Dreven and
@Atka Tsimshian had headed towards the packlands of Hildibrandr. When the scent of blood and bile found his nose, and he herded his snow away from the pack lands and into the wilds. He wouldn't be dead for a war he had no part in. And he wouldn't risk Atka in such a way.
So with twisted, moving steps he kept a harsh pace, until he could no longer smell other wolves. He thought darkly of
@Alduin as he hit the ground. Long, lean muscled body taking up residence in the snow.
The dark of his coat a contrast to the white of the forest floor, the frost digging into his pelt and body. The pale sunlight that filtered past clouds of grey, coloring across dips and valleys of beautiful bone structure and large muscles. The small ice glistening atop eyelashes and at the corners of eyes like crystals.
Alduin had been traveling with
@Ithax, heading back, back, back to the heartwood to stake his claim upon the burnt wastelands once more.
Oh, but there’s a surprise waiting for him. Or more like hunting him down.
Alduin is upwind, he doesn’t smell much but the icy breeze that’s blown across his nose and rustles his thick, brindle fur. Snow crunches beneath large paws. It collects on his coat, swathing the coal into white. But the snow does not deter him one bit, it’s easy to traverse, and nothing can stop Alduin’s path to godhood.
Only he hears someone this time and it’s not his agouti companion. No, very clearly it is someone he recognizes…
Dreven. There is no mistaking the giant brute littered in scared with a pelt darker and more tattered than his own. But he has a fire in his eyes like usual, perhaps he’d kill Alduin for his absence— or at least try. Though the brindled beast would not immediately resort to violence upon this familiar face, he does set the oddly shaped, alien skull on the ground before flicking his eyes to the man once more.
“Dreven,” He would rumble, tone still as commanding as its always been, only this time it’s beckoning.
Ithax was not far from Alduin. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He was close. Maybe too close.
Almost directly in step with the lifeless, dark man, the agouti beast walked with their flanks nearly touching. He was possessive—protective over what he had claimed his.
Any and all in exchange for a soul.
He remembered the words plain as day, and he would be sure Alduin never forgot them.
They walked a great many miles. But, rather unexpectedly, they came to a stop.
A voice... the familiar rasp of the hound at his side called another. This other was but feet ahead, lain upon the ground.
Closer, Ithax stepped. His flank now touched the other, one cheek against another. Why are we stopping...?
He cooed within Alduin's ear, not cruel, yet not filled with warmth.
A flick of a tail, then hard red Eyes traced over the familiar form of Alduin. Eyes lidded and hooded. Following to the man behind that stuck so close. A wolfish brow was raised, but Dreven didn't move.
A subtle shift in his body weight, body rippled with the effect, and he spoke in a low growl.
Alduin. Fancy meetin' you here.
Dreven moved, slowly getting to his feet. Stretching, shifting. Then his gaze bore into both, hard, heavy. Cold. Cruel. There was no smile on his face.
Where have you been? Left us with a claim and nothing to show for it? Care to explain?
The scarred man paced and circled, one eye on the men in front and the other on his woman behind him.
Atka followed behind Dreven closely. Their path had altered at the havoc the Hildibrandr seemed to be undergoing, their supposed haven for winter gone. She kept up without falter, even with the cold creeping up her limbs as she trudged beside Dreven in the snow.
Her stare at the ground was pulled up as her companion had paused in his steps. She glanced upwards, her relaxed expression dropping at the sight of the strangers. Atka would have expected to continue on, but this wolf knew Dreven's name. The fur along her spine pricked up no matter how much effort was put forward to hide the unease brewing in her. The anxiety only grew as Dreven said his name, Aludin.
Atka could do nothing to dispel the tense air, so she remained silent as Dreven paced, glancing between the two strangers.
Ithax moves close when the brindled beast stops, shifting his body to touch Alduin’s own. Cheek to cheek and hip to hip he inquires why exactly they’re stopping. Alduin would simply jut his chin out to the dark form in the snow, a gaze of familiarity in his eyes.
Only when the dark furred man acknowledges him back, Alduin moves forward towards him fearlessly, brushing the length of his body against the agouti man beside him. He would halt just before Dreven, eyes peering over his shoulder at the pale woman beside him. His gaze isn’t harsh, but isn’t soft. Though when he flick back to the scarred male his expression smoothes only some.
“I was forced to fetch an artifact.” He hums getting straight to the point of his absence, sure the other would remember his obsession with things of this nature.
At this point he’d turn on his heel, grab the skull from the snow and set it before the other male. Said skull is short muzzled and oddly shaped — a human skull, Banesteppe informed him. Banesteppe’s skull himself. Its lifeless, hollowed eye sockets stare back at the pair opposite Alduin. An odd feeling is usually accompanied with its presence, but not all can feel it.
Alduin can though.
It’s a powerful artifact ensured to push him that much closer to becoming a god. Yet, another symbol of his eternal slavery to the humanoid deity.
And so Alduin would take his eyes from the bone to the bloody red of the man before him. “I could not disobey.” He supplies ominously.