Ankyra Sound do these effectively hide my thunder?

WHITTIER SPRANG AND TORE @Kjalarr'S FACE TO SHREDS, LAUGHING SHAMELESSLY WHILE THE BETA WENT BLIND.

Or so he imagined, as the pair of brothers walked along. They were within range of the borders for their main intention that day had been to patrol them, but since food continued to be scarce, it was with keen senses that they strode upon the terrain. It was, in truth, day 22 of Whittier's apparent servitude to the Saltwiner pack, but to the soft, doughy boy, it felt like day 1,254,656. He did his best not to complain, knowing his lot would be far worse if he'd remained on his own. But still, as Whittier trailed behind his brother, he couldn't help but imagine all the hypothetical scenarios that could unfold in which he could reclaim some tiny shred of vindicated contentment.

Whit was relieved when finally they paused. Jo - OH GDI - Kjalarr paused to stand with intent regard to gaze out at the landscape that stretched before him, obviously having noted something of interest that went completely over the husky wolf's head. Whit sank to his haunches, unable to resist the back and forth, wide-eyed flailing of his own head as he quite blatantly mocked the beta behind his back. He stopped himself quickly enough, hoping it had gone mostly unnoticed. Brothers they may be, but Jo was not the wolf Whittier had once known. Sure, there were glimpses of that kid here and there - maybe more than Whittier even noticed in his recent, melodramatic, sullen state of being. But the world in its entirety had turned to something the teen quite stubbornly barely recognized - his adoptive brother an awkwardly blatant example.

While Whittier imagined numerous and horrendous scenarios in which he attacked Kjalarr — wow, thanks bro~ — Kjalarr remained ignorantly unaware of the fantasies running through his brother's head as they moved along the borders; because the borders needed patrol and Kjalarr had duties as Saltwinter's Beta but he drug Whittier along so that the Frostfur teen could work off his punishment for coming too close to the borders. Kjalarr held little doubt that if it was not for him Whittier would have been turned away by Caiaphas with tooth and nail. If Kjalarr was the type of guy to require others to settle up their debts to him — Whittier owed him; but Kjalarr did not go easy on Whittier. They were brothers by adoption, by bond, but that didn't excuse him any more than it would have excused Floki if it had been Kja's identical twin instead.

A scent caught the Viking's attention and he paused, lowering his muzzle to the earth to sniff at it for a moment, analyzing it before he squinted out at the free territories beyond. Seadog Sanctuary (although Tori doesn't know if Kja knows their pack name or not :0) had yet to deliver to Caiaphas' demands and not for the first time he considered stealing from them. He wasn't sure if they would have anything to steal from him but ...it wasn't just food he could take; and he was morally loose enough to attack one of their own, take one as a prisoner. Ragnar had been known to do it and as far as Kjalarr cared if Ragnar could do it: so could he.

“You've been quiet, Whittier,” Kjalarr turned then to address his brother, setting his icy caribbean blue gaze upon the hefty teen, speaking his observation out loud. “There isn't any stories of our time apart you want to share with me? No grand adventures?” Kjalarr felt a characteristic smirk begin to tug at the edges of his lips. “We might as well catch up while we work,” Kjalarr encouraged. “It'll make the time pass faster.” He promised.

Whit began scratching at a rock near his paws, unconcerned about whatever it was that had caught his brother's attention. He only looked up when he saw the pale wolf turn towards him. Kjalarr asked of his "adventures" with a smirk that was rather familiar. He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he so often had when they were kids. This wolf was a beta now though. Roll his eyes and they might get ripped out...

"Can't say I've done anything 'grand'," Whit admitted with a shrug, "I haven't died yet.. I guess I've got that to brag about..." He began walking again, gaze wandering aimlessly. "What about you? How'd you end up here? And a friggin' beta?" he asked, glancing back at his brother curiously.

As it turned out, according to Whittier he hadn't done anything grand and didn't have much to tell. It would be a lie to claim that he wasn't a little disappointed to learn this. Kjalarr enjoyed a good story, probably the Norse in him, which were known for their infamous and wild saga's. His own Saga had quite the beginning and that was without him adding fictional beasts to it. “That's a starting point,” Kjalarr concurred with a sage nod. “'I survived the famine' ...sounds heroic, I like it.” He offered Whittier a self assured grin. Kjalarr had never fancied himself a chronicler but he supposed in self proclaimed hindsight he might not be all that bad at it. Whittier's following questions did not necessarily come as any sort of surprise to Kjalarr who glimpsed tersely out at the free territories beyond Saltwinter, scarred muzzle angled down ever so slightly. “That's a long story,” Kjalarr began and then added after a moment of thought. “but I suppose we've got the time.”

