That Gryffen should summon him was unfathomable.

It was all the young wolf ever wanted. The timing is unexpected, though, so when the pale stallion disturbs Crevan’s idle interest at the tangle of indiscernible horseflesh, the rising Sylvian starts as if he’s been caught doing something he most certainly should not be. “Gryffen,” He manages to say, casting one ear in the direction of his King as he remains motionless beneath his leader’s touch. “Thank you.”

They grow silent. Crevan’s head tilts gently aside to catch the stare thrown at him and he returns it with a smile, much too eager to feel the rush of pleasure as Sylva’s rightful master continues to groom him with praise. He can’t speak, even though he hears every word as sharp as light cutting through crystal. “Thana is interested, in me?” He thinks numbly, “And you … too …” But the places where Gryffen’s mouth touch are left in trails of fire, and he’s drunk on the need for more - more of it, more of him.

He always had, after all. Wanted him.

“No.” His mind supplies, harsh and unforgiving. It was taboo … too much so. His heart, racing through his veins in a mad dash of testosterone and adrenaline, lurches to a halt when Gryffen finalizes his thoughts. It takes everything within him to keep from shifting, from running through these woods with mad intentions and unrestrained, savage joy at the every thought of it - Shade of Sylva.

“As you desire.” The muddy stallion breaths, chest rising and falling with quick bursts of air. “I also have something for you,” He says, nervous electricity keeping his eyes away from the face of his peer. “a girl. Name’s Celest. I found her by the River and brought her here, she might be worth looking into.” He offers in way of direct order. If Gryffen was interested, the white wraith would go to see it himself. Crevan’s duty was to inform, and he’d done just that.

Whatever the curious illusionist wished to do with the information given was all his own agenda.

revan

The feast never serves to quiet the famine. Not in Gryffen’s case, anyways.

An absent tug is more than that; meant to distract Crevan from his nonattending stare, it makes him shift. There has always been something lacking in his life, some part of himself that longed for direction and guidance but found emptiness and abandonment instead. He’d searched for it - oh, the countless hours spent looking for friendship come to mind now - but the hunt had only led him farther from the source of it and deeper into the arms of waiting danger.

His family, he feels, has cut him free. Circinae hasn’t thought to return and he’s sure there’s nothing left to say between himself and his twin. Canaan? Fah. He’d lived his whole life without him, anyways.

Here is someone ready and willing, hot to the touch with more experience beneath his belt than Crevan could ever hope to fathom. It’s hardly a struggle to tilt his head aside when the mention of his dam slips past Gryffen’s pale lips. “Not what he had expected?” Crevan thinks, brow furrowing with equal measures of curiosity, “If only the rest of them knew.” Circinae was not so much the saint everyone painted her as, especially when the spotlight drifted away.

“I wonder what you desire Crevan.” His leader murmurs, a question the muddy stallion has asked himself time and time again. His eyes curve slowly to meet the red glare; he knows what waits behind it, welcomes it even. Around them, the blazed colors of their home begin to fade away.

He blinks; Canaan stands before him while the dark lake of the Underneath rests beneath him. Fear seizes his heart and Crevan looks around to see the darkness stretch out on every side. “No, please no …” He starts, making as if to back away. The golden horse before him hisses, stretches its body to transform into the creature he’d slain but this time the image is different - Circinae’s wolf head sits atop its shoulders and snarls between bloodied teeth.

She twists, curls into herself and re-shapes until the world is tilting and Crevan feels the sensation of falling. When the spinning slows he can see Sylva around him again, but the throng of horses who’d come for Bacchanalia are pushed aside for him, making a path carved from flesh to lead him ahead. Gryffen stands at the ready, Thana as an eager wolf at his side. Together they beckon to the new Shade, both whispering invitations for pleasure and acceptance.

He takes a step forward -

The grip of Gryffen’s ivory teeth yanking harshly on his mane brings him back to reality and with the rapid blink of his dry eyes, Crevan glances around himself to make sense of their world. “I …” He starts, still feeling the foggy residue of Gryffen’s power leaking from his mind, “Is it over?” He breathes, confused and still a bit bewildered.

revan