The Heartwood I'm at One With The Silence

Dreven woke with a start and peered around him with glowing embers. Gazing. Searching. Watching. The fog had yet to lift from his mind. He sat there in silence, wondering where the Queen was, and why he didn't hurt from paws and claws and so many other things. He stretched out his long limbs as slowly the cobwebs of early morning stupor wore off.

Sun kissed down along his broad shoulders, dipping into the valleys, and dales of his body, the shadows peppering him with light strokes. He swiveled one tattered ear and then another, his notched tail beating a slow drum against the ground as he fanned himself from the warmth that dug deep, and stuck to him. Like honey in the fields of wildflowers.

Large blunt head, lifted higher and higher. And he lay there, waiting, watching. Wondering.

Morning drew over the land of death. The sun casting long shadows of the trees and rocks around him. For a man who does not sleep, the morning light means nothing to him but another mark of a new day. Not only that, but he’s repulsed by it. Hates the way his eyes burn when it shines into them — painting them a beautiful, bright, cherry red.

So today is another day. Though what’s different is that he has been frequenting the mossy paradise beyond the frigid underwater tunnel. He stays here to meditate. He stays here to speak with Banesteppe. He stays here merely to exist. That is if he is not patrolling the borders and greedily marking his scent throughout the charred forest. 

But in the night, when Banesteppe raked alien like hands through his fur, he had mentioned someone— or rather something. Something that would help him in his quest to immortality. Something that would make him stronger. 

A rock. But not just any.

A sleek, beautiful, dark wolf came to mind then. Hunger strikes his belly along with the thought of them.

Banesteppe’s words are savage — bloody and disorderly — Alduin knows not if he can accomplish something such as that. 

But does Banesteppe ever give him a choice? Of course not.

So he wades through the neon colored cave, tiptoeing along the edge of the watery tunnel before diving in. A soaked pelt is worth traveling back and forth to his mossy dwelling — he finds solace there. 

And on he goes, in the morning light, squinting bloody eyes and walking with his head hung low. Somehow thinking it will help him avoid the light better. It doesn’t. Obviously. Yet, it does not stop him from searching for his Harbinger. He must speak with him of such goals — of such personal trivial things such as immortality.

Fucking insane. He’s insane. Does it matter?

So when he follows the freshest scent he can find, he sticks to it, and eventually his effort bare fruit. He finds the chocolate furred man stretching out in the morning sun, tail thumping softly at his hocks. The light bounces off red orbs — Alduin stares for a moment before approaching. 

Heavy footfalls are heard, crunching over twigs and shrubs. The hellhounds maw is parted, black-purple tongue falling over daggers for teeth. His dark, double coat is already soaking up the heat as saliva falls from dangerous jaws. And despite his fur remaining spiked up and damp from his escapade through the water, the heat still bothers him so.

So when he moves to saunter up to his companion, he hums out a “Soaking up the morning sun?” It’s meant to sound friendly, but his own shitty mood regarding the light in the sky seeps through in a rumbling tone.

The sun was at a full rise. It dug into his dark brown fur. Burning. Searing. Laying thick and heavy on the male. He shifted, body stretching further, further. Like a buffet to be enjoyed as it were, but he was merely seeking relief. Relief from the heat. The demons. Just relief.

When Dreven has not been at Khasni's side or Malacath's he had been at the borders, at the edges of the lands. Wandering aimlessly. But leaving a mark on every rock and tree. Claws. Piss. Sometimes even blood when his scars would reopen or he would step wrong and pierce a paw, but pain was. Fleeting.

Dreven is not familiar with his leaders cohort. The creature that whispers and coddles like a lover. But he was familiar with the head sicknesses, his own father had suffered from it. His mother and his sister. His brothers. Sometimes he wondered how he had been spared.

With thoughts of his leader, his brain became overcrowded with all the things he could be doing to the large, blunt male. Or more so what he could be doing to him. In reply he made a lowly groan and purr in his chest and closed his eyes against the onslaught of what could be.

