Codex

RIP Wintersbane

i'm going to use this for a tongue over teeth db quest. ^-^

there was a buildup of restless energy in wintersbane that he didn't quite know what to do with. fire had escaped. during his watch. he hadn't thought she'd be brave enough or even know how to find her way out of the labyrinth of tunnels that led to the world outside of wolfskull cave but she'd managed it. the gamma did his best to avoid mou or screech or whatever he fancied calling himself these days ( not that wintersbane was one to talk on that front, really ) if only because the tundrian feared that he'd snap and attack the scarred, pale boy himself. if war was brewing on this horizon it was all his fault and though relmyna seemed determined to protect him wintersbane couldn't say he shared the dark priestess' point of view. as far as the vartija patriarch was concerned mou-screech wasn't worth any of this trouble. wasn't worth the blood that would be spilled because of his continued mistakes.

it grows harder for wintersbane to remain objective about it, harder for him to remain diplomatic about the situation. soon, there would be no room for diplomacy. he thinks back to his time in the dark woods as a cream-puff cub and how he'd been told if his usefulness to the dark brotherhood ran out he'd be dealt with. apropos to that, it was a good thing he was not the dark master. if there was one time he agreed with that creed it was while he stood in the middle of this shitstorm mou-screech had brought to their doorstep.

wintersbane tries not to think about it; but the strategist in him knows they must prepare for war. it's a very real possibility ...mostly because redhawks have already been to their borders and with fire having escaped he does not trust her to keep her word. nothing had gone how it'd been meant to. wintersbane still has the tywyll card to play but he grows ever doubtful that his act of kindness towards one of their children will be enough to halt a war. perhaps it wouldn't even matter anymore. gratitude was a fickle thing, after all.

the morning is chilled, foggy, frost clinging to the ground and the remaining leaves that cling stubbornly to their last vestiges of life. he hears the tell-tale sounds of a hunt nearby and his hackles bristle. it is not claimed land but it serves as a hunting ground for blackfeather woods and wintersbane is nothing if not territorial. more-so since recent events. he approaches quietly and allows the shadows and fog to welcome him into it's embrace as he studies the lone male.

wintersbane does not remain in hiding for long. it'd never really been his style ( then again he was not made for stealth ). he shrugs past through the tall grasses and locks his glacial gaze upon the ebony man in full; assessing as he lets out a low chuff to finally announce his presence. nice catch. he compliments offhandedly with a gesture of his muzzle towards the limp corpse.

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