Stavanger Bay and every minute gets longer

Open for anyone; perhaps someone who can tell him that Verrine is gone? No obligation to match rambly length.

From the coast, he rediscovered that at sunset it seemed as though the sun submitted itself to the ocean's mercy. The water shifted in color throughout this event, from an opaque blue to a dark sapphire laden with green shards. Ultimately it faded into a blackness that didn't seem rightly named; an emptiness that Mordecai wasn't sure what to make as he pressed along the loam between grassy grounds and sweeping shore. After what had been something of a confusing venture eastward along the river past the plateau, he had backtracked with mixed emotions of the spring to come.

It had come, or at least it was showing fair signs of making a rebound like no other. He welcomed this, beckoned it on like so many others. But it brought him to a crossroads that he knew not whether to make heads or tails of. He had told Dante he would stay through until the spring, but it felt as though his contributions were far too few for the graciousness of his friend. A friend who by all means extended an offer knowing that Mordecai would eventually turn tail. Perhaps it would be later into the spring, he thought, instead hinging the concerns elsewhere and allowing them to lapse for a time.

The Bay turned up ahead of him in its glory, from the cliffsides that churned upward from the sea of forestry much like a leviathan come to capsize a vessel. He knew it from another angle, where it was shielded from the trees. He also would have recognized it from the south as well, as the cliffsides and the ruddy forestry had been his turning point inward to the wilderness, to the full extent of the Wilds. The Bay had been his unknown turning point in a web of history and prose writ. It was also home to his brother and children and the budding desire to seek them out was nurtured from ember to flame once more.

He paused well from their markers to observe silently for several minutes. It was quiet, but whether or not it was void of watching eyes and stalking scouts was unknown over the din of the ocean. Yet as he raised his muzzle skyward and called for Verrine, he was certain he would be heard. Someone would hear him, if not his younger sibling then someone who would come out to find him.

murder by death — it will never die

After his tussle with the dog in Dawnlark Plains, Charon was still recovering from the wounds it had caused in his neck. The wounds had been treated, for they had been infected when Charon had finally found his way home, and now they were finally clean and beginning to scab over properly. The scabbing hurt when he walked, but at least the wounds were healing and they would probably heal just fine, leaving no scars in the long run, except for the mental ones of the image of the dog's clicking teeth so close to his face. Charon was ashamed for leaving his saviour behind, but he spoke of this to one; he didn't tell them about the wolf that had tried to save him. He instead turned it into a heroic story about his own bravery, as he always did, even if this one was a bit heavier on his heart than the others.

It was strange to hear someone howl for a wolf that meant so much and, at the same time, so little to Charon. He'd made up many heroic stories about his father's epicness, but at the same time, Verrine was a wolf that Charon didn't really know at all. He had hazy memories, but that was all.

Yet curiosity beckoned Charon to the borders that day, for there was someone there who did know this mysterious father that was not much more than a name to Charon these days. There was a deep longing in the boy to find out more, and so, for the first time since he had returned home, the boy trotted to Stavanger Bay's borders, where he soon saw a wolf appear.

Charon made himself tall, because he knew he needed to impress the stranger at the borders (and perhaps partially out of fear after the things he had seen on the road, in case the stranger was hostile). He held his head and tail high upon his approach, though it was evident he did not intend to attack the other wolf. "What do you know about Verrine?" asked Charon boldly while he stared at the stranger. Though he had the height of an adult wolf, it was evident in everything else about the 5,5 month old youth that he was still very much an adolescent and nowhere near an adult just yet.

Sorry if this is a bit disjointed in comparison to my last post. Internet keeps going out, which disrupts Spotify, which means I've been dealing with hearing my neighbors fight left and right... D:

Dispatched from the nearby woodland came a freckled figure. From the look of him, Mordecai would have wagered that he was still young, though how young it was hard to say. He thought of him as a yearling from his approach alone; the youth's regarding of Mordecai was very clear. He was inquisitive and business-like. And at the moment he spoke, he was very bold indeed; the statement almost caught Mordecai off-guard, as did the closer appearance of his speckled greeter. He was much younger than a yearling without the distance between them.

