01-07-2017, 01:06 PM
Ruan
A light smirk was his silent answer to Eight's dismissal of the honorific. This was becoming a tradition of a sort for them: Ruan calls him King and Eight refuses it. Each time they met again, it seemed.
Belatedly, Ruan realized the magician had yet to have his magic restored as he stated that he'd followed Ruan's scent to find him. It explained the odd sense of disconnect, and yet how very solid and real Eight appeared. Often, he'd seen him manifest from mists and shadows, though here he stood as any other man. He would have his own reasons for not going for his magic, Ruan certainly hadn't chosen the return of his own, and so he didn't ask about it.
It brought the memory back, and he shut it down before it could do more than make him hyper-aware of the scars at his shoulders. The demon had violently ripped the wings from him, taken them as his own, and forced Ruan's magic back on him as.. payment. A trade he'd never have chosen for himself. But there were more important things to think of just then.
"I’ve come to see if you had word from Kilter. I have not seen him - before or after my absence. I know you had always had eyes on him. I’m wondering now if that still holds true."
Ruan's heart chilled and hardened painfully. Shame forced his eyes away from that powerful gaze. He had failed the boy, failed the once-king. It was true, he'd always had an eye on the boy however odd it may have been. He'd never had children of his own and Kilter had unintentionally wedged himself deep in the wolf's heart as though he had sired him. It was unnatural perhaps, and yet had felt so right.
He shook his head, swallowing his disappointment in himself.
I was unable to track him, he admitted softly. Failure. The snow had fallen so quickly, so heavily. Kilter's scent was long gone. He didn't say that each time he passed through the woods he still analyzed the smells so hungrily for the one he could never find. Each time he wandered to the field and searched the faces for the eyes with wisdom beyond his years. Who would that sullen little boy be... if he'd even survived the winter on his own.
I fear he's dead. Stated so simply, and yet crushed his heart with the weight of it. But he wouldn't give the magician reason to hope for the impossible. That burden would be Ruan's.
Belatedly, Ruan realized the magician had yet to have his magic restored as he stated that he'd followed Ruan's scent to find him. It explained the odd sense of disconnect, and yet how very solid and real Eight appeared. Often, he'd seen him manifest from mists and shadows, though here he stood as any other man. He would have his own reasons for not going for his magic, Ruan certainly hadn't chosen the return of his own, and so he didn't ask about it.
It brought the memory back, and he shut it down before it could do more than make him hyper-aware of the scars at his shoulders. The demon had violently ripped the wings from him, taken them as his own, and forced Ruan's magic back on him as.. payment. A trade he'd never have chosen for himself. But there were more important things to think of just then.
"I’ve come to see if you had word from Kilter. I have not seen him - before or after my absence. I know you had always had eyes on him. I’m wondering now if that still holds true."
Ruan's heart chilled and hardened painfully. Shame forced his eyes away from that powerful gaze. He had failed the boy, failed the once-king. It was true, he'd always had an eye on the boy however odd it may have been. He'd never had children of his own and Kilter had unintentionally wedged himself deep in the wolf's heart as though he had sired him. It was unnatural perhaps, and yet had felt so right.
He shook his head, swallowing his disappointment in himself.
I was unable to track him, he admitted softly. Failure. The snow had fallen so quickly, so heavily. Kilter's scent was long gone. He didn't say that each time he passed through the woods he still analyzed the smells so hungrily for the one he could never find. Each time he wandered to the field and searched the faces for the eyes with wisdom beyond his years. Who would that sullen little boy be... if he'd even survived the winter on his own.
I fear he's dead. Stated so simply, and yet crushed his heart with the weight of it. But he wouldn't give the magician reason to hope for the impossible. That burden would be Ruan's.
