The days had crept by slowly at first as spring progressed into summer, but as the days grew longer, they also seemed to fly by. With the birthday surprise for the Fatalises in the Armada, Briar and Lia moving to the Hallows, his long-lost sister's return home, and the training of his newest apprentice, Artorias' days had been packed full of events and excitement. But as the world turned past the first quarter of summer, Artorias continued to become more and more aware of an upsetting fact: the pirate was still in his dungeons. Days had turned to weeks after the raid, and as they approached the month mark, Artorias began to grow worried that perhaps Sparrow really had abandoned her wolf to his fate. The pirate leader had made no attempts to contact him after the raid, never called for a parlay to discuss terms of release or offer a trade. It was as if she simply left Auster and didn't look back.

The thought that perhaps the pirate in the penitentiary was theirs permanently now tweaked Artorias' heart in all the wrong ways. He hadn't captured him with the intentions of holding him forever, just to show Sparrow that the Hallows didn't take kindly to sneak attacks and that they would meet force with greater force. Now he was stuck with this mess. At least Artisan had been drinking, that much he knew. Sure, he would only accept wine and mead and liquors for the most part, but hell, as long as it kept him from dying of dehydration! He was still resisting eating—much to Artorias' growing concern—and he hadn't spoken a word to anyone since their row the last time Art had seen him. The Aegis remembered the last words he'd said to the prisoner. "I can't imagine being so alone and lost in this world." At the time, he'd said it mostly to hurt Artisan's pride and confidence, but now that several weeks had passed and the pirate remained alone, Artorias began to feel worse for what he'd said. Did the pirates really not care? Perhaps he'd been wrong judging Sparrow through the lens he saw his pack with. To him, his wolves were family. Were they disposable to Sparrow?

Artorias wanted to make things better. Most of his anger over the boldness of the pirate raid had simmered away and now when he thought of Artisan he just felt pity. He didn't know if things would ever be smoothed out between the Hallows and Pirates Plunder again, but he couldn't rightly leave someone in solitude for weeks on end. Any wolf incarcerated in the Hallows also fell under the protection of the Aegis, and Artorias would not be doing his duty nor treating Artisan justly by ignoring him. So the Aegis made some preparations. He'd set up a spread of food and some vintage wines from the Hallows cellars—the good, strong stuff—in the Great Hall. A metal stake had been driven between some of the cobblestones in the floor to set up a game of horseshoes from leftover supplies they'd found in the castle armory, a small pile of the metal U-shaped objects on the table beside the food and wine. The pouring rain outside had forced his plans to be moved indoors, but it wouldn't change a thing. Artisan had said he'd only wanted a good time when he'd been captured. Well, if he was willing to take a shot at smoothing out the ruffles between them, Artorias was ready to show him what the Hallows called a "good time".

With everything set up, Artorias headed down to the penitentiary with Romulus in tow, ushering his Knight to stay back beside the stairs while he approached the cells. "Hello again," he called to Artisan, offering the wolf a ghost of a smile and praying it didn't result in a stream of piss coming his way now that the pirate had refueled his tanks. "I was thinking, and I realized it's been some time since you've gotten to stretch your legs or do anything for fun. So, if you're interested, I'd like to play a game together." Artorias sat back to raise both paws to the metal tie holding the cell latch shut, using a bit of force to unbind the latch and slide it to unlock the cell, pulling the door open for the pirate. Behind him, Romulus tensed, watching Artisan closely in case the pirate tried anything funny. "It's a drinking game," he offered with a smirk, hoping that would tempt the pirate to at least be amicable and not make him regret trying to do something nice. He'd have no problem roughing him up with Romulus and throwing him back in the cell if he tried anything stupid, but Art really preferred if he didn't have to.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

After days of remaining locked away in his cell, Artisan had finally started to drink. The rations given to him were not the same as having a whole keg to enjoy at your leisure, but his empty stomach meant he'd needed to drink much less to feel the effects begin in his mind. The more days that passed the more it hurt to be left behind, but Artisan's loyalty was stronger than most - the sentimental brute who wore a stone for every friend upon his wrist would not write off Sparrow on Artorias' word alone, after all, who said the alpha was being truthful? Sparrow could have arrived fifteen times over the last few weeks and been chased away each time. Or perhaps his Pirate King was planning another attack, waiting for a suitable time to take the Hallows by force. Whatever the reason, Artisan believed in his King and his Pack, wholeheartedly believing that they wanted him back as desperately as he wanted to be back. That lonely hurt had to go somewhere, however, and instead of the anger being directed at Sparrow he only doubled down upon hating Artorias more.

Artisan lay in the cell's corner curled into a small ball, running his claw gently along each bead he wore. The worst of it was the empty space where Hyperion's memento had been, he'd thrown the damn thing at his little brother and damn near tore Hya's from his wrist along with it. It had been the last interaction he'd had with his bastard brother, and now locked away in a cell he felt that absence of family even harder then he had when he'd learned Hyperion had died. He heard the paw steps approach but ignored them as he did with every feeding time. Whenever the delivering wolf was gone, he'd chug whatever alcohol had been given to him and return to his corner to sulk.

