Proteus

---

son of the sea

---

The boy continued on, trotting through the dark as if it didn't matter. Because, well, did it? He was a creature of day or night so it never really bothered him when he was moving through the dark. Now, it might be harder to see all the fun locations he was checking out, but that was okay! It was nice and warm so he didn't mind it.

Though, he was pretty sure that the summer meant that days got longer, not shorter.

It'd also come on very suddenly and he wasn't too sure what had caused it. He hadn't seen anyone since the start of the long night nor since the glowing crystals or mushrooms started up. Nor since the lightning bugs started appearing and whispering at him. They sounded oddly of his mother and he could not help but listen, trying to discern what they were saying.

What she was saying.

If it even was her. He wasn't certain of the existence of ghosts but if they did exist, he doubted they would be in firefly form. He believed spirits existed, but did they walk among the living or did they live in some other plane, watching from above? Could they witness the living at all?

He turned his attention from the fireflies on to the stone he walked upon. The grass grew up between stone slabs and he scratched at them thoughtfully, pondering their existence or origin. He wasn't from this land originally, having swum across the sea to reach here, so he was still learning about it on the daily, still trekking across it and making a mental picture portrait of the world he now called home.

He wondered if he would ever call one of the packs here home.

Dialogue looks like this.

The whispers felt incessant, his worries and the voices of everyone who'd ever left him echoed deeply in Emile's ears. You're selfish. Bowen's voice echoed loudest of them all. You're selfish. He burrowed his head under his forelimbs and whined loudly, trying to drive the whispers out from his head. He wasn't even sure if it was the mass of blue glowing lights, which he tentatively referred to as fireflies, who seemed to follow him everywhere in droves or his guilty conscience. Was he hearing the lights imitate the voice of his one-time friend? Or was he telling himself that in the voice that had driven that guilt into him?

Emile didn't sleep at night anymore anyways and he was so tired of the torment echoing in his ears and he pulled himself from his den of blankets and left, his paws carrying him beyond the pack lands once again, though this time they did not get too far, not turning towards the sheer drop he still sometimes thought about. The images of his body lying broken in the ditch, forgotten but finally at peace still plaguing his mind. The whispers and lights seemed to guide him, nudge him along though hardly gentle in their mocking of him, in their reminder he was a failure. Snow dusted paws carried the young man towards the Garden. He stopped at one of the stone fences, feeling the memory of the bitterness of the last time he'd been here rising up like bile in his throat. YOU'RE SELFISH. Bowen's voice had morphed, taken on a rage he'd never heard and the young man whined again, feeling the strength sap from his limbs and he collapsed, no words leaving his mouth, just the long keening of his suffering and the desire for a single moment of peace.

"Emile"

Proteus

---

son of the sea

---

Suddenly, Proteus saw someone else roaming through the shadows, lit by the pale glow of a scattering of crystals upon a stone fence. This stranger looked young, younger than himself even. The leggy boy watched as the stranger stopped at the fence and collapsed to the ground, letting out a long whine.

Instantly alarmed, the wayfarer was already running towards the other.

He skidded to a stop, paws scrabbling on the rough surface. He was no healer so he wasn't sure what to do, trying to scan over the boy for any visible injuries. He didn't smell blood but there was no saying that there wasn't some hidden away under his other side or something like that. The whispers seemed to grow louder and he flashed a glare at the glittering lights, for that's all he could imagine it could be. They danced and bobbed, as if mocking him for attempting to help the boy. Ignoring them, he looked back at the stranger, sniffing.

Hey- hey, are you okay? He wasn't sure what he could do to help, but he wanted to anyways.

What's wrong?

Dialogue looks like this.

With the approach of the stranger a puff of lights seemed to rise from him, as if fleeing from the protection another wolf would offer, though he could not feel them, nor did they seem to affect him physically, not a single hair touched as they moved. The voices grew softer, still there, still whispering their torments in his ears but they seemed to retreat slightly as the other wolf approached. He ducked his head under his limbs and his whine grew softer. The stranger asked what was wrong and Emile struggled to work around the lump in his throat, before finally managing to speak.

"Mmmmmmake them st-st-st-st-... op!" He managed through sobs, rubbing at one of his ears furiously as the voice that was-not-Bowen laughed tauntingly. "You're so selfish." It whispered. "Pathetic, can't even save yourself, you should just fucking die!"

"Emile"