Dragoncrest Cliffs oh nostalgia, i don't need you anymore

“That depends. Are you ready for me to take you down?” Silkie shoots back, playfully now. Tux is just a little taller than him, just a little more heavily muscled, but the pale dragon is pleased to note that neither of them are tiny like Wildfire was. They’re both already bloody, angry, and maybe this is why the pale dragon rises and shakes out his fur, then wordlessly entreats his brother to play with him. Playing for the young wolf is synonymous with training. He is a rather dour fellow despite his youth, serious, self-absorbed, and incredibly introverted, and all his actions seem to possess some kind of underlying purpose. It probably makes him an insufferable ass in some most all? circumstances, but it’s worked for him so far.

After a vigorous spar, both brothers flop down in the grass that overlooks Ankyra Sound to catch their breath. Tux makes mention of a coming storm and Silkie tries his best to see and feel what his brother instinctively knows, but the winds and stars do not speak to him. Antumbra’s boys turn the subject to more understandable topics — things that had gone poorly or well in the spar, methods of improvement, wolves they admire, and a little bit of friendly trash talk. Both of them are the best kind of tired when finally they wind down and head back to Hougeda to sleep side by side.