Felltree Marsh catamite on a marble throne

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armand had met wolves and had moved on from them, unperturbed. in spite of his search for his own demise, his fur had thickened, and his body weight had stabilized. this chagrined armand, who wanted nothing more than to waste, and so he had stopped eating for the present. such actions brought clouded dreams, and these in turn allowed the boy the freedom of his mind's vast and tortured expanse. even now he sang small ditties in the palazzo to his fellows, uncaring of where he walked or how he stumbled.
he was not in this great place of destruction, and struck a pathetic vision as he staggered through the debris. some great hand had shaped this land, and the boy busied himself with idle contemplations of which deity it might have been, mumbling various names to himself as he walked. but not that one -- never that one. he closed his teeth around it, and swallowed the small empty syllables, and chuckled, a ringing, melodic sound that echoed into nothingness.[/tr][/td][/table]

My bad for the wait, babe! I was trying to come up with a reason for WB to leave the mountain range?!

Certain things remained unsettled in Warbone's life. His partner's expeditions troubled him, but beyond that he knew that he felt the urge too; it had driven him deep into complacency, out of fear that he might give in to it. His traveling had almost always come of necessity, so when the feeling to leave the vale weighed upon him like a sickness, he knew it was for a good reason.

He didn't know if he intended to make his way towards Marauder's Keep, but he did despite himself -- perhaps craving a glimpse of the willows he had no right to. He didn't even think about them, or his former pack until he could see it; a mirage in the distance that served to disillusion him, making him suddenly believe that he was in a dream. Wary of the fact that this could quickly turn nightmare, the brute took to the cold marshland, wondering why it wasn't the chill the jarred him from this unpleasant sleep.

Ahead he noticed a red fawn, and the closer he came to it, the more it evolved... until finally he was looking at a young russet wolf, and he stopped about twenty yards back, confusion clouding his scarred countenance as he realized too late that he hadn't meant to approach.

<3 im sorry if you felt pressured ;__;

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armand too drew to a halt, for through the wavering of his mind came a clear image, not an illusion he had spun for himself. a great wolf, muscled, threatening even by way of his very existence. and yet the mad child came nearer and nearer still, until he paused within reach of the man, close enough to have his throat ripped if the wolf so chose. and armand stood still, and looked upon the monster who stood upon broken land, and lay claim to it with his broad paws, and the thick cloak 'round his neck. he was built for war, and for destruction — a visible shiver traversed the length of armand's body, a lustful chill that merely appeared to be fear.
it was the eyes that snared him; the glare of a cyclops looming from a scarred scarlet face. it was not blindness, no; it was the cold color of disturbed silt beneath a summer sun, and armand gasped. "what do you see?" the boy blurted, his desperate curiosity too great to be contained.[/tr][/td][/table]

hehe, not at all! i just forgot about it, like an asshat xD i neeeeeeded your reminder! *lures you with a trail of fruit snacks to my drop trap*

His tail lifted in his uncertainty, letting it turn back and forth like the needle of a metronome as he waited to know the brave yearling's intentions. Warbone seemed not to fear injury, though certainly his mind had been touched by the question of this slight creature's sanity. Surely no intelligent beast approached such a predator this eagerly; or perhaps the goliath was not as intimidating as he had always assumed of himself...

The boy smelled as warm as he looked, carrying on him a swell of compelling heat that came without a visible source. He watched a quiver travel the length of his slender spine, and Warbone's tongue peeled across his lips as he shifted anxiously in place. "Fire," he breathed the first word that came to his mind. "In your eyes -- deep and all consuming --  I see it as surely as if I still have both mine."

He did not often become immersed in the long-forgotten poetics of his mother, but he found it easily now, bled out of him by a mere boy no less. Except, this could not possibly be just a boy...

KITTY /boo voice

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the man shifted, and armand fancied that the entire world shook beneath the weight of that single gesture. fire, goliath breathed, and twas david who was struck by the stone of the word, and wove hazily, reeling before he regained his balance. a hallucination of a burning landscape came to him, ancient trees with their skin curling back in the heat, scorched earth, grass dissolved. and here yet came water, but it was not a gentle trickle; it was the floods of gilgamesh and of noah, and armand smiled widely, madly.
"and i see water," yes, water, tossed, tempestuous as the sea, in the murky circle set like a grey gem in the wolf's scarred face. he watched the man carefully then, full of a peace and a quiet reverence.[/tr][/td][/table]

His lips peeled back into a wicked and hungry grimace, and his chest swelled with a sharp breath, a tumultuous wave rising, curling, threatening to crash over the swathe of daring wildfire before him. His eye passed over the kindling's delicate features, a young and tender man; his body years younger than his roaring chestnut eyes and divine expression. Warbone wanted his attention, all of it; a sweltering angel that the chaotic god of death wished to hoard into his black-barred chamber of possessiveness. He feared tainting him. Extinguishing him.

"Then know we cannot mix," he said, his voice slow and crawling, caressing and bracing— both pulling near and pushing away. A shudder passed from the base of his tail to the back of his neck, culminating in a soft sigh, a sound of quivering resignation as he took a step back from the boy and slowly turned his eye elsewhere.

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armand felt the draw of the other's savage tones, and more harshly did he feel the closing of that door upon his soul. even as the fierce cyclops turned his gaze away, the boy felt his spirit empty, and he gasped at the sudden sensation of tearing. his own gaze settled upon the other and he sought to retake the step that the great man surrendered. there was a desperation that battered harshly his soul and tears welled beneath the lashes that brushed armand's cheekbones, brought out in stark relief with his self-imposed starvation.
he was unused to so total a rejection and upon his intake of breath, a despairing "please" sought to caress the ears of the scarred wolf, to turn his piercing gaze back upon armand, if only for a moment. in the other, the boy had caught a glimpse of his maker, and it was not one he wished immediately to surrender.[/tr][/td][/table]