“You know how I chose to stay behind when you all left the Wilds for a time?” It was a rhetorical question since, obviously, Whittier was aware Kjalarr had not followed the Frostfurs from his lack of presence to...where ever they'd went. “It was because I found my biological family but that went about as well as shaking a hornet's nest,” A roll of iced silver and caribbean blue eyes was given. “My adopted older brother, Charon, he's the Alpha of Moonspear he said that I was brainwashed and that our parents had stolen me from them. He's a real dick and things had just...never been good between us from that first meeting. We never agreed and that created big problems. He better hope I never see him again or I'm going to kill him,” and after I kill him, I'm going to eat him. Might as well add the gruesome truth to it though the action, would that ever happen and Kjalarr ever succeed, would be done purely out of nothing but hatred and spite. Assholes like Charon didn't deserve to be buried nor did they deserve respect, even in death.

“Anyway, I'd met Caiaphas once before and I decided to join up with her and left Moonspear. That didn't go over well with Charon, either, but I don't care what he thinks or wants. I'm a lot happier here, although Dad and Aunt Kaskara told me I was always welcome in Neverwinter Forest if I decided that I wanted to join up with them,” He spoke softly, affectionate smoothing out the harsh timber his voice had taken when he spoke of his issues with his biological family. “I think Aunt Kaskara probably gave birth by now, we should go see her and the babes,” Or at least, Whittier. Kjalarr was not so sure he could just go on a scouting trip ...at least not without clearing it with Caiaphas before hand. “Caiaphas is a mystery to me,” A soft chuckle left the Viking's lips though his words were not meant in any way other than admiration for the Salt Queen. “I suppose the short and low of it is that she found me worthy to lead with her as her Beta.” And because she'd given him something he'd wanted for a very long time he hadn't been about to question her decision. The weight of his duties as second command had been one that he bore proudly and was all to eager to dedicate his time to them.

“I'm glad you're here, Whit,” Kjalarr admitted softly to his brother, offering the Frostfur teen a rough nudge to his shoulder in brotherly affection. “but I'm curious why you didn't join Neverwinter Forest, unless you didn't know they'd returned?” Though, Kjalarr himself hadn't; and even if he'd have known the Frostfurs had returned before he joined up with Saltwinter the truth was he still probably wouldn't have, if in an effort to keep the heat of Charon's ire off of them. It was not fair that they should have to bear the brunt of a feud that belonged solely between the Ostrega and the Loðbrok.

"I wouldn't go that far quite yet," Whit replied with wry grin. It faded quickly enough as the truth of it weighed upon him. It felt like every day he was getting closer and closer to starving to death amongst these strange wolves of the sea. How Jorunn had kept his confidence was a mystery to him. He was beta of this pack now, and so upon his shoulders was the well-being of them all. If they all starved to death, that would be on him and the spider. It was an unfair attitude, but that was just part of being a leader, looking out for the well-being of the pack. Or so Whittier believed, and it was exactly for that reason that the yearling had no such aspirations for himself. Way too much pressure.

Jorunn seemed happy to entertain with a tale of what had happened while Whittier had been away, and Whit was perfectly content to listen quietly. He spoke of his biological family, which was an odd concept to him. He had never really wondered after his brother's blood relations, having figured they had all died from bears or something. But apparently they were alive, and they were dicks that needed to be killed. Whit wondered if he was blowing smoke, speaking of killing someone least of all his actual brother. Or. Adopted actual brother? Family was complicated... But whatever the case, Whit accepted his proclamation without concern, figuring it wasn't likely to happen anyway. Poor oblivious kid.

When Joru-- Kjalarr (crap he'd missed it like twenty times today..) - began to talk of their father and Aunt, he listened with mild curiosity. It took him a minute to really consider what he was saying, and once it clicked, he slowed gradually until finally he stopped to peer in startled confusion when Kja gave him a nudge and asked him why he hadn't joined Scimitar in some place called Neverwinter Forest. "Dad's here?" he asked, unfortunately overlooking the rather sweet offering of brotherly love Kjalarr had extended. It would have been a great comfort to him too to know that good ol' Jo was still there, but he'd dropped quite the bomb that Whittier had become preoccupied with.

