Arrow Lake all these in-betweens that bar my youth

someone can add me to the ranks whenever they have a spare moment <33 there's no rush! i just wanted to get some posts in on him and get him rolling.

 

The illness had swept through his young body like a nefarious wildfire. For some time, it was unclear whether or not the shadowy child would make it through such a jarring first month of life. When it had all seemed as though it would strip him clean of any chance he had, the sickness subsided. For the first time since his birth, Trench felt as though he could breathe. Relief had washed over him – cool and astral – as the child opened his eyes and peered toward the mouth of the den with a tired yawn.
 
Outside, clouds had gathered overhead, and rain had started to fall to the earth. The sound of droplets beating against the stone was a tranquil one. It had blanketed the world in a hazy bubble, and it had softened the sounds from outside their homestead. After weeks of blistering summer heat, it was a welcome change.
 
Weak limbs quivered against the effort that it took to lift his frame up. The ink spot sucked in a sharp breath of air, surprised at just what it took to rise. Trench wheezed before he found his footing and stood rigidly in place. The shadow was fearful that he would stumble and fall if he should push his luck. After several long minutes, the young pup staggered forward uneasily and began to find the life that had been dormant in his bones for all that time.

stigmata had almost wholly devoted himself to ketzia and his newborn whelps, but mahler visited daily through the illness that had entered the life of the boy called trench. he saw no reason to quit his ministering; indeed, it appeared he had won ketzia over, and while he might have been mistaken, seeing the little ones grow brought him a good deal of satisfaction.
summer had become scathing, and mahler sighed into the hot air as it prickled with a sudden storm, relieved at the feel of it. as the sky began to cloud, ready to unleash a deluge, the gargoyle ducked his head into ketzia’s den just in time to see the weak child toddle forward.
a low rumble of approval escaped mahler; he lowered his muzzle, reaching forward to steady trench if need be.

The rumble that had sounded from the towering man could have very well belonged to the storm clouds that had rolled overhead. That man’s sturdy limb was what drew the young boy’s attention. Wobbly and uncertain, Trench followed the length of the leg upward to the soft violet gaze of Mahler. He had helped when the shadow had suffered. Though the pup was not aware of how much, the scent of the stalwart beast was familiar and did not stir feelings of distrust or fear from within the child. Shimmering eyes remained glued to the touches of ash that discolored his dark face. The patterns were familiar, but the pup did not know why.
 
Trench felt his rear legs shake violently before they ceased to hold him upward. He crumpled back onto his rear with a startled breath. Once he felt as though he had steadied his frame, the inkling looked back up to the man hopefully. There seemed to be a moment of tentative hesitation in which Trench held his infatuated stare with the large male and battled internally with himself about whether or not to draw closer to Mahler. Still weak, Trench scooted himself forward – two inches, then four – until he was near the large paw of the Diaspora leader. Once there, he reached out with his dark wet nose and pressed it ever so softly to the man’s leg.

he was stone-still as trench reached to him, and then lowered himself slowly as not to startle the child. struck by how much this moment reminded him of meeting dragomir, mahler swallowed and rumbled a light invitation to the youngster. his practiced gaze was satisfied by the progress that trench had made; even if he lagged behind his littermates somewhat, what mattered was that his life had been preserved.
mahler credited himself with none of this; that his patients past and present had survived was due to nature's decision. his own skills could only preserve a wounded or ailing creature so far, and then it must be surrendered to time.
"you are doing very well," the gargoyle murmured as he lay sphinx before trench."running out of doors quite soon."

Whether Mahler took credit or not, he had certainly helped Ketzia tend to the sickly boy. It very well could have been the reason that Trench had survived, but there was no way to be certain of such things. The presence of the gargoyle was something that had become familiar to the child. Though he did not know much about his parents’ relations to the others within the pack, Mahler’s aroma had frequented their home often enough to remind the young boy that this was a friend; he did not need to worry.
 
The words were encouraging to the boy. He had not imagined himself to be quite as strong as his siblings, but the quiet timbre of Mahler’s voice was enough to draw his spirits upward and give life to his frame. Inching between the gargoyle’s limbs, Trench found a place that was suitable and reclined back onto his haunches. It was here that he began to prod with his nose against the rough legs of the violet-eyed man. There was no fear to be felt while in the presence of the Diasporan leader.

pleased that the children of diaspora attended him so readily, mahler passed his muzzle over the boy, seeking the renewed strength in the little invalid. "i vas vorried for some time that you vould not join the others," the gargoyle muttered conversationally. he saw no reason to use insipid baby's talk with young ones, and what was more, he understood the weight of his current words would, for the moment, not hold gravity for trench.
and so he saw no reason to curb himself, unless ketzia should arrive.  "you taught me a great deal more than i knew," the shadow went on. "i had little knowledge of poultices, and now — up!" he chuckled, offering his forearm for the boy to clamber over if he so chose.

