misanthropic drunken loner

Holed up in a cavern, far from the dangers of that everlasting night, the wraith had set himself to work at brewing. It seemed a useful enough skill to spend his time on, and while the glowing fungi had been the worst of test subjects, the usual suspects had proven far easier to work with. Fermenting grapes in a warm, dark hollow in the earth had taken up most of his time. It had left him with little time to pine and fret over the state of his family, and the world crumbling apart around him. Hallux had indeed been overcome by the plague, and crystals had sprouted on her talons and beak initially, before slowly spreading over her face and constricting her breathing. It had taken weeks of careful tending for the parrot to recover, and only once the sun had finally returned had the luminescent points begun to slough away.

Now here he was, with bottles upon bottles of crude wine and mead at his disposal, and a whole lot of time. There was no one to worry about, and not much to do. In the wake of the plague, spreading the word of God had fallen further and further down his list of priorities. What if the wolves he spoke to were infected, and he became ill too? He hadn't been willing to take the risk. Somewhere along the way, he'd made it to the bottom of one of his jars of wine and wound up at the edges of a familiar forest. The ghostly trees beckoned him with boughs outstretched to the heavens and budding leaves producing the faintest aroma that plucked a quiet tune on the homesick chords of his delicate heartstrings.

"You shouldn't be here, boy." his companion warned softly from above, perched on one of the bleached bone branches overhead. "You aren't welcome, you know this." her raspy voice bore the unmistakable tones of a disappointed mother chiding her toddler. He sighed, and lowered his haunches to the frost laden grasses underfoot. The sun hadn't risen yet, had he been out all night? Casting his pale eyes down to his mismatched paws, he couldn't help but wonder if God had tugged his legs forth like a marionette. Was it nostalgia? Or something more?

"I'm checking on Iki, there's nothing wrong with that." he snapped, and the defensive tone of his voice betrayed him. Even from so high overhead, he could see the way Hallux cocked her head to the side to stare at him with one beady eye. "Then why aren't we standing at the coast, where she would hear you better?" the chilly retort cut to the bone, and the dark furred godling knew he was beat. Why bother arguing with someone who spent all day with you? "You aren't my mother." he retorted coldly, and rose quickly back to his paws to pace anxiously. Calling from the borders would draw the attention of others.. perhaps this was foolish. He was a foolish child who wanted to come home, but he wouldn't admit it to himself. In a brief flash of frustration, he kicked an errant pebble into the woods just to hear it ricochet from the trunks of the spindly alabaster trees.

"Pontifex" || "Hallux" || "others"