This time a voice came alongside the paw steps and Artisan grimaced at the sound of it. "Oh fuck off." He murmured below his breath. Artorias was offering him a chance to stretch his legs and play a game, but did not seem to understand that his captive was not in the mood for entertainment. The temptation to pass on the offer was hard to ignore - after all, Artorias had proven himself to be a sore winner already, and Artisan was not down to get punished further for daring to try and enjoy himself - but the offer came with alcohol, more then he'd been given daily by the wolves who slid trays beneath his bar, he was sure.

He got up from his corner and eyed the man, hate clear in his eyes. "Fine." His response was short, his energy to argue having faded a week earlier. Artisan stepped forward out from the cage, ignoring the Aegis' smirk and directing his own muzzle towards the wall as he waited to be led, or drug, or however Artorias preferred to transport his captives.


"Speech"

Artorias didn't let Artisan's sulking or bitter words get to him. He couldn't begin to understand the hurt and confusion he must have been feeling around his abandonment. No, he wanted to try to make amends, no matter how difficult it might be. Mercy and forgiveness had been instilled in him by his mother, and even though he did have stubborn pride he truly did not want to harbor grudges when the pack he led was supposed to be a place of healing and rebirth. Begrudgingly, Artisan stood up and began to follow him, the hateful glower on his face expected but not ignored. Artorias closed the cell door and motioned with a nod of his head for the pirate to follow him, leading the wolf up the stairs with Romulus bringing up the rear as security. He wanted to believe Artisan could be trusted to not do anything stupid, but this was the same wolf that had stabbed him and threatened his pack with destruction, so certain precautions had to be taken.

The dark-furred brute led his "guest" into the Great Hall, illuminated by torches and the fire in the grand hearth as well as the occasional flash of lightning from outside the windows. The room smelled of roasted meats and sweet fruits, all laid out for the two wolves. Romulus took position by the door while Artorias led the way over to the table, roasted legs of venison and fresh fish laid out for them. Artorias grabbed the first of several bottles of vintage wine from the table and popped the cork with his teeth, the heady scent of alcohol hitting his nose in an instant. Into two goblets he poured a healthy amount of the rich red liquid, making eye contact with Artisan while he lifted his own goblet and took a sip to show him it wasn't poisoned.

"You said that all you pirates wanted to do was have fun and a good time," Artorias said, moving down the table to the pile of horseshoes at the end. "Well, now's your chance. Between you and me, you don't strike me as much of a fighter, so I don't think raiding is really your thing. But you did make some good jokes that night, and I'm betting games are more your speed." Artorias tapped the horseshoes with his paw. "You ever play horseshoes before? We take turns throwing them at that metal stake from here." He pointed down the hall, to the metal stake about 40 feet from the wolves. "If you hit the stake, your opponent has to drink and you can ask them any question you want and they must answer truthfully. Miss, and you have to drink." Even if the pirate didn't care to ask him anything at all, at least it got him out of his cell and active, as well as got him drinking and maybe helped their tenuous relationship.

With the general rules of the game explained, Artorias moved back down the length of the table with a horseshoe in his mouth, testing the weight of it. He set it down on the table beside Artisan with a thud, then gestured to it while he snatched a few honeyed strawberries off a plate and popped them in his mouth. "You're the guest, so you get to go first. Oh, and I do have stronger stuff than wine to drink if you're feeling confident."

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

There was some clear effort in the layout of their great hall, but Artisan was not feeling friendly enough to take the gesture as it was. He barely spared a glance to the preparations, and though his stomach grumbled loudly at the smells that permeated the air, he continued to ignore the plates of food left out for sharing. Artorias popped a cork from his bottle of wine, managing to draw Artisan's brief interest as the new scent spread across the hall.

He half-listened to the instructions given, though Artorias' words were hard for the captive wolf to take lightly. Whether this be a test or torture or some sad way for the King to make himself feel better, the damage had long been done. If he'd wanted Artisan as a friend, he'd lost that chance when he took him away from his home and his family and locked him away in their dungeon.

Artorias was finishing his speech and offered the first attempt to the pirate, who's head snapped towards the King as he spoke the word 'guest'. "Hostage." He corrected shortly, stepping forward to grasp one of the horseshoes by his teeth. The rules were simple enough, but Artisan could care less about gaining truths from the blue and black king today. He threw his head, intentionally chucking the U-shaped piece of metal far from the target, his ears flicking as the metal clattered across the floor. "Whoops. Your turn." With his paw he reached out for the bottle to claim his promised drink.


"Speech"

Artorias was beginning to think that perhaps this was a waste of time when Artisan refused to acknowledge any of the things around him. He moved like a zombie, just shuffling through the movements that Art led him through. He couldn't even tell if the pirate was listening to him or not, but judging by the way he glared at him, Art had to assume he was—just not willingly. The smaller wolf corrected him that his position was a hostage before pushing past him to grab a horseshoe. Artorias just bit back a sigh and continued munching on berries, watching while Artisan picked up a horseshoe and took a half-hearted throw that landed the metal U nowhere near the target. It clattered across the stone floor before coming to a stop underneath another table. Blue lips pursed into a fine line; he knew exactly what point Artisan was trying to make loud and clear.

