this soul is not so vibrant; the reckoning, the sickening
packaging subversion, psuedo sacrosanct perversion

Rhen had always had an aptitude for strangeness, her entire essence in whole a truly unique, sometimes otherworldly thing- but she had never known the sort of strangeness she had thus seen in these lands. She couldn't get that man out of her head, whom seemed to have near perfect control over the laws of nature, as beasts of greater instinct seemed to willingly bend to his command. It hadn't crossed her mind it was more companionship then not, but perhaps it had been altered into her mind that way.

She had since traveled from the heaven-spire to a far more familiar landscape, despite having never been. The heavy scent of evergreen was a welcomed aroma, reminding her much of her home, which seemed eons away now- the howling wind, the flurried snow, the unfamiliar landscape, on the other hand, held a different kind of potential; potential in exploration, in ambition, in those things she ever desperately sought. Perhaps, were she lucky, she'd find another, just as intriguing, just as benevolent in presence.

Each step she took caused a subtle groan beneath her paws of the snow, emerald orbs vacant as she scanned the horizons, seeing before her a gorge that beckoned her ever closer- she had already decided, once in question, though, that it was no mistake she had found this land. Surrounded in a world of white, her ashen grey fur stuck out in heavy contrast, though she not once worried of what such a beacon might summon. No, on the contrary, she welcomed the idea, that she was so noticeable.

"this is the way you wished your voice sounds"
my tongue's the only muscle that works harder than my heart

Mortis Fatalis was on a hunt. He wanted to bring down an arctic bear. He had never actually seen one in person, but his dad had a wicked coat. A big, white, fluffy thing that lay in the family den. He had heard the story of how he, and a couple of other wolves, had taken down the mighty creature. He knew that if he could take down a polar bear, he would be one of the best hunters in the Armada. With his clever Kea Saph on his shoulder, and leopard, Osiris at his side, the brave young hunter ventured forward. The journey turned out to be a long one. He would have gotten lost if it wasn’t for Saph’s sense of direction, leading him on. He made it as far as the Gorge, finding no such beast to hunt in all that time. The cool wind bit into his coat, and his wings lay gently raised on either side of his body. His face was a picture of concentration, as he raised his head to the scent, looking for any trace of bear. He assumed it would smell something like Seer’s companion. When no such scent reached him, he huffed softly in frustration. He moved a little further, and then caught the greyish tone of something in the white landscape. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating, and the form turned into that of a wolf. Not a bear… but maybe she would know where to find one He bounded forward, using his wings for balance as he took each step with a leap. “Heeeey there” he called out to her. "Mortis"

this soul is not so vibrant; the reckoning, the sickening
packaging subversion, psuedo sacrosanct perversion

Rhen continued toward the gorge, the only sound daring to interrupt otherwise unending silence that of the crunching snow beneath her steps. She couldn't say what drew her this way but the unknown, what tempted her further but certain potential; but she was always at the mercy of promise, since her youth- youth that seemed, all too often, taken away and replaced with her ever growing desire to know. Ever closer did the femme approach, ever curious, ever thirsty.

Rhen was not prepared for, nor expecting, any sort of interruption to her purposeful exploration; but it had become a repeating pattern, that she always cross paths with other's when least expecting. His voice sliced through the silence, "Heeey there." Her quickened pace slowed to a stop, craning her neck to peek behind her shoulders, and the sight nearly caused her to startle. A truly strange sight, an incredible one; an ebony male, sprinkled with stardust, bounding towards her with... Two grandeur wings. Her eyes widened instantly with curiosity, with adoration, and her expression went vacant, enraptured entirely by this thing she had never seen before.

