Wolfbane;

[Wolfbane]

ALL THE DOUBT YOU'RE STANDING IN BETWEEN

This would be one of the few times Wolfbane decided to return to Loess now that the wheel of his and Lepis’ future had been set into motion. He’d come back for Gale, to say goodbye to the sleeping son and tell him everything that had transpired in the time between his passing and the eventual takeover of Taiga. In his mind he can picture the few remaining bones bleached white, nestled into the hard-packed dirt. Peaceful.

On his journey away from the gravesite is where Castile finds him, weaving among the ancient cacti. The shadow of the dragon-king’s wings blots out the sun and covers the earth for a moment, and in his silent musings Wolfbane wonders if Castile knows that a cactus won’t bloom until fully mature. Some take up to twenty, maybe thirty years. His hazel eyes are admiring one such bloom in particular when the tobiano approaches, calling his name.

He blinks. Flicks his gaze towards the other horse and marvels at how both of them have come into their own, blossoming under impossible conditions.

Much like Castile, Wolfbane’s wings are nowhere to be seen. He is only golden skin and the same familiar blue marks. Why or how his body morphs is still a gaping question in his own mind. Most physical changes are emotionally driven. He can only focus on the senses that have been enhanced since his change: a quick inhale tells him that Castile is healthy. The sound of his companion's pulse when he speaks, how it rises and falls, gives away the truth of his words.

The striped male's vision sharpens and instantly, almost too quick for the movement to be noticed, he watches the stallion’s lips move. “Thank you.” Bane grunts. For caring. For not giving in to Leliana’s false pretenses. “I feel like Beqanna herself is talking about my son’s death but so far only you’ve come to offer condolences.”
Something Bane won’t soon forget.

“Lepis is… ” The usually chatty conversationalist finds himself pausing, “ …determined to heal. As am I.” The old saying goes. Each find healing through different channels. Theirs is unique as well. “We’ve never been the type to lay idle. So we took Taiga.” He seems cold and calculated about this sudden admission.

But then, his mouth jerks into an eerie grin. “Once Sylva is razed to ash, Loess will be central to controlling nearly two-thirds of our known world. Through alliances or otherwise.” And the way he says it means that Castile should take it as an obvious alliance between the northern redwood forest and the Kingdom they both loved like a child itself. “I hope that compensates for not involving you earlier. You seem busy, as all Loessians should be in these quiet hours.”

He rolls his shoulders and the smile remains, stuck into place by warm desires that he and his mate have nurtured like the babe they lost. “Do us a favor and save a bit of that shithole for Lepis, when you’re through? She fucking hates that place and it would mean so much to see her truly happy again.”

WITH WOUNDS THAT NO ONE ELSE HAS SEEN

WOLFBANE

@[Castile]