Kjalarr gave a simple shrug of his broad shoulders when Whittier spoke that he wouldn't go so far as to call it heroic (presumably). Kjalarr did...how many wolves had lost their lives to this famine? Thus far he only personally knew of one ..and that was simply because he (along with Caiaphas and Slancio) had eaten him. Yet, something kept Kjalarr from confessing that to Whittier. It wasn't that Kjalarr was ashamed of it: it had been survival instincts, the desire to preserve his own life by eating what was available to him. Desperation. Besides, Odinn did it every Winter Solstice...and surely if it was done by a God — and not just any God but the Allfather himself — then it couldn't be so bad, but because Kjalarr was not so sure that his brother would see it the same way he kept that tidbit of information to himself.

It seemed that Whittier had not been aware that Scimitar was in the Wilds and for a moment Kjalarr hesitated, having blindly assumed that Whittier was already aware of that. “Yeah he's here,” Kjalarr reiterated. “He and his new mate...ah what did he say her name was...Es...Esh...Eshe? They started their own pack with Aunt Kaskara and Keiran in Neverwinter Forest.” For a selfish second Kjalarr wondered if it had been wise to tell Whittier that, that Whittier would leave him and Saltwinter in favor of their family. If he did...well there was nothing Kjalarr could do to stop him, admittedly, but he brushed that away. He would cross that bridge when they got there....if they got there. "I haven't met her yet, Eshe, I mean. I promised I would though." But his duties had kept him occupied and he took a small comfort in the consideration that the Frostfurs would understand.

"Eshe," Whittier confirmed flatly as Kjalarr explained what he knew. So, this was where Scimitar had taken his slut. The words were spoken only in his mind, and yet the boy felt that familiar twinge of guilt for it in the pit of his stomach. It felt wrong to be angry with his father for what had happened to their family. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that it was neither Scimitar's nor Bazi's fault what had happened to their mateship. That part of his brain wasn't quite assertive enough, though, and so he was stubborn in his resentment of them.

"I bet that's where Allure is too," he murmured, putting the pieces together with an irritable sigh, "God I'm an idiot. What did I come out here for?" Whittier was speaking to himself mostly then as he processed the news. He had followed his sister to be with her, to protect her and provide her with some company to stave off any loneliness she would undoubtedly feel being away from her family. But he had failed to find her and wound up an ancillary character in a fucking shit show while she had probably stumbled right into their father, aunt and uncle. She was probably perfectly content, and now he was essentially a slave to this pack of creeps and its spiderling leader.

At least he had Jorunn. Who would probably much rather have had Pasha there with him instead of Whittier.

That thought was random...

Being a moody teenager was such a bitch.

"Sorry," he muttered after a few seconds, "I'm just. I'm still mad at dad for the crap that went down with him and Mom. Did he tell you how they broke up and then he went and got her pregnant again? Then he decides to shack up with Eshe and take off on us?" Whittier knew that Bazi had played her part in it all as well, but it had always been easier for Whittier to be angry with Scimitar than her. His mother had been a victim of their father's carelessness and insensitivity. Sure she had kicked him out and that's why they'd taken off, but Scimitar should have known that it would go down that way. And yet he chose to proceed with it rather than stick around for his kids. It was bullshit. And lord help him when one day he learned that he was having kids with Eshe now... Yikes.

“Uh, yeah,” Kjalarr spoke though it was likely unnecessary. There was an uneasy feeling of awkwardness at Whittier's rather flat correction of their step-mother's name. It was clear, without Whittier saying anything to Kjalarr at all, that there was tension there. Confusion wrinkled Kjalarr's scarred muzzle as Whittier spoke to himself — or so this was what Kjalarr assumed given that he didn't understand what Allure had to do with anything and how that made Whittier an idiot without the proper context. Thus, the stalwart and marred Beta remained silent, giving Whittier the chance to work through his own thoughts in the peace that Kjalarr thought his brother needed.

“You do not hide your enmity well, Whit,” Kjalarr pointed out in a soft rumble, though his words were not at all meant to be condescending. Rather, his aim was to let Whittier know that he had suspected as much from the tone his brother had used when correcting him. But then again, when it came down to “hiding hostility” Kjalarr himself was no expert at it and hence had no room to talk. “but neither do I.” He added to draw the comparison that despite their differences he saw plenty alike in them, too. Kjalarr did not share in disliking (hating?) Eshe as Whittier did, for the Northman assumed that it was Eshe his younger brother had the issue with; but he had yet to meet her and for all of Kjalarr's bad habits he tried to withhold judgment until he could make his own. He did not, nor had he ever, shared a “hive mind” mentality. He had to be independent, make his own decisions and form his own opinions about situations ...and in this case about wolves.

