Wolf RPG

His recent talk with Hawkeye had quieted much of the anger in him, but he hadn't quite been ready to face his brother yet. After they had parted, he had again left the boundaries of his packland and headed for the coast. He had become fond of the crashing shoreline and all the strange and wonderful secrets that it kept; it had been a good distraction from the drama at the plateau. He had particularly hoped to cross paths with the enigmatic, ocean-eyed beauty he had met a week or two previously. They had explored a network of dark caves together, and afterward, Atticus had been left with thoughts of her that lingered like perfume in the air, coming back periodically to remind him of that exhilarating afternoon.

The silver sea-siren, however, had remained elusive, and ultimately, Atticus knew he had to go back to Blacktail Deer Plateau. The place didn't even feel like home to him anymore, however briefly it had before the shit had hit the fan. He felt a fondness for Hawkeye, and the fact that Crete (and, he grudgingly admitted, Peregrine himself) were here, were all that kept him from simply staying on the coast.

He followed Peregrine's scents now, attempting to track his brother down. They needed to talk and clear the air. The logical part of Atticus knew that he either needed to man up and deal with things as they were, or move out and go somewhere else. Peregrine was a tough wolf to track down; he clearly took his duties as Alpha seriously, for his trails crisscrossed themselves all over the place and it was hard to follow any particular one in a single direction. Finally, he just sat down, huffed out a frustrated breath, and tossed a short howl into the air. Its dark, basso tone carried with it a clear summons for Peregrine; its tone was light and inviting, rather than dark and threatening. He wanted to convey to his brother right away that he wasn't being called to a confrontation.

Peregrine didn't know what to think or how to feel when he heard Atticus call for him. He heeded it—it didn't even occur to him to avoid or outright ignore his brother—but as he walked through the wood toward his elder sibling, his insides clenched. Atticus had been sparse so long that it felt like the relationship between them had withered away into nothing. Peregrine missed his "bro" but he was also coming into a righteous anger at Atticus too, for holding all of this over his head and for so long. It'd left scars on his heart.

Suddenly, they were face-to-face. "Atti," Peregrine said uncertainly. He wanted to say, I miss you. It was true enough. Instead, he found himself asking, "Have you finally decided I'm not a tyrannical asshole after all?" They were bitter words but they were spoken softly, not angrily. Seeking and holding his brother's icy gaze, he added, "It was like all those years where, you know, we were thick as thieves—suddenly, they didn't count for jack shit. I understood, to some extent, but I'd be a liar if I told you that didn't hurt me, Atti. It hurt me badly."

A moment later, Peregrine sank to his haunches with a resigned sigh. He still couldn't sort through his feelings. Something else occurred to him, though, and he looked up almost with a start and started to say something. He stopped, realizing these words could change everything, then decided to say them anyway. "I don't know if you've heard the news yet: Tyrannus is dead. Perseus and Echo killed him and took over the pack. You can go home now if you want." He thought he detected spite in his own voice but his dusky blue-green eyes were nothing but apprehensive and melancholic.

As he waited for his brother to appear, it occurred to Atticus that Peregrine might be pissed off at him (and rightfully so). There had been no communication whatsoever between the brothers since that last day after the pack meeting. Atticus felt justified in his silence, but he wondered if Perry would see it that way. All he knew for sure was that he was tired of drama and strife. He wanted things to be the way they'd been before, but despite his brother's previous reassurances, he knew they never would -- not as long as one of them was an Alpha. It just didn't work that way.

Just then, though, Peregrine showed up. Whatever thoughts had occupied his mind vanished as he beheld his sibling. As Peregrine approached, his manner was not aggressive and his words were not unfriendly, but neither were they warm and casual as they had once been. Things had definitely changed. Atticus wondered if they could be repaired for either of them.

Predictably, and somewhat understandably, the first words out of Peregrine's mouth were full of scorn and hurt. Atticus closed his eyes for a brief moment and turned his ears rearward, but otherwise said nothing. He let Peregrine speak, knowing that he deserved this and far worse. He knew he'd been an ass, even if it had been for understandable and valid reasons. Peregrine had to understand that. But still, he'd judged and punished his brother for the crimes of another, and Peregrine didn't deserve that. Atticus wasn't a dumb wolf; he ought to have known better than that. He couldn't help the feelings of shame that lingered like greasy shadows around his heart. Peregrine was his dearest friend.