"I know plenty," he said at first, letting his brow furrow with wonder. "He's my brother. I told him I would come visit when spring came." Perhaps something had happened at the Bay to make them attach a precursor to all their visitors. But the tawny Ostrega did not jump to conclusions either, nor bring the questions to light that suddenly burned on his tongue. He imagined that his bold greeter would want to steer the conversation and rightfully so, Mordecai would let him.

Aw, poor you :(

The answer to Charon's demand was unexpected, even though perhaps it should not have been. Had this visitor known nothing about Verrine, he wouldn't have called for the ghost, after all. When the wolf said that Verrine was his brother, Charon's eyes widened in visible surprise. He couldn't grasp an answer right away, and his lifted tail dropped (though not consciously so) while he stood in awkward uncertainty. Many possible answers flitted through his mind — "how do I know you're not lying", "then why did he never tell us about you" and "I have an uncle? Cool!" among them — and he couldn't pick which one to say right away.

In the end, Charon picked none of them. With a bitter tone in his awkward adolescent voice he hoarsely said, "Well, you're too late, he's dead." Technically, it wasn't for sure that he was dead, but since even Ragnar and Thistle assumed Verrine to be dead, Charon thought it easiest to do so too.

There was no use clinging on to stupid childish hope that their family would one day be whole again. His mother had been ripped apart, so she would never be anywhere but between the stars, and his siblings and father were 'gone'; which probably meant they were dead, too. It was easier not to keep hoping. "Who are you and where do you live? Why didn't you visit sooner?" Charon demanded (he'd intended to ask, but somehow it came out as a demand). There was a bitter expression on his face, as though he somehow blamed this wolf for his father's disappearance and likely death. Grief was always easier to deal with when you had someone to blame.

I will survive. Perhaps. I hate my internet not wanting to work most of the time though ugh.

Suspicion mounted quite the attack; Mordecai embraced the notion that he was in front of one of Verrine's children with little wavering. The beats of silence that followed his statement and the not-so-inward struggle of surprise and growing resentment told him much of what he needed to know. Something had happened here, but just what he could not have guessed. He would not have guessed it either when the speckled youth dropped a metaphoric bombshell onto him. It broadsided him to consider, think, and even hear such words. Dead? Impossible.

Yet that spark of recognition was smothered as the youth bitterly demanded more of Mordecai. He wasn't hardly allowed the moment to process what he was being told, let alone consider the plausible truth. Mordecai let out the breath he had been unknowingly holding; he wasn't entirely sure how to handle this other than to relent and reply. "I didn't visit because of the winter," he answered, almost wanting to state that he had his own worries to handle. But those had gone out the window relatively easily when he had left the Spine. He left that answer open ended. "But my name is Mordecai, and I'm from the Plateau." And finally his relenting stopped, leaving him to return a question.

"Who are you to ask and tell me such things?"

Charon thought that it was a pretty lousy excuse that the wolf hadn't visited because of winter. Where did he live that was so far-off that he couldn't even visit his own brother? If Levi would move somewhere else, Charon would always visit him, all the time, wherever he went. When the wolf — Mordecai — said he was from the Plateau, Charon only thought it was an excuse even further. "Osprey's from the Plateau, and she visits me all the time," Charon said resentfully. Well, okay, she had visited once; the first time they had met she had only been in the Bay because she had gotten wounded. Charon conveniently left out that bit.

Finally, a question was fired back at Charon. "I'm —" For a moment he considered lying and making up a fake name, but then he decided against it. "— Charon. Ostrega." Then Charon watched his uncle's face, waiting to see if there was any sort of recognition. Did he know about his nephews and niece at all, or had it been really super duper long since he'd last visited his own brother?

