Though it was probably only about midday, the sky above was riddled with blotchy, grimy clouds and cast a sullen darkness below like some giant?s yawning shadow. Rain beat ceaselessly upon the earth, pouring an endless and brutal chorus of ?pitter patter? into the air, broken only by the blunt clatter of thunder. Lightning snapped down to bite at the earth someplace far off in the distance, briefly illuminating the gloomy skies with a purplish glow. The ground was sodden and the grass slick, and fat droplets glanced off of the boulders that peppered the area, shimmering with moisture. It wasn?t the most vicious of storms, but it certainly had its fierceness, and this did not please Caesar one bit.

Where most animals had slunk off to hole up in their cozy homes to wait out the storm, he had no such thing to save him from the rain. He did not know the land, and by the time the storm had caught him, he could not even find a tree to hide under. The imp was stuck in a stretched plain, littered with rocks and little else. His gangly, skeletal body was crouched beneath the pitiless torrents, soaked to the bone and reeking with the introduction of water. He was pressed against a particularly large boulder in vain attempt to leech some sense of comfort from its poorly shielding form. A branch of lightning thrust into the sky in the distance, and a clap of thunder split the repetitive tapping of rain. Caesar screamed. His body went rigid, and in a dark blur he had bolted to another boulder, as though that might save him from the danger that did not come.

The tiny beast lowered his body against the new rock, almost lying but not quite. Crazed blue eyes twitched about madly in their sockets, searching for the next bolt of lightning. Water trickled down his forehead and along his muzzle, where some veered off to roll beneath his eyes and create the illusion of tears. His jaws hung open, tongue lolling out as he panted, despite the coolness in the air and rain. Caesar did not like storms. His heart beat fast in his chest, threatening to bust right out of the narrow ribcage and abandon its stressed owner. The creature was paralyzed, crouched and horrified. The only thing he could think about was wanting the noises and the rain to end, though the focus only made time?s cruel counting sand trickle slower.

In the east the winters were more wet than white. It was a great change for Deteste who had lived his life so long in the snow but just as the Ludicael had so suddenly settled in his heart so had the charcoal skies and relentless downpours earned their own appreciation. Deteste had been extremely solitary in the past. Where so many others were discouraged by the weather Deteste reveled in the downpours. In the storms he was alone and in the thundering it was as if he himself were not present.


Since his promotion to Sol Deteste had made a habit of regularly exploring neighboring lands to the mangroves. Regarding his fellow Sol's death match he thought it especially important to know the lay of the neighboring lands but more importantly he felt the need to help others. Friends, members, strangers. It did not matter to him. There was much unkindess in the world and he hoped to help benefit other's lives before his time was done.


In the flatness of the Rock Garden Deteste could almost see the horizon. He would be able to see any other traveler and any traveler would be able to see him and his affect was casual according to this fact. His gait was quick to combat the chill of rain and he huffed occasionally, his breath white, to clear the water from his jowls and nose. Upon reaching the summit of the slightest incline of the plains Deteste paused to survey the land before him. This route and custom was extremely familiar to him. He did not expect to have more company than the tall stones that rested in the planes but as he spotted a black form seeking shelter among them. With slight interest the man altered his course in the direction of the stranger but as lightning struck and a frantic cry followed Deteste found it necessary to halt. He observed as his counterpart bolted from his shelter to another. Deteste's ears folded back in confusion. After a pause he approached again but with a slow and cautious gait.


In a few moments he found himself staring at what could have been a smaller reflection of himself. The vagabond as much thinner than himself but his eyes were the same cerulean and the scars riddled across his body mimiced Deteste's affect. He was stunned by their likeness and for a moment could not find the words he meant to speak. Hello, young one. He spoke at least, timbre calm. Are you well? he inquired with sincerity but distance. The boy was frenzied and it was best not to make too great of advances especially with a stranger.

Anxiety danced throughout his body, prickling his nerves and tightening his muscles. It was not a comfortable thing to endure, but he could not simply rid himself of it. It seemed like a long time had passed before he noticed the other form slipping into his field of vision. Really, he?d been so focused on being scared that it wasn?t until the stranger was near upon him that he?d turn his head to stare. It was an older, big male with intense blue eyes that peered from an ebony face. He stood, unafraid in the rain, and was instantly a most intriguing figure. Curiosity could not quell the imp?s own terror though and he continued to quake, gazing up at the wolf, saucer-eyed. A wolf so much bigger than himself was easily a potential threat, but all of Caesar?s fears had long ago been stolen from sensible things, and thrust upon others, like the weather and its loud noises?

When the creature spoke, Caesar?s ears perked, the pitiful left straining in attempt to stand as tall as the other as it once had. ?Hi!? he squeaked, a weak and somewhat empty cheer briefly pulling through the horror. On another day, he would have been all over the other canine - overjoyed even though a mere presence was never a promising thing. Now he was a tad distracted though. ?Caesar is very bad!? came the reply, his high-pitched voice failing to convey the seriousness of the situation for him. He shivered again, and allowed his attention to dance momentarily from the stranger to the brooding skies again. Rain drops fell chidingly into his eyes and torn ear, and he blinked, shaking his head with discomfort. At least he had company now.

