vaguey vague
North he'd been told, and so north he went, weaving through the meadows and swamps, the odds bits of mountain scenery here and there that broke up the monotony of plains and forests. There was a hopeful feeling in his stomach that suggested his journey would soon be at an end--and that it would not be a waste. That, alone, gave him hope as he crossed the desolate valley, dead tired on his paws.
Zamael sat for a moment, panting. He'd been at a hard trot for the past few hours, trying to make up the time he'd lost speaking to the two men he'd met in the mountains. The wind, colder up here, rustled his fur, and he looked round, trying to make sense of it all. No real landmarks of which to speak, save a small mountain range to the west.
But north they'd said, and north he would go.
It was inevitable, right? That he would see his brother soon was in no doubt. The question now was--would Alarian be as happy to see him as he would be to see Alarian? Quite some time had passed since they'd enjoyed the close bond of brotherhood. He once thought, faintly, family to be unbreakable, but Arnlith had proved him wrong almost from the moment Zamael had exited the birth canal.
Arnlith. The great prick. He was dead, his body delightfully headless. All that was in the past, and perhaps the Keils could find a way to mend themselves in his absence. Perhaps, without Arnlith, family really was unbreakable.
Zamael sat for a moment, panting. He'd been at a hard trot for the past few hours, trying to make up the time he'd lost speaking to the two men he'd met in the mountains. The wind, colder up here, rustled his fur, and he looked round, trying to make sense of it all. No real landmarks of which to speak, save a small mountain range to the west.
But north they'd said, and north he would go.
It was inevitable, right? That he would see his brother soon was in no doubt. The question now was--would Alarian be as happy to see him as he would be to see Alarian? Quite some time had passed since they'd enjoyed the close bond of brotherhood. He once thought, faintly, family to be unbreakable, but Arnlith had proved him wrong almost from the moment Zamael had exited the birth canal.
Arnlith. The great prick. He was dead, his body delightfully headless. All that was in the past, and perhaps the Keils could find a way to mend themselves in his absence. Perhaps, without Arnlith, family really was unbreakable.
also vague
He needed to get away— so he did. Alarian was no stranger to the valley; it existed just outside his home, and frequently served as a hunting-ground-slash-get-away. He didn't particularly enjoy the land, sloping and open as it was, but he spent a lot of time there nonetheless.
Today a familiar scent caught his attention, drew his focus away from the hunt. He thought nothing of it at first; many times over the years, he had fooled himself into believing he had found him. Each time, he had been wrong. Certain this would be no different, Alarian set his mind to ignoring it. He trailed along the river through the valley, trying desperately to focus on anything other than that.
His mind only tortured him further. The scent grew stronger as he went, forcing him to train his gaze to the ground. After several moments of this, he stopped, still studying the dirt as if his life depended on it. Why now? Just when he had stopped thinking about him— just when he had thought he was finally ready to move on. The past would never leave him alone, it seemed.
Today a familiar scent caught his attention, drew his focus away from the hunt. He thought nothing of it at first; many times over the years, he had fooled himself into believing he had found him. Each time, he had been wrong. Certain this would be no different, Alarian set his mind to ignoring it. He trailed along the river through the valley, trying desperately to focus on anything other than that.
His mind only tortured him further. The scent grew stronger as he went, forcing him to train his gaze to the ground. After several moments of this, he stopped, still studying the dirt as if his life depended on it. Why now? Just when he had stopped thinking about him— just when he had thought he was finally ready to move on. The past would never leave him alone, it seemed.
June 23, 2018, 01:53 AM
Whatever way the wind was blowing, it wasn't blowing in his favor. So much so that he didn't notice the other wolf until the figure made its way over the rise, within sight. Zamael squinted for only an instant; his heart and mind told him all he needed to know in that short moment. The pelt of charcoal and ash, the trim frame--that only belonged to one wolf he knew. One wolf he loved.
And, most conveniently, the one wolf he'd come all this fucking way looking for.
A shuddering gasp left his lips as he rose to his feet, padding unsteadily toward his brother. His steps grew quicker as he drew near, but he pulled to an awkward halt a few tail-lengths away, noticing the boy's eyes fixed on the ground. His voice was gentle when he spoke, the barest murmur. "Alarian."