"Never mind, I guess you're shit at games too," the Aegis remarked with heavy sarcasm in his voice. Stepping up to the mark, Artorias picked up one of the horseshoes, getting a good grip on it before taking aim. He threw it with all his might, but it turned out to be a bit too much as the horseshoe sailed over the stake, clattering to the floor just beyond it. "So you're not a fighter and you're not good at games," Artorias mused while he stepped back to allow Artisan to go again. "Guess I'll just have to ask you what you are good at when I hit that stake."

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

Taking a generous swig of the wine, Artisan did not see Artorias' poorly thrown horseshoe until the clattering alerted him to his turn. The Aegis took a moment to insult him once more, bringing Art's eyes to roll skyward in reply. "Then go ahead and hit it already, I'm thirsty." He taunted, shooting to the man a glare before stepping back toward the mark.

It would be easiest to simply miss on purpose again, but there was a competitive streak within the blue and gold man that the drink was making difficult to contain. He gave the next horseshoe another throw, finding his aim too far to the side as it clattered left past the post. Oh well - more drink for him. Artisan reached out for the bottle once more, helping himself to another generous swig.




"Speech"

Artorias stepped past Artisan with a disparaging eye roll of his own, taking a long swallow of wine for his poor aim. The rich bitter taste of the alcohol was far stronger in this vintage than he'd expected, but he was no lightweight. He mostly ignored the pirate's glare, reminding himself that he was doing this for the other wolf's benefit, whether he seemed to understand that or not. Clearly he'd forgotten who had left him here in the first place. Artorias bit his tongue and waited for Artisan's throw, which went far left. At the rate in which they were missing, they were going to need to gather up horseshoes sooner rather than later.

He stepped up to the mark and picked up another horseshoe, giving it a throw softer than his last one. This one fell short, landing between him and the metal stake. Hmm, no good... but he was getting it dialed in. Artorias stepped back to the food and drink, swallowing another mouthful of wine from the bottle. "Will you tell me your name if I asked you, or are you going to make me hit the spike?" He raised his wrist to show the healing scar on it left behind by Artisan's "we weren't here to hurt anyone" dagger. "I think it's usually polite to know the name of a wolf who sticks things in you."

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

Artorias was really making an effort here, and that'd be fine and all if he hadn't gone and kidnapped the wolf he was trying to now befriend. Artisan retrieved another u-shaped piece of metal, feeling the weight of it in his maw and where he may need to throw it to hit the mark. "My name is Artisan." He offered begrudgingly - after all, the Pirate's simply refrained from sharing nicknames, there was no rule about divulging your given one. Hell, he wasn't even sure yet if he'd play along and be truthful even if the King hit the spike first.

He eyed the healing wound at the back of the man's wrist and shrugged. "We could have taken turns sticking things into each other but you had to go and ruin it with your overreaction." His grumbled reply came. Artisan tossed the metal, then helped himself to another drink when it missed.

"Speech"

Artisan. At least now Artorias had a name to go along with the face. That was progress, he supposed. Artisan threw his horseshoe and missed, but he was getting closer, now actually playing the game as well. Artorias took an uneasy step up to the mark—and then paused. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he reopened them he moved back to grab the open bottle from Artisan and swiftly put it down with a few healthy glugs. He was already feeling tipsy and he'd be feeling the effects of that soon enough for sure, but he needed it for what he wanted to say next. "Look, I'm sorry, Artisan. I didn't intend for things to get this fucked up and out of paw." Artorias had had plenty of time to reflect on the raid and think about the aftermath, of what he'd learned and what he'd do differently. "I mean, yeah, I wanted to capture a pirate, and that happened to be you. I meant to do that. But I thought Sparrow would just come back in the morning or the next day to ask for you back. I really, really didn't think it'd be like this or take this long. So I'm sorry. I escalated the fight, and maybe I was wrong for that, but I just couldn't..."

Artorias' words trailed off then, fiery amber eyes clouding with painful memories as he looked down and away. He couldn't let the Hallows be attacked the same way it had been when Resin died. He didn't say the words out loud; it wasn't any of Artisan's business, nor did he think the pirate really cared for his side of things. Artorias' shoulders slumped and he shook his head, turning back to the game. "I'm sorry," he mumbled one last time before picking up a horseshoe and throwing it absentmindedly. The ringing of metal on metal that followed shocked the wolf. Eyes snapped up in time to watch the horseshoe finish spinning around the metal stake. Holy shit, he'd actually done it!

