Ouroboros Spine atiga-anun

a call rises for kivaluk and it sets the hair at his nape bristling. kigipigak returns and calls for him. but what is left to say? kivaluk has made his feelings known, playing off his own experiences with the man that had sired him.

he does not wish to heed the call. they are bound by flesh and blood but little else; and perhaps that marrow deep obligation still holds weight over him.

a morbid curiosity at what could be left to be said.

nothing good from either side, surely.

but kivaluk is a man now, would be old enough to sire children of his own in the coming months. his wrath is that of a man and not the petty anger of a child.

so, he goes to the borders; steps with purpose, chin high. gaze cold as it locks onto his sire.

waiting with a icy, stony patience that has taken him so long to cultivate.