Kjalarr was contemplative, thinking back on his reunion with Scimitar and Kaskara and the wealth of information their father and aunt had given him. “He told me,” Kjalarr spoke, neutral. The last thing he wanted was to get in the middle of Whittier's disagreement with their father (even if he was kind of involved in it because he was their adoptive kid/brother). He had not been with the Frostfurs when it all went down and did not wish to be forced to choose a side. “He did not withhold information from me. He told me that mom was enraged — as she was right to be” Kjalarr interjected quickly. “— and evicted them. I'm not taking sides, Whittier,” Kjalarr told him. “We are all responsible for our actions and we must all pay the consequences of them.” But that was sort of the moral to his slave driver dictator-esque patrols that he forced Whittier to partake in as punishment for being too close to their borders. “they both played parts in our youngest sibling's creation.”

Again, not exactly something Kjalarr had room to talk about, really. As if on cue, his thoughts flashed to the mysterious woman he shared intimacy with during her heat season — the one he knew only as Freyja. “Have you ever known the call of a woman's body when she is heat?” Kjalarr asked, following his own trail of thoughts not bothering to explain what might have come across as a random question. “It is unlike anything I have ever known before and impossible to fight the instincts it awakens within you.” He spoke from experience, though (luckily!) he was unable to produce children during his time with Freyja and still was unable to but soon he would hit that milestone in his life and he knew that he would have to be more careful.

I figure we can keep this up what one more round to get it to ten so you can use it for trades if you need? :)

Whittier had to fight to not roll his eyes at his brother's comment. He really wasn't sure what enmity was to be honest, but he sensed it was something he couldn't have cared less about. He sighed heavily and looked away. There was a rock by his paws that he decided had become completely fascinating, up until Kjalarr mentioned that he didn't either. That did make him feel like he was being a little less condescending, but still.

He was surprised to know that Scimitar had admitted his discretions to Kjalarr. Anger rose hot in his chest as he was given the story from this other point of view, abated only slightly at some comments and aided to rise further by others. Mostly, he was irritated by his brother's refusal to take sides when it was obvious who was more in the right. Whit did not completely absolve Bazi of guilt in his heart, but he had always found it easier to be angry with Scimitar. Perhaps that was the whole reason he was on his mother's side, but Whittier rejected any introspection that would make it clearer why he felt the way he did.

Kjalarr's next question completely threw the yearling off of whatever track he'd been on. He looked quickly at his brother, blinking in surprise. The call of a woman's body? Like.. He looked sharply away and gave a nonchalant shrug for reasons he could not explain. His complete inexperience in this area made him feel awkward, and to discuss it with someone he mentally knew he should be on the same level with, but innately knew he was inferior to, simply exacerbated his discomfort.

"Let's just keep patrolling," Whit mumbled, not wanting to hear more about the clearly abundant conquests his far more handsome brother had had. All thoughts of their parents had subsided in lieu of this embarassment, and he was very much now thinking that it had been better before they'd talked.

Pasha had probably had lots of girls too...

Damnit.

Kjalarr's brows furrowed as he blinked at Whittier trying to make sense of his brother's expression, realizing too late that his question might have sounded like he was bragging. That hadn't been what Kjalarr had been doing (or at least, not what he'd intended) he had simply had wanted to know if Whittier could understand what had prompted Scimitar to procreate with Bazi even after they'd split. Kjalarr knew the temptation and in this way was able to sympathize purely out of understanding. Of course, there had been massive differences. The woman Kjalarr only knew as Freyja had been a stranger not Kja's estranged ex wife and Kjalarr was not yet capable of producing children...or rather hadn't been at the time. He wasn't sure exactly when that ...changed but he'd had no reason to test it and thus was not an unexpected father.

“Whit,” Kjalarr called softly after his brother when Whittier mumbled about continuing their patrol. “I wasn't bragging. I was just...I was communicating that I kind of understood. I mean there are monumental differences, of course, and I'm not saying it was right of Dad but I...well-” Now Kjalarr was starting to feel awkward and wishing that he'd never said anything. “If it makes you feel any better she didn't seem very pleased after it.” Given Kjalarr's inexperience with it, it made sense. Kjalarr let out an awkward, embarrassed laugh. He just liked to pretend he was good at everything but the truth was that he wasn't any sort of male love god or anything. He had just been a regular, over eager teenage boy back then. Kjalarr snickered at himself, ducking his head low for a moment as he moved to bump his shoulder against Whittier's providing his brother let him. “It's no wonder she never sought me out after it.” Kjalarr shrugged buoyantly, hoping his failure might ease some of Whittier's feelings.

Whether Kjalarr's efforts were successful or not he didn't know but he'd needed to try, at least; but his brother's silence continued and eventually Kjalarr ceased trying to breach it, instead finishing off the patrol in silence.