Sauntering back over to the table, Artorias grabbed a bottle of dark rum he'd acquired from Fenmyre when Chimera began purging the island of unwanted things. Artisan's grumbled comment about them taking turns sticking things in each other caused Artorias' tail to flick and ears to fall to his head as another flush of heat hit his cheeks. He didn't know why Artisan had an ability to embarrass him like that, but he'd had a knack for it from the innuendos he'd made on the battlefield to his moody retort now. "Y'know, as tempting as you make that sound, I don't think my girlfriend would really approve of me bedding anyone else, no matter how attractive you are," Artorias quipped back, opening the bottle of rum and pushing it across the table towards Artisan. And now he could ask his question. "Why did you wanna be a pirate?" It was an innocuous enough question to start with. "You really don't strike me as a violent wolf. You're more of a lover than a fighter, right? So why the raiding pack?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

And there it was - the apology Artisan had been waiting for for much too long, except it did not make the pirate feel better as he hoped it might. His lips parted then shut, releasing a soft sigh as the other man spoke. Drinking games were not supposed to get feel-y. Artisan turned toward the Aegis, meeting his gaze. "You know what would make me believe that apology? If you let me the fuck go." He held the man's gaze a moment longer before turning back to the game to watch the man's throw. "Is that what you'd do? If you had raided some random pack who took it too hard to heart, kidnapped one of your own, you'd just.. show up on their doorstep the next day, asking nicely for their release? I mean you have to keep in mind here that you beat us, it's not like Sparrow has the advantage of brute strength and can bring 20 warriors to your door." He reached for the bottle of wine, twirling it between his forepaws as he waited his next turn. "Sparrow will come for me when she's ready to. And if it's not soon enough for you, feel free to just leave the door of my cell open one day to rid us both of our suffering."

Artorias' words trailed off and Artisan kept his muzzle down and away as he fell silent. Eventually he recovered, mumbling an apology and tossing the horseshoe which clattered loudly against the peg. Fuck. Artisan's head hung for a moment, shaking slowly. Well, it meant he got an extra drink, (he thought) so with renewed vigor Artisan reached for and took another swig of the booze. There was, of course, the question to address, and Artisan pondered it a moment while he licked his lips clean of the remaining liquid. "Do what you want, for a Pirate is free." He quoted in reply, turning back toward the behemoth of a male with a lopsided grin. "I became a Pirate for the freedom it offered me. Freedom is a wonderful thing, wolf, and I'd very much like it back one day soon."

He stepped toward the mark once more, realizing they'd thrown the majority of Artorias' horseshoes already. Begrudgingly he continued forward past the post, giving a hard shove to the scattered pieces of metal to slide them back along the floor. Once he'd collected them all, Artisan moved back to the mark and aimed another throw. This one came up short, and with a wrinkling of his muzzle he helped himself to another drink. "Oh, and as for your girlfriend, I'd normally say the more the merrier but, I have a feeling she's no more fun then you are."


"Speech"

Artorias grimaced when Artisan once more asked to be released. Unfortunately for them both, it wasn't that simple. The Hallows had demanded the prisoner be taken and they would likely riot if Artorias just let him walk free. Several were already not happy with his decision not to deal punishment to Artisan, but he remained staunchly against holding someone accountable for another's misdeeds. That wasn't justice. Not to mention there was the lingering concern that if he did let Artisan go, the wolf would collapse from hunger and exhaustion before he made it out of Auster, or eaten by another predator, and that was infinitely worse than holding him until Sparrow did come for him. "At this point, I think keeping you here would be more for your own safety. You haven't eaten anything in three weeks. You'd make an easy yet poor meal for some other predator." Artorias motioned to the food on the table with a tip of his snout, as if giving a "hint hint, nudge nudge" to Artisan to eat something. A thought crossed his mind and the azure-furred wolf snickered. "I wonder, would a pirate wolf taste like seafood?" It was a silly thing to think, but the alcohol was evidently starting to make Artorias a little goofy.

As they traded places, Artisan answered his question. He joined the pirates for the freedom. Artorias scrunched his muzzle in confusion. That didn't make much sense to him. He could have been free to do his own thing with or without a pack. Maybe there was something he wasn't getting there... "Artorias," he interjected when Artisan addressed him as "wolf" again. "My name is Artorias. Figured it was only fair you knew mine since I asked yours." Artisan stepped out to gather some of the strewn horseshoes, giving Artorias a moment to gather his thoughts. "I would, by the way. Be on the doorstep of a pack that had one of my family captive. I'd do whatever it took to bring them home as quickly as possible, because that's what family's supposed to do. You stick together, you bail each other out of messes no matter what. Even if I didn't have the strength, I'd find a way. I'd barter, I'd negotiate, I'd beg if I had to. But... like you said, they're one of my own. They rely on me, look up to me, and I can't let them down like that." Perhaps Artorias was admitting too much to Artisan, giving him too much of a glimpse into the young alpha's mind and letting him see the stresses and concerns he faced. Or maybe Artisan just wouldn't give a fuck and ignore him.

