Foggy Bottom Way ratero

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Language.

The desert was not a place he reveled. He was a wolf bred and raised in rich foliage, fresh waters, and had once lived upon mountains. Sand seemed uncomfortable to him, and he found his teeth clenching with irritation as he traversed the desert—trying to track down any type of wolves that fit the description Wren had given him.

Succulents were dressed about the lands—certain plants that gave Akavir pause as he travelled. It was strange to him—and with a certain amount of distaste, he was reminded of Akashingo and their self-proclaimed kingdom.

And such a train of thought caught him off guard when he saw the heap of silver fur—another inspecting her closely, and for a moment, the foggy memory surfaced from the moment he had found his dead wife—pale fur, staring blank eyes.

“No,” he uttered, the word spoken so calmly, as if he wasn’t even in his body. He descended closer to her—it had to be a mistake, there was no way she would be here…

And yet there was Silvertongue. Gilded in the light—peaceful looking in a way that was unnatural, and that stirred nausea within his stomach. “No, no, no,” he uttered now, faster, his voice hitching in its panic as he descended closer.

A gutteral snarl was given to the other who was snooping about. “Back the fuck up,” he growled, but his eyes were only for her, and he nudged at her. “Silver,” he murmured, because this just didn’t happen in life twice. Wife or not… One didn’t lose love like this twice, did they?