His brother's final bit was of particular interest to Atticus. He almost smiled at the news of Tyrannus's death. Almost. But the chill in Peregrine's voice as he continued on to suggest that Atticus could return home wiped the possibility of that out of his mind completely. In that moment, he wondered if he ought to have even bothered calling his brother here. Did Peregrine even want to talk this out at all? Or had he washed his hands of his temperamental brother completely? For a moment, he felt that his fears had come full circle and that this was Peregrine's roundabout, indirect way of doing precisely the same thing that Tyrannus had done.

An icy sort of indifference and hurt kindled in Atticus's pale eyes as his brother caught his gaze, but his voice was carefully calm and controlled as he softly replied, "Do you want me to?"

Atticus answered his brother's question—not that it had been posed as one—with another question. The knot in his stomach loosened somewhat. At least Atticus hadn't simply received this news, pointed his nose in the direction of Seahawk Valley and departed immediately. Part of Peregrine had actually expected him to do that, without so much as looking back.

Steadying himself with a breath, Peregrine replied, "No, fuckstain, I don't." For the moment, at least, he left it at that.

Coming from anyone else, the insult might have provoked him to violence. The tensions were certainly high enough to trigger such a response. But oddly, coming from Peregrine, it was a comfort. There was normalcy in vulgarity. It was something he understood; he could gauge his brother, could tell the thickness of the ice beneath his feet, so to speak, by the garbage that fell from Peregrine's lips. As long as there were insults and obscenities, he felt that things could be okay.

He felt a flutter of relief inside when Peregrine told him Atticus he didn't want him to pack up and leave. For a moment, awkward silence reigned. They'd had no shortage of disagreements and squabbles before, but they'd never been faced with one this big before. It had almost torn them apart.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and, sitting down, shifted restlessly. "I called you here so I could uh…well, apologize," he wasn't good at the whole humility thing. "I've been a dick, Perry. I know that. And I'm sorry. I hope you understand why I felt the way I did, but I also hope you can forgive me for being such a shithead about it. I…didn't really know how to deal with it all. It was kinda…too much too soon, y'know? I freaked big-time. I needed time to myself to process things." His eyes had fallen to a scrubby bush off to the side and he now gazed distantly through it, feeling the weight of his shame mixed with the choking exhaust fumes of his departed anger. How could he have been so rash? He was normally more logical and level-headed.

With that one little (if disgusting) word, Peregrine had made it known that he would choose the route of forgiveness versus that of a grudge, though it wouldn't be easy. With this knowledge, Atticus proffered an apology, to which the swarthy male listened silently. Although there was part of him that still wanted to throw himself at his brother, to clap him on the back and declare that everything would be okay, Peregrine instead leveled him with an unreadable look as he issued his apologies.

"I told you I understood," Peregrine pointed out when his brother had finished, pausing momentarily before adding, "and I did and I do. But..." he continued, almost sadly, "you took it too far not to leave scars behind, Atti. I hate to say it but it's true." His lips stretched into a grim line. "And I will never be anything but honest with you, even if it sucks. And this... sucks."

Looking sideways as he if he might see something there that would offer some sort of guidance, he evidently didn't find it. Sighing softly again, he faced Atticus and asked, "What now?" His feelings were still complicated. It didn't help that Peregrine was already second-guessing his role as Alpha male, though he had no intention of mentioning this now, tempting as it was. He had to sort that issue out in his own head before he considered breathing a word about it to anyone.

In some ways, Atticus felt like he was talking to a wall, and it annoyed him. He felt like Peregrine was being overdramatic, suspected that perhaps his brother was intentionally guilt-tripping him. There were countless ways he could have taken it too far. Going into a rage and outright attacking Peregrine would have been taking it too far. Savagely screaming out his anger and hurt, in the middle of the pack meeting, at his brother's lack of consideration and foresight would have been taking it too far. Leaving the pack would have been taking it too far. But this…this had been taking it too far? Simply taking some time away from everyone to sort through his feelings?

As some of his previous anger came trickling back, he couldn't help the small growl that rumbled in his chest at his brother's words. That Peregrine could slap him with such a lame accusation for what Atticus had felt was the most civil course of action for him to take was simply infuriating. Ignoring Peregrine's question, he returned the level, cool gaze his brother gave him and commented, "Frankly speaking, bro, if you want to be Alpha, you're going to have to grow some harder balls, if me taking a week or two off to sort through shit 'left scars'." His voice wasn't harsh, but there was a definite chill to it. He didn't appreciate being treated like he'd been the one entirely in the wrong. He'd been an asshole, no doubt. He owned that. But it'd been handled badly on all sides, not just his. And Peregrine had said just the right combination of words to open the lock that had held all of Atticus's emotions dammed up inside.

