Blackfeather Woods Bite me, banana man

For @Abraxas :p futuredated to whenever Astrid's wounds would've healed a bit.

Astrid felt great. Everything was absolutely perfect. All she could think of was her brother, how his teeth would put holes in her that bled the crimson she liked seeing both on herself and on others. She wanted him desperately - more than a sibling should want the other. She was young, and yet so adult like most of the spiderlings that grew up without a stable, loving family. Her mother? She had not spoken to her for a while. She had scented her father around, but had never found the will to care what he was doing anyway. They did not bother her, she did not bother them. Whether they had noticed her scarred shoulder - or the scars hidden underneath Atshen's fur was also a mystery to her.

But that did not matter. Nothing mattered except her and Atshen. She sat in the middle of Redgrove, her behind numb from the snow that was much thicker here. She did not care.

He grew, the boy, quickly now, into a face that was brooding and handsome, a frame, while not the tallest nor the shortest, ought to be well built one day. his silence persisted through all these changes, though he broke it more often,  now. He was a shadow in the wood, hardly seen and yet all too good at watching, listening, learning. 

his paws brought him to Redgrove, now; the figure of his snow-kissed sister he noted quickly. yet he did not halt his advance, instead moving to the edges of the Grove till his paws rested in the soft snow and dark red that was the wilted flowers of the once glorious roses. in winter, the thorns that lay beneath the beauty were all too visible, making it easy to avoid them. his gaze lifted to his sister's, silent and stoic as simply he watched.

Her brothers, while all of them were unique in their own way, there was one thing they had in common; they were awfully quiet most of the time. Atshen talked only few words, Keelut could never stop giggling which gave him little time to actually say something and her little brother barely talked at all. Astrid often wondered if it was her that was in the wrong, but why did the grown-ups talk so much then? Damien always talked a lot... But he did not matter anymore. He was gone. As gone as the stars in the sky - but Astrid knew they would return.

One ear, the one closest to the advancing form of her youngest brother, twitched and perked while her muzzle kept facing nothing in particular. Why did her brothers feel the need to watch her as if she were the crazy one? Still, she did not like being alone anymore and was glad for Abraxas' silent presence. She wondered.

Abraxas? She called his name, her voice not as squeaky as a month ago but still feminine. She motioned for him to come closer if he wanted, and if he did not, she would later come to him. She needed to know. 

At the call of his name, he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement that yes, it was him. he paused a moment after her invitation to tread closer, yet soon his paws slipped into motion and he stood a short distance from her, ice-blue gaze stoic. the woods had quiet, recently. he won dredge at its reason, perhaps having something to do with the coming of winter. or the birth if the tiny, weak children that had come from Potema. 

"sister " he greeted evenly,  neither warmly nor coldly. his voice was soft, but amongst the snow-silence it seemed louder than it ought to have.

She managed to smile at her youngest brother. He had grown so much - he was not as helpless as he used to be. All of them were growing into very pretty and handsome wolfs, and that made her both happy and sad. What came after becoming an adult? Ultimately death, she knew, but what else? Love she had already found twice, and friendship she could hardly shape in a life that was almost only filled with her family. She watched her brother move toward her, yet he did not sit.

So he can talk. It was a rather late discovery, but a victory all the same. The softness of his voice was so unlike hers that it made her wonder if they were even really related. She smiled again. Kimigguk. She spoke, rather softly, as she showed her right shoulder to him. The blood was washed off, yet the bite marks of their oldest brother remained. She loved them, really, and was sort of disappointed  that the ones on her chest barely showed.

Her soft words and movement had him look interestedly at the bite marks on her shoulder, which oddly seemed to be revered by her. Smoothly, he leaned forward, nudging her shoulder and feeling the roughness of healing skin beneath his muzzle. He looked up to her, and his gaze carried a stark question, wondering if there was someone he might have to gain vengeance on. Only the siblings were allowed to hate one another, harm each other. Though she did not seem to be particularly upset, so perhaps a sibling it had been.

Her smile never softening, she looked at him. He seemed interested, which was a whole achievement for the little girl, and soon she felt a stinging pain as he touched it. Instead of frowning, as a normal wolf would have done, she merely sat there with her eyes closed. Heavenly it felt, and she found herself surprised when he stopped. Their gazes met, and being his older sister, she could read his face more so than she could his words.

Atshen. She answered with a grin. Wonderful, aren't they? She questioned, finding it the most normal thing to say in their situation. 

How interesting. It seemed that Atshen had been the culprit, which frankly was no surprise and did not interest the boy. Yet the latter that she had said had him pause, and look to her emotionlessly. She liked them? The wounds, and by extension, the pain? Slowly, he moved near and placed his fangs over her shoulder, a small growl leaking from his maw. It was not a sound of anger, but one of question. Should she show any signs of agreement, slowly would he bite down, wanting to discover exactly if and why she held such an admiration for the bite marks. And if so, how exactly he could use that information to his advantage.

Unlike their oldest brother, Abraxas did not seem to care about what kind of weird things she said. With one look he said enough - he was not phased by her admiration for her scars and the pain they brought. Instead, he moved closer, and Astrid let him. He was her brother, he would not kill her nor touch her inappropriately. Her brothers were the only ones allowed so close.

She felt his fangs on her skin, a touch that was so sudden and slightly familiar that it made her breath in between her teeth as her eyes closed. She did not growl like him, did not even whimper but instead placed her muzzle near his neck for a soft stroke of some sort. It was the closest to a hug they had been, and also the closest Abraxas ever was to earning Astrid's respect and slight admiration. 

what, exactly, was she doing.
to the boy, affection was a forge in notion. There was respect. There was fear. But the oddness, the tenderness that his spitfire of a sister expressed now was the oddest thing the boy had encountered. He was unease, though he hid it, and of half a mind to leave her. But his curiousity, the oddness that could become leverage should he employ it right, the affection that came from pain, had him abruptly clamp down his jaw with brutal quickness, wondering exactly what this unsettling oddness was. And that it may be a wise plan to leave rather quickly should this result poorly.

The affection she showed to Abraxas alone was new for her as well. Never before had she had the urge to touch someone like this, but it felt... nice. It was as if this was safer than just sitting next to each other, and yet there was not even a threat. It was just them and the redgrove on which she led her younger brother explore her shoulder the way he wanted. Even his breath on her skin was enough to send shivers down her spine, and it showed in her heavy yet relaxed breathing.

In what seemed like a flash did the pain in her shoulder return - less ferocious as with Atshen but still Godlike and heavenly. A moan escaped her, even if she had wanted to control it it would not have made a difference. How come she had to ask to be hurt by Atshen, and yet that her younger brother understood so easily? Reason and logic were thrown out of the window as she sat there, her brother's teeth deep in her flesh and the scent of blood heavy in the air. Her scarred skin had become fragile, and so going through it had not been hard for the other.