Ankyra Sound Your temporary touch

Forward dated a week from now! Tagging @The Listener and @Tulok if he wants to join! 
Set at night, around 10:00 pm

He and his brother make sound time tracking through the lands. Their concrete perseverance is enough to keep them moving. Only now, Alduin has wandered towards the coast in search of information on anything pertaining to their father’s enemies. 

With his brother always close around, he hardly has anything to worry about. They never wanted too far from one another but with one howl he’d be easy to find. So he allows his paws to move him forward, they sink into the sand as his heavy weight pads across the stretch of the oceans edge. 

The sky is clear, full with stars and a looming moon that casts a sickly blue hue over the expanse of his rippling, brindled pelt. He recognizes faint scents, but a one who was here got their scent washed out by the tides. 

So he continues, moving easily and fluently despite the sand and his heavy weight. The ever present feeling of Banesteppe is nearby. The entity’s energy wrapping around him, encasing him in his aura but not touching him like he usually is. Those ghostly fingers that slip through his nape distract him and usually an order follows closely behind. Today though, the spirit has been quiet, but still ever present.

the listener prowled the shoreline, seeking wolfkind among the skittering beachside critters and sluggish ocean visitors. new faces bloomed in her mind, yet it was a familiar ash-spun coat which caught and held her mismatched gaze. even at a distance, the prophet knew at once what this was:

a gift.

the return of what had been taken.

for her faith and her obedient service, the unnamed god had summoned the saint alduin back from wherever he had been swept away. it did not matter. the listener strode forth, a purling rumble building in her throat; a greeting, an invitation, an admission of lingering affection for the ash-and-obsidian stippled wolf who had been lost to her in a silent flurry of blood and fur so long ago.

her path was true. this was her proof.

The cursed one moves over the sickly blue sand, paws sinking in with his heavy weight, and massive head level with bulky shoulders. 

The entity, more like demon, is beside him — ever present. Alien fingers stroke over his coat, starting at his nape, slipping down his spine, and further to curl them around his spiraled tail. He pulls it then let’s go to watch it snap back in place against his hip. 

The ashen boy growls low in his throat at the constant touch, shifting hellfire eyes to meet the ghostly figure beside him. Lips curling up slightly, exposing teeth, he curls his body to snap at the spirit. Of course his jaws grab a hold of nothing. The spirit doesn’t move, only stares down at him with a smile on his weird lips.

You’re going to have to try harder than that, my anguished hellhound. The voice purrs out mockingly to the devilish wolf. 

Alduin’s taught body puffs out as he takes in a deep breath, a growl still rumbling from his lips. He’s right though, the being before him cannot be touched by Alduin himself. So he turns his cheek and continues his trek huffing out a growling sigh.

The entity never ceases to torment him and to make it worse, Alduin has to listen to the bastard. Or he gets fucking sick. Nosebleeds, vomiting, headaches, ringing in his ears. He has no concern for the wolf unless he listens to his every damn word. He’s been positively cursed and there’s not a thing he can do about it. He’s constantly distracting him, constantly taunting him, constantly touching him, constantly talking to him, constantly ordering him around.

Only Alduin is so distracted, he doesn’t hear the steps moving over to him through the sand. He has no idea someone is around him until he hears a purring growl. His auds shift, his hackles raise, and he’s snapping around with his teeth bared.

Oh, look who it is, Alduin. The entity comments deeply. 

Alduin doesn’t comprehend who it is yet. All he sees is a dark wolf moving closer to him and his guard is instantly up. They’re small and thin, young too. Alduin could snap them in two and he definitely plans to.

So he lowers his head, growls low in his throat, and snaps his jaws in the air as a warning. Spittle flies from dark lips and his snapping bark. A dark tongue peeks from white teeth and string of saliva connects his canines and dribbles from his maw. The Saints eyes, bloody and red, glare at the supposed stranger. They’re primal, thoughtless to everything except death.

He doesn’t move though, only snaps out again, a low string of snarls fall from his maw and rumble in his throat. Death in his eyes the reaper levels them with a glare that could kill. 

Who are you and what do you want? His body language says. He expects them to answer. Especially since the look in their eyes holds familiarity towards him — a look that’s almost soft, expectant. 

