CROATOAN

*Valentine* · 05-03-2015, 08:59 AM

IF YOU POST HERE VALENTINE WILL PROBABLY EAT YOUR FACE.

Quite some time had passed since he'd last seen his mother. They'd gotten in the habit of checking in regularly, but over the last season or so their communications had ceased. Valentine had taken it as a good sign, a sign that Cataleya had decided that he was successfully filling his new role. He didn't need to be coddled, he never had, but he couldn't begin to guess his mother's thoughts on the matter. The brute could only assume that he was finally meeting her expectations –whatever those were. Perhaps the force claiming of that Destruction family had done it, perhaps somewhere in that twisted mind of hers that simple, despicable act had satisfied a perverse need to corrupt, and satisfied, she'd gone home to let the young monster she'd created breath and stretch in his own right. Whatever the reason, today he was going to break the silence.

Reaching the place where the border had been, Valentine was shocked to discovery that Arcanum's scent was fading. It was weak, the markers barely hanging on. How much time had passed since the border had been refreshed? Since his mother or Kylar or any of the pack wolves had run the circuit? His pulse quickened as he rushed into the abandoned pack land. Nose to the ground he searched for a scent.

He found nothing. From one corner of the moor to the other, Valentine searched. Not one single familiar scent remained. There was nothing, he knew there was nothing, but that did little to slow his frantic efforts. For hours he searched the moor and its neighboring territories. He forsook no lead, following the thinnest trail, the faintest hope, and yet, nothing. Finally, spent and borderline manic, he returned to the moor. Why? Where had they gone? How could she, yes, she, the only one who truly mattered here, have left without a word? Surely something had happened, some misfortune or catastrophe, but where was the struggle? The causalities? It appeared to have just fallen apart.

Tears stung his eyes as he allowed a nagging, unshakable thought to creep forward. Valentine balked at the wave of emotion that threatened him. He gritted his teeth and willed away the urge to break down. She would hate it. Smirk or scowl at him for being so stupid, so sentimental and so very childish. Despite his efforts the terrible thought remained. He found himself regressing, becoming again the little boy who had found himself alone on an island. The dull pangs of remembered fear and loss accosted him. How many time had he been cast aside? Had it happened again?

Gone without so much as a good-bye. Pain lanced through his heart. It had happened again. Wave after wave of grief and anger struck him, the emotions fighting so bitterly for control that he couldn't distinguish one from the other. Simultaneously he wanted to mourn the loss of his mother and rage at the injustice being done to him again. Valentine's jaw worked and his eyes sought the horizon as he battled the turbulent emotions that threatened to batter him like a house in a hurricane. He was an adult; independent and capable, and relied on his mother for nothing, so why did he feel like such a child in the face of her disappearance?

The chilly mist seemed to suck the frantic energy from him. He felt like an empty hull, a shell of what he'd been hours before. Fatigue began to work at him and Valentine slowly sank to his haunches. He didn't know how to feel, didn't know where to start, but it wasn't a numbness that accompanied his fatigue. Everyone needed to feel his loss, needed to hurt the way he hurt.

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