden gaze searching through the silent trees for any recognizable landmarks he could remember of their new home.

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(This post was last modified: Nov 14, 2024, 07:24 PM by Eros.)

Lucian's luck had finally run out. Injured while hunting alone, everything had compounded to bring him to this point. Weak and thinned and unable to find adequate water. Feverish and aching and constantly reopening wounds he couldn't keep clean enough. There had to be others eventually. He just had to keep moving, keep trying.

That determination brought him to Galen, though if he knew what trials the stranger he scented was returning home to, Lucian would have likely passed the group by altogether. It would have been selfish of him to impose on wolves so tortured. Of course, he was oblivious instead. His gait picked up into a happy, hopeful jog and when the pitch wolf came into view, Lu's own tail was wagging.

Still, his limp was obvious and his voice was deeply hoarse. Just this amount of activity was tiring him.

"H-hello! Could... could I have a, a m-moment... ?"

Dark lids narrowed to better glance between the towering timbers while the tip of his nose twitched in an attempt to siphon through the various scents that lingered about, hoping a familiar cologne or perfume would soon grace his sense of smell and better guide him toward the others. Alas, nothing note worthy was picked up so the man continued onward until a scent, far from familiar, tickled his nose and shortly a voice just as foreign breached the silence he had become so accustomed to.

Curiosity had swarthy limbs coming to a halt and his head swiveling toward the hoarse voice that called out, clearly indicating someone young by the tone of it and providing a false sense of hope as his mind ignored the obvious indications of boyhood. For a brief moment a light flickered behind his golden gaze until they found the source. Gold eyes that rivaled his own. Disheveled and thin by the looks of it, shades of browns meshed with creams and blacks in a fashion that painstakingly differed from the agouti pattern his daughters inherited. This was not his daughter, but that begged another series of questions to ring in his mind all the same.

Who was this pup and where did they come from?

"Suppose you could have a few moments." Galen answered, shifting his body to face the child more while lowering his rump to take a less intimidating position. A sign that he meant no harm to the unknown pup, curiosity written plain as day across his facial features.

Word Count: 258

Oh, a few even? Lucian's eyes closed and his smile grew wider, as though already provided with immense relief from his ailments. Of course, he wasn't, but the near-delirium made it almost feel real.

"Ah, how g-generous of you, sir," he spoke with absolute sincerity, though the vocative was admittedly tongue-in-cheek.

"If you could... p-point me to uh... to..." Lu drifted then, though whether in thought or ability was indiscernible. His golden eyes popped open again, as though he'd been surprised by something, and then his head tilted questioningly.

"Have you a, a pack?"

They'd be near water, right? Or should he have asked for the water? He... was actually getting more than just a few moments, right? What even was a moment, exactly? The pack would have water. Or water would have had the pack.

His head was spinning, but he still kept that smile on his face through it all. Even if it was subtly becoming a little more nervous.