"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
It is exceedingly difficult to find someone when you have little to go on but a name and a face. Something he is very rapidly discovering. He had spent so long lingering in the nothingness in between, his shadows his only friend and constant companion, that he’d never needed to worry about finding things before. It had always been easy, when it was just himself.
But life, it seems, refuses to be denied. Wantonly it had dragged him back into the world of light, giving him family and friend, all the things he had missed so much but had refused to peer too closely at. This time it would not release him so easily. This time he could not pretend he had nothing to leave behind. And so he gives in, allowing life to sweep him from the calm and steady of his still pond into the wild and tumultuous river that that tosses them about like flotsam.
He struggles though, still not quite understanding how they make it appear so easy. He had made promises, and it seems not all those promises had been as easy to fulfill as they had been to spill from his lips. But beneath the eerie exterior and guise of a devilish creature beats the heart of the boy he had always been. The boy who knows faith and loyalty and love. It is that heart which refuses to allow him to give up, to cede to the impossibility of his self-imposed task.
He had seen the rest of them through, and this is the only one remaining.
It is by pure luck that he stumbles through the correct shadow. That his golden eyes catch on the dusky sunset color of the stallion he had long been seeking. It takes him a moment to register the color, the face, to piece together the memory. The fatigue does not help, the one that seems to slow mind and muscle and shadow alike. But if there is any true familial trait he had inherited, it is that of great tenacity. The one that absolutely refuses to allow him to give in beneath the weakness.
Stepping through the shadow, he appears directly before the mulberry stallion, golden eyes warily fixed upon the mage. “Woolf?” he asks softly. He thinks there cannot be many that would look like him, but it does not pay to be uncertain.
bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze if you must drink of me, take of me what you please
The first thing that he thinks is that he is far too easy to find.
The second is less of a fully formed thought and more of a heavy sigh.
He feels the creature creeping up to him, moving through the darkness like his own home, the shadows clinging to every inch of himself as if he was a part of them—and, in a way, Woolf supposes that he is.
He angles his mulberry head toward the sound of the stallion moving toward him through the shadow, his golden eyes peering out toward him. Woolf grits his teeth, emerald eyes narrowing on him before he just takes a deep breath. “I suppose that it’s time.” He had promised his half-sister, after all, that he would be available should she need him and he can feel even now—at least now that he is concentrating on it—that it is long past the time when one would consider her in need. So he just nods his head at the other.
“Let’s not bother to waste any breath.” He steps forward, the motion causing the barest hint of dust to rise from his coat and plume into the air around him. “You came to summon me because Heartfire needs me. I said I would so I won’t go back on my word now.” One corner of his mouth quirks slightly.
If only the boy knew just how willing Woolf was to go back on his word.
Still, he rolls his shoulder and gestures before him.
“So take me to her so I can do what I can to help.”
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
For a moment, Ether merely stares at the stallion before him. Were it not for the eerie, unblinking yellow of his gaze, he might have been just another shadow. Silent and intangible and entirely unnoticeable. Even when he finally stirs he makes no sound beneath the weight of his own body. The perfect predator, if he’d ever had the inclination.
Perhaps fortunately, he hasn’t the inclination. His heart is still too good and pure for such things to settle in his thoughts.
He isn’t entirely naive, however. He has seen enough of the world to know how much can hide behind a benign smile and pretty words. If he hadn’t been siblings with Heartfire, perhaps he might have held a less cynical view of the world. But with her, it is impossible not to see and understand at least some of what lies beneath the belly of the beast. And he thinks Woolf is too swift to agree, too easy and slick.
But then, he is not the one he had made a deal with. He wouldn’t pretend to understand his sister. Nor would he doubt her ability when it came to handling these affairs. No doubt she understands very well the nature of the man who she had tasked Ether to find so many weeks ago now.
It’s odd though. They are siblings, but one might never guess it. Ether would’ve gladly called him brother, but he gets the distinct sense Woolf would not do the same. Unless he could be of use to him, he thinks. Then he might deign to call it so. Still, it’s odd. A blood mage who doesn’t even bother to know his own blood.
Without a word, he steps back. It takes only a thought to bend the shadows to his whim. His illness impedes him, and they seem stiff, but still they obey. Until a portal beckons. His yellow gaze settles on his kin, inscrutable as they consider him. The faint sound of waves can be heard, gulls screaming and the scent of salt telling them Nerine waits on the other side.
