Snowforest Taiga Making love underneath the awning.

single replies welcome, just wanted to tuck this guy in <3

He dreamed of the crypt-keeper god again. This time he was neck deep in water. The moon glanced off the black surface in flighty ripples. Crescent. Yellow. Everything else was dark. He could hear but not see scraping of long nails on stone. Somewhere in that reaching dark he knew it sat poised.

It was cold. Beneath the rippling of the waning moon he saw plumes of his own breath rising - smoke signals of a fading life not his own to control. Somewhere came the hard boom of something unidentifiable landing from impossible heights. It sounded again, and again - concussive and rhythmic and gradually pulling closer and closer like the slow, assured step of a hideous bear-god.

No. Not steps. His heartbeat. Anselm's breath quivered and he turned in time for a colossal shape to rise from the water. He saw a pair of red eyes and it was then his heartbeat reached his throat.

* * *

He woke in the cave again. @Yikaas was nearby, snuffling over odorous herbs that stung Anselm's nose. He saw @Ilse in the corner. It was the first day his fever broke, and he sat there gradually absorbing his surroundings. His legs worked, but they were weak. His head hurt hideously. One eye was blurry. He was in a dark dug out that smelled like nothing of home.

It suddenly hit him that while he had no way of knowing for sure, he was certain a great length of time had past since his fight with Amadeo. He laughed bitterly to learn this - no cavalry was coming for him. No soul alive would go sniffing around for catankerous Anselm. He knew he was responsible for this -- but it did not stop the kick in his gut to learn that this -- whatever it was -- was now his future.

No matter, Anselm reminded himself. It had always been him against the entire world. Why would this be any different? He counted the roots that hung from the wall, recalling the faces of his sons.

It was them he lived for now.

hope this is okay if not I can change. He's not near.

While a man painted in mountains amd sunsets fought for his children. Fought to stay alive. Miles away the man that loved him all alone, searched. For what, he didn't know. But in his heart of hearts he knew Anselm would have never left willingly. Even if no one believed him.

Anselm held his own abandonment to deep to just go like that. So Etienne felt it was beyond a falsehood that Anselm would do this..

So he searched, no where near where a stone faced man with sunset eyes was, but he searched none the less. Heart aching. But a spirit of the sea doggedly razing against a rumor he refused to believe.

Anselm wouldn't leave.