Redhawk Caldera on the bones of my enemies

<3

In terms of size, Aries far outmatched the young, insolent boy he'd once been; constructed of lean muscle, guarded with carved flesh into scars, incisors of pointed bone sharpened like daggers to line his jaw - he was scarcely disgruntled to find no recognition lingering in the pale alpha's watching stare. Made everything all the more fun, when his identity was masked: it didn't matter that Charon had little recollection of the chaotic moons that they'd slept in the same domain, because the reaper remembered. That was all he required.

"Charon," he greeted, in a gruff voice that gave no hints behind; the deepest grumble of thunder, with the rough, jagged spears of a rasp. The soldier of the damned, the one who killed for pleasure or to earn his keep, and left the carcasses to rot in a plague of misery. Not an honourable man, but he'd never claimed to be. The Svartell waded closer through the mist, but left a space between them - he was not so foolish to expect an immediately peaceful welcome, but plenty of his past appeared to be catching up to him, appearing before his eyes in a mirror of his memories; soon enough, he'd encounter his half-brother.

Luckily for Charon, Aries had a reason to maintain conversation; infrequently would he approach another without malicious intent, but he had questions, and perhaps the moonspearian could provide him with the answers he sought. But first... to build up feigned trust, or perhaps an instinctual trepidation - no doubt the scarred guardian would question how the king of death knew anything about him or his home. Always secretive, the most favourable way of being. "How is Moonspear faring?"