Malestrom

Perhaps this wasn't his brother, perhaps this was ghost, a vision of history past, an expression of Glacier's failer. For when the stormy brute turned his head, his eyes alighting upon the gentle giant, there was very little left on that grey face to remind him or Arcus. The curl of his lips formed a smirk, an expression of cruelty. Yet, even this was only secondary to the true dominant change in his brother. “Arcus” it was a whisper, a groan of pain in the form of a word.

There was pain in Arcus's voice too, when he uttered the name of the giant. It was a different sort of pain, a hateful, vengeful pain that was an entire world away to the cry that had been Glacier's. The larger, stronger brother's voice had been a whisper of an end, what tears would sound like if they had a voice. Arcus's, the smaller, once spirited creature full of life, his voice... well, there was no whole pieces left in Glacier's heart once the sound of it had finished tearing through his chest.

He wanted to take a step towards the young man, the familiar stranger, if only his legs would obey him. They where rooted in place, as immobile as the icy mountains he was named for. Yet, even the thickest ice can melt and slowly, slowly, the pure mask of silver in his eyes began to fade, and fire returned to the beast. As he found that strength inside of him, as he pulled free of the immobilization his body wanted to retain, his paws moved also. He took a step forward, then another. A slow gait, a cautious one, as through he was afraid that if he took any more Arcus would turn from him, and he would lose his brother.

His breath returned next, a ragged intake shook his body, and his teeth slowly, reluctantly unclenched part way, enough to hiss a word through his fangs, “Who did this to you.”