Ankyra Sound there's an aching inside

Set shortly after this thread. Maybe @Caiaphas could make an appearance? <33

 

The rage that had filled him had been unbearable. It had consumed the very soul that he had crafted over years of his solitary nature. So commanding had it been that red had filled his vision and turned him blind; all he could feel was fury, and all he could see was the creature who had betrayed one so pure. The vile nature of the world had fed into the years of hardship that he had faced, and Kierkegaard had found himself suddenly – almost violently – tired. The only land he knew he could turn to was on the sea. So his trembling limbs had carried his pallid form to the borders of Saltwinter with one purpose in mind: finding Caiaphas and begging her to allow him entrance into her ranks. He had known the ferocious witch of the water for years, and though they did not speak often, the ghost knew that he could count on her no matter the situation. It was all that he could do to draw himself to the opening of their lands and to breathe in the heavy aroma of brine.
 
Surprise flitted across his mind when the borders were marked with scents that he did not recognize, but the ragged brute knew that it was not likely she had maintained the helm of the pack on her own. The coywolf female was a clever thing, but the famine had been difficult and had taken more than its fair share of the world around it. While the sea was likely to have provided far more than the actual land, Kierkegaard was certain that even the coastal wolves had suffered.
 
The haggard figure drew himself to the gaping mouth of the cliffs and paused. His fiery vision peered carefully into the pack, hoping to catch a sight of the dark-skulled woman – as if she would be darting around the borders with no intention other than to catch helpless passersby. When there was no sight of her, the ghost began to feel doubt creep into his chest and bite at him. Perhaps it was not the place for him; she had told him the very same when they had first met, and he wondered if their policies toward males had changed much in his time away. When the memories of his previous actions had darted back into his mind, the haggard figure cast aside his doubts and drew his head back, calling for her to meet him on the edges of her home once more.

the sylph paused from ruminating in the grotto's hallows, her ears involuntarily pricked as the ghost of a faint howl trickled down the stony corridor. standing upright the wretch bid for the surface, crawling through mire and dust with a newfound purpose.

she emerged from the bladed copse with bedraggled fur and a coat scarcely recognizable as white; without bothering to clean herself she made for the source, the companion -- the wolf she had met many times before. when her gaze fell upon him she saw he looked as gaunt as ever -- but had he always looked so haggard? she studied his frame, wondering what great ceremony had caused him to seek her. silently she drew alongside him, though she kept her barbed tongue stilled.

When the ghost saw her and the citrine yellow of her gaze, there was a breath of relief that passed through his leathered lips. Willing her to draw closer, he noted the small changes of her appearance but was pleased that she had not appeared to have suffered nearly as much as some. There was a serpentine swivel of his neck to meet her as she pulled up beside him. The ghost breathed in her scent as though it contained some remnant of home, but he did not understand why. Caiaphas did not say anything. Perhaps, the sea wolf could tell that something was amiss about him. It would be evident by the nature of his body that he had faced something, though his ailments were far more psychological than they were physical. In spite of this, it did him well to see her. There was a portion of him that felt at ease once more.
 
Lowering his skull, Kierkegaard glanced upward at her dark face. “I have come to ask for a place in your ranks,” he breathed in a cracked voice. The fire of his gaze sought her features for a moment before he was forced to pull away. Would she think him weak for his appearance? The pallid creature had changed so much from that day they met on the cliffs. He was older and his nature showed it.

the sharp yellow of her gaze trailed over kierkegaard like a hawk, curious and at the same time knowing. indeed she had noted the changes to his form, the slightness of his fur's disarray -- something about him seemed more chaotic than she remembered.

but she would not voice it, or give this apparent weakness the trouble of muttering it into the world. as far as she was concerned he was famine-battered, as were the all -- and the course of nature's harshness was nothing to be ashamed of.

his statement, however, drew surprise from her. he had been independent of her for so long that the prospect of him absconding into her fold seemed imaginary or unrealistic. but she was not dreaming, or hallucinating -- he was here before her plain as the sand beneath her feet.

"what circumstances caused this?" she inquired -- as if the circumstance would make any difference. as far as she was concerned he was an ally, and there was no better place for an ally than within her pack.

There was a storm waging war inside of the ghost. He knew the crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder all too well. Still, the pallid creature did not want to share this information with the sea wolf. Kierkegaard already felt as though he was allowing his weakness to speak more than should have been permitted. He could not help the strange curvature of his figure, or the serpentine craning of his neck; these were things that had simply overtaken him in his age, and though he did not welcome the changes to his physique – it was one war that the brute could not fight with fang and claw.
 
If only he could excuse himself with the devastation that the famine had wrought.
 
When her inquiry fell on his ears, the ghostly male frowned and turned his gaze toward the earth with a burning in his gut. The circumstances of his arriving on the doorstep of the sea-side pack were subjects that he had hoped to bury in the tangles of his memory. If he had not found himself with a sense of loyalty toward the woman, he would have opted not to share a thing. As it was, Kierkegaard found a great deal of comfort in the sharp yellow of the coywolf’s gaze. He would grant her what she wished to know from him.
 
Drawing his skull upward, the ghost breathed a heavy sigh. “I had taken the alpha rank from a wolf in the wood,” he spoke, gesturing with his dark nose toward the land where Rosings was located. “I held the position for a little more than a month before I realized that the wolves there were pathetic creatures… that I wanted nothing to do with them. They attempted to rise up and overthrow me, but I did not wish to belittle myself by dignifying their effort to fight. I left my seed in the alpha female and want nothing more to do with those spineless whelps.” There was a foul distaste for the wolves who occupied the ranks of Rosings.  
 
With narrowed brows, he cast his vision toward the distant pack that he held such distaste for. “But if she should birth my blood, I will return to claim my child.” In that he would not waver.

last post -- feel free to PP for conclusion <3

a child. caiaphas' ears pulled forward and for a moment there was a stirring in her heart. she quelled it almost immediately, harshly -- the way one might tamp down an offending spider with a sharp heel. she would not, and could not, extend her heart to loss again.

she was not surprised to hear of his successful conquests, both in title and in the bedroom. as far as she was concerned, the ghost of a male was a force not even she would dare reckon against.

"in any event, a child of yours is welcome here. i'll show you where we live.. but you know -- you've been to the grotto before." she grinned wryly, issuing a wink of one eye. [b]"you'll be right at home."[/]

with that the gangly wolf turned, padding towards the grotto for a looked-forward-to nap.

She accepted him and his unborn without question. He felt a warmth at the thought of the wild woman's support. The idea that she would house him, take his child, and expect nothing more from him than he would deliver due to his nature. He was prepared to do whatever he might need to in order to make his presence worthwhile. The ghost did not know what the future would hold for him, but he knew that he would share his strength with the yellow-eyed coywolf who had captivated him since his arrival in the wilds. It was his way - the nature of a mercenary. He was prepared to offer anything she might need. 

As the two stepped into her domain, he felt a foreign fear in his gut. He was part of a pack once more, and though he really had no place there, the ragged beast had run out of options. It was his only hope.