these battle scars don't fade

*Shadow* · December 10, 2014, 09:19 AM

A familiar scent touched his sensitive nose and stopped his legs from pacing, the Roman turned, silver eyes usually fierce and vibrant now emptied of light. Only his mask was kept in place, his posture was neutral, neither displaying dominance or submission. He exhaled softly and dipped his head respectfully towards the fellow Alpha, even if it was more of a robotic move. Mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted, there was no more bite to his tone, no more annoying sarcasm, no more of his formal arrogance. It was only his Roman teachings that kept his shoulders from slumping, from his whole figure crumbling to the ground. Her leaving had taken its toll on the male, but death's angel had to do something before he left. Perhaps for the last time. "Yes," he began, then stopped as other Creek wolves began to arrive. Did he need the entire pack to greet him? Was he that much of a threat to these wolves? The former Creek wolf recognized some of them, Kieran, Bazi, Star. Where was Galileo? He missed the older man, wished he was still his friend, he wanted advice, advice not given in riddles from the gods.

No words of arrogance or sarcasm or mischief came from the silver male's mouth, instead he returned the greeting from Star and dipped his head to Bazi and Kieran even if they refused to acknowledge it, at least he did his part in manners. "You know I'm here to talk about visiting. I doubt you'll let be into your lands at all, but you won't be as heartless as to forbid them from meeting their father?" his words were spoken quietly and felt as if they were dragged out, one by one, with no life left in them. Once Scimitar answered, he would ask if he could be at the birthing, even if it meant being escorted. After all, Shadow Angelus Mortis was the public enemy number 1 in the eyes of Swiftcurrent Creek. Would it have been different if Danica hadn't gotten kicked out? Perhaps he would be happily living in the Creek, serving the wolves and knowing he would have pups soon. How he wished he had taken that path, but then he wouldn't have friends like Flash and Crëyr.....but still..

Shadow lifted his head, not in a prideful arrogant manner, but a weary tired one, the red wounds on his face glowed in the light, flashing. Silver eyes sought out Scimitar's turquoise ones and met it steadily, though he dropped it a moment later, after all, the Roman was not here to challenge the man's rule over the Creek. If it wasn't for the kids and Paar, hell, he wouldn't be here at all, he would be at the Bypass, strengthening his wolves and his land for the cold winter to come. But now, the Roman realized what true exhaustion meant. His brain was literally melting down, his heart torn to pieces and stolen by the crimson princess, his body physically hurt from his own patron's eagles. Ah....did he really deserved to be punished so many times, in so many ways? A waste of resources for a single wolf.

"She is well?" Shadow asked them, Scimitar and Bazi for he knew Bazi used to be Paarthurnax's friend and probably still was. He remembered his crush on the white dove before and thought it foolish now, he had a good relationship, someone he truly loved, and he ruined it for himself, gods, he hated himself. The silver Roman's brain flashed back to two faces, one a tawny male with bright green eyes and the other, a gray welsh female with unusual dark blue eyes. But with him in this pitiful condition, Shadow truly doubted he was able to return to the Bypass, and he couldn't feel anything except for anger, frustration, grief, sadness, misery and all negatives emotions. This was not the life he thought he would have after he escaped Noctem Vagus, this was the life he was trying to escape, but the gods always pay their debts he thought bitterly.

Shadow's gaze remained only on those he knew within his life at Swiftcurrent Creek, he didn't bother truly looking at anyone else. He didn't know them, therefore they didn't matter, even if they hated him, he still knew them and missed some of them dearly. Funny, one only appreciated his past when he was dying, not fake dying, literally really dying. The angel of death was dying, slowly, everywhere.