The Tangle I came of age and I found a girl in a Tuscaloosa bar

*pads threadlog*

Svalinn, the so-called "golden child," was having a troublesome recovery; an act made slower by a perpetually dour mien. His newfound outlook on life had something to do with Illidan's new position in Rusalka, even if he wouldn't admit it, but more than this he had been trying to overcome the insurmountable waves of regret he felt for getting so injured to protect his mother. His brother's subsequent promotion, for smartly hanging back and not becoming a target, had only been insult to injury.

His hips still retained some stiffness from the poorly thought-out raid that had occurred a month ago (by this point), and though he was starting to think he'd never feel one hundred percent again, it did not stop him from constantly stalking after Raleska. He followed her foxtrot of a trail out into the Tangle, and the haphazard devastation she left in her stormy wake led the young wolf to her fairly quickly.

Wordlessly he came to match her vengeful stride with a rolling pace of his own, and soberly he tossed her a questioning side-eye.