Finding Your Balance

It was only once Sirius' expression shifted into one of sad disappointment did Artorias realize he had let himself slip. The anger had started to flare up, and as soon as it had, he had let it come out enough to use it to berate his mentor. Cold recognition cooled his head like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him, and a newfound frustration reared its ugly head—but it was frustration at himself. He had let himself slip up that quickly. He didn't have enough control. He listened quietly while Sirius chided him for his mistake, reminding him of why he was here in the first place. He asked if he would lose his temper in the heat of battle, lose control and become a threat to everyone near him? He was reminded of the night of the saber cat attack—the night when he had first noticed the slipping of Resin's mind, how she had been lashing out at everything without discrimination. No, no he didn't want to be that. Seer pressed his weak point harder when he brought Briar into the equation. Would he lose his temper with Briar? Would he become a danger to her too, the way Seer had been a danger to her?

Artorias gnashed his teeth harder together, stifling another growl in his throat. When it became apparent that Sirius was not going to do anything until he reset himself, Artorias composed himself again and sat upright, exhaling hard to let out some of that aggression that had been starting to bubble like magma inside his core. His eyes closed, blocking out the world, and he resumed his breathing. In, hold, out... Keep the count. In, hold, out... The subtle sounds of Sirius moving began again, but he was moving much more carefully, avoiding any obvious crunches of snow, making it harder to know exactly where he was. In, hold, out...

Sirius taunted him, asking if he thought Briar wanted to see him angry. He bit his tongue to silence another yip when the stick rapped against his toes, paws flexing and claws scratching at the stone while every instinct inside him urged him to lunge for the Warlord. To not take the abuse and to show that he wouldn't be taken advantage of. "Don't bring Briar into this," he muttered through gritted teeth almost on reflex. He hated how he used Briar like a weapon against him. He hated how Seer seemed to know exactly how much Briar meant to him, like he was able to see right through Art.

The stick hit his ribs this time right as he was inhaling, knocking the breath from him in a startled gasp. He wasn't an angry child. He wasn't useless to his pack. His lips curled back into a silent snarl, his brow creasing as he put more and more effort into focusing on his breathing. It was harder now, each inhale and exhale strained, his eyes screwed shut while he tried his damnedest to keep up with his training. The meditation had all but ended by now, all peace long gone while Art just kept himself breathing to not attack his mentor. He didn't know how much more he could keep up with though. If Seer kept pushing those buttons and hitting him with that fucking stick he didn't know what he'd do.


"Artorias" | Thoughts | "Corbin"