Charon. Somehow the name suited the boy, but in what way Mordecai couldn't have said. It was just that sort of sensation left behind when something just seemed right. Perhaps it was truly something he would have expected his brother to name his children, or at the very least a son. But there was no flash of recognition to the name; all Mordecai had ever known was how many of them there had been. What he didn't know was what had become of the little family within the Bay, or how many of them were left.

"Osprey has less to deal with than I did," was his first rejoinder because at the time, it was true. "When you were born I had a pack to worry after, I couldn't be away for long or I would have came sooner." He had no doubt that it would only spur more questions, inevitably turning an already confusing story into a monster of a tale not easily quelled. "Where is your mother? Your siblings?" Was it possible that Charon was the only one left there? Mordecai wanted to inquire about what had happened, but did not for simple tactics on getting the boy to open up to him. It would have been relatively easy for Charon to tell him then and there to go away and turn tail. To follow him in that instance would only cause more trouble than it was worth.

Charon ignored the excuses that his uncle sent his way; he didn't care for them. He considered replying snarkily, but in the end just ignored them. It was easier than to bicker over petty things, as it wouldn't change whether or not he had been visited. Charon would normally ask about the pack that he used to take after, but his curiosity was currently quenched by his bitterness. It didn't help that he'd returned home recently from a trip that had changed a great deal about Charon and his life.

Mordecai asked for his mother and siblings, and Charon visibly hesitated whether or not he would tell. It only occured to him in that moment that Mordecai did know that he was Verrine's son. Charon looked at Mordecai with held back emotion as he slowly said, "I saw my mother get ripped to pieces by a giant bear. Thanks for reminding me." Charon had of course not been there when Julooke had been killed, but in his experience stories tended to hit home a little harder, and ensured all eyes were on you and your sad story, when you added more interesting (and usually, interesting meant sad) details.

"Kevlyn and Liyaní were taken away, they're probably dead too. It's just me and Levi now. I pretty much raised him." Normally the story of his life was great for gaining sympathy and getting attention, but somehow Charon didn't care that much for attention or approval of his long-lost uncle. He just added a couple of details, and left out others (like how Ragnar and Thistle were practically their parents, rather than Charon single-handedly raising Levi) to look cooler, but not because he wanted attention; just because he wanted to look tough and show his uncle that he'd made it even without his family's nurturing touch.

Mordecai found that like with most things, he bottled them up. Whatever response, whatever emotion wanted to well up inside of him and bubble to the surface, he quartered it off and tucked it away. In its place came a pressure of indescribable force. It too, he did not display outwardly, bar an ever-present flicker of acknowledgment in his gold eyes. If not for the deliberation behind Charon's words, he may have questioned the validity of them. But there was something in the markup of how the boy put things, something in that resentful edge of tone that told him every drop of it was true.

Decidedly, Mordecai summarized the winter as not being so good after all. Any well caring notion of how pleasant his had been was thrown directly into the nearest inferno burning into the unseen structure of some recessed area in his mind. A certain pallor found itself cast across the majority of his demeanor and of it, little doubt that it was palpable through the tension between himself and the adolescent. Mordecai offered no apology; what good would it have done? Instead he focused on the reality in front of him, probing visually and silently over the stern set countenance and frame of his nephew.

"You get into fights to protect him too?" he asked, gesturing towards the healing scatter of wounds he had spied.

Mordecai didn't really respond to the things that Charon said, not that Charon could see, anyway. It sort of frustrated him. He didn't really want his uncle's sympathy, but neither did he want... this. A glimpse of caring would have been nice.

The comment caught Charon off-guard. "What?" he queried, until he realised that Mordecai gestured at the healing wounds in his neck. "Oh... Sort of. I was attacked by a monster when I tried to get Kevlyn back a few weeks ago. Kev' was Levi's twin brother and he just looks like he feels incomplete—" Charon abruptly stopped when he realised he was starting to open up to Mordecai, because he didn't even want to tell him all about what had happened. He decided to conveniently leave out that he'd been saved by a mystery wolf who was very likely dead by now as he continued, "But I didn't find him and the monster hurt me before I could get aw—" He paused very briefly before clearing his throat and correcting, "A good chunk out of him and made him flee with his tail between his legs." He looked at Mordecai, secretly hoping to find traces of praise on his face. Surely this brave heroic story should be enough to make him proud?

