Stavanger Bay pain is a ritual we are required to conduct in

i couldn't decide if i wanted to make his read only or not. i'll leave it up as a potential thread for two weeks & if no one replies by november 19th i'll just archive is as a read only. xD

Beneath the tangle of ash trees Kerberos slumbers: tucked beneath a thick tangle that forms a bleached, bone-like cage around him. It is a tight squeeze but he feels indefinitely safer contained, beneath the reach of others and with others kept at bay from his reach.

Kerberos’ dreams are not pleasant.

He dreams of Sos: the screams of a thousand burning souls loud and panic-inducing. He shudders in his sleep, the branches scraping together in an eerie manner, as terror threatens to consume him. Yet, he is calmed by the knowledge that he, in his own right, is a terror. A monster can’t be terrified, not when he contributes, when he bends to the Dark Father’s will without much resistance. Darkness is consuming and Kerberos knows as it threatens the light that it can swallow it whole if he would let it. Still, some stubborn, moral part of the Aok refuses to let Atka slip from him. The Mother of Light’s grip is not nearly so strong now, but she persists and he tries to fight. It’s a struggle and he knows soon he will break and he will slip and he will sate that hunger within him. That terrible and aching hunger.

He dreams of the night he allowed the Dark Father in: when he opened the door to the civil war within his mind. Desperation had been a such a good motivation. As famine had struck his home and pack the dead had begun to outnumber the living and there were not enough of them, and certainly not enough strong enough to continue the impossible task burying them. His youngest children: still suckling at the breast of their weak and dying mother had not been the first the famine had claimed but they had been the first he’d eaten. His three older children and him had done what had been a necessary evil: disposing of the dead in foul cannibalism. He hates himself for it just as much as he has accepted it as apart of him. He is the monster now. He is everything he had never aspired to be as a sullen and self-driven outcast. He had built himself to greatness once …and now nothing remains of that man.

There is only the all consuming darkness and that hunger that can only be sated by blood and flesh of his own species: that gnawing and terrible hunger.

Kerberos shutters awake and lets out a soft. He tries to find comfort in the fact that’s been attempting to abstain but the more he denies it the more urgent the desire becomes. He tries to resist: for Atka, for the small boy he’d once been who would have rather death than the become what he is now. Still, Kerberos reluctantly accepts what he has done, what he has become to some extent. It’s impossible not to: he cannot ever go back, cannot ever stop feeding the beast that he turned to in his darkest of hours. In the siphoning hours of dawn he tries not to think about it and attempts to assuage his hunger with paltry seagulls. They pale and are flavorless in comparison: their salty meat tastes little better than ash in his mouth. Still, he gnaws on them and pretends it is enough as the salty brine whips through his fur the taste of the sea, familiar and welcoming, lingers upon his tongue.

She'd stopped by Grayday's borders to leave her mark, wanting the Morningsiders to know that she was alright, even if she was absent. Some of them might not understand, but she hoped Grayday himself would know that she meant no harm by leaving. But she didn't know how he'd feel about it; she knew very little about him, these days.

From the plateau, she'd stuck to the mountains, heading over the forested ridge and into the fields down below. Part of her contemplated moving on from the dark forest for good, but its proximity to Morningside and some strange, vague images of Durnehviir kept her chained to the coast. I'm just stretching my legs, she told herself, discomfort eating at the pit of her stomach.

So she was already nervous when she caught sight of a stranger stirring up ahead. Had she woken him? "I didn't mean to disturb your rest," the shewolf called, even as she drew a bit closer, nostrils flaring as she searched for information about the other wolf.

thanks for joining! ♥

The meat that he provides himself with is never enough. Nothing is ever enough these days except that which he tries to deny himself; this has become a fact of Kerberos’ life. Perhaps his children will better accumulate to a life of abstinence but he is too old. …Or perhaps they will not. Perhaps they, too, will be stuck with the clinging demon of addiction for the flesh of their own species for the rest of their ( presumably ) long lives. Sleep is not often kind to the Aok most nights: it is far from peaceful because Sos is unrelenting as he haunts his slumber. The screams and decaying scent of the thousands upon thousands souls that the Dark Father has devoured is enough to stir even the most soundest sleepers from rest. Sos is a demanding deity at his best: he requires sacrifice and blood and practitioners of voodoo. Of dark magic.

His ears cup forth and his attention turns to the sound of approaching footfalls, his black, leathery nostrils flaring as he draws in the stranger’s scent. Female. There is the scent of others that cling to her earthen agouti pelage but nothing quite so concrete as a pack. Yet. A foundling pack, he thinks. She calls out to him and Kerberos slides himself from his cage ( because that was more or less the purpose the tangle of ash tree limbs ) and rises to his full height, his fur mussed from the spindly limbs as he’d backed himself out of the small self-made prison. “No, no,” He shakes his head in an effort to assure her. “Sleep does not come easy to me most nights,” He admits. “I was awake before your approach.”