But he cannot remember. Why can’t he remember?! His mind is deteriorating into savagery. A shell of his former young self. He wonders if it’s the entity — Banesteppe— doing this to him. Or maybe it’s his childhood trauma. Either, or, it’s driving him mad. 

He knows this wolf. He knows he does. But where? He cannot say.

Only the entity looks amused. Kill her. He orders casually.

The hellhounds eyes never leave the dark wolf, but something in his mind tells him that he shouldn’t. So he disobeys. He will not kill her yet. Not until he finds out how he knows her.

alduin, returned, only changed — feral. something in his mind had been shattered, the listener could see that now. this, too, was for a purpose. it must be.

the prophet did not flinch from the saint's threat. she studied him in level silence.

alduin the saint. you have lost your way, she said, voice low. you have forgotten me.

he held the look of a warrior. their time apart had been unkind to him — but it had forged him into something stronger. a creature who looked on her with plain intent to kill written into his features. a creature who radiated bloodlust, and carried the confidence of one with the skills to sustain his violent desires.

He was never very far from his brother. They had traveled here together and before that, they had learned together. The two of them had returned with the same mission, and Tulok would allow nothing to stand in their way. 

The demon sat near the water, letting the cold waves spred around his paws each time the wave covered the shore. He was lost in thought, almost in a trance from the rhythmic movement of the water and the peaceful quiet—until the sounds of Alduin's snarls pulled him back to the present. The deagon was on his feet instantly and tearing across the sand.

But when he arrived, he heard the stranger call his brother by his name, tell him he was lost. It was enough to slow the beast down as he arrived at his sibling's side. He still very much gave off the vibe that he would waste no time tearing the stranger apart if he determined they were a threat. His cold eyes watched every move they made and he gauged Alduin's energy at his side as he tried to gather all the information.

This woman. She closes in, that same familiarity in her mismatched eyes. Who is she? Who is she? I know her. He thinks, mind reeling trying to dig out the memories. He looks over her small frame, and stares dead into her mismatched eyes — one of canary and the other a deep oceanic blue. Familiar. Oh so familiar.

Only then her voice pushes through the crazed fog of his far away mind,

Alduin the saint. You have lost your way,

Her voice. That voice. It strikes like a bolt of lightning in his head.

You have forgotten me. She says, finality in her low tone. 

No I haven’t. He thinks. No, no, I haven’t — I know. 

And just like that a dam breaks within his clouded mind. Memories flood in like crashing waves. This is the small tentative girl he’d met all those months ago in the dead of night. Her eyes had stricken him then and they haunt him now with the resurrection of memories. The two of them walking for hours side by side. The days they spent together — two lost pups finding their own wicked ways in the disgusting world they’ve found themselves born in.

Alduin’s hackles are still raised, but his eyes aren’t glazed with his usual savagery, but rather filled with muted emotion. Hardly any emotion in fact, except that pinch of astonished recollection of exactly who she is. 

He hears his brother pad up next to him, but he doesn’t pay him any kind just yet. His presence is enough to placate him. Yet, his brows stay furrowed, but scarred lips relax. His body loosens some, but continues to stay taught. Head still level with his shoulders, he watches her — looks at her. Tries his best to ignore the entity beside him and focus on her. A memory long lost but recently resurfaced — like a message in a bottle, he was meant to find her again. Just as he was meant to come back here and take his vengeance in a lust for blood. 

“The shadow.” He grunts out, voice deep in baritone and gravelly with disuse. “You live.” He comments darkly, but not with disappointment, rather the opposite.

another approached, but the listener had eyes only for alduin. she watched as he relaxed by fractions. recognition in his eyes. as if the very sight of her had returned some of his mind to him.

perhaps she was to heal him from this. restore the saint's mind to match his honed body.

the shadow. you live.

she nodded solemnly. i am the listener now. i have grown into my power, as you have grown into yours, the prophet made a sweeping gesture toward the shoreline. my followers are not far from here. on an island. one of many islands.

she looked to alduin again. i believe you are meant to join us. join me. will you walk with the druids?