He was the same, but changed. A number of scars marred his body, and with age had came other small, subtle differences as well. They had each seen some shit, between their last meeting and this one, and he didn't know how to come to terms with it. He didn't know how to speak to Alarian as the man he was, rather than the boy he'd once been.
And, most conveniently, the one wolf he'd come all this fucking way looking for.
A shuddering gasp left his lips as he rose to his feet, padding unsteadily toward his brother. His steps grew quicker as he drew near, but he pulled to an awkward halt a few tail-lengths away, noticing the boy's eyes fixed on the ground. His voice was gentle when he spoke, the barest murmur. "Alarian."
He was the same, but changed. A number of scars marred his body, and with age had came other small, subtle differences as well. They had each seen some shit, between their last meeting and this one, and he didn't know how to come to terms with it. He didn't know how to speak to Alarian as the man he was, rather than the boy he'd once been.
It kept getting stronger, and then he heard shuffling, and his chest tightened. No, no, no— "Alarian."
He turned, looked up into a familiar fiery gaze, and the breath left him.
Heat stung his eyes, then spilled over. He lowered himself to the ground with flattened ears, the ghost of a snarl tugging at his features.
He turned, looked up into a familiar fiery gaze, and the breath left him.
No,The word slipped from him without thought, trembling but forceful.
No— you're not real.Alarian took a few steps back, hackles lifting; Zamael was gone. This was fake— a malfunction of his brain, the fundamental flaw written into his existence.
Heat stung his eyes, then spilled over. He lowered himself to the ground with flattened ears, the ghost of a snarl tugging at his features.
Why— why can't you leave me alone?His voice broke, ending in a choked sob. He just wanted to know why. This— this thing in front of him would have no answers, he knew, but he had no other to ask.
June 23, 2018, 02:19 AM
Zamael had a lot of love in his heart, but he tucked it away, giving it only to those who he thought deserved it most. There had once been two, but then his father had killed Carvel. Now that number was down to one, and the one was standing in front of him, crying. Alarian's words smacked him across the face, made his breath catch suddenly in his throat, but he soldiered on, coming a bit closer.
"I don't want to leave you alone," he said, his normally impassive facade crumbling as it only did for his brother. "I missed you. I love you." He drew even closer still, 'til he could feel the heat from Alarian's body. He reached forward to press his muzzle against Alarian's cheek, unless he drew away--in which case, he'd kiss the empty air. But he was close.
"I'm real," Zamael whispered, fiery eyes trying to find his brother's gaze, which stayed hidden from him. He knew how fragile his brother sometimes could be, how pieces needed to be picked up once in a while, lying here or there. He also knew that his brother was strong, stronger than most he'd met, and it was with the knowledge of that strength, that resilience, that he came closer, rather than fleeing.
Because he, too, had that resilience. That stubbornness.
"I don't want to leave you alone," he said, his normally impassive facade crumbling as it only did for his brother. "I missed you. I love you." He drew even closer still, 'til he could feel the heat from Alarian's body. He reached forward to press his muzzle against Alarian's cheek, unless he drew away--in which case, he'd kiss the empty air. But he was close.
"I'm real," Zamael whispered, fiery eyes trying to find his brother's gaze, which stayed hidden from him. He knew how fragile his brother sometimes could be, how pieces needed to be picked up once in a while, lying here or there. He also knew that his brother was strong, stronger than most he'd met, and it was with the knowledge of that strength, that resilience, that he came closer, rather than fleeing.
Because he, too, had that resilience. That stubbornness.
June 23, 2018, 02:35 AM
The shift was so subtle, but he couldn't have missed it; some piece of him had been re-attached, painfully, bleeding as heavily as the ragged gap it had left in the first place. This was real. He allowed his brother near him, closing his eyes for a moment as he breathed in his scent. Finally.
It would have been so easy to ignore how much it hurt. Fortunately or unfortunately, Alarian had never let anything pass easily. The touch to his cheek broke his reverie. His lips peeled back, exposing his teeth for a few beats, but he was still.
He would keep asking until they stopped. He would have answers— and then... then, he didn't know. Maybe then, he would finally be done. The search for Zamael had driven him for so long, he had forgotten how deep this went; he had forgotten that it was part of his core, the foundation he had built himself upon. He hadn't quite processed it yet, but already something was settling within him. Already he could feel the beginning of some kind of end.
