Thaks for your patience! It was the last week of vacation so I had to make the most of it
While the trek there was sure to be a painful one Damien was determined to reach the Moonspear whether it took his twice as long. Without Cicero and Potema to guard the woods by his side Damien felt half empty, and given his sister's history with the Moonspear king Damien thought a visit was in order. It was a long shot, but Damien did not discard the possibility that Potema had found refuge under Charon's wing after the war. Every piece of information, every option he exhausted was a step closer to his siblings, and finding them was the first step in his plan to rebuild Blackfeather Woods.
He chose to walk by moonlight believing it best to save himself the trouble of an encounter that would demand physical response. By night Damien was virtually invisible, though given his current state he was far from un-scent-able. The wounds on his left leg were only half healed and his advance was limited to walking for an attempt at anything else was painful.
Damien stopped at a small creek, taking every chance he had to rest his leg, and lapped at the cold water before submerging his injured leg for a moment. All the while his ears were on high alert, every move calculated. While the shadows were a useful cloaking device, it is at nigh when anyone is most exposed to their wicked ways.
phone post 4 u
Might add some style l8r
But Damien's fatal flaw had always been his arrogance. The dark prince believed himself and those under his command to be the only ones that knew the ways of the shadows. Spoiler alert: They weren't. He behaved as though the darkness worked in his favour, and although it did more often than not Damien hadn't gone a lifetime without surprises.
The pain dimmed down by the effects of the cold water and Damien allowed himself a few seconds to breathe before resuming his trek to Moonspire. He picked up a faint scent, a wolf surely, but failed to locate its owner as he scanned his surroundings expecting to find a defenseless creature. But the creature was an assassin, and it found him.
He revealed his presence with a question, a peculiar question that none but Dark Brothers would know the answer to, and Damien's ears swiveled before his head turned to the exact direction of the speaker.
"Sanguine, my brother" he replies naturally and finally makes out the silhouette of the dark brother from the shadows.
There was a moment of silence. A bated breath, held in excited anticipation that, despite his seperation from his sister, Sithis had somehow brought him before another of his children. Ever alert and true to character, his fellow Dark Brother did not flinch from the voice in the shadows. He turned his proud head, calm and collected, and seemed to embrace the mysterious question by fxing Teinaava with a firm stare. The raven lifted a sable lobe then, thirsty for a respnse, raising his sterling gaze to meet with opalescent eyes of untouched alabaster, and exhaled.
There was approval in his rumbling growl as he lifted an obsidian forepaw and carefully strode forth from his place among the foliage. Hackles gleaming platinum beneath the dim moonlight, Teinaava presented himself fully to the pale-eyed beast and canted his muzzle to better eye his newest companion. "Oh, what chaos you must have experienced," was his observation of the other's weakened gait, when he was certain they'd both had an opportunity to better look upon one another.
Once the silhouette of the mysterious dark brother steps closer Damien gets a chance to finally make out his features. He finds himself with a young wolf of pewter gaze and raven fur. Damien was about this young when he first got marked by his mother, and his pale eyes trail down his shoulders in search for the same paw-print shaped sigil. He finds it, and though he didn't really need it for confirmation after the code words were asked and answered, Damien was confident they were both bound by the same gods and principles.
The younger male takes notice of Damien's injury, which he doesn't even try to hide. He wears it like a trophy, and knowing well he was in no danger with a fellow dark brother Damien felt at ease with his limitation. Dark Brothers aren't a common finding in these wilds,
he says, paying no response to the other's comment. A target?
he asked, assuming the younger male was on duty since the existence of the Blackfeather branch wasn't widespread knowledge as he'd come to realize in his time away.