"You know I'll always be honest and straight-up with you too. I told you I needed some time, now I'm telling you why. Some people can't just get over something like what we went through. Maybe that worked out for you, but for me, it still burns...like part of me's been torn out and the empty hole is bulging with infection. Tyr and I were tight, almost like you and I are…or were…I don't even frickin' know anymore, now that you're my boss." He fought to keep his voice level and calm, but couldn't help the subtle hint of accusation that slipped into that last word. "I can't imagine you chasing me down and beating the shit out of me until I leave my family and everything I've ever known…but not long ago, I'd have said the same thing about Tyr too. So talk to me about scars."

Stopping, he was horrified to realize that his eyes were blurred with hot tears. He closed them, refusing to allow them the freedom to course down his cheeks and hoping that Peregrine hadn't noticed. He hated this, hated being at odds with the brother he'd considered his closest and dearest friend, even if it hadn't necessarily been reciprocated. And thinking back on Tyrannus and home and Mom and everything that had transpired dredged up all kinds of unresolved issues and hurts. In the aftermath of his monologue, he felt diminished, weakened. Blinking his tears away and swallowing his tide of emotions back, he added in a small voice, "And I mean…there was Hawkeye, too. Dammit Perry, it was just too much."

In exchange for his brutal honesty, his brother grew defensive. Peregrine sucked in a breath and held it, biting down to prevent any angry retorts from springing off his itching tongue. Why was Atticus allowed to be hurt by everything, to have scars, while Peregrine wasn't? The fact that his brother flung his mention of scars back in his face stung him and elicited a growl he couldn't quite repress. When did you become suck a complete dick? he thought.

"For fuck's sake, I get it, Atticus," Peregrine spat. He was tired of Atticus acting as if he was the only one who'd been affected by everything with Tyrannus. "Stop making yourself out to be the only victim, all right? Crete and I were both kicked out just as violently. So why is Crete able to handle this without being such a little..." He almost said it but bit down on his tongue before he could call Atticus a bitch.

"You have scars. I have scars. We all have scars. Fuck, Atti, just be aware that you're not the only one who struggles with all of this," Peregrine snapped exasperatedly. "I didn't tell you that because I'm going to hold it over your head. I was just being real with you and letting you know that your utter lack of faith in me had consequences." He glared daggers. "And once more, you turn on me before it occurs to you that I want you to stand at my side to fix this shit."

Somewhere during his rant, Atticus began to cry. Peregrine suddenly felt horrified at himself for nearly emasculating his brother and was incredibly glad he hadn't gone that far. He froze, his lips suddenly motionless, as Atticus squeaked out something about Hawkeye. All at once, he felt his heart hardening against his brother... and going out to him. Talk about confusing.

"Atticus, what did I do wrong?" Peregrine asked quietly after a long moment. He was softening, not hardening—or at least finding the middle ground. "I don't want to hear another fucking word about Tyrannus. Tell me what I did wrong with all of this. How could I have done things differently?" Although he could've asked these things in an effort to point out that he hadn't done any wrong, Peregrine was genuine in his inquiry. "I know I didn't handle everything perfectly. But I can't fix my mistakes—or avoid making new ones—if I don't even understand where and when I made them."

Atticus's anguished tears were quick to dry as Peregrine seemed to take a more offensive tack. Suddenly, he was angry again. He felt like he was talking to a wall. Still, though, he knew the futility of fighting fire with fire and he made an effort to keep his voice and his demeanor calm.

"I'm sure Crete would be delighted to know that he's the standard by which you judge how much of a pussy someone is," he commented with a note of ire in his voice, having understood clearly the implied insult that Peregrine hadn't spoken. Continuing in a calmer tone, "I'm beginning to think that the only way for me to 'stand by your side and fix this shit' is for me to accept that my own feelings are completely irrelevant and tuck my tail and lick your toes and beg your forgiveness. You aren't hearing me. I tried to explain my side and you accused me of 'making myself out to be the only victim' and 'turning on you'."

Perhaps going back home to the Falcons was the best option on the table for them. Somehow, enough bitterness had been sown between them that Atticus really couldn't see himself hanging around here as a happy-go-lucky, obedient little subordinate after this, helping to raise the kids that Peregrine was having with the woman that Atticus himself had wanted. Taking a breath, he made up his mind to try one more time. As he forged ahead, he was careful to keep his tone neutral and non-accusatory: "A brother I loved made Alpha, turned into an asshole, and destroyed our lives. Weeks later, another brother I love makes Alpha. I felt…I dunno, like history was repeating itself. It scared the hell out of me. I took some time away to figure it out. And now I'm being treated as if I've committed some heinous crime and somehow I've 'left scars', and I really don't get it."

