time had passed in elysium since that odd day and reif would muse at how it really didn't care much for the rest of them. no matter what happened within this little bubble that was his and each wolf of elysium's life, time wouldn't even blink. he had learnt quickly that it waited for no one. 

as the young boy sat amongst the whispering willows, light rain drizzling down from heavy grey clouds- he focused on marvelling at his new favourite thing, his stick. yes you heard that right, reif's favourite thing was a stick. not siblings, packmates or remaining parents- an inanimate piece of wood. a week or so ago, not too long after his talk with cortez- reif had finally broken down under the increasing pressure of memories and confusion. usually when something like this happened he sought sticks to crunch under his jaws or stones to scrape little baby teeth or blunt claws off of. it was on that day he came cross his stick, it was smooth and shockingly solid considering its relatively light weight. it was about shoulder height in length /bear in mind he's still relatively small/ but what caught his eye the most was- someone else had been at this stick before. there were scratches on it, strange patterns scraped carefully into the surface quite like the designs he himself liked to create in the dirt when stressed.

not only was this interesting and pretty, he'd found a strange relief in running soft pads along the now familiar ridges and grooves. ears flick- the first movement in a while- sending droplets flying into the air that had settled atop his golden fur. although he seemed completely unaware of the light water cascading down around him- his frail body had started to tremble lightly in an effort to alert his mind that it was cold, and wet. with a frown, reif would shake his head as if coming out of a trance- glancing around the area. he supposed he ought to find shelter, he'd been warned that getting too cold could make you sick and wasn't really in the mood to test the theory. but ever since momma had died /a subject he'd finally gotten explained to him and had spent many days deep in thoguht over/ he didn't like spending as much time in the den, finding it a bit crowded and overwhelming. something he'd never felt before, it had always been the opposite- the one place he'd felt safe. 

so there he remained, only certain that he didn't wanna go back but unsure where else to look and feeling weary at even the idea of it. with a little sigh he'd simply sink into a crouch amongst the long strands swaying around him, lacking the independence to do anything but wait for a solution to arise.

of his brothers, reif had been the only other one to see what atwood had seen. it makes atwood feel a little closer to the peachy boy, though he's not naturally openly affectionate with either of them. still, he makes no effort to look for reif when he isn't in the den -- instead, he's out on his own, curious how close to the borders he can get without being caught when he spots the other boy.

it's wet and dreary outside. atwood doesn't mind, ignoring the chill the rain provides as he approaches quietly, his eyes locked on his brother's stick. "raining," he observes once he's close enough, almost regretful in breaking the peaceful silence reif seems to be enjoying.

someone's coming. his eyes lift slowly to fix on the figure, recognising it as his brother as he makes his way towards him through the rain. he's surprised and a little confused by this action- atwood wasn't one to come looking for him and the break in such normal routines was well, odd. to be honest they were a weird bunch, even before the..tragedy they'd endured. tragedy... it was a word he'd heard whispered a lot recently, sometimes he could swear he heard it in the whispers of the swishing willows. he follows the other boy's gaze when he reaches him, blinking fondly at the object of their attention and drawing it closer with a defensive paw. he didn't think atwood would be the type to mistake it for a toy but he couldn't be too sure, it was much more important than a toy! this was stick.

he glances back up at the statement to leave his more earthen coloured sibling and gives a small nod in response, a troubled frown tugging at his delicate features. "yes" he pushes himself up from his crouch so that he now sits, giving his head another shake without even thinking that this could result in atwood getting hit by a little shower of water droplets. well that was that and in fact reif would likely have just nodded at that exchange of words and continued on but was stopped by a familiar nagging of curiosity. atwood had seen what had happened and he wondered and wondered, did he see it all the time too? was it normal to replay it over and over again without even wanting to? he worries at his lip, unsure as to how he's meant to express this.

see reif didn't not like his family, he actually cared about them quite a lot. he just didn't know how to show it, in fact he didn't even realise he didn't know how to. he would give them the cold shoulder or flat out ignore them without realising it looked bad, to him it was quite obvious that he cared without any of the weird stuff. still, he wasn't particularly close to anyone either and had yet to realise how much he needed it, in fact probably more than most. he was vulnerable in ways he didn't quite get yet and could do with that extra support of someone who understood what things he did meant whether they made sense to the rest of the world or not. 

yet this would remain lost to the pup, possibly forever. detached eyes would finally regain focus on the other and he'd glance tentatively at his eyes only to sweep his gaze downwards once more- feeling a strange jolt at the action and not liking it one bit. "do you miss mama?" he finally asks, genuinely curious as to what answer he'll get. did he miss mama? yes he supposed he did, he missed his presence and the things he did for them but all the other wolves said he still lived on within them or something weird like that. so did that mean they weren't supposed to miss him? he scrunched up his nose, it made no sense he couldn't be gone and here and he'd been told both! a little distressed huff would escape his creamy jaws.

