But if it had to perish twice,

The last thing Artorias had expected from the previously enraged dire wolf had been empathy. He had seen the fury in Sirius' cold eyes, heard the hate and anger in his voice. Now the Warlord was trying to show that he understood and cared? How could he care? He had selfishly taken his mother—his weakened, injured mother—on a search and rescue mission and did... gods knows what happened to get her as roughed up as she was, since mother of them would say anything! But Seer's words rang true; Artorias was fighting a battle against an enemy he could not defeat. There was no tangible foe for him to bite or slice or stab or cut or claw at. All of his training, all of his lessons to be a great warrior, and he was benched because he couldn't do a damn thing. He wished he could fight Resin's sickness like he had fought the dire wolf, wished he could pummel the pain and the hurt his family felt like the hyena pack. But he couldn't do shit.

Sirius ordered him to draw his sword and do something about all of his anger and frustration. Shock and confusion flashed across the boy's face. Sirius wanted him to attack him? Artorias did not know how to respond right away, glancing past the larger man to his mother who was limping up to them and had no doubt heard what he had said. He felt stuck in a conundrum; Sirius wanted him to fight back against his anger, Tamsyn wanted him to restrain himself. He respected both wolves immensely, making the choice a catch-22. Once more Artorias turned his gaze to Seer's, trying to read his expression and ultimately failing. Part of him wanted to, a primal part of his brain that demanded violent justice for the wrongs he had felt.

But that didn't feel right. What Sirius had said, about him deciding that all the fault lay with him, that didn't sit well with Art. The lad gnashed his teeth together for a moment before releasing the tension in a sigh and shaking his head. He was an adult now, and he had to act like one. "The fault in my world doesn't lie with you, Sirius. Not all of it, at least," he muttered in response, feeling some of his anger deflate as he spoke. "You're hurting too, just like all of us. I can't blame you for being angry when I'm angry too." Artorias' expression hardened then, a dour look crossing his features. He didn't want an outlet, he had plenty of that in his destroyed dojo. What Art wanted more than anything else was to feel like he was doing something good, something to make things right.

"But I do blame you for the condition of my mother. Regardless of what happened, whether you had a paw in it or not, you were responsible for her safety when she's with you, like I was responsible for Briar's. If that's what you want to fight me about, then let's do this." Artorias squared his paws off and settled into his battle stance, turning his head to grab and unsheath his wooden sword. Such an old, flimsy weapon would do little to a wolf like Sirius, but it was what Artorias had at his disposal. He cast one last glance to Tamsyn and muttered a, "Sorry, Mom." Then he rushed the Warlord.

There was no fear in Artorias' charge, just the look of focus and determination of a young warrior hellbent on the fight ahead. He had beaten a wolf that easily had a half foot on Sirius, but he knew of the Warlord's prowess for battle and his reputation. Art had to use his smaller size and agility to his advantage, nimble feet retracing familiar choreography as he ran up to his opponent, coming just within feet of him, then darting to the left and leaping towards Seer's right side in a burst of snow, wooden sword coming down aimed towards his chest.

"Artorias" | Thoughts