To say that leaving Venia Dei (2.0) had been hard would be to produce a half truth. The reality of it was that, while Cyrus missed his parents he was relieved to be out from under them and the shadows of his older brothers. Cyrus had not been born to be another man’s shadow, even if said man was blood. The idea of being restrained and shackled, always the fifth, sixth, seventh in line though his claim was just as legitimate as any of theirs, did not fit the ideals of Cyrus’ personality. It was not unrealized how vain and selfish that sounded (even in his head), yet Cyrus was not in the habit of lying and when a reason had been requested by Isi and Phoebe when he expressed his desire to leave, this was the reason they received. It wasn’t, so much, Cyrus deflected the arrogant sounds of his thoughts, that he was power hungry. He was well suited for diplomacy, both a natural peacekeeper and fighter, not as contradicting as it sounded. The two, despite being on the opposite sides of spectrum were closely interconnected. It was simply that, he never wanted to be “second” best. And…maybe he was selfish, but was it so selfish to avoid challenging whatever brother (or sister) that would take the helm when his parents settled down? This was not to say they would not be challenged by another, but Cyrus, for all his selfishness, could not forcefully fight and take something that another sibling deserved just as much as he did.
No.
Leaving had been rather easy.
There had been some surprise that Hamied had wanted to come along, Cyrus had made it abundantly clear to his younger brother that he had no intentions of returning. While the option was always open to Hamied, Cyrus would not escort him back. So far, Cyrus had not brought up the subject of Venia Dei, their parents, siblings, or the other boy’s reasons for wanting to leave, too. It was not that Cyrus did not care about Hamied’s reasons -- because he did -- moreso that Cyrus was not into prying (even in regards to his siblings) and figured that if Hamied wanted him to know, the younger Frostfur would tell him when he was good and ready to. It was Cyrus’ belief that no one should be forced to do or express something they did not want to; they had ways of telling you when they felt comfortable enough. It would come out eventually, Cyrus felt certain. Glimpse was given to his younger brother, a peek over a broad, silver dusted shoulder (a Frostfur trademark that made Cyrus a near spitting image of his great-grandfather Cypress), pale, frosted green eyes studying him for a few moments as they wove through the dusk-lit forest. Cyrus slowed to a stop when they reached a decent sized clearing, expecting Hamied to do the same. “Night is falling,” A glimpse was spared to the canopy above, the brilliant oranges of the sun down giving the forest the illusion of fire.
“We should rest here for the night.” Something of a hierarchy had formed between them, with Cyrus appointing himself as the ‘leader’. It was in Cyrus’ nature to take charge, though Hamied was free to do what he wished, free to “challenge” him (so to speak), free to venture off on his own if he wanted. Cyrus knew his younger brother was much more timid than he, himself, was, but, also knew that he would not stand in the younger Frostfur’s way if he wished to do his own thing.
i’ll never reach my destination if i never try
so i will sail my vessel
[size=3]’till the river runs dry[/size]
He was the smallest of all the pups that had been brought into the world by Isi and Phoebe Frostfur. All the others leaned heavily on the genes that came from their father’s side; larger, stronger, powerful. As a result, the very small male was pretty self-conscious and did his best to not end up being the one picked on. When he did end up picked on, his mother would step in and make it stop. Out of all his siblings, though, there was one that he had latched onto almost from the very start, following him around and being his shadow whenever the older boy would let him. That sibling was Cyrus. So it shouldn’t have surprised anyone when he caught wind of Cyrus wanting to set out on his own that Hamied jumped on that bandwagon, wanting very much to go with him.
He hadn’t yet come right out and discussed with Cyrus why he had jumped on the chance to leave with his older brother (older brother by a mere year) instead of remaining home to continue being a momma’s boy. When Cyrus had taken on being the one in charge during their journey, Hamied did not object in the least. The smaller, younger boy was a follower, not a leader at all. Yet he was also selective as to who he willingly followed. Cyrus, though, was one he would readily follow for as long as the older male would allow him to. Hopefully that was going to be for a really long time because he really didn’t want to end up having to turn around and return home where he knew he would face being further picked on by those bigger and stronger than him.
“Okay!” the yearling male readily agreed with his brother and set out to do a quick, and silent, scan around the area Cyrus had led them to. Only when the smaller male was satisfied that there was no one else in that particular spot did he rejoin where Cyrus was. “No sign of anyone else around,” he reported to his brother. Flopping down, he stretched out on his side, reaching a dainty paw out toward his much bigger brother to playfully paw at him for a moment. Hamied was very much the oddball in the family; the smallest, the weakest, the timid one, and the only one that did not sport the coat coloring of their parents.