Caressing. Gazing. He can feel it. He lifts brutish head and stares at his leader for a moment, and then lays back down. Wriggling just so. To gain a better ground of comfort. Though he smirks as usual.

Yes, but it sucks.

Days like these when it's hot and humid. The fur sticks to every single muscle and dip. When he'd rather pant than speak. He longed for the coolness of the underground, but he would not wish to be trapped there.

Would you like to join me? He lifted a paw and stabbed somewhere in the vicinity near himself.

It seems the other feels his stare and is lifting a large head to peer back at him. Alduin would hold it until the other male lies back down, wiggling into the dirt to get more comfortable. The hellhound doesn’t miss the motion though and he’s moving to tower over Dreven as he speaks with a simple reply,

Yes, but it sucks.

It makes Al hum out his own sound of acknowledgment. Firmly agreeing that the sun does indeed suck ass. 

Only then, as Alduin peers down, watching him with his chin tucked softly to his chest and the full fur and lose skin around his cheeks puffing out, does the other extend an invitation. Which just makes the brindled beast stare at him more as he shuffles a paw out in no direction in particular.

He contemplates it. Even tilts his head as he raises a white, circular brow, giving Dreven a gaze of drab amusement.

Eventually, he laps a tongue over whiskered lips, huffs out a breath, turns in a loose circle, and flops beside the other like a lion basking in the shade. Except he is no lion and there is no shade. There’s the cruel sun above them and it’s kind of pissing him off, but he indulges the other anyhow. Sitting up on a single elbow while his legs are splayed before him, he settles a fair foot away from the other.

“We have a task, Dreven.” He starts a few seconds after laying down, staring at nothing in particular in the far off distance. “I must find someone — something — more importantly.” 

Malacath had held his stare and Dreven hadn't minded. He felt a momentary thrill as his leader stood over top of him, brutish body right there. Dreven could reach out and touch. Though he didn't. Instead he stared up at him with red eyes, slightly heavy lidded and waited.

His fur prickled as Malacath continued to stare. He made no sound. Didn't move. The silence stretched on as the black and silver beast thought. His mind clearly turning with decisions. Finally with a soft breath, he lets himself settle beside Drev. Too far away for the male's liking, but he'd take it.

What's the task, how long are we going and how many wolves do I need to kill to get it?

He lapped pink tongue along brown jaw. Wiggled again for more purchase and lifted his head sideways to look at his leader for an answer. There was no question from him whether they should or they shouldn't. Malacath needed something, so they were going to get it. Simple as that.

In my head i hear the equivalent of that one movie scene where the guys goes. I can't tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, but we're going to hurt some people. And the other goes whose car we gonna take.

LMAOO I swear. That’s it periot. We just need Khasni pulling up and bein like “aight who’s car we takin”

Alduin’s not blind, he can see the halflidded gaze peering over to him and the smirk that shows a possible interest. Or maybe he’s crazy and that’s just his imagination too. Either way, he’s catching vibes. Vibes he may or may not just reciprocate, but that is for another time perhaps. For a time Alduin has finally accepted that it’s normal for a man to be interested in another man. So he attempts to put it to the back of his mind, bringing his previously thought of task to the forefront.

It doesn’t make it any better that Dreven replies readily to just about anything Alduin has suggested so far. He is determined, headstrong, and confident it seems — ready to please. Alduin likes that. A subtle submissiveness that Alduin picks up on, or maybe that’s his imagination too? Who knows. Either way, he’s pleased with the man’s answer, so he continues.

“A rock, Dreven.” He says it drably, as if it is nothing but stone. Truly, it is so much more. “But it may not be easy. It’s coveted by a woman whom I shared my last pack with. And she is coveted by a man who may just die to protect her.”

The hellhounds gaze meets Drevens then.“I do not wish to kill her, but rather, if we can bring her with us, that may even be better.”