Artisan swung and missed with his shot. Trading places with the pirate, Artorias gave a barking laugh and shot a roguish grin to the other man. "Oh, you clearly don't know Briar. Honestly, I don't know if you'd be able to keep up with us with the way we are. You're, what, twice our age? Think you've got that kind of stamina in you still?" Still grinning, Artorias chucked his horseshoe and was rewarded with another metallic ringing as his shot found its mark. "So I was only teasing before, but now I gotta know... what are you good at, Artisan?" Artorias asked with a curious tilt to his head. "Every wolf's good at something. What's your special talent? And don't you dare say 'fighting' 'cause we both know that's a lie!"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

Artisan's brow raised as Artorias interrupted him. His name was Art, too, which was annoying. "Mine's better." He insisted, words beginning to slur slightly. While he had a high tolerance for the drink, his empty stomach betrayed him. He glared down at the offending organ, stomped his way across the stone floor and spitefully tore a piece from the meat. This hunger strike could go only as long as it did not interfere with fun things - mainly, drinking.

"Sounds like an awful lot of stress to go through, and to put each of your packmates through." He commented off-handedly. "See, I'd rather live in a world without pesky responsibilities. 'Who's on patrol tonight?', 'oh no, we need to go save berry', 'do your job', 'stop drinking, you're gonna drown', I want none of those concerns." Artisan gave a wistful sigh, shoulders swaying slightly as he did. "The fact is, my Pirate brothers are probably sitting around a fire right now, enjoying their life, getting drunk and telling stories. Maybe if I'm here long enough they'll float some of my things out to sea, like a burial. Or maybe they'll all decide it's worth to come get me, but either way, it's their choice and I won't fault them for it. Just like I wouldn't be expected to lay down my life or suck a cat's dick to rescue any of them, they're not obligated to come get me." Family ties sounded exhausting, and that was coming from someone who dearly loved his family.

Artorias took his shot, a shit-eating grin on his face and them's-fightin' words in his throat. Artisan's jaw dropped, blinking rapidly as the horseshoe clanked against the metal and beneath his radar completely. "Woah now." His decorated paw raised in intervention, bringing his beaded bracelets to clatter softly. "You be careful, I was just about to be having fun and there you go overstepping again." While his words were harsher (and to be honest, probably not far from the truth in his mind) his grin remained on his maw, the drink softening his willingness to be angry. "I, little boy, am very skilled with my paws, as my name tells. And skill and experience are an asset my friends typically appreciate over stamina." He stepped back from the meats and sauntered past the Aegis, grabbing another chunk of metal to throw, miss, and then score a drink out of.  

"Speech"

From off to the side, Artorias watched Artisan stomp over to the food like a petulant toddler and begin gnawing away at some meat. A trace of a smirk touched the alpha's lips. At least the wolf was eating now. He didn't have to worry about going to check on him one day and finding an emaciated corpse in a cell. Choosing not to dignify Artisan's quip about his name being better with a response, instead listening to the dismal way he described his perspective of duty. "So what you're saying is, if one of your pack mates or your siblings had been captured or needed help, you wouldn't give a fuck and just let it be?" He raised a curious brow over prying amber eyes, his body swaying gently where he sat, though he wasn't quite as far along into drunk as Artisan was. "There's a difference between doing something because you're told to and doing something because you want to. Duty sucks. It's not supposed to be fun. But if it was my brother who'd been captured and the only way to save him was sucking a cat's dick, you'd best believe I'd do it because I love him, not because I had to. It's not about obligation, it's about love and being a family." The more Artisan described the relationship the pirates had and how they viewed one another, the less they were sounding like "brothers and sisters", and there was no honor among thieves.

Another laugh came from Artorias when Artisan made a comment about almost having fun, finding the pirate's grin with one of his own. "Whassa matter, Artisan? Afraid I'll make you put your money where your mouth is?" he teased with a slight slur to his words, taking another swig of the spiced rum not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Artorias gave a snicker when Artisan explained his special talents, immature thoughts running rampant in his alcohol-addled brain. "Is that more innuendo? Good gods, you're incorrigible, aren't you?" Artorias slid past Artisan to the mark, doing his best not to stumble into the smaller male as he went by, and shot a sideways glance and grin at him. "Oh, and theren't anything little about me, swashbuckler." A wink to Artisan for good measure, and then Artorias hurled another horseshoe.

Muscle memory guided him, and even without thinking in his inebriated state, Artorias was rewarded with the ringing of metal on metal. Artorias took a dramatic bow for effect, ignoring the fact that he almost fell over doing so, and sidestepped his way out of the way for Artisan to go next. "Okay okay, I know what I wanna know." He pointed to Artisan's foreleg wound up in the twine bracelets with the multicolored beads in it. "Is there a story behind the bracelets? 'Cause I think jewelry's cool when it has a story. What's yours for?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

Artorias still wasn't getting the point he was trying to get across, but the finer side of conversation was much harder while drowning in alcohol. "No." He replied, sounding almost offended. "I'm not a coward, I'd stand behind my packmates and my family no matter what, which, makes it mean a whole lot more when there is no obligation to." While Artisan was as loyal as they came, he was not stupid enough to think every member of his pirate family was similar. "You can't understand, you probably grew up in this big 'ole caste learning from whomever came before you how to properly lead your people, and without having lived a life without responsibility I can get how it might sound silly to you."

