the wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight
{drunk and driven by the devil's hunger}
“There are plenty of things to live for,” he rolled his shoulders, just a touch of irritation finding its way beneath his coat—he didn’t like the insinuation that his life was empty, somehow hollow just because he didn’t surrender control for fleeting, shallow emotions. “There is intellect, honor, preservation of that which is important for future generations.” His severe mouth twists and flattens, his emerald eyes glinting. “These things do not bring joy, but they bring purpose. One could argue that is more important.”
His life was filled with purpose, overflowing with it. From his inception to his birth to the years that have since stretched on, he has had nothing but purpose to cling to. The purpose of protecting his family, even when he feels no great love for them. The purpose of balancing the worlds that they have so selfishly kept in turmoil, their constant need to pass between the veil of life and death, upending the stability too often.
His life has, however, not been filled with joy.
(That does not make it worthless, he argues to himself.)
He listened politely as she talked about her family, about their legacy within the falls, and although they still feel like empty words, he could comprehend them more. He took it and internalized it, burying it within his broad chest amongst the rest of the knowledge that roots there. For a moment, he dipped into the stream of life that flowed from within her and out of her, feeding the connection to all living things. He followed it and imagined the branches of her, the glowing lights of each relative. “I could most likely help you find them,” he offered, his voice echoing in his throat, his heavy head looking outward.
It would not be difficult, to locate them, to trace them, to hunt them down.
(If they were still around, of course.)
But he didn’t linger on the offer, his attention instead turning to her question and realization, his laugh once again ringing in his mouth—the faintest hints of amusement touching the edges of it. “My name is Woolf,” he offered. “And yes, I have a family.” A small frown. “Who doesn’t have a family?” But no more on the subject is offered.
Woolf
