misery and sorrow follow us around
01-02-2015, 11:49 PM
Kass' jaw was set in determination as he made the trek from his home. He glanced back every once in a while to make sure his brother was still trailing behind him. He'd had enough of sitting around watching Sigmarr moping, unable to do a thing to help. He was a healer, and it was in his nature to do just that, to help, but Sigmarr didn't seem inclined to accept his gentle ministrations. It was time for a boys' night out. It was time to do things the hard way. He hadn't told Sigmarr where they were going, just bullied him into coming along with him. Everything had been handled in a curt, pushy manner quite unlike Kass' usual methods and honestly, if Sigmarr was been anything like the boy he'd once known he'd likely be a little pissed at the treatment... but Kass didn't know what, if anything, had changed in his brother. It was time to change that. He stopped abruptly, the gloomy twilight shrouding his form in swathes of fog and darkness. He couldn't have chosen a better setting - thunder grumbled in the distance, the occasional flicker of lightning heralding a far off spring storm, and the mists lent a certain surreal feel to the whole affair. The ground underfoot was still slushy with melting snow, but the terrain gave an impression that it wouldn't take much for the ground to be churned to mud. The snowy white of his paws was already splattered with it, black in the gloom. He turned dark, serious eyes to his brother as he turned around to face him. "Sigmarr," he spoke, his voice disconcertingly muffled by the fog as he studied his taller, younger brother. "Do you know where we are?" The smell of old blood, the fear scent, permanently marked this land as a battlefield and though Kass had never personally been here he had known of it and known to come here. Sigmarr may not have spoken to him about his time in captivity, but the scars marking his body betrayed repeated battles - Sigmarr was no stranger to the blood and death found here. Kassander had tried and failed to gently break him out of this depression and start the healing process, but maybe now was the time for harsher ways. Maybe it was time for a good hard push. "Fight me, Sigmarr." The demanding words weren't an offer... they were a command. The untrained youth spread his paws slightly, his stance sturdy and determined as he stared at Sigmarr. He didn't want to hurt his brother, but he would if it meant snapping him out of this. Besides, it would be good practice, for both of them. Round 0/? |
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