The pirate shrugged his large shoulders, tearing another small piece of meat off the platter to plop into his maw. "The difference between you and me, is that the people who love me trust me to take care of myself and I trust the people I love to take care of themselves. We live our own lives and bear our own consequences. That doesn't mean a day won't come where I need to bail my idiot little brother out of a jail cell, but it does mean I don't have to sit and stress and worry over his shoulder waiting for the day it happens." In fact, Artisan wasn't sure whether or not he'd bail Hyacinth out of jail even if the bastard begged for it. At least he couldn't kill anyone else while locked away behind bars.

Artorias' teasing words continued and Artisan's accusing paw lifted once more to stab in his direction. "Don't tempt me, wouldn't want you to find yourself with an angry girlfriend tomorrow." He watched as Artorias took his turn, clinking the metal against the peg and taking a drunken bow. "Besides, I'm quite addictive and I don't need to give you lot any more reason to keep me here longer." Reaching out to take another sip of the liquor, he awaited the man's next question.

The mention of his beads brought mixed feelings to Artisan, who pulled his wrist to his chest protectively to regard his precious possessions. It was one thing to talk shit, philosophy, culture or whatever else, but the question was a personal one and Artisan hesitated before it. He could lie, but he'd never been much of a liar. "I made them." He managed. "Each bead represents a wolf I've met, liked, befriended. This way I can remember them always." His claw ran over the colorful creations, his chest tightening with loss and loneliness. Artisan sighed, shaking his head and taking another drink to stave off the sadness. "And don't be getting any ideas about me being short friends, I had four times as many once, but some stupid raccoon stole them from me."  

Stepping past the Aegis he moved to pick up another disfigured piece of metal, focusing hard upon the throw and releasing it with a grunt of effort. The sound of metal on metal awarded him his first win, and he happily (and probably habitually, by this point) crossed the stone floor to glug another sip of ale. "Now, I want to know what darkness lies in you, Artorias. If you could do any one thing, entirely free from consequences, what would you do?"

"Speech"

The Aegis didn't want to admit it, nor would he, but Artisan had hit the nail on the head. Artorias didn't understand where he was coming from because he couldn't understand. He had grown up in the castle, taught responsibility and duty to the family and the pack above all else. His childhood had been filled with rigorous training, lessons that had sculpted him into who he was as a leader. But it had also deprived him of any chance to be a puppy. He hadn't spent many days just playing with his siblings or making friends, he'd taken his mother's lessons to heart with rigid determination. There hadn't really been any balance in his life; he'd put 100% into his training every day until his mother died. Living a life without responsibilities, without duties, just having fun and doing whatever he wanted... that wasn't something that even seemed possible. Glancing away quietly, Artorias began to wonder if perhaps there was something to be learned from Artisan.

A little bit of somewhat salacious amusement flickered back into Artorias' flame-kissed eyes when Artisan told him not to tempt the other male, lest Artorias be facing down an angry Briar in the morning. "Oh, so I'm tempting you, am I?" He flashed his teeth in a rakish grin. The younger alpha obviously became a horny drunk when the liquor got to him. "Pssh, and who's to say I'd be the one getting addicted to you? Maybe the debonair swashbuckler finds he likes getting tangled up in soft sheets on large beds. Maybe you should worry about me being addictive." He asked his question of Artisan's beaded bracelet, and the way the wolf clutched his decorated foreleg to his chest made Artorias realize he'd unintentionally asked a deep personal question. Artisan was a good sport and answered though, explaining how he'd made them and how each bead represented someone in his life. Artorias blinked in amazement, coming closer to inspect the intricate beads better. He didn't reach for Artisan, however, just looking with his eyes at each gorgeous bead. "You made these?" Through his drunken haze, Artorias recalled Artisan explaining he was good with his paws. "Fuck, they're stunning. Artisan, they're incredible!"

On Artisan's face, Artorias saw the flash of sadness and loneliness. The wolf wore his heart on his sleeve, all of his emotions out for the world to see. It was honest and refreshing. Artorias never had to guess what Artisan was feeling. The azure-furred male didn't say a word about his bracelet being short friends. He had more beads than Artorias could think of wolves for his own. Again he was reminded of the missed opportunities in his earlier life. Friends were not something Artorias had in ample supply. He watched Artisan make his throw, half expecting another horrendous miss—only to hear the pirate score his first bullseye of the game. Artorias couldn't help but laugh and clap his paws for Artisan, totally loosened up thanks to the alcohol and also just having fun. Oh, wait... this was fun. Artorias was playing games with pirates and having a good time. That was unexpected... but not unpleasant.

