Lake Rodney I call you now to tell you I'm thinking of you.

The rain, a downpour, carried on for hours.

On the ghost went, not caring for the weight of water that slicked his thick pelt to his hide nor the distant rumble of thunder. Had he been on higher ground he might've seen the occasional whip of lightning over the faraway sea, and the promise of heavier rainfall to come.

Finding himself at the edge of a very large and unfamiliar lake, Viinturuth paused only to regard the surface that was brought to life by thousands of water droplets. He spotted fish leap here and there, likely convinced that the surface of their home was disturbed by potential prey. The pallid wanderer, limbs marred by mud up to his belly, turned away to pick his trail Eastward - toward the grim looking spears where he was sure @Akavir could be found.

The rain continued. Champagne eyes glanced to the sky, blinking against the harsh downfall, ignoring the sting before he continued onward. There was not certain destination in mind—Ibis’ death had seen the wraith move away from the borders of Brecheliant without pause to those who remained—Maia, Ibis’ pups. A part of him had considered to demand the cubs go to his care—but the haunting of Ibis’ gaze when she denied his offer to raise them remained clear in his mind, marring the happier memories that had lured him home in the first place.

Drowning. He had nearly died of it, and yet here the shadow stood, the rain soaking him, pulling him toward the lake. A curl of a tainted lip was the only emotion readable—this was not the lake that had tried to claim him, but it might as well have been.

Eyes, then, focused in the grim downpour, noting the tall ivory form that was all too familiar. The drape of silver—the starting contrast of burgundy eyes. Red wine to pale champagne. His tongue darted over his lips, his mind registering that the man was real and not a vision—his heart untrusting of it. Bràthair, he called in the rain, reverting to the language of his father and grandfather. The common tongue held no place for him now.

From the gloom came a shadow, one he almost disregarded, but there was something familiar in the way the dark figure moved. Viinturuth paused to better study the rogue's shape; he knew it could not be that of his brother. This place, this vast lake, was too far a place for Akavir to have ranged from his young family.

He furrowed his sodden brow and blinked rainwater from his dark eyes as he turned his face away, paws trailing him along the pebbles with purpose. Still, some quiet suspicion drew him nearer to the obsidian wanderer, close enough to acknowledge the soaked sterling that trailed his dorsal and the glimmer of unmistakable pale gold that rose to meet his stare.

His mother's eyes.

Viinturuth rooted himself and simply gazed on, searching the raven face of a sibling he barely recognised. It was Akavir who'd come this way, though not as whole as he remembered - a shell of the man he'd been. Something had happened, something terrible, and when the hoarse acknowledgement of his existence spilled from his brother's lips, Viinturuth strode forward without hesitation.

He ducked his head topress his brow firmly against that of his brother, ears splayed backward as he breathed, "Tha mi còmhla riut."

Stilling, he watched. The twin of light, closing the distance between them. A shell indeed, Akavir felt only hollowness when it should have been relief that his brother had returned to him. A part of him always knew he would—Viinturuth and he—bonded in a way he felt with no other. Time and distance did not matter. They would always pick up where they left off when reunited.

But where to start, when everything else was now gone?

Ro math, ro math... he murmured, resisting the urge to sag as the ivory wolf’s forehead pressed to his. Instead, he fell to silence for only a moment, his mind practically unraveling at the very idea that he would need to deliver the news. That he did not know how.

That he would need to say the words aloud.

Tha i air falbh. He did not pull away then, gratified in that moment the strength his brother leant. Marbh, he clarified, the bitterness of it all seeping to his words.

Of all the cubs their parents bore, it was to Akavir that Viinturuth felt most strongly bound. Their bond was unbreakable one - the ghost, though greatly tempted by the allure of his brother's mate, had put distance between them to maintain the strength of it. And oh, how he'd missed him! To come together with him again, despite mysterious and solemn circumstances, was like a balm to unseen wounds.

He did not ask for the reason behind the pain that Akavir carried, because it would come when he was ready to share. For the time that the shadow held his tongue, Viinturuth listened quietly to the downpour all around them: the sound of water on water, on the ground, the distant rumble of thunder that boomed over ashen clouds.

When at last a confession came, Viinturuth withdrew from the gesture. His eyes, wide with disbelief, sought pearlescent gold for confirmation and saw it swim within their depths.

Ibis was dead.

How? It was all he wanted to know in that precise moment, but to ask that of a widower seemed inappropriate. Viinturuth bit back the question, but the second spilled forth into the space between them with urgency: "Arielle and Lilitu?" The pups, not quite children anymore, but still very much so in his memory of them. Constantine's mother tongue, rusted on his own, failed him then, "where are they?"

phone post

Without his brothers fortitude against him, with eyes of merlot seeking him with disbelief, Akavir could feel himself crumple for a moment. Only a moment, he would tell himself, and he slid down to the muddied ground, raven fur swimming in a puddle far too deep and eyes lifeless at the chest of his brother, unwilling to see the ache that would reflect on his gaze. The two had been close.

It would be with a soft but steady voice that Akavir would relay everything he knew—his near drowning when searching for Arielle, his separation and journey back to his family, Lilitu, gone before he had arrived. Their unknown whereabouts had shredded him. The final nail in his coffin, when he had returned and Ibis had delivered an unknown mans pups. 

Their separation. Had it been divorce? Merely a break? He had never known. And then her death. No signs of violence. She had simply looked like she had fallen asleep.

It was then he let the silence take over, his ears to the wind and his eyes finally looking to his littermate. Finally, his tongue found the common words once more. Gone.

Grief was a powerful thing and Viinturuth, who thought he'd felt the weight of it many times before, was unprepared for how it engulfed him. He felt as though darkness seeped into his bones, into each fibre of his being, and there was nothing he could do to escape it.

Arielle, lost.
Lilitu, gone.
Ibis, dead.

Only Akavir remained, though he was not himself. He would never be whole again, not after what he'd been forced to face.

He hated that his brother had had to go through it all alone.

Viinturuth stood protectively over his littermate who lay slumped in the mud, and the rain continued to pour. He didn't care, barely even noticed it; his own sorrow pooled in his dark eyes, disappeared among already sodden cheeks. There was absolutely nothing in the world that he could say to Akavir, no soft murmurings that would bring him comfort. Instead the ghost lowered his muzzle and nudged at his sibling's platinum-tipped shoulders, tugged roughly at the coarse furs there with his fangs. "But you are still here," he said boldly, willing the broken wolf to rise - again and again, as many times as he needed to, "and you don't have to be alone now. Let me help you." He lifted his head to look at him pointedly, "come with me, Akavir."