Know the man, know the mask; Ajatar

[Longclaw]

Don't be afraid when the night wolves cry,
feast on their bones, suck the marrow dry.

Time does a wonderful job of sculpting Ajatar. As foals they grew in leaps and bounds, hardly with enough skin to house the sprouts of bone and he knows this because it was simply the way Nature worked. The shoots of spindly legs and necks would slow around three or four and from there the golden age of their lives would settle as a comfortable fleshing-out, common and expected. Youth and beauty: these are their weapons against death and the inevitable cessation of all life. A shield and sword to firstly thrust their names into the fabric of memory so that, in their own way, their names might become immortal before the raising of the shield against old age.

He’s heard it all before. “I‘m still young,” some have said, “I still have time.”

It always makes him smile, to see it in motion. Time touches them all but her fingers have left behind a masterpiece in the makings of Ajatar. “As busy as a new initiate could hope to be.” He offers in lieu of a deeper explanation. “The west shore is mine alone to patrol now and my first mock went … well.” The shifter muses; a wispy sort of smirk alludes to the more serious-looking burn scars that now pattern his topline and left hind like some sickness. If the term well could be used to describe their puckering, raw appearance then Longclaw has hit the nail on the proverbial head.

“I wasn’t aware that you lacked for company, though.” The blue devil says, concern laced into his otherwise cheerful tone. There was nothing forcing her to stay; she knew the path to-and-from this place, she could leave anytime she saw fit. “That can be remedied easily enough. I came to tell you that I’ll be heading out for a bit - back to Nerine for a brief, personal visit.” He elaborates with the forward turn of his glimmering ears. “Perhaps you’d like to come?”

This, of course, had not been the original intention of finding her but Longclaw likes to think of himself as flexible. Besides, he’d mentioned it to her once before - circumstances have shifted since their initial meeting, there was no reason he shouldn’t return now (now that his father has been unseen for close to a year) and with a lovely companion in tow. Her presence might even serve to soften the awkward, tense moment of border-crossing that decorum now demanded of him. “Would you like that?”

Longclaw

@[Ajatar]