It would have been so easy to ignore how much it hurt. Fortunately or unfortunately, Alarian had never let anything pass easily. The touch to his cheek broke his reverie. His lips peeled back, exposing his teeth for a few beats, but he was still.
Why did you leave me? Why didn't you come back?Alarian couldn't look at him, not yet, not as the questions were still spilling from him.
He would keep asking until they stopped. He would have answers— and then... then, he didn't know. Maybe then, he would finally be done. The search for Zamael had driven him for so long, he had forgotten how deep this went; he had forgotten that it was part of his core, the foundation he had built himself upon. He hadn't quite processed it yet, but already something was settling within him. Already he could feel the beginning of some kind of end.
June 23, 2018, 02:48 AM
Nothing Alarian accused him of was a lie. He had left, and had not come back--at least to Alarian's knowledge. Knowing it was a lie hurt even worse, and Zamael's eyes raked the ground, guilt contorting his features. He took a long moment to compose himself before looking up again, trying to convey the shame he felt, the apology that would never be adequate.
"A part of me died with Carvel," Zamael explained, struggling to say the name aloud after so long. It might have been the first time he'd said it since that night. "When you told me Arnlith had killed him, I lost myself. I needed to get away--I needed a fresh start." He hung his head again. "I should have taken you with me. I'm sorry."
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. If he focused enough, he could smell the sea again, taste the salt on his lips. "I lived on the coast for a while, but then I returned to Sunfil Grove," Zamael continued. "Looking for you. Looking to find you. Instead I found Shaara, with these pups--" His words caught in his throat, almost like a gag, as he thought of the circumstances he'd run into. Poor Celia, gone after delivering pups from Runion's seed. That boy, made in the image of his father.
"It's all gone wrong. But I want to make things right." Zamael's eyes bored into Alarian's face, hot and impenetrable as the earth's core. "I came to find you, Alarian. I don't want to leave you alone, after all this time."
"A part of me died with Carvel," Zamael explained, struggling to say the name aloud after so long. It might have been the first time he'd said it since that night. "When you told me Arnlith had killed him, I lost myself. I needed to get away--I needed a fresh start." He hung his head again. "I should have taken you with me. I'm sorry."
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. If he focused enough, he could smell the sea again, taste the salt on his lips. "I lived on the coast for a while, but then I returned to Sunfil Grove," Zamael continued. "Looking for you. Looking to find you. Instead I found Shaara, with these pups--" His words caught in his throat, almost like a gag, as he thought of the circumstances he'd run into. Poor Celia, gone after delivering pups from Runion's seed. That boy, made in the image of his father.
"It's all gone wrong. But I want to make things right." Zamael's eyes bored into Alarian's face, hot and impenetrable as the earth's core. "I came to find you, Alarian. I don't want to leave you alone, after all this time."
June 23, 2018, 03:14 AM
He listened— and he thought maybe he understood, maybe— until Zamael mentioned returning. Shaara. The pups. That meant he knew, then; he knew everything. Alarian found himself backing away again, trembling as his brother spoke.
But you did— and after I—His breath hitched, voice catching in his throat for a moment.
After he was dead, I looked for you. I— I wasn't ready. I was alone, and— and nothing has gone right since then, and now mom is dead— and those pups— and Runion is here, and I'm stuck leading this pack that hates me—Alarian's voice broke again, and he paused to try to level his breathing. He couldn't think; he almost couldn't breathe.
You're too late, Zamael. I'm broken— I can't...Something between a laugh and a sob filled the pause between his words.
I can't even remember the last time I ate— or how many guys I've been with this month—He couldn't breathe now, actually. Alarian paused, chest heaving; his last thought before he met the ground was that he actually couldn't remember if he had imagined that whole ordeal with the stranger and Ulf. He'd have to check, he thought, when he got home— and then it was black.
June 23, 2018, 03:53 PM
Zamael kept trying to break in, kept trying to apologize--but Alarian kept going, and his despair rose more and more as his brother continued. "Alarian, look, I'm sorry--" His breathing, too, was poor as he began to panic, heart pounding against his chest. He lunged forward to try and take Alarian in his embrace, but before he could, his brother had collapsed, hitting the ground with a muffled thud.