Well, at least it wasn't until Artisan asked his question. The smile slowly fell from Artorias' face, the mirthful and sultry light dimming in those amber eyes. What would he do if he could do any one thing without consequence? Well, that was an easy answer for Artorias—but far from an easy answer to give. But the game had rules, and as far as he could tell, Artisan had been truthful in all his answers. The corner of his lip twitching into an uneasy frown, he grabbed the bottle of rum, taking not one, but two long swigs just for the hell of it. "I'd kill my brother," he admitted in a low mutter that growled in his throat. Pushing the bottle towards Artisan who would no doubt want another drink just because, Artorias took his place at the mark and threw, finally breaking his win streak by landing the horseshoe a few inches shy and stumbling back to the table to take his penalty shot of rum.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
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Artisan was too far into the bottle by now to notice that his drinking partner had fallen silent, so he made himself comfortable on his back upon the stone floor to wait his turn. A few wiggles of his shoulders and rear found him a small bit of comfort and he sighed, leaning his spinning head back on the cold tile while Artorias spoke. He stretched his legs out, stifling a soft bubble of laughter as he imagined his paws could touch the high ceiling.

"Hey, you can tempt all you want it's you who suffers in the end." The pirate refuted with a lopsided grin from the floor. "After all, I'm not the one with a jealous girlfriend. In fact I think I'm being quite kind to you by politely declining your wild, bold advances so you've nothing to regret come the morning." He got to his paws, swaying slightly as he did so. Artorias gave his comment on the beads and Artisan kept silent in reply. It was not often he was made to feel insecure, nor did he generally accept praise with anything less than an 'yes, yes, I know I'm amazing,' but his belongings were important to him, almost as important as the wolves they represented and they were not a topic on which he joked, teased, or went in depth with. "Thank you." He managed uncomfortably, to fill the silence.

More silence followed and it appeared he was not the only one made uncomfortable as Artorias answered his question. The pirate's brow raised in interest - what had the man done to earn Artorias' hate? Artisan felt like he hated his brother, but some small part of him knew it was the grief speaking. Was Artorias' pain similar? And what consequences could come from an alpha deciding to execute another? As far as Artisan was aware, that sort of shit had to happen all the time.

He stepped up to the mark again, gathering his remaining focus to try and hit another shot, invested in the line of questioning and wanting to continue it. His tongue stuck out slightly from the corner of his blackened lips as he concentrated, pulled back his head, and threw. Upon the metal's contact with the pole, Artisan's smile unwillingly returned. "It seems horseshoes is one of the many things I'm better at when I'm hammered." He teased, turning back toward the Aegis and jabbing a paw toward the drink he now had to take. "What'd your brother do?"



"Speech"

Artorias couldn't help the snort of laughter at the drunken pirate's explanation of his generosity by denying him any sort of sexual advances to keep him from having to deal with an angry girlfriend. Rolling his eyes to the wolf strewn out on the floor, he gave him a wave of his paw as if to say "Yeah yeah". "Hey, your loss, Art. Dunno what you might be missing out on," he quipped one last time in parting. It didn't escape his notice the way Artisan had gotten solemn and quiet when it came to the beads on his wrist. All joking aside, Artorias could see the jewelry was exceptionally important to Artisan. Even the wolf's demure thanks showed signs of his guarded personality around them. This wasn't just a hobby, this was a part of who Artisan was. Quietly, Artorias began to wonder if he should maybe do something to commemorate the important wolves in his life like that.

While Artorias was still nursing the sore spot in his heart from Artisan's initial question, the gorgeous pirate hit another bullseye after a moment of dramatic windup, half irritating the young alpha that he'd no doubt have to explain further details, but ultimately grinning to himself when he saw the smile return to Artisan's face. He was happy Artisan was having some fun, getting to stretch his legs, eating and drinking. All it had taken was some friendly competition to fire up his spirits. In short, Artorias had to think like a pirate. With a snicker and a dramatically pained expression at his defeat this round, Artorias took another long swig from the bottle of rum, then slumped back against the table, watching the room sway for a minute while he tried to ignore all the painful memories coming back in his head. Of course, Artisan asked about his brother. Artorias closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a slow, steadying breath. Artisan had asked, and so he would answer.

"He tried to kill me. Tried to kill my sister. Attacked and nearly drowned my other sister. Mutilated and maimed by little brother. Skinned our mother and made her into a cloak. Attacked my best friend's girlfriend. Just... anything he could do to hurt us." Artorias took another drink of rum, not because he had to, but because he needed to in order to push Oxx out of his head. He didn't mention the fact that Oxx had raped him too, but Artisan didn't need to know that. He already looked down on Artorias; no need to give him another reason to see him as less of a man. The Aegis rolled back to his paws, stepping over to the horseshoes and staring down at the cold metal pieces. "He's a sociopath with violent and demented tendencies. Hates all of us. Hates me especially. Wants us all dead. I've tried to kill him before. Didn't work, obviously." Scowling, Artorias shuffled a horseshoe about on the table just to distract himself. "If I could do anything without consequence, I'd kill him. I don't want others getting hurt trying to do it though. That's the consequence I'd avoid. I also don't know where he is now. He could've made good with a pack, found sanctuary somewhere, all things that'd make him harder to get." Artorias finished his explanation by grabbing horseshoe and hurling it with all his anger towards the metal spike, bouncing it off the top of the stake with a clang of metal. The inebriated brute rolled his shoulders in a shrug and went to take another shot, letting Artisan continue their game for as long as one of them remained standing.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
____________________

Artorias' parting quip brought out the argumentative side of the pirate, who wanted his own last word. "You don't know what you are missing out on." He gave back, the sentence all but a drunken slur. It was a small enjoyment, though not long lasting as Artorias answered his question. The Aegis was clearly upset by the confession, and Artisan eyed him cautiously as he took yet another drink of the rum. There was a discomfort in the air as the game had turned personal, and Artisan stumbled beneath the awkwardness, uncertain on how to bring back that enjoyment.