He would become silent for a moment before his rasping tone sound out again. “But we will do what we must.” It is the voice of a man who will do anything to achieve his goal and spill blood while he does it.

Malacath is not crazy and Dreven is anything but subtle. He enjoys pleasure, he was born for it, taught it, it is ingrained in his very soul.

The question becomes is it warranted, wanted, and returned. But those are questions it's too hot to dwell on. So he would listen to the task at hand.

Dreven is extremely confident in everything that is him. Almost arrogantly so. Rather than allow his slavery to break him. He used it to his advatage. He adapted. Learned. Now, he was dangerous.

A rock, Dreven.

Surprise overtook him and he blinked quietly for a minute. It has to be an important rock, but why. Realizing he probably won't get answers he doesn't even ask. Instead focuses on the conversation.

Dreven blinked. Then i guess he dies. Hm.

That was the logical reason. It wouldn't be easy, but this rock was something his leader wanted so he would find a way to get the rock.

Dreven sits up next a glint in his eye. I have never kidnapped an adult wolf before. There are posions that put them to sleep. Mmhmm.

Red eyes watch the other man blink at him when he mentions that it is a rock he is meant to take. No, no, no not just any rock — a rock that brought the listener her own demons. Spirits that spoke to her. Spirits that took to her through that rock — the sky rock.

Alduin wants it. Banesteppe says he needs it. So he shall try his best to get it.

Dreven can hold his tongue well, Alduin’s impressed by it. No questions asked despite Alduin counting on him doing so. Perhaps this man is a better pick than the hellhound first thought, his looks are only a bonus.

Then I guess he dies. Hm.

Hardly catching Alduin off guard with such a statement, the Revenant offers Dreven a side glance painted with dark amusement in his eyes. A smirk would make itself known on the brindled beasts maw — something that’s hardly ever present on the stoic males face.

“I’d hope so.” 

And to Dreven’s other statement about kidnapping…well, Alduin merely shrugs. It’s a lazy motion, definitely half assed as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“We will see. If she will not come willingly, then we may just take the sky-rock. That is my main target.” 

After a few moments silence, Alduin speaks again. “but this rock is just one of many targets I have. The next one will take us east.”

Dreven doesn't get ruffled easily. His very existence had anchored on it and he had learned. Hold your tongue and good things happen. Hold your tongue and no pit. No pain when he had been younger.

Dreven smiles ever so slightly. No smirk this time, simply half a smile and then it just as quickly disappears.

Do we need to infiltrate or simply attack and grab? he was curious how Malacath wanted to do this there were many ways. He returned his head to the ground, but his ears were peaked and his eyes on Malacath.

what's to the east?

The others eyes were on him indeed. In many ways too. From being a leader, to a war chief — a man trained in the arts of war. Yes that’s what Alduin is. His father taught him well, but Kynareth is a brash man who thinks more with his teeth. But is the hellhound any different? Perhaps not, but when it comes to things he wants, he’s willing to take a strategic approach if necessary.

It is necessary here. So it will be done.

“We will stalk — watch, learn.” He hums absentmindedly, expression darkening as he gazes into the void of nothingness before him. “When the time is right, we strike…” A moment of contemplative silence drawls between them. “…if it is just The Shadow and her bodyguard, we will take them immediately.”

He blinks — finally — eyes flicking over to the beast beside him. “And the bodyguard will die.” He confirms deeply, looking away once more.

Dreven was a thinker. He hardly ever acted on his musings, but he was one who thought. Different than most of the other slaves in the pits, and definitely different than his siblings and his mother. More like his father than anything. Even if his father was a twisted individual by the end.

Dreven nodded and listened. He had made his bread and butter on watching and learning. This would not be a hardship.

The element of surprise is always a good one.

He nodded his head. Very well. He will die.

Dreven wasn't to concerned if he would die or not. If he died in the pursuit of something his new leader wanted. Then it was a life well led.