It was unknown how Cyrus could go for a year of his life, unnoticing that Hamied “looked up to him”, probably because, though he never brushed off the younger Frostfur giving Hamied his (Cyrus’) attention when the other boy desired it, Cyrus had never stopped to look closely enough at his “shadow” (so to speak). Hamied was probably the smallest of Isi and Phoebe’s bunch and while this often earned him sympathy from the women of the family (particularly their mother), the other boys/men tended to pick on him. Cyrus, had always felt disgust at his older siblings for picking on him because he was smaller than them, or because he looked, well, entirely different from them. Cyrus had no time for such petty, childish things. Hamied was their blood and though he looked like their great-grandfather via Phoebe’s mother, Fayre Kringle-DiSarinno (whom, as Cyrus understood it, his shadow was named after) he was probably more of a Frostfur then any of the boneheads whom Cyrus had little patience for. Hamied and him, though, the closer that Cyrus examined it, were two of a kind. Both (near) spitting images of great-grandfathers, except Cyrus took after Cypress Frostfur, was even named in part for him. So, essentially, the way Cyrus had always seen it -- picking on Hamied was like picking on him and Cyrus, though he, like Isi, saw the benefits of remaining peaceable, also, wasn’t afraid to giving his siblings a good beating to remind them that they were all family and all equal. It helped that he was taller than all of his brothers, claiming even, a few inches on Isi himself. If it was a battle of dominance over size they had wanted, Cyrus would shamelessly own them, and cease to feel bad about it in the process.
To be protective was in Cyrus’ (typically) indifferent nature, and often times the bearlike Frostfur was mistaken for as being cold because of his intimidation factor and indifference. Simply, he was not good with those things called feelings and shied away from expressing them for the mere fact that he did not know how. Fluffy words were not his forte, and he could never seem to get out the right words to express how he felt. Mostly, he relied upon body language to convey it. When it came to brotherly affection he showed that he truly cared (in Hamied’s case) by protecting him and sticking up for him. If the boneheads had to be cruel to show their love, Cyrus felt bad for their mates and children. Cyrus said what he meant, and henceforth was not an overly big fan of “I didn’t mean it Cy, I was just playin’ around”. Yeah right; Cyrus believed that as much as he believed the wolf that declared himself King of the world.
Cyrus watched as Hamied drifted from his side, and when the other boy vanished, Cyrus moved to a nearby tree, lifted his hind left leg, balancing upon the other three and relieved himself, in part because he had to go, but also in the hopes that his scent (which would fade in a few days time) would keep other predators at bay while they slept in the clearing. It made him edgy to sleep above ground but as nomads there was nothing to be done about it, and likely no abandoned den big enough to fit both Hamied and himself (and if it was coming down to it, Hamied was sleeping in the den before Cyrus did, he would make sure of it). He had finished, going back to all fours, kicking up some debris just as Hamied rejoined them, informing him that there were no other wolves in the immediate area. “Good,” Cyrus said approvingly, pale, frosted green eyes watching as his younger brother plopped down and pawed at him playfully, glimpsing down at the other boy’s dainty, smaller paw as his rough pad drew across the soft, velvety fur of Cyrus’ leg.
It was hard to remember the time when he was that playful. He must have been, at one time, that was how puppy’s learned their valuable skills, after all.
In a playful manner that Cyrus had not used in, probably, a year, he cuffed Hamied as gently as Cyrus could, on the muzzle. Cyrus had, as a child, been a fan of ear biting and pulling, in particular. Phoebe’s ears had been his favorite to play with, for some reason -- though Cyrus was not much of a ‘mama’s boy’, neither was he a ‘dad’s boy’ either. He was more like the no bullshit, gruff commanding officer that had forgotten the difference between surviving and living. “You hungry, kid? We could probably wrangle some rabbits, maybe a couple of foxes? Not enough of you and I for big game unless we took a baby.” But Cyrus was not sure how well Hamied would take to eating a baby deer -- maybe he’d have no qualms about it, but Hamied was sort of like a puzzle to Cyrus, and Cyrus had learned to never assume anything.
