Moonspear i’m on the dark side of a hollow hill

in dirge, arcturus had forged a brotherhood. day by day these tendrils of tentative friendship came to thick vines creeping, growing. ensnaring. until those bonds became kinship, and in turn, a new shape of idolatry. for while arcturus revered his sister for all she had accomplished, his respect for dirge ran deep: after all, what was more magnificent? the lion, or the intrepid soul that tamed it?

he listened rapt to dirge's words, his expression shifting from keen interest to something a shade darker as dirge continued. the alpha spoke of his love not in flowered poetics, but in a grounded realism that had arcturus frown in response. for someone so juvenile, and so naive in matters of love, that was not what arcturus depicted.

a part of him was relieved he did not feel any of what dirge transcribed for towhee. no, some other she-wolf had his heart -- and thinking of her caused a titter to stir in his chest. "that is love?" his brow furrowed, and he sucked in a deep breath. "it sounds exhausting." perhaps it was more the nature of who dirge had selected, versus the nature of their pairing. arcturus doubted he would ever have the mental fortitude to be relentlessly teased.