[ P ] How queer everything is to-day

blue black petals,
lightly crushed

He wasn't supposed to be here, that he knew. It was the kind of forest crawling with soldiers of all manner and proportion. Adamh's dogs—that's what his clan called them. Dogs that would sit, shake, and roll over at the king's command. To protect... what? To Valois, there wasn't much left protecting. He saw Rionnach as a thin, wiry cage that let the cold air in just as well as the monsters. All it served to do was keep the victims trapped inside. Victims that had been born into bad luck—then and forever.

Bad luck. Valois tapped lounged along a low-hanging branch that was just wide enough to hold him while he laid on one hip. His tail dangled over and brushed the fallen pine nettles while his muzzle rested between his paws. Dead mother. He felt a sharp pang in his chest as he looked up at the sky, its color bright and beautiful as her eyes had been. Around him, the birdsong was as clear as her voice before she'd lost it. "Check." His teeth grit briefly before he looked down at the ground beneath him. Shitty siblings. Roughly, he dragged his paw pads against the rigid bark beneath him. "Check."

Evil step mother? ... "Check."
Absent father? ... "Check."
Fuck all for friends...? "Checkity check, check, check."

Granted, the latter was more his fault.

At the sound of paw steps, he felt a wry smile slide over his lips. He felt the need to get into trouble... to throw his weight around even if it ended up with him getting his head bashed in against the tree trunk. It was this rebellious fire that kept him warm despite the desolation and bitterness of the past—a past that was nearly 24 long months of disappointment after disappointment.

At least he could control each punch he threw in this kind of fight.

And so he rolled his shoulders and readied himself for the wolf that would appear—and maybe a night spent in a jail cell. At least then he wouldn't have to go home.

template by bean

@Ardis

Ardis

Step step step step.

He moves slowly, and yet he moves with purpose. The careful, measured steps of a soldier, evenly paced, step by step, allowing nothing to divert him from his designated route. Alas, it means he has time to dwell, for there is nothing to stop his mind from wandering. And wander it does. To home-- he does not quite have one. The barracks, mayhaps? But he does not feel as if that is a home--no, it is a hovel, a habitat, a place. A place to go, but not a home. The highlands? The lowlands? Nowhere there does he fit, either through blood or by body. He should have become a scholar. He should have run away, and left to study those great wonders of the world.

Step step step step.

But he did not. Instead, he let himself be shuffled and moved and manipulated and cast and lashed out at those who got too close--or those that threatened to. So where is he now? Patrolling a place that needs no patrols, simply to be away.

Step step st-- pause.

A bolt, lightning courses through him. With well-trained muscles twitching at the ready, his attention snaps in the direction of soft leaves crunched, tiny twigs snapped, and he stalks onward, making no move in hiding his intent. To his surprise, nor does the rugged young wolf that jumps out before him, ready and raring to go. But he is not a reactive man, and he smooths the bristle of his coat-- to the best of his ability, anyway-- and gazes at him with a burning gaze.

"Speak your piece, and state your business." His tone leaves little room for question, if any.

@Valois