lionheart

Part of him was hoping he would encounter his family around here, if he just wandered enough. But they'd been fragmenting more and more with each day, even before the Long Night had sickened them. And here he was, running back to the one place had always felt safe, and praying that his mother would understand. That Faith and Modesty would understand. He had to return, didn't he? The wanderers life hadn't suited him, much as he'd tried. He'd holed up in that cave by the coast, learned the brew mead and wine, and wallowed in misery. He didn't care that he would never be Abraxas by name again, he simply wanted to regain the connection he felt he'd lost. When he was nestled up at the Shrine, the soft lapping of the waves in the blessed pool were a balm for his nerves, even if the empty echoing of hallowed halls awoke a fervent need for slumbering bodies all around him. Three of them, to be precise. He would need to try and convince his cousins to take up a residence outside the palace, to help him feel less alone in the home he'd grown up in.

Long legs carried him with ethereal grace as he moved ever deeper into the woods, until a low, rumbling growl seemed to shake his very bones. Two toned gaze drifted across the undergrowth as he paused, stilled to a statue. There. A flash of gold eyes reflecting amidst the foliage. Hackles bristled, and the young male brandished his sabre fangs alongside a snarl of his own. He took a few cautious steps back, putting more distance between himself and the tiger that was beginning to push its bulk from the undergrowth. He wanted more space to manouvre if it came barreling forwards. And charge it did, as soon as his paw struck the third stride backwards, it lunged at him. The godling scented the soft aroma of milk under the musk of feline rage, and knew the female must be nursing kits nearby. He'd been too preoccupied to notice, and now he was well and truly in danger.

Sidestepping the initial lunge, he felt the sting of sharp claws raking his right flank, though without the searing heat of shorn muscle or exposed bone alongside it. He'd been lucky, there. Slender jaws caught a chunk of flesh near the top of her massive thigh as she slipped past him, and he whirled to face her again. He set his delicate skull low between his shoulders, and waited for her to make her next move.

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