i’ll never reach my destination if i never try
so i will sail my vessel
[size=3]’till the river runs dry[/size]
It was because Cyrus, out of all their siblings, was the one that stood up for him the most (not counting their parents) and rarely let the other siblings go without a good butt kicking when they picked on Hamied, which was often. They were merciless with the smaller boy, bringing him to tears more often than not. He didn’t gloat when they got their butts kicked, though, because that wasn’t his way. He just wanted them to stop picking on him so bad. It was hard for him to understand just why the others picked on him so badly. It was definitely something he was not going to miss in the least, though he would miss their parents but that hadn’t been enough to keep him from wanting, so badly, to go with Cyrus. He was just really glad that the older male hadn’t told him no that he couldn’t go and had allowed the younger male to readily tag along.
A wide grin spread across his muzzle when Cyrus responded to the playful pawing. It wasn’t often he even bothered trying to get his big brother to play with him because he always seemed so serious, so much more down to earth, or whatever you wanted to call it. So it pleased him very much that Cyrus returned the playful pawing with a playful cuff of his own. Hamied’s tail thumped against the ground behind him as his goofy grin split his face, happiness dancing in his mismatched eyes.
He was silent for a few moments while he thought about Cyrus’ question. He was hungry, but he wasn’t so sure that he’d be willing to take down a baby deer. They were cute and fun to watch if they didn’t know you were there. “I’m kinda tired,” he began to answer, thinking about a way to answer without coming right out and saying he didn’t have the heart to kill a baby anything. “Maybe we could find some rabbits?” As long as they weren’t baby rabbits, of course.
It was good, Cyrus deduced, to see Hamied smile. Though he had not always paid such close attention to the younger Frostfur, Cyrus felt himself struggle to remember the last time the younger boy had smiled that he had noticed it. Cyrus felt a soft snort leave his lips, and he insincerely rolled his eyes at the goofy grin that had split Hamied’s muzzle. “Such a strange kid,” Cyrus teased. Unlike their older siblings, however, he did not mean this in any sort of malicious way. It was purely a jest, because in Cyrus’ mind calling Hamied strange was like calling Cyrus strange because he, too, was different. There was nothing wrong with standing out of the mainframe, Cyrus had always believed. Everyone looked different and their own personalities for a reason. It was not a reason to mock or bully; but most of their siblings were just boneheads, though how they had gotten to be such was clearly, beyond the Huntsman’s (Jr, haha) capabilities of understanding.
Lips leveled into a pensive line upon his raven (ink?) colored muzzle as the dark bear of a Frostfur glimpsed around the small clearing once more, pale, frosted green eyes surveying the area as a sentry would, once more. It seemed safe enough, and Cyrus trusted in his scent warning to do a lot of the hefty work in the terms of predators and other wolves. “If you’re tired I could go hunting alone and you could rest,” Cyrus was not opposed to this idea. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and Hamied, and did not mind bearing the weight of his job as older brother. Likely, this was the Isi and Aether in him. “I won’t go too far that I could not hear you if you were to howl,” The six mile range was impressive and though the bulk of Cyrus did not make him the fastest wolf out there, he would trample down anyone/anything that stupidly got in his way if Hamied was in danger.
i’ll never reach my destination if i never try
so i will sail my vessel
[size=3]’till the river runs dry[/size]
It was probably a good thing that Hamied was unaware that Cyrus hadn’t before paid much attention to things about him, like when the last time he’d smiled so widely before, purely because he looked up to Cyrus so much. He didn’t know that Cyrus hadn’t paid attention to the fact that he had an almost constant shadow before they’d left home. The younger boy wasn’t at all upset about the playful teasing from his big brother because Hamied knew that it wasn’t being done in the same manner their other siblings teased him. They were merciless with their teasing and stuff. It was nice to be away from all that, to be honest, though he did miss their parents. But he was with Cyrus and that made it hurt less to be away from their mom and dad.
“Okay,” he readily accepted Cyrus’ offer to go hunting alone. Hamied really was tired from their travels. He tried hard to keep it to himself but his paws were a little on the sore side. “I’ll pick out a spot for us to bed down for the night after we eat!” His tail beat against the ground as he grinned up at his big brother. He knew that he was safe with Cyrus, even if he wasn’t right there. That was what had helped him be able to say goodbye to their parents to happily follow along with Cyrus. Although the younger boy quite frequently told his parents that he loved them, he’d not actually said it to Cyrus but only because their other siblings had picked on him so harshly when they’d overheard him saying it to their father one day.