Talking about something from the present seemed to be the crack that Mordecai had been looking for all along. Something that would connect them better than they were; admittedly, blood didn't seem to be enough. It was his gesture of caring, knowing he could do nothing to alleviate the pain or repair parts of the past. He listened raptly, though the story was broken up. It were as though Charon realized he was spilling the beans and losing the ruse he had worked so hard to put up. To that, Mordecai couldn't help but let a thin smile break across his stoic expression. It reminded him of himself, for however vain as it was, to change minute details on the fly.

Only they weren't really that minute. There was cause for concern that someone or something had tried to take a good chunk out of Charon himself. But for what reason, Mordecai could not imagine who would grab after — for all intensive purposes — a child. "Where did you find this monster at?" The question came easily, but it was just as safe to say that there were motives behind it. Mordecai wanted more details and that he did not hide. But what he intended to do with those details, well, that was anyone's guess. Chances were, it was mounting to not be so good.

There was a thin smile on Mordecai's face, but it was anyone's guess what he was really thinking. Charon hated that his uncle was so stoic, didn't give away much of what he was thinking or feeling. It would've been easier if they had met in a more neutral place, if they'd been able to get acquainted before Charon had found out that Mordecai was his uncle. But, as things were, that hadn't happened.

The question that followed next was weird to Charon. Why did he even care where the monster'd been? It was evident on Charon's face that he thought this a strange thing to ask after while he replied. "I dunno, in some field near a glacier. It was like thr— four times my size and had short hair with lots of scars and red laser eyes, and looked sort of like a mutated wolf or something. Good thing I'm super brave so I was able to fight it off." Even though Mordecai seemed unresponsive to his heroic stories, Charon couldn't help himself.

Even though he didn't want to admit it, Charon was growing curious about Mordecai and through his bitterness shone his curiosity. "Do you have a mate and pups too?"

The creature that Charon described did not take much of a shape in Mordecai's mind. A mutated wolf? He thought back briefly upon the trolls that Osprey had mentioned, but came to no conclusion. It was a tempting occurence to him then to investigate the source of where this had all gone down, but he was doubtful he could ever find the exact locale. In spite of being a proficient tracker and a hunter of sorts, Mordecai had to wager that the attack had happened some time ago. Long before he was into the picture and certainly long enough that Charon had made the trek back.

On the second go around though, Charon's commentary of being brave stuck out to him. The boy wanted the acknowledgment that he was not perceptive enough to give and for a moment, Mordecai knew he was torn between acknowledging it and letting it go. He didn't want to encourage him to simply go looking for trouble. Yet, by not acknowledging it, wouldn't that have possibly done the same? He opted for the better of two evils. "I would say that's pretty brave of you. I hope you didn't chase it off all alone though." If anything, Mordecai hoped he had someone with him. A friend, even his brother. Something to make it seem as though the odds were unfavorable for whatever had come upon Charon.

It was the question after that served as a relief from his awkward comment on his brave relation. This question, Mordecai could answer easily. "And no, I don't have a mate. Or kids. I've never settled down, like others." He almost spoke the line like your father but caught himself before the faux pas hit the open air. This time, that thought pierced him keenly.

When Mordecai finally said that he was brave, Charon was glad at first as he'd been after a little praise all along. However, he took the second thing his uncle said as an insult and felt caught out on his lie of being alone. It was almost as if his uncle knew that he hadn't been alone in defeating the monstrous dog, even though he had just said he was. "Well, I did chase it off alone," Charon said with a snarky tone in his voice. He hoped that would be the end of that discussion, as he had no desire to pursue it further. He hoped that Mordecai would just take his word for it this time. He had no idea that Mordecai was actually trying to make a positive remark about Charon chasing off the monster this time, and wasn't accusing him of anything.