"this is the way you wished your voice sounds"
my tongue's the only muscle that works harder than my heart

He bounded closer, and the wolf turned to face him. He knew the moment she had taken him in, but instead of turning the greeting, she seemed to lose all expression. Her eyes glazed over, and she fell still, and silent. For the briefest of moments, the young boy thought he had killed her with shock. He leaned closer, reaching out a paw to push gently against her shoulder. He was tensed as he did so, wings held lightly out each side for balance. He looked like a wolf expecting something to jump out and yell ‘boo’ at any second. As he poked her, the Armada Heir cleared his throat. “Uhhm, Miss, are you okay?” he wondered. A little weirded out by her lack of reaction. "Mortis"

this soul is not so vibrant; the reckoning, the sickening
packaging subversion, psuedo sacrosanct perversion

Rhen stared forth at the young boy before her with great curiosity, perplexed and forced into a sort of paralyzed state. She had never seen... Wings upon the shoulders of a wolf, and she couldn't help but feel a soul wrenching envy, a sickening sort of jealousy that penetrated every nerve ending of her body. She only stared, a dumbfounded fool, a wide eyed pup, as he approached. Though hardly in touch with the world around her aside from avian appendages, she could tell he meant no ill harm.

Slowly, he reached out with a paw, and she felt the pressure against her shoulder, as though she might have been turned to stone and only the warm of another's touch would resurrect her. To this, she only let forth a girlish giggle. "Uhhm, miss, are you okay?" He asked, to which she swiftly nodded in a rather bird like manner, bobbing her crown. Then, without warning nor permission, she repositioned herself and pressed her nose into the base where the wing met his back. It smelt nothing like avian heritage, but rather... All wolf. She frowned slightly in disappoint, unable to understand this mystery, but still found it all the more enticing. "How curious..." She whispered, continuing to study the wings.

"this is the way you wished your voice sounds"
my tongue's the only muscle that works harder than my heart

Her response was a swift, startling nod, and he frowned at her, curious and a little weary from her strange responses. She seemed… he didn’t have a word for it. Strange, in a way that made him wonder if he should be worried. Worried if she was safe out here, alone. In his short time on this earth, the pup had already begun to develop a hero complex. “Oh! -uh, okay than” he said, startled, as she pressed her nose against the point where his wings began. He froze, standing still, like a deer in the spotlight, as he watched her. Wondering what exactly she was going to do next, and having no idea how to respond. “Curious? Who, me or you?” he wasn’t sure if he was serious or teasing, as he gently took a step back, and looked at her down his muzzle. Studying her like she was something strange, something he had never seen before. "Mortis"

this soul is not so vibrant; the reckoning, the sickening
packaging subversion, psuedo sacrosanct perversion

The dark thought had crossed her mind, though she swiftly swallowed it down; could she tear from his flesh these wings, and keep them for herself? Surely, she could fix him up after- it would be an easy enough task, she figured. Father would be proud, surely- but mother... No, she certainly thought better of it, instead drinking in the sight of the curiosity as long as she could. "Oh! Uh- okay then," the young boy gasped as Rhen continued to investigate the spot where they were attached to his body.

"Curious? Who, me or you?" He seemed just as confused as Rhen, though she had mixed with hers a profound sort of envy. She pulled back only after satisfied that they were indeed attached by some miraculous event of nature, and frowned slightly. "Wings," she murmured softly. "Were they a gift?" Surely, he couldn't have been born with them... Wolves didn't have wings, for Rhen knew enough of the world to know that truth.

"this is the way you wished your voice sounds"
my tongue's the only muscle that works harder than my heart

She would not be the only wolf with envy to his wings. Azure had shown it, in the strange contraption he had created from the corpse of a large bird. His wings looked a stiff mockery of the real thing, and seeing them had only ever made Mortis’s heart ache. If he thought it was possible, or would have mended the rift between them, he would have given his wings to his brother without another thought. Eyes to the strange creature before him, the pup shuffled on his paws and frowned, uncertain. “Gift?” he repeated “I was born with them. They were just little bones at first, I’m told, they developed features later, and grew as I grew. They are a part of me, like my paws, my fangs, my fur.” he said, not exactly certain what this wolf wanted from him. Her intense curiosity of his wings made him a little anxious. “Are you… okay?” "Mortis"