The Heartwood isolation theory

Autumn in the Heartwood seemed like such a magical and serene place. A fine beginning for the wayward persian. His jewel-like green eyes wide as he took in all the colours, burnt red, orange, yellow. It was like a wildfire had swept the woods, death was slowly suffocating the valley, a glorious war of nature. When he had been just a pup the notion of violence and fighting to please the gods (and his father) was all he had ever dreamed of. All he ever wanted and desired. But now he was just a shell, empty, isolated and alone. With no path to follow and no gods to watch over him. No plans and no future, it was a daunting time for Altair.

He was heading completely into the unknown, quite literally. These lands he had stumbled into per chance were new. He had become a simple rouge over the past year. Scavenging more often then hunting and playing the survival game until finally his paws had brought him here. Taking a break from his aimless wandering and searches for food the tawny pelted lad would sit upright near the base of a large oak where he would catch his breath.

*STEALS* hi you!! wb<333

They had settled for a night in each of the various little vales and woodlands, but had not yet settled. Xerxes, though he spent dawnlight in talks with Ahura, had not yet received instruction from the fierce god, and while he knew it would come, the fact that it had not gnawed at him. The day went unnoticed by Xerxes as he ventured farther into the wood, on the traced, narrow trail used often by deer. But their scent was faint, and his belly snarled with hunger. And so he pushed deeper, ears cupped for each tiny sound, for he was still a stranger in a land that did not know him. Not far off, the thick bole of an oak tree loomed, and though Xerxes could not yet see what was at its base, a pervading sense of impending emotion swept through him suddenly. He froze in his steps, rocked to his very core by the sensation, and then pink tongue swept out to limn his dried lips, and the thought of food was all but forgotten as he caught the thin tendril of scent beckoning just beyond the thick foliage. Bracing himself, his mind, the Shah stepped into the small clearing, and looked into a face that was at once his own, and was not. It was a young face, with jeweled eyes and a desertine bearing, but it was also hardened. By abandonment? hopelessness? Xerxes had loved his sons, but there could only be but a single princeling, and that had been his firstborn. Alduin. But — "You are alive," he murmured, in vague shock and a mounting sense of mingled relief and apprehension. For now, when years had separated them, and Altair surely had thought on all that had happened, with ample time to harden himself against his father, he would be hateful. "Ahura has blessed your life, and I give thanks." But he was tense, awaiting his son's response; could he even call Altair son any longer? and would the boy know him as father?

[size=x-small]Bwahaha! I was hoping you'd notice lil Altair ;D <333[/size]

Altair was content sitting beneath the shade of the mighty oak. Jade green eyes surveying the clearing ahead of him remaining alert in case a deer or hare happened to be noticed in the meadow-like grass. A rogue like himself could not afford to not be on hunting stand-by almost constantly. Though it was a different scent that he would catch on the soft autumn breeze causing a vast amount of confusion to the young lone male. He was sure that he knew who's scent it was but that would have been impossible.

But there he was. Eyes would widen with a mixture of shock and disbelief. His body frozen and yet he knew he was still alive as he could feel the thumping of his heart within the walls of his chest. As well as the compete and utter shock he felt that would rock him to his core the hellion was ambivalent. He wanted to love and cherish his father and have a second chance with him. But at the same time his inky lips would peel back with a lust to tear him asunder.

"Ahura has a wicked sense of humour. This can not be real." That was right. Years had passed since he last laid his gem green eyes of the man that was once his Shah and father. What were the chances after all of this time of meeting him again? No this was the work of Ahura, perhaps a test of faith that he did not yet understand.

but of course!!

Moments slipped by as they pondered one another, Xerxes regarding Altair with dread curling his belly, fancying that he saw rage and bloodlust flaring into the eyes so like his own. But if a blow was to come, Altair did not cast the first stone, and so the Shah relaxed somewhat, hackles beginning to flatten along the curve of his proud neck. "Ahura alone saw fit to bring us together," Xerxes murmured, the barest hint of chiding in his tone; one did not insult the gods with such insolent claims, though he could not, would not, attempt to reclaim his place as Altair's father. "How did you come to be here?" how long had he been in this place? From where he was, Xerxes had caught no pack-scent upon his wayward son, but that would surely change with time. Or perhaps it would not. "And your mother?" Despite the fact that Nita had won against Zahra, and she had been summarily deposed, and had run away from Samarkand, Xerxes remembered her lovely visage, and the passions that they had shared, that had culminated in the prideful, beautiful son now standing before him now. Perhaps Altair had found her.