Ouroboros Spine opening on the foam

the sunset paints the sky in the warm colors of the defiant dusk; tangerine orange, blood red, doubloon gold melding into the deep violent and midnight blue that streaks across the horizon; and though there is a grey haze from the cloying smoke that drifts upon the whispering winds lómëvása seeks a higher plane of the spine to starwatch.

the path is not worn and a covered with loose rocks and packed earth; but the fear of falling does not grip him.

to reach above the distanced smoke that covers the land like gauzy tulle was worth the short ( and perhaps treacherous ) climb. across the way, he can see the terrace reflecting pale imitations of the domineering dusk; but it does not hold his attention for long.

stars begin to wink in and out of existence, shooting across the sky with elegant tails that draw from him a small flame of envy that burns in his chest.

A new male had entered their ranks, one just on the cusp of adulthood. Adrastus still had not returned to them. Within the men's circle, as it was so named, there was only himself, Zane and the yearling prisoner up until now. Aiolos had thought maybe to visit @Lótëë to see how she fair but had picked up this newcomer's scent first.

The Greek follows the scent and follows the trail. Mountains surrounding their home on all sides was not something he had been used to in some time. The island of his home held a rocky hillside in the middle, not all around. But it reminded him of the vale which he had lived with Kukutux and Gracious some time ago.

Aiolos was not a mountain man- far from it and so took each step slowly and carefully. By the time he reached its peaks, twilight had befell the land. Up here, he could smell the sea on the breeze, and smiles.

He sees a star shoot across the sky and thinks back on times passed, the memories, both good and bad which were brought from it. Now, turning to move in the direction of the young man (who surely had heard his approach) he woofs a quiet greeting.

to remember that he once had more than a doe-like tail is painful; like the rasp of razors against his flesh. and that the marauders of arquelion had stolen it from him in punishment forever sits ugly and resentful in lómëvása's chest. as it turns out, the nightingale was not really the forgiving type; absent the saintly tendencies of those stronger and more kind than him.

the sound of approaching footfalls initially draws lómëvása's attention; though he does not turn to face the older man until the soft woof shatters the silence in which lómëvása had been both stewing in and marveling at the sight of the weeping sky.

the pirouette of the stars streaking across the sky made it look as if the sky were crying.

hello, lómëvása greets the other male, failing to recognize his importance in the pack and that he was addressing an alpha ( whoops ). it iz a lovely night, yes? lómëvása inquires conversationally, gesturing with a small motion of his muzzle heavenward where the stars continued to fall.

It really is. Aiolos spoke and with it, padding more into the young man's direction, for he took his words as an acceptance of company and conversation. I admit, it takes much more effort to see the sky clearly here. Which they both obviously knew, seeing as they both scaled the mountains circled around their home, beyond the forestry in order to see it without obstruction.

He settles down into a sit then next to the other, leaving plenty of room in between, should the newcomer find himself nervous among strangers. On the coast, nothing blocks the view of open sky and endless sea. The red wolf reminisces, always missing and remembering his not so long ago home on the island.