Pull Me Under

Bane flicked an ear at his packmates words in contemplation as she spoke. "I've had a fair time enjoying the pleasantries of life, but I feel as if I need an anchor to make me stop, either death or a mate is the only thing that'll stop me." Bane shifted on the hallowed ground and looked at Destruction, reflecting on her words when he'd been digging and right after he had finished burying his son. "Yes he is, though... his suffering may have ended it would've been nice to see what became of him."

"My past is moving right alongside me, Des, ... I don't know if there's hope for me, I've been playing this game for two long. Seracians are a suspicious lot and distrustful of me. I'm too set in my ways of doing whatever I want. We of the bloodied moon tribe are..." Bane caught himself at the next word, continuing. "were, like this before the eruption, almost similar to this pack. It's funny, it's almost like Seracia was created with similar laws to replace my old pack as the bloodied moon tribe. The gods are funny that way." Bane wanted to howl for his son, as if to say he was sorry and that he wouldn't be forgotten. But he couldn't, not with an oblivious pack around... he couldn't.