Ouroboros Spine atiga-anun

He and @Ariadne dispersed from the village to the forest beyond, but there the thunder man could not linger. He could not turn his back upon his son, especially after the harmful words were spoken by @Kivaluk. After some words with Ariadne, a decision was made; she would wait in the woods for him and gather her own thoughts.

Upon returning to the village outskirts, Kaluktuk made it known that he waited now to speak with the man Kivaluk; he called to him as well as Kukutux, for permission to wait as long as it took. Kaluktuk would not cross the boundary of the village now that he had been so poorly received.

Agitation coursed through him. The hurt of things he had left buried. The scorn of people who once were like friends and family, but which paled against the loathing he felt from his own kin.

a call rises for kivaluk and it sets the hair at his nape bristling. kigipigak returns and calls for him. but what is left to say? kivaluk has made his feelings known, playing off his own experiences with the man that had sired him.

he does not wish to heed the call. they are bound by flesh and blood but little else; and perhaps that marrow deep obligation still holds weight over him.

a morbid curiosity at what could be left to be said.

nothing good from either side, surely.

but kivaluk is a man now, would be old enough to sire children of his own in the coming months. his wrath is that of a man and not the petty anger of a child.

so, he goes to the borders; steps with purpose, chin high. gaze cold as it locks onto his sire.

waiting with a icy, stony patience that has taken him so long to cultivate.

He waits. He does not know how long. Ariadne waits in the forest and Kaluktuk does not want to be parted from her for long, especially after everything, but he waits. He watches the familiar hills and old trees for sign that his son accepts the invitation; he is almost certain that Kivaluk will not, and he waits. When Kivaluk does appear, he does not see the cub that was born to Natigvik - he sees a man of Moonglow, with a heart of ice.

At least that much is familiar.

Is this how Kigipigak had looked when he had confronted his own father, that final time?

At first he only looks upon the man. There are pieces of him that remind Kigipigak of Sakhmet; his athleticism, written across a healthy body. The touch of red upon his face. The shape of his eyes.

Kaluktuk breathes and finally breaks the silence.

Do you hate me?

do you hate me?

kivaluk does not expect this question; but his surprise does not soften the harsh plains of his face. do not offer buffer from the glacial temperature of his stare.

the truth was, he did not know.

does it matter? kivaluk differs, offering a question of his own in response. regardless, you will do what you want. you will make my sister your wife and bear her sons, though i wish you would leave my family alone. you have caused us enough pain and grief.

he delivers this line with a quiet chill.

the worst part, kivaluk will speak to him what he spoke to chickadee, so kigipigak could see just how deep a wound he had cut in his son. is i am not sure if it is the fact that i am right and you will leave ariadne and your new sons heartbroken as you left mama and me, or if i am wrong and you find her and your new sons worth staying for more haunting.

both, he thinks, were equally terrible though one more so for him than the other.

Does it matter. Of course it mattered! Of course this was not what Kaluktuk had wanted; but he had run from the pain caused by his relationship and the pain of losing his home, and in doing so he lost what remained of his family. He thought this as Kivaluk's words mirrored: speaking of his family as if he were one of the sunshine-people; the wound in Kigipigak was opened again and raw, hearing this.

And he was silent as he stood there, listening. And when there was quiet again Kaluktuk took a breath. He steadied his rage and swallowed it, for as often as he relied upon his anger he could not do that here and now. As much as his instinct told him to swallow all of it and leave, he could not do that. He would not.

I thought you were safe here. This wasn't meant as a lament. Kigipigak so rarely explained himself, and now he began to speak with the fear his son had been fully turned against him, and that he would only hear his voice as some corrupted thing influenced by Kukutux, Moonglow, and the shadows of Natigvik.

When we came here and your mother was not with us, it hurt me in ways you could not — and cannot understand. And when she returned without your brother, I could not forgive her. I should not have gone — but I did. I thought I needed to. And I thought you were safe here, with her. It was a mistake and he was admitting to it, finally, knowing it was too late. There was no way to undo this.

I am trying to be better. I do not know how best to fix this, if I can, if you even want me to; you speak of this place as if they are your family and — he feels so much then, and emotion chokes him in a way Kigipigak isn't used to. He wants to swallow it. This is not the way a man is meant to act! Where was the strength? How was emotion going to change anything except make himself look as pathetic as he now felt?

And I accept that. I have made mistakes that we cannot heal from. I see now. Your family is here - but I am here too. I am trying. He had called from the glacier when village Moonsong with the hope his son would hear, and would know he was not going anywhere. Ariadne was that sentiment, repeated; a marriage to her kept them united in this convoluted way.