At the sound of the man's even tones, Sunspot felt herself relax. There was still something a bit odd about the stranger, but even so, the Huntress felt secure enough to pad a bit closer, ears pushed forward in unguarded interest. Older males had always been her weakness, but aside from that, the woman simply enjoyed meeting other wolves.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, wondering what was keeping the male up at night. Loneliness, perhaps, or else the worries that came with being alone. Sunspot was familiar with them, and familiar with all the ways two strangers might alleviate such things. For a moment, she imagined leaving Constantine's forest behind and taking up the mantle of a traveller once more. Perhaps she could travel with this stranger for a time...

But she was getting too far ahead of herself. She couldn't just leave, after all.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, restraining herself from speaking suggestively and voicing the words as plainly as possible.

Kerberos watches as she approaches, drawing closer — not enough to invade either of their spaces but it is not an action that goes unnoticed. Kerberos is politely and instinctually weary but not in any manner that he would put off as rude. Sand colored ears twitch atop his skull as she mentions that she’s sorry to hear about his sleep. His tail twitches behind him, in contemplation. He hadn’t spoken it for her pity: he’s created his own demon and now he has no choice but to live with it. Or …not. He’s got the capabilities of ending it, of starving the demon for the rest of eternity, for inviting Sos to take his soul. Yet, he hasn’t. Perhaps fear keeps him from summoning the strength of taking it that far, or perhaps Kerberos feels directly responsible for the monsters he’s made of his three children who willingly and without much hesitation joined him in that darkness. Not that he’s doing much good of keeping an eye upon them by being away from them. They’d been pups — no older than six months old and he’d singlehandedly taught them how to be horrors. Some father he turned out to be.

Kerberos’ attention is drawn back to her once more as she places a simple inquiry between them. Is there anything I can do? A dangerous question in and of itself, the Aok thinks bitterly. He doubts she would be so willing to help him in any way if she knew; but of course she didn’t know. It’s not something that Kerberos is naturally or overly inclined to share about himself. Kerberos draws in a breath and lets it out with a soft smile. “My name is Kerberos,” He offers instead of answering her question, figuring it’s better to leave her question unanswered for now.

Her question was left unanswered; Spot gave him a long look, thinking his smile was somewhat tremulous but seeing no reason why she should let that bother her. If he didn't want her around, he'd have to buck up and tell her so. For the moment, she was content in the liminal space between invitation and rejection, and moved closer still. Her nose, now, was near to his fur, a breath away from brushing. He smelled of salt, and of a deep, musky sorrow.

"Sunspot," she replied, her eyes flickering to his face once more. She ceded an inch back to him, retreating half a step. There was something about him - she didn't know what to make of it, but it was always good to be cautious. She was alone out here, after all, and there was no guarantee that help would come if she called for it.

But caution had never come too easily for her, and that same something that warned her drew her like a bright beacon as well. She could not turn away. "I'll bother you all day, if you let me," the shewolf teased, trying to draw more words out of the male. He'd shown himself gentle, thus far, and Sunspot felt comfortable surveying him because of this. "So you ought to satisfy my curious nature, if you want me to be on my way. I'll need more than a name, I think."

Brazenly, Kerberos cannot help but admire, the woman draws nearer. Oh, there are undertones of caution in her movements: that stiffness of two strangers about to grasp the other’s forearm to see if they’ve got a hidden blade up their sleeve. The sea spawn does not think she is overly perturbed and if there is something that warns her away from him — that little nagging feeling that slithers down one’s spine like the caress of icy fingers, that causes the hairs at the back of the nape to rise on end — she does a good job of not letting it show. She draws close enough that her nose barely brushes his fur. He represses the shudder that threatens to wrack through him as he cannot help the thought: she’s close enough to taste. Ah, but he knows a taste will never be enough: it will break the dam he has carefully constructed and been struggling to patch up as it cracks and tremors. He doesn’t want to eat her — not really. He doesn’t want to eat anyone but Kerberos knows that he’s long since surpassed what he wants and does not want. Still, he knows his boundaries fairly well and thinks that she’s safe. For this meeting, at least and if at any point he thinks he might break then he will be quick to make an unexplained exit. Kerberos is not unprepared though he knows that if he does break he will be forced to hunt. He tries not to think about it, going off the belief that thinking about it simply invites the devil inside.