Claws gripped the soft earth in anticipation of another sudden snap of lightning and roar of thunder, but this time it was merely a softer rumble ? almost a coo. A soft sigh broke the continuous stream of panting, and the petite hellion?s muscles relaxed a tiny bit. His dirty fur remained in a disheveled mess though, and his stance painfully bent. He shifted his paws some, his right side still pushed against the wet stone. ?Why isn?t the old one hiding?? he peeped. The wolf had called him ?young one? so ?old one? seemed fitting enough in return. ?Is he lost? But not scared?? He didn?t look lost though.

This stranger stirred something within Deteste. Something untouchable. His speech and behavior reminded him of his younger self and the personal likeness between them was eerie. The only thing that separated them was their difference in size and specific variations in their scars. De's right ear was torn, where the other's tear was on his left. Looking into the creature's widened cerulean eyes Deteste wished to take him home to the Ludicael. But he knew the danger behind that mental state and it was a risk he would never take. Though he had recovered from a similar psychosis he was unsure if many other individuals had the ability, or choice, to do so. Deteste would guard himself from making any large decisions on the stranger before him but he knew in this moment that their interactions would be much more than a chance meeting in the wilderness.


Does the thunder frighten you? Deteste asked, timbre gentle. He strode slowly closer as if to protect Caesar's small form from the storm, his much taller bulk like a wall under the small rock shelter, the crown of his head nearly touching the stone. Why is the old one hiding? At this point Deteste began to wonder whether or not this was a hallucination. Some strange reference to his past insanity. But he warmth that pulsated from his small counterpart and the white breath that escaped his jaws was too physically present to be imagined. I am not lost. My name is Deteste. The storm is blowing out, you should know the thundering will not bother you now. He . hoped his words would reassure the poor fellow who had relaxed from cramping level tension to extremely tense.

His frail body shuddered, and he would crouch lower, his feet pressing against his stomach in an uncomfortably folded position. He had just begun to notice the chill the rain had leeched into his pelt, and it had slipped all the way past his fur to grasp his flesh. A soft, shaky breath tumbled from his unhinged jaws, his tongue quivering. The creature?s flitting, pale gaze shifted back to the older wolf, his ears snaring the question. ?Caesar does not like it. It?s going to hurt him. Nobody should like it.? It was loud and sudden. He was never ready for the splitting noises, and they sounded so close? It was like the clouds were readying themselves to break away from the sky and fall, like boulders, from the heavens upon the innocent creatures of the land. Caesar could not take the anticipation and anxiety. Nothing ever did fall, but that didn?t mean nothing would when he wasn?t suspecting it.

The stranger spoke again, his voice so calm. It was nearly soothing ? a stark contrast to the dying storm. As the information was pulled in, the imp glanced about suspiciously. Was it the truth? Was the storm really going? It seemed to be? ?Good. It should never bother Caesar,? he stated sharply, mildly cross with the weather. He remained wary, but let his soggy hackles lay flat once more, and like an old piece of machinery, he straightened himself shakily to a stand. Even standing, he was dwarfed by the other, and the way his wet fur plastered to his bony body only made him look more pathetic. Ribs pressed visible ridges into each side, and his body pinched inward harshly just before his hips. He was clearly in bad health, though his mood and energy would never tell.

Another rickety breath was drawn into lungs, in mild attempt to calm the nerves that still buzzed. He glanced left and right, and then stood still. He could feel and hear it. The raindrops began to lessen, on their way to a complete halt. The heathen?s heart began to slow down to a more normal pace as he decided that he was safe for now. In attempt to relax his still tense muscles, he would stretch out a bit, his forelegs reaching forward to grant him the gratifying, straining sensation. Standing again, more at ease, his narrow muzzle would flick over towards the bigger wolf. ?Does Deteste not have a home? That is why he does not hide?? Caesar questioned, staring intently at the other. Every sensible creature would be hiding in their homes during the storm if they had one, he was sure.

Deteste watched with some anxiety as Caeser only retreated further into himself, his body compact in a most uncanny fashion. Yet he understood. For a person without a home and without companion the thunder must be a horribly frightening thing. Deteste mirrored Caesar's actions subtly. Another attempt to calm him. Their white breath snaked into the air in unison, though the mist that escaped De's jowls was constant where Caesar's was not. Upon hearing Caesar's next words Deteste nodded politely in agreement. No, he spoke, Nobody should like it. As far as he could remember he had never feared the rain. Deteste had in fact feared nothing in his youth and little as a grown adult. Some of the visions he had experienced, though, had been terrifying and had led him to do the most unsightly and violent things. Mostly an attempt for distraction for the visions chose when they came and went. But his children did have many fears as they grew and in the previously bellowing storm his thoughts went out to them. He assumed that Caesar was not much younger than they but he hoped they were not cowering in the rain.