"I talked to Hawkeye--" thoughts of her renewed his anger, but he kept those issues buried down deep inside where they belonged "--and she told me that your promotion literally happened in the minutes between when the howl for the pack meeting went up and when we got there, so that changed things for me a lot. But you ask what you could've done differently? You could've been a bit more sensitive. It would have been nice if the news of your promotion could've waited, if it could've been delivered to us privately, from you, as your brothers who endured Tyr's shit with you, rather than simply being dropped on us as your subordinates in the middle of a meeting. I dunno, dude. Can't change any of that now, I guess. Look, I'm sorry for whatever hurts I caused you. I know my reaction wasn't what you were hoping for, and it fucked everything up between us. But when I'm all mixed up in here--" he gestured toward his head with his forepaw "--I have to sort it out on my own, away from everything."

Note: the following misunderstanding is Perry's, not mine. I promise I got an "A" in reading comprehension. It probably would've culminated the same way, regardless. :D <3

"Don't twist my words like that, Atti," was Peregrine's only remark before he fell silent. It was said softly. He hadn't meant it that way at all and it irritated the hell out of him that Atticus would put that kind of spin on it. His point was that Crete had been able to somehow strike a balance between his understandable fears and his history with Peregrine. In comparison to Crete, Atticus had handled the situation awfully and that was the Alpha's only point.

It seemed the two would forever go in circles, each getting angry at the other for being hurt by this, that or the other. Finally, Atticus broke the vicious cycle and, finally, Peregrine opened his ears completely. Although Peregrine didn't appreciate the smaller jabs, at least they were exactly that: smaller. And the Alpha decided that if Atticus didn't get it, they were simply at an impasse because he wouldn't bother explaining again how his brother's lack of faith had naturally affected him.

"I'm glad she cleared the air," Peregrine said after letting Atticus finish, "and I'm sorry. I was distracted that day. I know that's not an excuse. I just wanted to explain. I'm sorry too," he repeated. "It isn't fucked up beyond repair..."

Peregrine's voice trailed off but only for a second. His eyes became narrow and flinty. "But what are you saying, Atti? At this point in time, isn't it clear that none of your fears about my rank hold any water? So, other than fixing the emotional hurts already caused, there's nothing to worry about right now except for moving forward with our lives. I'm not Tyrannus, once and for all, and I've actually proved that now. And you took your time to sort it out. So what do you mean? You still need time? You're going away? After all of this, you're still going to leave."

That last sentence didn't come out as a question but rather a statement. His voice deadened, as did the expression on his face. Peregrine realized suddenly that there was nothing else he could do or say. He didn't understand why Atticus still needed time and space—for what and from what, exactly? They'd both been hurt but he thought they'd moved past the worst of the storm at this point and that they could go about fixing their relationship and moving on. And here Atticus was telling him that it was still all fucked up... beyond repair?

All of the energy and heart went out of Peregrine in that moment. He realized suddenly that it had nothing to do with him—it never really had—and the feeling of futility was absolute. There was nothing he could do or say. No amount of hashing it out with Atticus would do any good. For reasons he couldn't fully comprehend (partially because he still didn't have the full story), this was going to be a permanent flaw on their brotherhood.

"I'm just going to leave you be. You do what you need to do, Atticus. I love you." It was difficult to say those last three words when he was so mad at and hurt by his brother but the possibility that these might be the last words he got to say to Atticus for what could be a long time—he was suddenly sure his sudden leave would result in Atticus's departure from the pack—overruled his reluctance. He looked into his litter mate's eyes for three long seconds, then turned and walked away without another word.

Surprised, Atticus realized that it looked like they were getting somewhere. When they could both set their anger aside -- as they were doing now -- progress was possible. They'd both been wrong, Peregrine in how he'd handled his promotion, and Atticus in how he'd reacted to it. As Peregrine apologized and commented that things weren't totally FUBAR, Atticus felt the faint twitch of a smile stirring at the corners of his lips. He felt hope lift his heart. Atticus wasn't the type to shut up and back down simply for the sake of restoring peace, but he didn't like being at odds with his brother, either.