Sunspot, she offers her own name in return. It fits her, the Aok thinks eager for the distraction as his sea-green gaze assesses her in unabashed earnest. She’s about his age, give or take a year or two, if he had to guess though age is never something he really thinks about at his own age. She teases him and his salmon pink tongue draws across his lips as he notices that while she has given him some more space there is still a fairly big lack of it between them and he cannot help but wonder what she wants of him. “Perhaps that is not a bad thing,” Kerberos muses aloud with a twitch of his lips. It is, of course, but also not. While Kerberos is used to being a hermit it doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn for company ( and yes, he’s filled with a bunch of these sorts of contradictions ). “What do you wish to know?”

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The male was certainly a reticent kind. Sunspot didn't mind that, really, except that she prefered to gauge early on how receptive someone might be to her company. She couldn't yet tell if Kerberos would rather she left him alone, but she was sure that would become clear within the next few exchanges.

"Whatever you're willing," said Spot, giving her tail an easy wag. "Whatever your scent cannot. How did you come to this land? What do you seek? Are you staying long?"

She grinned, bright and inviting. He'd endured her this long, and so, she could not help but flirt just a little. "And do you want company?" she asked, careful not to invade his space any more than she already had. The shewolf lowered her front half to the ground in a position that was half restful, half playful. Kerberos could take his pick.

She clarified that she wants to know whatever he is willing to tell her and offers him a few examples to go off of. It’s almost ironic because he’s never had secrets …never had anything he had to hide until recently; but the truth is he only keeps it secret because he knows it’s not socially acceptable to eat your own species and because he’s ashamed even in his reluctant acceptance that it’s not apart of his life. “I’ve been here before. Many, many years ago. I ran with packs that are ghosts. Echoes. I am probably the only one left here that remembers them.” He doesn’t know if that’s true or not but it’s how he feels and thus it is his truth. He’s middle aged now. Not old per say — there’s still a chance he might live to be ten years of age which would pit him at exactly mid-life — but still. His youth is behind him and he knows this. “I do not know,” He answers with sincerity to both her last questions. He does not know what he seeks or if he will stay here long. “It is an enigma to me, yet.” Kerberos lives his life one day at a time now. He has to for there is no telling what the next day will bring him and beyond being terrifying it’s dangerous.

“I would enjoy your delightful company,” He responds to her next question, picking up on her flirtation and offers his own. “It’s been a while since I’ve had company.” He admits. Company that did not end up his meal, that was. Kerberos watches as she lingers in a pose that it is part restful and part playful: allowing him the choice. Kerberos contemplates, tempted to cater to her playful whims but he’s a bit too tired for that. “The bay houses a shallow pool that is wonderful for relaxing.” He invites with a subtle gesture in the direction: a happenstance discovery on Kerberos' part. That’d been where he had intended to head when she called out to him and he looked to relax in it and forget the nightmares that plague him.

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Sunspot listened with only mild interest as Kerberos shared his tale. It was more prose than actual story - a tactic that Spot liked to employ when she was not particularly interested in sharing what she really had on her mind. Although she desired the information he was witholding, she decided to respect his deflection and let the conversation move on.

Besides, the teasing lilt to his voice hinted at something she was altogether more interested in. His mention of seeking relaxation together only sweetened the deal.

"Lead the way," she said with a happy laugh, tail wagging as she followed along after him. It seemed like it might be a bit cold to get into the water, but she'd withold judgment until she actually saw the place. Perhaps the waters Kerberos spoke of were heated the same way Grayday's hotsprings were.

Kerberos does not know where the woman is satisfied with what he has shared with her or not — though none of it was a lie he had not divulged on recents due to the simple fact that he had something he desired to keep buried; something to craftily hide — but she does well not to show if she is not satisfied with what he has chosen to share. She allows him to divert the conversation and the Aok is grateful for it. He would rather not dwell upon those things; especially in the company he was in. Her happy laugh causes his lips to twitch upwards in a smile in her direction as he takes the lead. He keeps his pace even, his gait leisurely so it is easy for her to keep up with him as he weaves through the stunted and bleached bone white ash trees that surround them. Kerberos might even consider a moonlit stroll romantic if their location was not on a tad bit on the morbid side. “I have talked mostly of myself, how terribly rude of me,” He hums contemplative as they walk. Of course, it had been largely at her behest yet, still, he wants to allow her the chance to share with him. “Tell me about yourself,”[/b[ Kerberos invites, canting his head ever so slightly to the side to fixate her in his sea blue-green gaze. [b]“You can tell me as little or as much as you’d like.” He will not poke and prod beyond what she is willing to tell him.

He can hear the bubble of the natural heated pool and his steps slow to an eventual stop as they reach the small clearing. “Here we are,” He announces with playful grandiose. He moves in a slow circle around the pool before he steps down into the shallow water, first with one paw, then with the others, sinking down so that all but his neck and head are submerged in the warm depths. It’s not terribly large but is it adequate enough to accommodate the two of them comfortably. “The water feels lovely.” He remarks contently before he falls to a comfortable silence.

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