Today, another foggy and illustrious day brimmed with windchill and scathing winter torment, was the day Cry chose to fish again. He knew it had been a while since he and Gwen had snacked on some fish, and no one liked old fish. She had been seeming to miss something, and he couldn’t exactly put his paw on it. But he didn’t want to ask her- instead he wanted to surprise the beauty. With a nice freaking cold fish. If it were fresh and frozen, he might be able to make her smile; he knew he definitely enjoyed working his jaws on a hunk of frozen food.

So scanning the ice and chipped banks, the Phantom searches for a snack for his Ghost.

Cry hadn't been startled. In fact, he felt as though with him sitting like a duck in the pond, he was rather apt to being spotted. So in a way, the ex-assassin was expecting to be spotted. Stopping at a lively bank, he turned to meet this nearly average looking male who called out to him. A grin almost lined his lips, but Cry let it liven his voice, instead, inviting the younger male over with a wagging swish of the banner. "Absolutely." Hell, while it burned his insides that he was allowing this to take place, Cry concocted a plan to ensure the company would have as much fun without scaring away his prey. "In fact, I kinda need you to be on the opposite side of the isle for this game I have in mind."

Settling on his side, the side nearest Shadewood, Cry tensed himself to snap up some fish that might wanter too close to the edge of the bank. "Want to see if you can beat me with how many fish you can catch before you get too cold!" For once, Cryy was actualy trying to play a game with someone. What a phenomenon.

Cry was entirely waaaaaaay too busy laughing at the youger male's pun that he had managed to give the whelp a head start! Chortling away, the Phantom had the worst time trying to concentrate, and by the time that he had gotten into the fridgid water, the russet mix had already beaten him to it! Trying his hardest to snag a fish, Cry kept his eyes peeled for any movement. A pair of frosty gems darted between the rushing currents.

snag

Just that quickly, a bluegill was in his jaws, wriggling hard enough to try and fin him. Bisecting the pearlescent fish with a swift crunch, the Keeper kept his acute fishing going until his paws began to go numb. Figuring it would be best to stop now, he tossed the last carcass on the shore and took a snorting glance at his pathetic pile. 3 fish!! Who'd get full off of that?!

Turning across the shore, Cry peered over to see what his playful company had wrangled up.

He had been bested! By a younger male, no less! But all the ex-Assassin could do was drape the competitions end in a blanket of laugher. 
He hadn’t had as much fun today as he had in quite some time!

Shivering loosely, Cry shook out his own furl of void pelt, eclipsing himself in a fluff of ebony. A much more comfortable voice was thrown back to the cheery lad. “You must have been prepared for me, today! Either that, or you made some kind of pact with these fish!”

Taking one of the varied fish, a heartier one than the rest, Cry selflessly tossed it across the freezing waters so that it would land close to the gay winner. “For you! A true fisherman! Enjoy a full belly, tonight!” The sprite had gotten Cry at a decent time, today, and the Phantom smiled one of those rare gems at the lanky friend.

Sharing was caring, apparently, and despite this wolf being much older than he initially thought the lad to be, Cry felt another bubble of laughter threaten to recrease his face all over again. Shaking his head at the offer, Cry declined both the orange belly bass and the bluefin trout the kid had offered him, instead choosing to depart his gift for free. 

“I like you, and you deserve a bit more than just a trade. My name is Cry,” he sat, wrapping a thing void hued banner around wet cold paws. “And I’ve got a home to set up and a family to make. I used to live a hard life before I met my wife. And thanks to her, our doors are always open to those who want a true Family.” It was true, and he couldn’t stress it enough. Gwen was his everything. Dangerously so, she was nestled on a life vein of his. 

A grin shot shot at the fish-flaked youth. “But since I let you keep your fish, gimme something about you, Prince of The Piscine!”

The lad was just the utmost of funny, and even though the optimism was from a grown male, Cry couldn't help but be reminded of Ashton, the hippie healer Slade had managed to become acquainted with at some point during Cry's training. The smiles, the postivity, Ashton had been one of the wolves Cry liked being around for the most part. And now apparently, Epic was no different. Such a bright personality would be absolutely perfect in comparison to Phex; the two would make tremendous friends should Epic decide to join them. Cry could only imagine what would happen should Phex excitedly mention to Epic 'We have a bear friend! He's a part of our Family, too!' Epic would probably be flabergasted.

"I think that's a pretty cool name, Epic. I'll have to tell my Wife to let you in on our marriage so we might do something about that."  A joke for a joke, one Cry mentally snorted at as he imagined bringing the subject to the stunning ivoria he was blessed with.

"Believe it or not, no, Cry is not my real name. My real name is a secret, Epic. Cry is just a nickname I've kept all my life." He had atleast chosen to be honest with the youth, as he had messed around and gotten attached to the kid-like male. He was reminded of happier days with the lanky lad, and it didn't help him at all. "But your name is cooler than mine, promise."

Watching the lad genuinely, the Phantom smiled and said in an ungilded tone. "A story is never silly unless the narrator wishes for it to be."

Where most thought Cry even having the name Cry was weird, interest shine like lighthouse beams in Epic’s eyes. And that has caught Cry off guard, yet again. While Phex held Cry’s adoration with her playful tactics, Epic had warmed him up with genuine curiosity. 

That honesty made Cry want to be honest, too. 
So he did. 
He opened up a bit more than he had to anyone, to a young stranger he had only met that day. 

“Cry is bad, Epic. He’s killed, he’s kidnapped, he’s stolen, and he’s worked only for the benifit of whoever had offered him payment. And he has only just hung his belt up. Personally, I don’t know whether that’s a good thing, or not. The Wilds aren’t as safe as nicer wolves deserve. And Cry knows that.”

Choosing to sit and tell this boy some stories, Cry let it all out. 

“I didn’t choose the name...my Mentor did. His name was Slade, and he was the literal definition of a Nightmare. He kidnapped me from my mother, who had named me a completely different name than the one Slade had stuck to me. I had gotten it because through all of the pain and misery he had ever put me through, he had never seen me cry. Instead, he would try his hardest to make me cry...he would torture me, maim me, put me in severe situations, and this was all as I was still a pup, barely begun to walk. He would to so much to try and see me break... but I never had.”

Cry remembered the several instances where in his absolute rage, Slade would chase behind Cry, greedily loving the terror he had bestowed in the wolf. So many chases until Cry would grow smart and know how to lose him, know where he would come from next, know where to hide and where to tuck himself away until he was called out. All while hot pants behind his fleeing body, searing a command in the back of his head.
’Cry...’ 

A chuff and a shaken head was all he could donate to such a tortured visual. Some had it lucky.

some didn’t.

Cry smiled at the reaction of Epic, something feeling affirmed in his chest about the youth trying to keep the Phantom safe from the already perished Uncle of his. "As much as I'd would've loved to maul the man down with you, Epic, he's already dead. I don't know how, nor have I seen the body to confirm...but he was quite up there in age from what I remember. It semeed for a whle that age didn't stop him from being terrible; as a youth, I didn't think he even aged. But now I recognize how even Time can pull down wolves- he can't escape old age, forever." 

That thought alone brought him peace, but it also pissed him off. He was robbed of a kill that he wanted to be the one to deal. He deserved it. It was promised to him by the damn man, himself. "But regardless, I appreciate the ofer, friend." Cry smiled as the younger wolf, wishing that the friendly face was one that would have occured more through his life. But he was grateful for this now, as it was.