"Alarian!" Zamael cried, falling with him, nosing at his face. "Goddamn it, Alarian, please don't do this. Please don't die on me." It was a fear rooted in nothing substantial; the springy arch of his ribs still rose and fell, his pulse still strong in his throat. Still, to see this, after all this time, after the journey, the search. . .it was too much for Zamael to handle, and he, too, crumpled, gasping for air.
"Damn it, damn it, fucking damn it!" he whispered fervently, still trying to rouse his brother. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please get up." His breath was coming in ragged sobs as he pleaded with Alarian, his sense of self-control entirely gone. Gone was the hard shell he'd crafted for himself in the wake of Carvel's death; it was like peeling off skin, exposing everything inside of you to the cruel forces of nature. Sun, sleet, snow. The openness was hot and cold, burning and freezing, gripping his body in wave after wave of sheer terror.
He hadn't wanted this. He wanted it to be easy like it once had been. Their life had never been cushy, but it had been better than this before. He wanted it to be like it was before. But now reality had fallen heavy upon his shoulders, and he realized that there was no going back. It never again would be easy for Alarian and him.
"Alarian!" Zamael cried, falling with him, nosing at his face. "Goddamn it, Alarian, please don't do this. Please don't die on me." It was a fear rooted in nothing substantial; the springy arch of his ribs still rose and fell, his pulse still strong in his throat. Still, to see this, after all this time, after the journey, the search. . .it was too much for Zamael to handle, and he, too, crumpled, gasping for air.
"Damn it, damn it, fucking damn it!" he whispered fervently, still trying to rouse his brother. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please get up." His breath was coming in ragged sobs as he pleaded with Alarian, his sense of self-control entirely gone. Gone was the hard shell he'd crafted for himself in the wake of Carvel's death; it was like peeling off skin, exposing everything inside of you to the cruel forces of nature. Sun, sleet, snow. The openness was hot and cold, burning and freezing, gripping his body in wave after wave of sheer terror.
He hadn't wanted this. He wanted it to be easy like it once had been. Their life had never been cushy, but it had been better than this before. He wanted it to be like it was before. But now reality had fallen heavy upon his shoulders, and he realized that there was no going back. It never again would be easy for Alarian and him.
June 23, 2018, 04:15 PM
"Have you tried turning it off and back on again?"
Well, Alarian could officially say that he had, even if unintentionally. The blissful dark fell heavy like a cloak upon him, but was ripped away all too soon. Somewhere between his brother's apologies, he had already started to stir. His limbs and head felt heavy, wrapped thickly in a malnutrition-and-stress-fueled fog. And for a moment— for a moment, all his sharp edges softened, his raw places soothed.
He was just too tired to hold on to it anymore; too tired to fight the way Zamael had always drawn him in. Alarian's eyes fluttered open, breath hitching as he shifted— into his brother's embrace, rather than away.
It was a lie, and it wasn't; a complaint, and an explanation for too many things to pinpoint now. He was quiet again, heart racing again as he realized that whether he liked it or not, he needed his brother. Maybe more than he ever had.
Well, Alarian could officially say that he had, even if unintentionally. The blissful dark fell heavy like a cloak upon him, but was ripped away all too soon. Somewhere between his brother's apologies, he had already started to stir. His limbs and head felt heavy, wrapped thickly in a malnutrition-and-stress-fueled fog. And for a moment— for a moment, all his sharp edges softened, his raw places soothed.
He was just too tired to hold on to it anymore; too tired to fight the way Zamael had always drawn him in. Alarian's eyes fluttered open, breath hitching as he shifted— into his brother's embrace, rather than away.
I'm sorry,The words tumbled from him before he could stop them, shame rising in his chest as he realized what had just happened.
I'm— tired.
It was a lie, and it wasn't; a complaint, and an explanation for too many things to pinpoint now. He was quiet again, heart racing again as he realized that whether he liked it or not, he needed his brother. Maybe more than he ever had.
Much to his relief, Alarian began to rouse, and much to his happiness, he tucked himself into Zamael's embrace. Zamael held him tight, shaking his head as he apologized. "Don't be sorry, a bràthair," he whispered, grooming the ruffled back of Alarian's neck--he was just as unkempt and feral as he always had been, his little topsy-turvy brother. The love he'd held back for so long overcame him, and Zamael began to weep quietly, tears soaking into Alarian's ruff.