The creature rose, shakily but with determination and when he stood Deteste offered a stiff smile that had unwittingly stretched onto his jowls. But in the same moment he studied Caesar carefully and noted just how emaciated the petite fellow was. Again was Deteste stricken with the desire to take him into the Ludicael but he distanced himself from emotion and instead planned on finding a temporary home for Caesar and caring for him at that location. They were not far from the mangroves so his relationship with Caesar would not be a great strain on his responsibilities. Of course there was the possibility that Caesar himself would discover the Ludicael and if such happened then so it would go. There was nothing to help this possibility and Deteste did not allow it to worry him. Straying from his thoughts to refocus his attention on the company he shared, he shifted leftward to allow Caesar space as he stretched. Deteste's observation of the rain soaked wolf had caused him to be aware of his own wet pelt which was slick and cold against his body. He slowly took a seat beside Caesar and bowed his nape downward, shaking the wetness of his pelt into the ground.


As he returned to his former and natural stature he was suddenly caught by Caesar's prying question and intense gaze. Allowing silence to settle between them for a moment Deteste returned an earnest and thoughtful gaze to the cold cerulean eyes that watched him. He did not intend to lie to Caesar and understood the inquiry as based on curiosity and disbelief of Deteste's tolerance for the weather. Rather than lie or reveal unintended information, the Sol chose to respond to the question with a personal affect. I am not afraid of the rain. He spoke simply, wondering what the statement might draw from Caesar.

The other wolf agreed, humoring Caesar?s loathing for the thunder. As he rose and studied the other, his focus on the weather waned, and in turn magnified upon the wolf, Deteste. He was quiet, rather quite ? only speaking when he needed, it seemed. He also seemed distantly friendly, offering kindness in the most subtle of ways. Inching slightly closer (though Caesar was not one to notice), a smile, and simply staying with him as he did. It was all vaguely nice, though also draped an ominous veil about him. There was an acute indirectness about the wolf, and it was hard to tell if he was being genuine or not. Of course, the imp cared little for the dangers of other beings, and spent no time trying to assess the other?s nature. He was merely happy for the company.

The little hellion received a rather scant reply, and momentarily he was stripped of his innocent air. A thin, mildly amused smirk coiled about his lips, strangely dark and baleful. ?So he does have a home. But he does not hide,? he concluded, his voice thin. This one was not afraid of the rain, so he would go out even if he had a home. ?He is strange. And he does not answer questions very well,? he commented upon the meandering of the answer. He didn?t care too much about it though; Caesar was not the prying sort of fellow.

His tongue would flick outward to wipe along his moist nose and whiskers, tasting the sweetness of the fresh rain upon his fur. The rain was good and all, but it came from a hateful source. The gremlin?s ghastly stare shifted from his company, and he slunk forward and to the right a step to peer around the rock. He would?ve looked over, but he was too short. Glancing towards the sky, he was pleased to glimpse the sun beginning to tug through the parting clouds. ?Gone,? he confirmed pleasantly. Now he could go someplace else. He didn?t really want to stay in the rock field, having just been traumatized in it.

Deteste was not surprised by Caesar's sharpness nor by his accusation. He merely stood and followed as Caesar announced his departure and led the way. One musn't trust strangers, Caesar. You may not know if they bring a storm with them. Deteste spoke and chose his words with awareness. He explained himself in a way that he believed, or rather hoped, would reach Caesar most strongly and be understood most easily. More than anything Deteste desired to be the lad's friend. But it would be unwise to invest much in something so apparently unstable. So he had only his kindness, sincere interest and company to offer to Caesar.


I was a lot like you, once. Deteste confided. A display of honesty. He liked Caesar. And he felt that he would still like Caesar if he turned and buried his teeth onto his face. Their kinship was, perhaps, a gamble. But Deteste could care less and this was not his opinion. Caesar reminded him of the past and what Deteste desired most of all was to be close to something that was so similar to that past and so alike to his core, but alive. In friendship and love and easier living Deteste had become a rather average part of life. Caesar reminded him of his true roots and a relationship with the shaggy black creature would make a more honest and authentic man of Deteste. Even if it meant digging into his darker psyche.

He explained the reason ? a caution to trust. It was when pondering ever so lightly upon this that Caesar realized that he had a rather odd relationship with trust. He didn?t care much for who he gave it to ? he took it and forced it quite capriciously, and it was more often than not that he was the one not to be trusted. Or did he even have trust? Did someone who was not to be trusted have their own reserves of confidence to place in someone? He did not feel that he ever really relied on anyone. That was, after all, where trust came from, wasn?t it? Needing to count on someone, to expect them to fulfill something. An impulsive creature so erratic as Caesar did not rely on anything much, really. He glanced back to Deteste, smirking but not terribly understanding. Who had time for trust?

He took another step forward, pausing again to glance back towards the male as he spoke again. The imp found the statement slightly funny. What did he mean, a lot like him? ?He knows Caesar?? it was not a pointed question, but something stirring that was aimed to provoked reason. No passive-aggression, no irritation. He was merely interested, for Caesar did not know Caesar. And how could Deteste be like him unless he knew what he was like? Maybe he meant in appearance. There was little recognition by the imp of his own personality. He didn?t ever think about it ? there was no metacognition involved in his life, no philosophy or values. He simply did as he felt, controlled by instinct and whimsical desire.