[ P ] Brother from another mother

A formality, they had told him when he'd been escourted out of the medical bay. Just to make sure they'd done enough to be pardoned for intervening in public disruption. Of course, nothing would go wrong. Wolves with power were well known for taking an individual's pleas and circumstances into consideration. It'd be swell. He just needy to go to this locked and guarded room by the courthouse to wait out some sentencings until the judge could deliberate his predicament. Perfect. Belfast sighed as he was brought into an old, crumbling building that looked none too disimilar from all of the others. Once inside, he saw that it was bare. From the other side of the wall, he heard the muffled sounds of chatter an a gavel's clang against a podium. With each muted THUNK, he flinched. Hopefully he'd avoid the stands. If he didn't, he hoped that sandstone soldier would turn up and vouch for him. ... "Understood," he mumbled softly as a barred door was open and he was ushered in with another wolf, presumably a sympathizer as well. At first, Bel didn't pay much attention. He kept his head down and entered without any fuss, not wanting to inspire any dislike in the soldiers watching them. When he'd settled himself, he looked up—and balked. The man looked identical to his father. Fucking identical. Only his face wasn't a tragic mess and—and there were some minor differences too at second glance. Still. "What the..." fuck? “my sin, my soul.”

STOCK ➤Dawnthieves CODE.ART➤ amphi

@Balfour

Once the brawling had died down, Balfour had been dragged from the streets to be looked over by a medic. The boy explained what happened as the medic looked him over, and once the medic was done Balfour thought he might have heard the wolf mutter something about 'dramatic kids', and agreed wholeheartedly -- that entire thing was quite dramatic. The DeArc thanked the medic and was about to head on his merry when when he was stopped by a guard. Apparently, he wasn't free to go. No amount of convincing changed the guard's mind as a group of them led the boy to a locked-up room with another soul.

They were put in, and the door closed behind them before Balfour could even think.

He stood there, looking at the door with a frown. The thought did cross his mind that perhaps they had figured out his connection with the Thieve's Guild, that, somehow, they were going to charge him with... any number of crimes he had committed.

"What the..." the voice drew Balfour's attention away from the door and onto the man, who he had forgotten about until just this moment.

"Oh, hey," Balfour said, readopting his characteristic grin. "You get caught up in the chaos too?" he said, sitting down (he figured they'd be here for a while). "Do you know why we're here? Are you think the Thieve's Guild too?"

table ; bunny - - art ; volinfer

An easy grin slid over the stranger's maw and conspiratorial amusement warmed the young man's gaze. He was the perfect picture of a debonair pirate, at ease despite his current predicament of being in a holding cell. When he spoke, his voice held a lilt to it that Baol's never had and yet Belfast could not help but stare, unable to comprehend the overwhelming sense of knowing this wolf. But he didn't know him. That objective fact sent alarm bells ringing in his head, their cacaphony so loud that he barely registered the man's questions. Belfast's pulse began to quicken. His stomach constricted just as it had when he had happened upon Brynn. Now, he wondered if she had just been a mirage—she hadn't come around again and, in truth, hadn't remembered him at all. Her demeanor and name had been the same but he had been a stranger to her, not the child she had cared for whilst her sister wasted away on poppies. Was it the same here? Was this man some figment of Belfast's imagination, dredged up by his desperation for the family he should have had? A chocolate ear flicked at the mention of thieves' guild. That was enough for his brow to furrow—who in their right mind brought that up? Especially from a cell? “Shh—do you want to be held here permanently?” Despite himself, his tone was harsher than he had intended. His brow then creased with strain and he stepped past the wolf to sit on the ground and contemplate their predicament more deeply. ... ... No matter how much he mulled this all over, he couldn't find an answer that made sense short of letting the similarities go. Try as he might, however, he couldn't bring himself to. So he went for an uncharacteristic directness: “Does the name Baol DeArc mean anything to you?” “my sin, my soul.”

STOCK ➤Dawnthieves CODE.ART➤ amphi

@Balfour