... No one lined up for me. Had... too much to do. Stop the Silver Bullet. Take down the Endron facilities along its line. Visit the site where the Croatan gave their lives to Storm-Eater... see what wisdom they have to offer their older brother... free the garou Endron have in their facilities, cleanse them.
[ his head lowers, the failure palpable as he clings tighter to her finger with his own now. sheòid. the word has something strong about it, the fact that she's called him it feels... comforting almost. he curls closer in still, the way wolves wish to twine themselves around one another. he looks at ren, how the firelight casts shadows on her cheeks from her lashes, the meaningful depth of her eyes. there's a word for it, with someone who sees through you, the words are incomprehensible. ]
There's someone I wanted back home... clever, stupid mouth. Stag's own. Not a prince, but sure acted like he was one. [ fianna. he can see him in the back of his mind, behind his eyelids—cheeky smile, his face in the crowd when he'd ridden that stupid mechanical bull, his claws glinting silver in the moon as he'd embraced his crinos form for once and struck out with power. shepherd-who-walks-with-his-flock. he lowers his head. ] ... but that doesn't help me now, does it?
[ his other hand slides forward and a moment of hesitance before he presses forward just to... bump their foreheads together softly. they're already close, the warmth is just starting to gather more now. the fire is drying him out and he's grateful, even more grateful that he isn't alone. ren has a strength in her that all ahroun have, but her heart is showing, swelling, and wayland wishes he could wrap fingers around it and soothe whatever ache it might have. all ahroun ache in some way or another—reliable warriors, protectors, armor and klaive. ]
Guess I'm free in this way too... but s'pose bringing us here feels like a bit of a nudge, doesn't it?
[ does he want to? no. he doesn't feel ready. but he doesn't have much choice here anymore, does he?
if he wants to make it here, sacrifices must be made. but is it truly sacrifice if it's indulgence? if it's... you know. does he get to call it a sacrifice or a loss? he glances down between them, a flush forming on his face again. his forehead is warm where it's pressed up against ren's, and growing warmer by the second. more fingers join the first, until they are palm to palm, wayland's fingers trailing slowly, curiously.
of everyone here, wayland feels a quiet, blood-bred trust bridged between them. they are here now, the only ones that they know, and he gets what the universe is trying to tell him. but this is not... he isn't unhappy. he's calm. he is as calm as he needs to be, but the edge of his voice trembles. ]
Did you...? [ he trails off quietly, uncertain if he ought to finish. ]
no subject
... No one lined up for me. Had... too much to do. Stop the Silver Bullet. Take down the Endron facilities along its line. Visit the site where the Croatan gave their lives to Storm-Eater... see what wisdom they have to offer their older brother... free the garou Endron have in their facilities, cleanse them.
[ his head lowers, the failure palpable as he clings tighter to her finger with his own now. sheòid. the word has something strong about it, the fact that she's called him it feels... comforting almost. he curls closer in still, the way wolves wish to twine themselves around one another. he looks at ren, how the firelight casts shadows on her cheeks from her lashes, the meaningful depth of her eyes. there's a word for it, with someone who sees through you, the words are incomprehensible. ]
There's someone I wanted back home... clever, stupid mouth. Stag's own. Not a prince, but sure acted like he was one. [ fianna. he can see him in the back of his mind, behind his eyelids—cheeky smile, his face in the crowd when he'd ridden that stupid mechanical bull, his claws glinting silver in the moon as he'd embraced his crinos form for once and struck out with power. shepherd-who-walks-with-his-flock. he lowers his head. ] ... but that doesn't help me now, does it?
[ his other hand slides forward and a moment of hesitance before he presses forward just to... bump their foreheads together softly. they're already close, the warmth is just starting to gather more now. the fire is drying him out and he's grateful, even more grateful that he isn't alone. ren has a strength in her that all ahroun have, but her heart is showing, swelling, and wayland wishes he could wrap fingers around it and soothe whatever ache it might have. all ahroun ache in some way or another—reliable warriors, protectors, armor and klaive. ]
Guess I'm free in this way too... but s'pose bringing us here feels like a bit of a nudge, doesn't it?
[ does he want to? no. he doesn't feel ready. but he doesn't have much choice here anymore, does he?
if he wants to make it here, sacrifices must be made. but is it truly sacrifice if it's indulgence? if it's... you know. does he get to call it a sacrifice or a loss? he glances down between them, a flush forming on his face again. his forehead is warm where it's pressed up against ren's, and growing warmer by the second. more fingers join the first, until they are palm to palm, wayland's fingers trailing slowly, curiously.
of everyone here, wayland feels a quiet, blood-bred trust bridged between them. they are here now, the only ones that they know, and he gets what the universe is trying to tell him. but this is not... he isn't unhappy. he's calm. he is as calm as he needs to be, but the edge of his voice trembles. ]
Did you...? [ he trails off quietly, uncertain if he ought to finish. ]