The fact that Mordecai had no mate or children only made it more unbelievable to Charon that he had other obligations that made it unable for him to visit the Bay and his nephews sooner. "Oh," Charon just said.

Usually Charon had lots and lots to talk about, but now he found himself falling into an awkward silence, not knowing what to say to his long-lost uncle. "Is there more family I don't know about?" he asked eventually. Maybe some of his other relatives were a bit more socially adept. Maybe there were more brothers - or sisters. And maybe his mother had siblings that were still in the area, too.

lmfao i love how awkward this thread really is. typical ostregas, they don't know what to do with each other when they do encounter one another...

Message received; the topic may as well have plummeted off the radar altogether. And quickly, Mordecai was finding that he did not know what to do with the teen when it came to conversation. Truthfully when it came to the matters of conversation, Mordecai did not have experience with many younger individuals. Even his choice of companions in travel were of the experienced sort. He was aware of his fumbles and moreso, perhaps the precision in which Charon picked them his faltering.

So when the topic turned to that of family, Mordecai unconsciously sensed a foothold to take hold of. "There's lots of family, heaps of it," he stated. "There's a lot of history to our name as well… where would you like me to begin?" It seemed easier to him to let the youth pick and choose what it was that he wanted to know. To pile and heap all of that information upon him seemed crude, overwhelming. And if this was one of the last pieces of his brother that lingered about, Mordecai suddenly felt it pertinent to share whatever it was that Charon would want to know.

haha, glad i am being up to par then! i mostly know tons of things about julooke's side of the fam, obviously, less so about the ostrega side. :D

It was a strange thought, that there was lots and heaps of family out there, just waiting to be met. Charon wasn't sure how much weight he should put into it. After all, this Mordecai fellow wasn't anything special either, even though he was also an Ostrega. Maybe the rest of them were a bunch of inconsiderate asshats too.

"My mum is — uhm, was an Ostrega too, right?" asked Charon. "Were my parents, like... related?" That would be sort of weird (but Charon didn't know much about this sort of stuff yet, so for all he knew it was totally normal and there was some Ostrega cousin waiting to be wed off to him somewhere), though it made sense in Charon's mind if they both had the same last name. He wasn't sure how family trees worked; he always thought that you just picked a family name when you became a couple, because that's what Ragnar had made it sound like when he'd once asked about his heritage and family. Ragnar had never mentioned that there were many others who had the same family name, too. Man, this stuff was confusing.

You are always up to par, my dear! <3

And of all the things that Charon could have asked about, he picked the one thing that Mordecai didn't know — Julooke. Other than her name, he had never gained the opportunity to meet his brother's mate. It was a mark of instant regret, much in the way things were beginning to turn for him. It was a regret that burrowed down deep and stayed low. He hesitated, thoughtfully of course, trying to figure out how he could explain the matter of such to his nephew.

"Not in the traditional sense," he said, fumbling openly. "They weren't related by blood or anything; they didn't share a relative like you and I do. She took your father's name — Ostrega — when they settled together, and they gave that name to you and your siblings when you were born," and honestly, naming conventions escaped him anyway. Mordecai couldn't have even described where his own name came from if he had tried, let alone know which parent had come up with it.

"Does that make any sense?" He hoped it did, but the way he asked it would have conveyed clearly that he didn't know how to put it. They were related, but they weren't related. Their mateship made them related, but they weren't related by blood. It was enough to make his head go swimming briefly and left him to wonder whether or not he had ever tried to trip up his own parents with questions like that.

<3

The family thing was still sort of confusing to Charon, even with Mordecai's explanations. So... His mother had had another name and had taken on the Ostrega name later? "Why?" he asked at first, unsure why someone had to give away their name. Not that he cared much for his last name — it only denoted his relation to his brother Levi and, apparently, a bunch of vague relatives he didn't know at all, and Charon cared more for his pack, wolves with different family names, than aforementioned vague family — but Charon was ever fascinated with all the mysteries and questions in life.