There was a relaxed nature to Mahler that was difficult to find elsewhere. He retained a calm understanding that smoothed any rough edges that would have been evident in his countenance. There was a worldly awareness that aged him – an insight that Trench had never felt before – and the dark young boy was appreciative of such a presence. For all of the dreadful things that had threatened his life, the grey-clad silvertongue was not one of them. Mahler had inspired young Trench, though it was not entirely positive in what kind of manner. When he spoke, the dark young child peered up at him with trust in the glimmering jade of his eyes. Though he did not fully understand, he was content there with the man.
 
With the extension of the forelimb, Trench scrambled over it as well as he could manage. The movement was enough to wind him, but when he had successfully clambered to the other side, he turned his head sharply toward Mahler. It was here that the child smiled for the first time since his birth. The motion was almost easy, as though the hints of such an expression had existed on his lips since the day he was born. There was an earnestness to him, even as a young pup. The glittering gratefulness of idolization was all that met the older wolf.

perhaps the coming spring would bring the promise of new pups for mahler himself, though he doubted it. takiyok would condemn him, surely — he could not bear the hurt in her eyes when she now looked upon him. perhaps it was important to keep himself aside, celibate, childless. were not the kinder of diaspora his own also? in that surely he would find comfort.
"you have more brothers and sisters in the children of takiyok," mahler murmured to little trench. "vether or not your mothers approve, it is true. stag and mesa, monarch, ego — they are your siblings also." one day they would all come to know it — if they accepted the sentiment remained to be seen.

The words from the gargoyle meant very little to him. The child listened, nonetheless, so that he might understand one day – even if it was not that day. There was a comfort to be found in the stoic man’s gruff voice. There was a peacefulness in the calculating glint of his lilac gaze. Trench was not too young that his words should have been unfamiliar, but the dark young child could not grasp the concept of having more family than what he knew. The other children within Diaspora were a complete mystery to him. Even as Mahler spoke their names, Trench could only peer upward at the large stone-furred man and wonder.
 
Uncertain if Mahler was attempting to rename the young boy, Trench shook his head slowly and his dark lips were swept upward into a disarming smile. “Trench,” he reminded his kind guardian. Though the names that had been spoken were strong in their own right, the shadow knew his calling well. It was best that his name not be forgotten.

"trench," mahler repeated, somehow chastised by the child's quiet firmness. he had forgotten himself in his own ramblings; they were meant for his ears, not the small budding self that he held within his embrace. presently, mahler cast about for some scrap or bone upon the floor, and drew up a long twig which he laid before trench.
"now, vhat is this thing, do you think?" the gargoyle murmured, a smile flowing to perch in his lavender eyes as he regarded the boy with anticipation of what might come next.

The soft uttering of his name was enough to inspire a smile on his features. The dark young child had not expected his guardian to so easily give to his moniker. It did not matter very much to the boy – the words that were spoken from Mahler. There was something comforting about the gruff tone of his voice. Trench was certain that he had never met another soul quite like him. Though he was still just an inkling, there was a fearlessness that existed within him. His life had been difficult for his first few months of life, but he had found a means of strength in spite of that.
 
When the dark male protruded a stick, Trench’s features lit up into an eager smile. His thin tail wagged behind him as he inched toward the toy. With an overzealous bite, the inkling lunged toward the item and attempted to fasten his teeth to it.

fade here? wanna have an updated one at some point :3

with a quick strength that belied his weak beginnings, trench snapped for the toy. mahler chuckled richly. "very good," the man assured, waving to and fro the stick to persuade trench's wave of attacks. in the boy he saw the spark that had made stigmata great; surely ketzia could see it, would see it.
children: the life of the pack, and this year with so many of them! there was the stress again, blooming briefly in his head, but mahler let it alone. for the present, his attention belonged to trench.

The dark boy spent quite some time being completely caught up in the presence of Mahler and the sweet accented tones of his voice. Trench knew nothing about what he said, but he was enthralled regardless. When the stick had been introduced, the shadow practiced his attacks on the item until he had worn himself out. His limbs shook from the effort of holding his frame. Still, the child did not appear as though he was bothered by this. When they finally parted and Trench returned to the family den, sleep swept him away as swiftly as possible and he was enveloped in the warmth of dreams.