Stone Circle Consolation Prize

Sorry for my absence everyone! Please feel free to jump into this thread! I think Greyback has had far too much little interaction with other members in the pack for a long time

The large man strolled his way through the territory with a quickness that was unfairly suited for someone of his size. The once regal Patriarch with fur in place and eyes kind was now replaced with the image of a broken father. His fur was matted at the ends due to the fury of his teething welps; his eyes dark with sleep that was accompanied by the slouching tiresome figure of his neck and back; and his muzzle? It was surely greying.

If anyone had ever asked Greyback what parenthood was like he would say it was that akin to swimming in a river. A deep river. Drool was always soaking his pelt, and exhaustion from the current of howls at all hours pricked at his joints and vision. Fear also had a funny way of always sitting in the back of his mind as well. At least now he had little to fear after shoving the duty of pup-sitting onto @Ira.

Mind if we forward date this a little bit? :)

He caught sight of Greyback from his place between the aspen trees, and his lesser self urged him to leave. Though many things had changed in him, Merrit still carried that old wolf inside, the one whose eyes remained jaded, and whose heart remained cynical and obstinate to soften even a fraction for those he already deemed unworthy, those he had already hardened himself against.

And Greyback had never been privvy to his gentler affections; he had always been a wolf Merrit had chosen to live embittered against. The patriarch had done nothing to harm his family, of course. And of course, the prince was well aware of this. But Merrit knew how his mother's suitors had treated her in the past. And if history repeated, then Greyback would simply prove himself another shadow who would come and take what he wanted from his mother before he left without a word. Merrit knew his judgement wasn't fair, but both Ezekiel and Stark's misconduct became the basis by which Merrit judged Greyback now, and even though the prince had changed, he still found he wanted nothing to do with him.

Yet Merrit chose to intercept the Patriarch instead of turning course and stalking away and, shifting from his vantage between the trees, he alerted the man to his presence with a low note. Greyback carried a notable exhaustion, and a visible lack of personal care, and Merrit failed to quell the sting of satisfaction he felt rise at the sight of him in such a disheveled state. Even still the prince was careful to trap those feeling inside, and carried himself with a characteristic nature: the stoic propriety which befit a rising sovereign, since, well, that was what he was. Ezra had long left them without a word to return, and Clary and Steph had done the same. And while he had once known where Keen had wandered to, she was now but a whisper on the wind. In every right, he was heir to what his mother had established here. And it was about time he started acting like one.

"You look like you've been trampled by a herd of frenzied rabbits," though he tried, his voice ran void of much expression, and his face remained impassive, save for the subtle quirk of his brow and the shadow of a smile that looked more like a wince. Not that he noticed; in Merrit's mind, he was was amicable and warm, and since he didn't have the benefit of seeing himself from Greyback's perspective, he couldn't mend the fact that he looked anything but radiant. He wasn't sure where he even stood with Greyback, but he imagined he would find that out soon enough.

Not at all!

The man turned his ear to the tune directed at him; It was a low, one he did not recognize but held something familiar to him deep down in it's core. Instantly, The Patriarch fixed his posture, something that did little to make him presentable, and turned to meet the stranger with haste and hackles raised.

However, what little stoicism the large wolf had immediately crumbled at the sight of the tall blue figure that stood in front of him.

Greyback blinked, an attempt to see if the stranger was a figment of his imagination, and then squinted. Stark? No. Merrit? He took a step forward, drinking in the sight of the young lad. The same blue whelp that had scorned him and barely reached his forepaw now stood before him, tall as ever and starting a conversation with him? The large wolf gave a small chuckle and shook his head.

"I'm sure your mother looked just like me while whelping your siblings and you," Greyback took another step forward, the urge to embrace The Raven running strong. He hesitated though, uncertain if Merrit would appreciate the gesture, and ultimately stayed put. "You've grown so tall, I almost didn't recognize you."

Greyback tensed, and Merrit stiffened. He knew what hostility looked like, and tension was written all over the Patriarch now. Merrit knew he had done nothing to put himself in a favourable position with the man, so he drew a step away when the Patriarch turned, and held his ground and composure. He could fight if need be - but something shifted in old Greyback's face, and what energy sparked from the elder's advance gave way to confusion, a pause, and an advance of his own, until Greyback finally quipped back with a thread the good humour that had always been characteristic of the older man - a characteristic Merrit reminded himself was true, and worthy of trust.

Yet he still expected something different. Something cutting, and harsh. Greyback's pleasant wit caught Merrit off guard, and he found himself searching for some clever retort he just couldn't seem to find. The Raven had never shared more than a few curt words with the elder, and he didn't know how to change that now. So to cover the silence he simply blinked, and resisted the self-conditioned impulse to shift away when Greyback stepped closer still. He again held his ground, and gave great efforts to procure some air of ease.

"I suppose any long absence will have that effect. And that would also explain why you looked ready to fight me when you first saw me." But his mind turned as he spoke, and settled on a most curious thought. He wondered if the hostility pressed even closer to the heart - if maybe there was a different reason for Greyback to stand on guard. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "Did you think I was him?" He wasn't afraid of the answer, but a soft frown betrayed the question if he really wanted to know.

Greyback offered a nod when the raven opened his mouth and quickly tried to drown out the feeling of embarrassment that flooded under his pelt at the mention of fighting. He wouldn't want to do that. He looked at boy, his gaze continuing to flood him as he continued to search for some reaction. However Merrit was as stone as always, his voice and face void of any detectable emotion except for the frown on his face.

Was Merrit always frowining? Or was that just his resting face?

And then the question hit, and Greyback sucked in a breath. The Patriarch wasn't expecting this question, and he silently grappled with it. Merrit and his interaction was going decent, and he didn't want to mess it up. The boy had always been touchy on the subject of his father, and perhaps that is why he felt so many intense feelings towards Greyback.

The silence had stretched on long now, and if he were to say 'no' surely the boy would see through his fib. So he sighed, and gave a small, slow nod.

"I did."