Grief had choked the young man as he turned away and watched his mother walk to her death. The last six months had been horrible to watch, but he had been there for her in whatever way he could. He fed her, he helped her up when she needed a shoulder to lean on, and he had listened when she had a rare moment of clarity.
"I want to die where I was born," she'd said, and Waxwing had agreed without question. Now, he found himself on the edge of a pack he had once briefly aligned himself with. His parting with them had been sudden, but he had let Mahler know that Tytonidae was not well, and he was needed. Now, no trace of the man was present on the borders. But there were two scent markings that he did recognize: @Anselm and @Etienne. The three of them had been around the same age.
Early morning fog settled around him, though the sun would soon take care of that. The masked boy called for the two names he knew, hoping to learn more of what had happened in his absence. He settled onto his haunches and waited.
"I want to die where I was born," she'd said, and Waxwing had agreed without question. Now, he found himself on the edge of a pack he had once briefly aligned himself with. His parting with them had been sudden, but he had let Mahler know that Tytonidae was not well, and he was needed. Now, no trace of the man was present on the borders. But there were two scent markings that he did recognize: @Anselm and @Etienne. The three of them had been around the same age.
Early morning fog settled around him, though the sun would soon take care of that. The masked boy called for the two names he knew, hoping to learn more of what had happened in his absence. He settled onto his haunches and waited.
February 08, 2024, 06:05 PM
Day by day the Hollow grew lonelier. Anselm was about to leave its confines when a howl rose through the canopy, sending ptarmigan birds to flight.
He followed the call to its source, coming across a male about his age. At first, Anselm did not recognize him -- so his gaze flickered across him in coldness.
But then little details struck him as funny; the familiar mask, the tawny color. Waxwing.
He stood square and lifted his chin.
He followed the call to its source, coming across a male about his age. At first, Anselm did not recognize him -- so his gaze flickered across him in coldness.
But then little details struck him as funny; the familiar mask, the tawny color. Waxwing.
He stood square and lifted his chin.
Vhat do you vant?
February 09, 2024, 11:53 AM
The face of what felt like a stranger greeted him, even though Waxwing knew his name. It was Anselm.
I...Waxwing realized for a moment he didn't actually know what he wanted.
I came back. My mother, she didn't get any better. She's gone.His eyes dropped, and his shoulders slouched.
What happened? Where's Mahler and Vylla and the others? Tierra and Emmerich?
February 10, 2024, 12:03 PM
Anselm prepared to be saddled with excuses. He was sure everyone who ever abandoned his family had the best of intentions, even though they left them to die. That's how the world worked, right? Only look out for me, me, mine, mine.
Waxwing's mother was gone. Anselm parsed from body language that he meant in a more spiritual sense than physical. So what? Was he supposed to feel sorry for someone who abandoned them all? His fur prickled to be met with a quandary: show sympathy, and be manipulated into letting his guard down -- or show strength, and refuse to let his barriers be cracked.
Waxwing's mother was gone. Anselm parsed from body language that he meant in a more spiritual sense than physical. So what? Was he supposed to feel sorry for someone who abandoned them all? His fur prickled to be met with a quandary: show sympathy, and be manipulated into letting his guard down -- or show strength, and refuse to let his barriers be cracked.
They are gone.He said with a curl of his lips.
Now fuck off.
February 14, 2024, 05:22 PM
It wasn't the yearling he remembered, even though Anselm looked like himself. Waxwing's eyes widened at the show of hostility, but he deferred to him in the end. If Mahler was gone, and his son didn't want him here, Waxwing wouldn't fight him for it—figuratively or literally.
His ears flattened against his skull, and the masked wolf turned to leave the place he had once briefly called home.
His ears flattened against his skull, and the masked wolf turned to leave the place he had once briefly called home.
February 18, 2024, 09:15 PM
In the short time Waxwing had gone to better pastures, Anselm had changed. He felt this innately as the male's expression changed to wide-eyed surprise -- such a 180 from their last encounter.
Anselm would not bend. He refused to allow a single shred of remorse to get its claws in him. No - Waxwing -- and everyone else -- had abandoned him. It was their fault he was the way he was, and they had no one but themselves to blame that he would not continue to keep his heart open. After all, it was not an amusement park where anyone could get in and take him for a ride. He was done, in every sense of the word, with playing nice.
He snorted as Waxwing left, tail high and fur bristled. As an extra show of hostility, he scraped the ground with his forepaws to mark his territory, setting to a new round of border patrol to ensure the man got his message and stayed out.
Anselm would not bend. He refused to allow a single shred of remorse to get its claws in him. No - Waxwing -- and everyone else -- had abandoned him. It was their fault he was the way he was, and they had no one but themselves to blame that he would not continue to keep his heart open. After all, it was not an amusement park where anyone could get in and take him for a ride. He was done, in every sense of the word, with playing nice.
He snorted as Waxwing left, tail high and fur bristled. As an extra show of hostility, he scraped the ground with his forepaws to mark his territory, setting to a new round of border patrol to ensure the man got his message and stayed out.
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