truthfully atwood doesnt know what to make of reif or sundance, though sundance, at least, has always struck him as relatively more straightforward. he watches reif cover the stick with his paw, taking no offense at the gesture (why would he want to take it anyway?). reif agrees, yes, it is raining, and atwood offers nothing further, content to be quiet in the rain with him, not sure what else he would ask for, if he has something to ask for.

but it seems his brother does have something to ask. ah, he thinks. does he? it's noticeable, their mama's absence, and it's certainly made his other mothers sadder, though they try their best to cover it. the den is slightly less warm these days. there's fewer gentle histories mumbled to them about places he's never seen and won't remember. and then there is the blood.

he draws his lips back in a grimace and says, "i think about him," which is not quite the same thing, but he reckons, close enough. "i think about.. what happened," he adds, ears flattening back to emphasize the significance of it. do you, he wants to ask, but doesn't, more interested in what reif might add instead.

there's a while where he supposes atwood needs to process the question, he gets that. although the answer usually comes to him quick enough, finding out how to express it in words one would understand was the hard part. plus, the soft pitter patter of the rain landing on and weighing down the already drooping leaves was calming to the soft toned boy- he definitely didn't mind having to listen to it whilst awaiting an answer from his brother.

a soft blink is given upon sensing a small shift in the other's demeanour and his pale gaze shifts just in time to catch the earthen boy's grimace. his forehead creases slightly as he blinks up at the pup, he looked like he was in...pain? but then he speaks and curiosity takes over anything else. nods are given as he laps up the words with a silent eagerness, relieved to hear he's not alone with his constant uninentional recallings of the scene. in reality it'd be more concerning if they didn't think about it but how was he meant to know that.

he nods a bit more, chewing subconciously on his lip as he thinks about this for some time. eyes flit back to the ground, studying his paws quietly. atwood hadn't said much about missing mama either but it's a hard question, hence why reif had initally asked it. he'd been hoping to use atwood's answer as a way to figure it out himself if this whole missing thing was what he was meant to feel more of but maybe his brother didn't know either. it's oddly reassuring even if he's come to that conclusion himself with no solid proof. "i..." he begins, voice soft as brows crease. "i see it" he finally gets out, voice although quiet still remaining steady. he looks back to the boy but still never really meets his gaze as he struggles to elaborate. "it's like i'm there again sometimes it's always in my head? i hear the shouting and see the red li- the blood. i don't really like it but it doesn't stop" 

he's not really looking for comfort or anything, doesn't even see that it could be taken that way. he just decides to say it and it's nicer than he'd thought it would be to get it out and it turns out that maybe he's glad to have atwood here right now even if it's more a subconcious thing than him truly realising that his brother's presence means more to him than he knows. a soft sigh breaks free from creamy jaws as he goes on to utter; "i was worried i was.....different" and oh how he was and even the bluntness in which he says this as if he's merely discussing the weather goes to show that but for now knowing that atwood seems to somewhat get it, well that's enough for the little boy as they sit together in the softly falling rain.

reif seems to be thinking something important, so atwood leans forward slightly, offering the full weight of his attention. his attention is rewarded when his brother talks finally, recognition widening atwood's eyes. he's not the only one, then, who thinks about it. this makes sense -- he'd known, of course, that reif must have seen it too -- but that is different from thinking about it. from dreaming it. 

"me too," he says quietly. "mostly in dreams. just - the sound, and the red, and everyone screaming. it was so -- so wet," his nose wrinkles at the memory. "i didn't want to look at -- at him, like that. and i didn't, really, even though cam was grabbing at him, because he wouldn't listen to me about it. but i can kinda. imagine it, i guess." he lifts one shoulder and rolls it inelegantly, looking anywhere but at his brother. maybe that's too much. but he has to share it.

the rain grows heavier, and atwood shifts closer to reif, seeking shelter under the willows. "maybe you are different," he says, because comfort isn't a skill he's learned yet. but then he adds "i think i am, probably," with a oddly long-suffering sigh for a child. mama - seabreeze mama - says he's like ariel, sometimes, her face all soft and sad when she does, though she tries to make it sound happy, he thinks. it makes atwood ache in a way he can't identify -- is he walking in the footsteps of his dead mother? is that a burden or a gift? he doesn't know, and he doesn't think reif will either, so he doesn't say any of this, just looks at the rain pensively.