He was still unsure of this woman. Alduin had his issues, and so Tulok felt it necessary to protect him from the deranged parts of his mind. At least his presence here had calmed his sibling some. The demon could see the sanity leaking back into his gaze. 

The stranger—The Listener she called herself—asked Alduin to join her, to walk with the druids. She said Alduin was meant to join her, but she was incorrect; he was meant to fulfill their father's demands, they both were. Tulok was instantly skeptical, but he refused to be separated from his brother. I hope that invite extends to me, he said smoothly, voice devoid of any emotion. He honestly felt slighted that he had been ignored in the first place; it did not bode well for this island she spoke of. But he would follow his brother there for now. 

Tulok knew he might have to pull him out later and remind him of the reason they were here.

Her eyes never leave his and he doesn’t dare remove them from hers. It’s been some time and he’s unsure how he feels towards another resurrected memory conjuring itself into real life. Surely she will not be the last after returning here. Still, when she speaks she offers a new name, though she never recalled her name when they’d first met, it is different from Shadow.

I am the listener now.

His eyes squint slightly. She will forever be the shadow he’d seen in the pitch blackness of that fateful, rainy night. 

Her words continue to sink into his mind as she speaks. She muses over followers and islands, gesturing over to the sea in an area Alduin doesn’t follow. He doesn’t look over like most would, no, he keeps his eyes dead set on her own. 

I believe you are meant to join us. Join me. Will you walk with the druids? She asks cryptically.

His eyes don’t relax from their slightly squinted visage. Silence overcomes them as he does not answer immediately. His brother interjects though, calming the tense quietness of the chanced meeting. 

I hope that invite extends to me,

Alduin doesn’t look away, rather he glared harder at his younger half’s words. “It does.” He says immediately after Tulok’s voice dies down, tone clipped as if daring her to defy his wish.

“It does.” He repeats with finality before continuing. 

“We are here on a mission, Shadow. We will be completing it.” He pauses for a few seconds. “But…we will join. I want to see what you’ve conjured.” He hums out in his gruff voice.

Not only does he want to see what she’s made of herself, but he feels an instinctual pull towards her. He feels something off about her — something otherworldly. The feeling akin to the one Banesteppe gives him — chills running down his spine. An aura of something… something he can’t quite put a name to. Something ethereal.

He will follow, but he will not forget his original purpose.

the other wolf spoke, drawing the listener's gaze for mere heartbeats. as alduin cut in, she nodded slowly. the other would be allowed, as would this mission. the unnamed god had not yet revealed the full breadth of this plan to her, but she knew alduin and this other wolf must play a part.

you will be acolytes. you will learn the creed of the druids. you will have respect, but you must earn our secrets, the prophet gazed upon each with a studying look. wash the scent of the druids from your fur when you leave the islands.

my druids will aid you in your mission.

His brother assured him that he would be joining before informing The Listener that they had a mission. This mission came before anything else. 

The woman accepted him too, and he offered her a curt nod. She explained that they would learn of the druids and their beliefs. Tulok would play along for as long as it benefited him. He was slightly less suspicious of her when she offered her pack's help in their mission; she did not have to promise them that so soon, but he would not point that out. There was something between his brother and this druid; the demon could see how that might benefit him, as well. 

He would follow at his brother's side as they made their way to the island.

She speaks words that seem to please them. A good salesman. For she does not know the wicked ways of their mission, but perhaps it wouldn’t make a difference to her. Still, Alduin would him lowly to her in agreement. 

“Then so be it.” He grunts. “Lead us, Shadowed one.” 

He would follow her to the islands, his brother at his side — a permanent decoration. A deadly one at that. Together they’ll succeed. No matter the costs. And maybe, just maybe, the midnight woman would be of some help.

and so the prophet led the saints to sacred shores, the sea their guide and ever-vigilant guardian. she spoke of the keeper and the speaker, and the revenant spirits who lay at rest. later, when the pair had gone their own ways, she spoke to @Morgana and @Ingram of their impending initiation into the druids' ranks.

perhaps, in time, the saints would become true druids. protectors of the faith. the listener felt their magick would be powerful, perhaps beyond any of the other druids with the exception of herself.

only time would tell.