"No, it's weird." Charon blinked and looked puzzled while he tried to figure out the naming game. After giving Mordecai a brief breather, Charon started to fire his questions, spurred by curiosity, at his uncle again: "So does that mean I'm not gonna be an Ostrega if I ever get puppies? What was my mum's name? Why do I have my dad's name and not my mum's name?" Well, at least they had a subject to discuss now...

Instead of some comment about how it was interesting and he understood, Mordecai was welcomed to more questions. But he found his patience held through these because in some way, what child didn't ask after the whys and hows? Yet in a way they were one in the same for not putting a lot of stock into their surnames. Mordecai didn't go around throwing his out like it was supposed to mean anything, yet he had known others to do that. Their names became elongated and like a title, usually with arrogance to follow suit.

So honestly, he didn't have a clue how to explain the whys behind it, but still sought to make some sort of answer for the sake of curiosity. "Well, no, not exactly like that. It's a girl thing really. They take their mate's name," he tried to explain, though quick to add: "Though I suppose it could go either way. That's why you have your dad's name and not your mom's. She decided to take his name, rather than him taking hers." An unsettling expression had crawled across his name in his explanation — truly, he hadn't a clue how to address such a thing — and in it, he glossed over the lack of knowledge in regards to Julooke's name.

It seemed kind of weird that it was a 'girl thing' to give one's name away. And then it wasn't always, Mordecai went on to explain: this fact was both positive - because it seemed weird that only girls had to give their name away, even if he wasn't one - and negative - because this only further enhanced Charon's confusion about the name game.

Charon wanted to ask again what his mother's name was, but he realised in time that maybe Mordecai not addressing it was because he just didn't know, so it would be useless asking about it again. However, unable to resist the urge to be a smartass wherever he saw an opportunity, Charon snippily said, "If it isn't always, how do you know so sure my mum even took my dad's name?" Just because his own name was Ostrega, it didn't mean that his mother's had to be, right? Ragnar had said that Julooke's name was also Ostrega, Charon realised moments later, but whatever; Mordecai didn't know that, anyway.

It seemed that what had started as an awkward meeting between two long-lost relatives was now turning into a competition for Charon to try and make Mordecai feel as uncomfortable as he could. Charon barely realised that he was being unreasonable and maybe somewhat rude, but subconsciously he probably did this to get some sort of control back in this weird and uncomfortable situation. And making the other feel even less comfortable than you, well, that was still an indirect win.

So I made the mistake of opening up my apartment to bring in the nice spring air... someone is grilling onions with their meal. I can smell nothing but onions right now. This is a weird experience that I can smell the onions but not the meat they're cooking. Thanks allergies!

Charon didn't miss a beat in calling out another question, though Mordecai had yet to catch onto his drive to verbally box his uncle into a corner. And how was he so sure that Julooke had dropped her own name in favor of theirs? "I'm sure because if she hadn't, I think we would have met before. I know our family," and in a way, maybe that was a slight against the youth that hadn't had the opportunity. He wouldn't have meant it that way, but it sounded every ounce of it. Yet then again, the urge to reply to a smartass comment with a smartass answer was hard to avoid, even in the elder Ostrega.

"Look, I didn't know your mother. I wish I could fill the blanks about her that you want to know, but I don't think I can." And he regretted that he had never gotten the opportunity to meet her. Mordecai was many things, but being close to family was something that had eroded away in time. He had been gone from the majority of the Ostrega clan for years and by choice of his own design. Wanderlust had taken hold of him and now he was discovering what part of the price in that which needed pay.

aww :( you don't like the scent of onions? i usually get mouth-watery when i smell onion being cooked, hmm-mm. :3 gawd i feel so sorry for poor mordecai here *flail*

Charon did not understand what Mordecai meant; have met who before? His mother, or he? He dropped a confused "What?" and felt irritated because it made him feel dumb and inadequate and that was exactly what he was trying to avoid. He quickly saved himself by pretending like he hadn't uttered his words of non-understanding and luckily Mordecia continued on by saying he didn't know Charon's mother and could therefore not fill in any of the blanks.