If you want me to be out of your life, that is fine. But I need you to know I am here. Maybe it is too late; but I am not going anywhere.

it feels like the same conversation they had before all of this had went down; an overarching ouroboros.

it brings little peace to kivaluk's mind, nor does it do much to balm the sting of his ire. of his disapproval.

they are my family, kivaluk snaps in interjection. moonwoman and sunking raised me. which had been the purpose, wasn't it? to leave him in care of the wolves of moonglow? to kivaluk, it is obvious that he would see them as family; so much more-so than the one he shared blood with.

flesh and blood does not make a family. it does not warrant loyalty nor forgiveness. and kivaluk, stubborn to his core, does not wish to offer it; even if it might make him look more selfless. but he is not concerned with saving face.

he would be cruel and cold and selfish.

words are hollow, kigipigak. perhaps you will prove me wrong, kivaluk allows, but perhaps not. the shift of his shoulders speaks that either way his decision would not be swayed. i know only that my sons and daughters will not know what it is like to be left by their father.

Who does he think raised him? Kukutux? Who imparted the importance of family, of brotherhood? Who taught him his first steps? Who was there for his first hunts, patrols? Who kept him safe through the night when they were all one unit together in Natigvik? And after, when the village fell and only Moonglow remained on their horizon? Who had kept the boy fed and cared for, until such time as his mother's return? But of course it meant nothing to Kivaluk. What of those days would he remember except the sadness of being left behind?

Kigipigak wants to say so much! He sees now how deeply rooted Kukutux has made herself within this man. He sees now how much has been lost. The differences between their people aside, Kigipigak knows he has made a wrong decision which has lasting consequences - and no amount of speech would fix it. That too, Kivaluk gets from his father; a piece of Tartok that they share.

Action was what held meaning, not platitudes. Kigipigak is proud of the man before him, for what that was worth, and while it was a feeling crowded with sorrow and a growing resentment for all that had transpired, Kigipigak feels buoyed by this.

I do hope your sons and daughters grow up learning from you, and trusting you. I hope only the best for you. And I wish to one day prove myself, in whatever ways you request; so that we can somehow be family.

This was more important than any bride-price.

Tell me what to do. Tell me what you need of me, and I will do it. If that is to leave you alone, I will. A pause. Whatever version of me you have in your head is not me, Kivaluk. You only know pieces and that is my fault.

So much blame he held for Sakhmet, Kukutux, Natigvik, even his uncle for calling him away those many moons ago - but none deserved blame more than himself, and finally it spilled from him.

they will lingers unsaid in the stern set of kivaluk's jaw. he knew what kind of husband he wished to be to chickadee, what kind of father he wished to be to their sons and daughters, may they be many! kivaluk was not a wanderer, not a trader nor traveler. he was content to remain a steady and stalwart fixture in the place he made home. a mountain standing firm against the yanking winds of time and temptation.

he'd never truly been tempted by the desire to find, only to build.

kigipigak speaks again and kivaluk takes the request as a plea, considering it in silence.

the hands of time could not be reversed to undo what was already done and kivaluk wonders if there was anything he desired from the man that had sired him.

i will think on it. kivaluk offers simply, after a prolonged silence. if only that his new brothers and sisters might know him, chickadee and their nieces and nephews. this reminds him of lost galana, not so little anymore if she still lived and his heart gives a painful thump. she, too, would be a stranger to him as akkuma was.

There was nothing from the boy but the bare minimum, and Kaluktuk could not even fault him for it. What had the man given to his son except that same thing? Food and shelter, protection, but not enough of his focus and not enough of himself; and so there was this rift between them, and it was not easily mended. At the very least Kivaluk was open to considering things. That would have to be enough to sustain Kaluktuk. The man would take a deep breath as if to speak again, and then appear to deflate, to nod his understanding, accepting all of this.

His son was angry—or maybe he had been angry, and now froze that part of himself the way Kaluktuk had frozen his own heart when he had lost Sakhmet. There was something familiar in the way Kivaluk now looked at him: a finality, a deeply rooted chill. It was like looking upon an unfriendly glacier that could cleave apart at any moment.

I'm sorry for everything. Kaluktuk said now as he drew back; but he did not want to turn his back upon Kivaluk—not ever again—and while he could sense their conversation was ebbing to a close he was reluctant to do so. While the man wanted to say something else and paused long enough to imply there were more words to be said, he found that look upon his son's face and was silenced by it. It was time for him to return to Ariadne in the forest.

He did not say goodbye; this was in no way resolved.

within kivaluk, there had always been the penchant for callousness; but facing this, facing kigipigak ... it rears its head and comes to the surface. idly, he wonders if he inherited that trait from the man before him, or if it stemmed from sakhmet. he couldn't really say.

you keep saying that, kivaluk thinks to himself, biting his tongue from speaking the words aloud.

he watches kigpigak leave, and once he is out of sight, only then does kivaluk move; a statue come to life. the tension does not fully leave his shoulders, nor the rigid purpose in which he prowls the borders in patrol. but walking a patrol helps; helps him to compartmentalize this meeting alongside the others and attempt to untangle what he wished to do.