He wandered up to the Aegis' side and aimed to throw an arm around his larger shoulder, as he would with one of his pirate brothers. His intention was to just hold the man there a minute in some form of silent comradery. Artorias was dicking around absently with the horseshoes, so he was made to step back and give the man some space to take his turn. "My brother too." He spoke after the man's next throw had missed. "He killed our other brother in the Long Night." His brows furrowed and he shook his head, casting away the mental image of Hya.

Artisan stepped forward toward the horseshoe, still absorbing the truth of Artorias' words. Muscle memory led his throw back onto the peg, though he grimaced a moment as the sound of metal on metal hit for a third time. While he'd have liked to let Artorias' spirits raise with another question and answer, at least this win allowed him one more expansion on the topic. "What's his name? What's he look like?" He asked, keeping his tone carefree as it had been.



"Speech"

Artorias couldn't suppress the snickering giggles when Artisan insisted that he didn't know what he was missing out on. Well, maybe some other time when they weren't still kinda sorta frenemies. Maybe he'd be able to talk Briar into a fun time with the pirate. Or maybe she'd tell him to go have his fun. Wait... did Artorias even like males like that? He paused to consider it. No, he didn't... did he? He'd never stopped to consider it before. A quick stolen glance to the attractive wheat gold, black, and blue brute and Artorias felt that awkward, nervous blush come over his cheeks and a clench in his belly. He shook his head to snap himself out of his own head and focus back on the game as much as he could.

Following his confessions of the trespasses Oxx had taken against his family and the pain they'd endured at his fangs and claws, Artorias had been sure that Artisan would simply brush it off and move on. Surely the pirate didn't give a shit about him or his family. They were his captors, after all, and Artisan hated them. But when he felt the weight of the other brute's arm around his shoulder, Artorias was taken aback. He gazed over at Artisan, then easily sank into the comfort of the wolf's supportive touch. It reminded him of the kind of gesture he'd give to his own wolves when they were in low spirits, and yet to be on the receiving end for once felt... nice. No words were shared between them, just the silent show of empathy, the kind friends and brothers would show one another. Artorias swallowed back the lump in his throat, then took his turn.

After his miss, he was stunned to hear Artisan admit to wanting to kill his own brother as well. Eyes wide with shock yet understanding and empathy turned to the pirate when he explained the reason. "I'm sorry, Artisan," he said in earnest, low baritones as they swapped places. "I wish we'd met before now. Maybe... Maybe we could have helped him. Helped you all." The Hallows had taken in some wolves during The Long Night, all of which had survived to see the sun. If Artisan's brother had been ill when their other brother killed him, perhaps they could have saved him. His sister's words echoed in his head then. "You can't save the world, Art." No, he couldn't, but he could damn well try...

Artisan took his throw, and another metal clang rang about the hall. "Well shit, I think you were right. You're way better at this when you're hammered," he remarked with a slur to some of his syllables, chuckling quietly while he tried to rekindle some of that mirth the two had found together just moments before. Artisan asked casually about his murderous sibling while Artorias was already chugging down another heavy-handed shot of rum, feeling the warmth of it run down his throat to radiate from his belly. The pleasant tingling warmth had now completely taken over his body and the Aegis was well on the way from drunk to blitzed. "Oxx Carpathius. But I dunno if he goes around announcing himself. He's very clever so he's probably making up names for himself." Artorias raised a waving paw up to the top of his head, swaying where he sat. "He's big, like me. Slate gray on top and white on the bottom with dark stripes down his back. Wicked sharp teeth, like a shark's. Speckled paws and legs." The black and azure brute wobbled his way over to the horseshoes, pointing a paw at Artisan with a serious look on his face. "If you ever, ever see him, you stay away, mmkay? I don't want my new friend getting hurt. No way, nu-uh."

Artorias took a horseshoe and gave it a whirl, spinning more than he intended to in his inebriated state and ending up slinging it perfectly into the fireplace with a clang. He cringed when he realized what he'd done and started snorting with barely contained laughter. "Oops! Well, that one's a goner for good!" He was still tittering when he managed to fumble his way back to the nearly empty bottle of rum, putting even more of the high proof liquor into his system while smiling at Artisan like a goofy idiot. "Hey. Hey, thanks for playing with me. I never really got to play a lot of games before. It's nice. You're really really fun, y'know that? I like you."

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
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