"So you never even met her either, huh?" Charon said venomously. "Why are you even here talking to me, if you don't care about your family at all? Or had you hoped I woulda been killed too by the time you got here? Looks like you lucked out since me 'n Levi are still alive." Charon was rapidly going into sulky adolescent boy mode now, blaming Mordecai for everything bad in his life, as if Mordecai had secretly been hoping for bad stuff to happen so that he wouldn't have had to have social interactions with his family. Somewhere deep down, Charon knew this wasn't true, but it was convenient to have someone to spew his anger at the world onto.

Oh no, I love onions. My sinuses are just a wreck, so I'm kind of bummed that they were all I could smell of whatever someone was cooking. :C

In a way, he had been waiting for that eruption out of the pale Ostrega. That simmering notion coupled with the uneasiness Mordecai had been feeling made sense when Charon rejoined his words with a torrent of anger. They were barbed and meant to wound, which they did to a degree. But they were also met with passing venom as well; this had not been the first time Mordecai found himself accused of not caring. And once again he found himself coming to the immediate resolution that he did not want to deal with the accusations all the same. Not just this one, but any of them. He cared, however minute and distant it may have been.

Lying his ears back, he turned his gaze out towards the sea. It put Charon in a blind spot for the moment as he debated a response. Ultimately, the elder Ostrega decided that he had plenty to say but knew he would refrain. He would not argue with Charon; he barely knew him, knew it wasn't worth the wasted energy to try and come to some stable ground. Not when the boy before him was full of anger and steam and had effectively put his uncle in a corner. He wanted to contest those words, state that he cared. Instead, Mordecai understood that his presence was decidedly not wanted, and began to complete his turn away from Charon and the Bay that lingered behind him.

Ah, that sucks! D: Allergies are the worst > __< I got new nose spray and pills two weeks ago and they seem to help so far; or at least I don't have daily eye-watering attacks anymore, and am able to more or less breathe through my nose for a change. :)

My last post! Thanks, I liked this thread, even though it reduced Charon to a bleating unreasonable teenager, lol. xD We should totally have another some day! Maybe have an awkward moment when Charon visits the Plateau for Osprey or something, haha. :P

It looked almost as if he'd broken his uncle for a moment, as Mordecai stood there and did nothing. Then, after a moment of what seemed to be thinking to himself, Mordecai turned away from Charon, ready to leave. Charon was angry and he didn't feel like he was unreasonable, unable to see that nothing Mordecai would say or do now would make things right, because Charon unrightfully blamed so many things on his uncle.

"Well, fine, run away like a coward!" Charon yelled loudly. "At least you're good at that! Levi doesn't even want to see you, anyway!"

Not waiting to see if Mordecai turned and either engaged in the screaming match, or would give him the sad eyes and try to make things right, Charon turned around himself. He started to gallop back into Stavanger Bay territory, with zero intentions to tell Levi about their uncle; it was better that Levi didn't know about their disappointing family, anyway. Better if it was just the two of them.

I wished I just got the eye watering nonsense... I just get massive headaches and OTC medicines do not help at all. It sucks. And I definitely agree that these two will have to meet again sometime! <3

Charon called after him and Mordecai ignored the words thrown. It wasn't until he heard him take off himself that Mordecai gave a concerned look back, only to discover that Charon wasn't trying to push him further away from the borders. Instead, he spied out the retreating form through the sawgrass. He watched that form as it dwindled and dissolved into the surrounding scenery, and watched for moments more to see if anything else of interest poked out. Their meeting confounded him and had swiftly pulled him into an undertow that he readily wished to escape from.

But something told him that he would not escape it, that it would linger and cast a pallor like a storm on the horizon yet to come. Letting his body relax, Mordecai huffed a stiff breath from his body and pressed onward. He knew he would head back to the plateau, but for now he was content with trailing down the coastline, settling the thoughts that had been stirred up by an untimely meeting.