Blackfeather Woods words are wind, my friend

@Abraxas

 

There was a silence about the family den and Atshen was currently indulging in it. He was sprawled out in the nest, his belly facing the sky, as he enjoyed the simplicity of the moment. There were no siblings to ruin this for him, nor was there anybody, really. There was only Atshen and his thoughts. Despite this, there wasn’t much to the child’s thoughts. There was no fantasy nor were there any whimsicality-- there was only darkness.

Despite his enjoyment in the time alone, the dark-furred child remained stoic in expression as he stared at the ceiling of the den. Hopefully, for everybody's sake, nobody would ruin this for Atshen. It would be quite unfortunate if anybody did happen upon the Spiderling in that moment.

The boy did not adhere to the schedule most seemed to follow in terms of rest and wakefulness, and his periods of activity were almost random. The dark was his favorite, the time when he melted into the shadows as if he were one of them.

yet he now returned from one of his longer outings, thoroughly tired, and approached then den in near silence. It was to his disgust, however, when upon nearing the den spotted his oaf of a brother, most hated of the lot. He did not speak, but eyed him with iced optics, gaze hard, as he pondered simply finding another place to rest. But the fact that Atshen was inconveniencing him thus added to the hatred he felt for the boy, and he did not move, yet.

Stirring from the mouth of the den drew the Spiderling’s attention from the ceiling and towards the entance. Flipping quickly from his back to bell, the child’s molten gaze soon met with the figure of the one he loathed the most. Quickly, his dark ears flattened and his eyes blared.

“Anik,” he rumbled deeply, his tail lashing as he pushed himself to a stand. This was his time to be alone and nobody was going to ruin that for him. Especially not Abraxas.

He stepped into the den, firmly ignoring his brother's foolish display of anger, and slipping into the spot he most occupied with a cool look at his sibling. He was not as foolish as to simply relax and lay down as if everything was great, however, he sat firmly as if claiming his spot for him, and him alone.

his cool gaze flitted away from the molten one of Atshen, but his focus was still on the boy in case of the very likely event in which he would attack.

When his demands had not been met, Atshen snapped. It overcame him suddenly as he began to head a pounding in his ears. A snarl rippled from him easily as the other Spiderling made his claim.

Without much more warning, Atshen lunged forward suddenly. Clearing the distance between them quickly, as his vision turned red, Atshen lunged one final time with his jaws parted, hoping the land a blow to his brother’s stupid face.

The boy threw himself into motion as soon as Atshen did, and if his brother was a charging wraith he was but a stream in his path. He slipped to the side, avoiding his first, anger driven blow, and made his own when his brother's momentum carried him toward him and made a close strike easy.

this he did, seeking to grasp the side of his brother's neck in his jaws and at the same time throwing forth his body weight, hoping to push him over. He doubted that he would be able to hold him down for long, but unbalancing him and springing away seemed a good maneuver.

Obsidian and slate combined in a flurry as the young brother’s began to clash. Unlike Abraxas, Asthen was one to just into the pursuit of combat without any plan in particular to drive him forward. Instead, the child acted out of pure instinct.

It was this instinct that allowed him to dodge the blow to his neck. He ducked just as his brother came in for the grab. But, despite this, he was all too involved to see what would come next. Unexpectedly, the puppy tumbled sideways at his brother’s landed hit. As he toddled, he reached out blindly in the direction of the younger of the two, his jaws aimed to grab at Abraxas’ shoulder.

Fangs closed around his shoulder, and at the first twinge of pain he was in motion, twisting his head around and striking fast as an adder, aiming to grab his brother's muzzle. Should he not pull away from his brother's grip, it would make his own attack all the easier, he deduced, and thus was still as he struck, though his limbs were tensed to spring away should his attack miss.

With Abraxas’ shoulder still fresh in his mouth, Atshen soon felt the razor-sharp fangs of his brother close down around his snout. Despite his pain, the Spiderling refused to let go. Instead, he bit down harder in an attempt to cause serious damage. The raven-haired child wanted nothing more than to show his brother who truly was in charge around the family den, aside from Mother, of course.

Pain coursed through his shoulder, pain gave a fierceness to his actions as he clamped down firmly around the muzzle of his brother, then with vigor snapped backward his neck, hoping to rip his brother from his grip as a child may rip off a bandaid. The child that dwelt in shadows had been wise in the occasionally seeking of mentors that granted him knowledge in battle, as well as his own swift intellect, which led to him a boon now. This fight was no mere battle for dominance between siblings, or play, but something much deeper than that, he felt. He had never fought to play.

The dragging of teeth against his muzzle caused Atshen to let out a roar in pain. Letting go of the others shoulder, the dark of the two backpedaled to make some momentary distance between them. Though his snout throbbed angrily,  Atshen did not give him. Shaking his head from side to side, the child watched his brother with burning eyes, knowing that he had to do what he had not accomplished before. He had to kill Abraxas.

Without much warning, the show-colored Spiderling sprung forward with his jaws wide in an attempt to latch onto the argent-colored boy’s throat.

Blood pooled down his shoulder, pain soaring through his side in an intensity he had never felt before. Still the boy was silent focused; until his brother lunged for his throat and in an instant Abraxas understood. He meant not to fight, drive away, but to kill. 

He tiwsted, ducking down his head to protect the life that hung on his throat in the form of veins of his lifeblood, and yet still his brother grasped the space between his shoulder and throat, and finally did he break his silence and roar, blood dirtying his pelt as he twisted wildly, his brother's fangs opening up gashes as he sought his brother's face, clashing jaws aiming for his molten eyes.

Ah, there it was-- the roar of his brother. The noise filled his being and fueled him further, causing the child into the craze that longed for the metallic tang of Abraxas’ blood. But even in his glory came pain. Soon enough, his brother countered with blows to his face-- blows that were significant enough for the child to let go again.  

Blood trickled down the child’s face and his molten eyes glowed as he looked to Abraxas with the utmost hatred. Baring his fangs, and allowing his own blood to flow, Atshen stayed in place as words curdled in his throat.

“Mutilation.” The word was quiet but it’s presence heavy in the air. Stalking forward another step, he pulled himself to full height. Though he was leaving himself terribly exposed, the child waited to see what his brother would do next.

there was stupidity in this, in this continuing fight. though his hate burned, the frigid wind that was logic tempered it. he would not waste himself on this spat, for though he was a fighter, he knew that Atshen was a more than formidable opponent, rage spurred him on to great lengths. he paused, looking straight into the burning orbs of his brother, but did not strike again. no, he would end this fight another day. with that thought, he turned and left the den behind, moving quickly into the wood and the shadows, away from his sibling.