But then something went horribly wrong. Somewhere along the way, Peregrine had gravely misunderstood Atticus. A steely hardness came back into Peregrine's ocean eyes and a resolute chill crept into his voice as he made it clear that he thought Atticus was leaving. Atticus cursed himself and his shitty inability to explain things well. Perry spoke a prickly goodbye before turning to leave, but Atticus would not part ways with such a misunderstanding between them. Though the thought of leaving had lingered on his mind for a long time now -- especially in recent weeks -- he certainly hadn't actually intended to do it as long as there was a chance things could be salvaged between them. Leaving was only Plan B.

"Perry!" he protested to his brother's retreating back. "I'm not leaving!" He leaped toward Peregrine and came around in front of him, attempting to stop him. "You misunderstood me, you assclown! I'm not going anywhere!"

For someone who wants to be left alone, Peregrine mused when he heard Atticus shouting after him, you're awfully fucking clingy. Face still hardened and heart beating apprehensively in his chest, the Alpha turned nonetheless. His ears pricked to catch his elder brother's words, then fell back. "You misunderstood me!" Atticus insisted, though Peregrine couldn't see past his own nose to figure out where such a misapprehension had occurred. In his opinion, Atticus had made himself perfectly clear.

Striding slowly back toward Atticus, Peregrine said, "You just said—" His voice cut off abruptly and he shook his head. "Fuck it. I'm sick of arguing. If I heard wrong, then... well, that's good, I guess." The swarthy male paused and shifted his weight. He thought of jokingly threatening Atticus, then decided there was too much risk that it might not go over well.

"I'm just so tired," he said in the next moment, almost visibly sagging. "I just want all these bad feels to go the fuck away. I just want to be brothers again. And I am capable of being an Alpha and a brother simultaneously. Just because Tyrannus wasn't doesn't mean I'm not. And I just want to move on with our lives, so badly, Atti. Can we just... do that, please?"

For a minute, he thought Peregrine wasn't going to listen, and he felt his heart break. Despite all the steam and anger he'd built up toward his brother over the past weeks, the thought of their relationship crumbling broke Atticus's heart. But Peregrine gave in, and finally, the wall came down. His brother seemed to sag, as if physically weighted down by all the angst and bitterness between them.

Atticus listened to him, ears pricked forward attentively and face expectant, as Peregrine begged for them to just move on. Atticus leaned forward and licked his brother beneath the chin and gave it a reassuring bump -- a gesture meant to indicate affection, agreement, and support. "Yes," he replied when Perry finished. "That's what I want too. Believe me. And I was telling you why I left before, why I spent a few weeks away from the pack. I didn't mean I was leaving now, you bonehead. Jeez." A small grin tentatively curved his lips upward. "I do agree with you -- my assumptions about you as a leader don't hold water. And I knew that when I howled for you today. But weeks ago, when you were first promoted, I didn't think about it, I just reacted. It wasn't right. I'm sorry, bro."

Although his brother's touch warmed his blood, Peregrine gently pulled away. "Don't do that," he said in a gentle voice. "I may be the Alpha and you may be the... whatever your rank is," he said, snorting quietly at himself, "but I don't want you—or Crete or Osprey—to treat me any differently than you did before. And I don't plan to treat any of you differently. My leadership is a formality and there is nothing formal about my relationship with any of you guys. If you're gonna kiss me," he said evenly, "the cheeks and mouth and ass are all fair game." Finally, he snickered and added, "But none of that under-the-chin bullshit."

He realized the mistake now and nodded. "I'm sorry too," Peregrine repeated, looking into Atticus's face. "I know it isn't my fault—that's why I've been so butthurt about all of this—but I am sorry for what Tyrannus did. I'm sorry for everything that caused it to happen this way. But," he continued in a more upbeat voice, "the storm is over now, right? It's passed?" He looked at his brother hopefully, his tail waving tentatively as if asking, It's all good?

Atticus knew that things wouldn't go back to being all sunshine and rainbows immediately, that it would take time to sort through all of the emotional fallout in the wake of Tyrannus's betrayal and heal the wounds that had been left on his heart. And now there was the news that Tyrannus was dead, which added a whole new twist to the knotted mess inside Atti's heart and mind.

But for now, things had been patched up between him and Peregrine, and there was only one thing to do: "Yeah," he confirmed with a grin and a nod of his head. "We're good." Bumping his brother on the shoulder -- just hard enough to be a douche move and, thus, an affirmation that all really was well -- he gestured for Peregrine to walk beside him so they could catch up on the last few weeks that Atticus had missed while he was in solitude.