"I'm tired, too," Zamael murmured, the sound muffled as he became congested from crying. He sniffled, cudding closer. "It's all right, Alarian. We're together again. The mistakes I made in the past. . .I want to fix them all. I won't leave you. I promise." It wasn't a lie. Zamael was bringing Alarian back to the tribes, whether he liked it or not. They would not be separated, for any reason. He would see to it.
"Let me take you back to your home," he continued, voice barely audible. "Get some food in you. Get some sleep. Then we can talk more." The exhaustion of his journey was beginning to weigh on him as well, and he found it suddenly difficult to keep his eyes open.
"I'm tired, too," Zamael murmured, the sound muffled as he became congested from crying. He sniffled, cudding closer. "It's all right, Alarian. We're together again. The mistakes I made in the past. . .I want to fix them all. I won't leave you. I promise." It wasn't a lie. Zamael was bringing Alarian back to the tribes, whether he liked it or not. They would not be separated, for any reason. He would see to it.
"Let me take you back to your home," he continued, voice barely audible. "Get some food in you. Get some sleep. Then we can talk more." The exhaustion of his journey was beginning to weigh on him as well, and he found it suddenly difficult to keep his eyes open.
June 23, 2018, 06:08 PM
As quickly as it had gone, the cold crept back up his chest. He closed his eyes and pressed more tightly to Zamael— as close as he could, as if he might shield himself from his own memories that way. It was futile. All this time spent searching— waiting. Wishing desperately for this day. And now he could barely register the sound of his voice through the raw haze.
Alarian might have walked away, might have attempted to gather up what remained of his dignity and leave with it. But some part of him knew Zamael wouldn't let go so easily; perhaps because he knew that he would not have. So he ran. It hurt— everything hurt. He couldn't stop, though— not until he reached the borders of Bracken Sanctuary, sobbing and breathless.
I love you,He choked out, chest aching.
I love you so much.A pause followed, time to let the words sink in before his next, though the goodbye already lurked heavy under his tone. Alarian needed him— he needed this, but he couldn't allow himself to have it. He couldn't allow himself to break that way again.
But you're lying,He pulled himself from his brother's embrace, voice breaking. Everyone said those words— everyone promised to stay, and none of them meant it.
You'll leave again, and I can't— this time, I can't handle it.
Alarian might have walked away, might have attempted to gather up what remained of his dignity and leave with it. But some part of him knew Zamael wouldn't let go so easily; perhaps because he knew that he would not have. So he ran. It hurt— everything hurt. He couldn't stop, though— not until he reached the borders of Bracken Sanctuary, sobbing and breathless.
June 23, 2018, 08:31 PM
Zamael shook his head hastily, desperately, reaching back toward Alarian. "Alarian, no, I don't want to leave again," he insisted, beginning to panic once more as his brother rose to his paws. "Please, I promise--" His words died as Alarian took off, a blur of grays and blacks, browns and creams. Breathing hard, Zamael got up to follow him. . .
But he was long gone, always the faster of the pair. Zamael broke into a fresh set of sobs, hanging his head and letting the tears fall this time to the ground, like rain. He knew he had to find out where his brother went, but the energy had left him quite suddenly, and he sank back down, curled into himself, voice a desperate, wordless whimper.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to make everything right. Now, it seemed like he had done exactly the opposite of that--and perhaps worse. What if Alarian never wanted to see him again? What if he never saw his little brother again?
Zamael cried for a while, unable to do much else. After a few hours, he rose to his feet and began to pace the plains restlessly, head full of thoughts he didn't want.
But he was long gone, always the faster of the pair. Zamael broke into a fresh set of sobs, hanging his head and letting the tears fall this time to the ground, like rain. He knew he had to find out where his brother went, but the energy had left him quite suddenly, and he sank back down, curled into himself, voice a desperate, wordless whimper.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to make everything right. Now, it seemed like he had done exactly the opposite of that--and perhaps worse. What if Alarian never wanted to see him again? What if he never saw his little brother again?
Zamael cried for a while, unable to do much else. After a few hours, he rose to his feet and began to pace the plains restlessly, head full of thoughts he didn't want.
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