Hoshor Plains the roots beneath my shaded tree / the moon dancing across my sky

Sorry about the wait, typed up a reply and then lost it lol :((

The moment was one that likely would never occur again - the Reaper held little care for anyone but himself, though something about his mother's caring attidute, even toward her son who had left without a single word, halted his arrogant demeanor and forced an exception to be made. It was a pure moment, one of a mother and son reunited again after many months, and any events of the past seemed irrelevant if just for those few heartbeats that the two remained together. A family bond, it was the closest of ties, a blood relation that bound the ashen boy to the slyph whether he wished for it or not. In this moment, he accepted it, touching his nose gently to Olive's shoulder - it was done awkwardly, for he had little experience in social interactions so... affectionate, but an attempt nonetheless.

When at last the druid pulled away, a breath of frosted air released from Aries' nose and his ears cupped forward to listen to her words. That rare tender moment was over but the bond had yet to break, a familial bond that strengthened over time and with care, despite how worn down it had become over the boy's absence.

None of us did.

This caused a spark in his chest - so none of the family had belonged there in the first place? He had not considered this before, the possibility that none wished truly to be at Moonspear, and it sent a pang of guilt straight to his heart. A feeling he so rarely felt, if ever, for to most he was simply void of emotion unless it was the sick satisfaction of hurting someone and watching as they suffered. But this time, his actions seemed unjustified and perhaps foolish. Aries should have spoken to his family before abandoning the other pack and never returning, not even for a goodbye or an apology. Nothing.

He took a long pause to consider this, but came to the conclusion that it no longer mattered. He was a different wolf now... no longer a boy. Not mentally or physically, it seemed, despite his true age, and this was a feat he was almost proud of. The Svartell son opened his jaws to speak again, only to be met with a new question, one he had anticipated despite the ignorance of the scent he carried upon his grey fur. His rough tongue drew out to swipe across his dark lips as if blood still stained his muzzle a dark red, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused to others and the death he still wished to bring to a poor victim. So many sick desires plagued his thoughts and his mother's inquiry alone had dug up even more that lingered constantly at the back of his mind. 

There was silence for a while as he considered simply lying about his current residence, though he could not find it in him to do so, his mother seemed too innocent and oblivious. Surely lying would only cause him more grief. "Ah.... Blackfeather." Then he squinted, grimacing again in anticipation for her reaction. "I know you will not approve, but I found my place amongst the shadows. It's... where I belong." Yes, he had accepted the darkness that swallowed his soul to consume any light and leave him a soldier to the night, a soldier to the pain and the grief, for that was what he took most pleasure in. A sudden wave of an unknown emotion swept over him, and his eyes widened. "I'm... not who I was. I'm a monster, mother, you would be better staying away from me." Then he pulled away, gaze of ice drifting to the ground perhaps almost out of shame. "I don't want you to get hurt." The last sentence was a whisper, for he knew he could get out of control. The bloodlust too strong for him to contain, the beast one who could not be tamed.