It was done.  Goddamn, did Matija love to watch a plan come together.  Everything coming to fruition... they're just doing what it takes to survive, after all.  The last laugh protocol that he'd had tucked up his sleeve, refined over the last year, and finally allowed to come alive.  It was a shame his companions hadn't been there to see it, his magnum opus to this point.  Ah, it's fine.  There's always the next one, and he's had the entire journey to think about it.  

Not paranoid, just prepared.  Matija's escape had come only after ensuring there had been no survivors, but it was careful all the same.  It wouldn't be long before someone noticed, and he was careful to leave no trace.  Sinking his raft halfway, swimming the remainder.  

Matija looked like a drowned rat as she hauled himself to the beach, shaking the sea water from his coat.  Eyes bright, taking a deep breath of the breeze that swept from the inland.  Right.  No time to rest, couldn't leave them alone for long.  Wouldn't leave them alone for longer than he needed to.  Catching the first hint of something promising, Mati takes off across the sand.  To the north and the west, inland, stride enough to eat the ground beneath his feet.

It was unnerving for Idris to be separated so long from Matija. They had been together every day their entire lives. Sharing everything and that really meant everything. Even the girl that Idris practically dragged across the sand and stowed into a mess of wetland brush when the scent of someone caught his attention. Having finally had a chance to groom out his salt soaked fur, it bristled with the anticipation that he would have to fight. Pale grey eyes searched around the horizon as he stood protectively over the area that hid Cambria. Without Matija here... he felt defenseless. Through saltwater breeze, the scent came again. Muddled with mud and other notes, Idris was starting to pick it out. Matija. Ears perking, head lifting up higher, tail giving a few gentle wags. The only wolf that would ever see him in any sort of jovial mood. If Matija was here, that meant the plan had worked. Eager, excited, he searches again until he sees the myriad of grey wet-soaked fur traipsing along the beach. Turning one last time to Cambria, informing her to stay until he gave the green light, he takes off across the beach. Even if he was sure it was Matija, Idris wasn't taking any chances with the girl. This could potentially be someone disguised as his brother as a way to get the princess back. Paranoid? Maybe slightly, but he wouldn't admit it admit aloud. As his large paws carry him over the sandbar, his hopes rise. "Brother," Idris bellows in that low baritone, his grey lips curling up into a smile. Without slowing down, he barrels into Matija, slamming their chests together with an 'oof' until they're both in the sand and he's standing over his slightly smaller brother. His tongue drags heavily and sloppily over his brother's cheek with a quick pull at that tender cheek skin with his front teeth. "I take it you didn't have any complications," he murmurs as his smile grows and tail wags faster. Idris Ashcroft

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Shifting in the breeze, though he follows mostly his gut. Spend enough time with someone, you learn how they think. How they see the world. If he was Idris, this is the path he would have taken. The plan, the signals, the signs-- everything without a hitch. Matija would put his trust in no one else. As he moves down the beach, gaze sharp, it's no surprise when he finally spots Idris.

Straightening up, taking off a dead run, he can't help himself. A grin slipping over his face-- genuine, for once. "You bastard, we did it." A toss of his head, and a far louder thud as he slams into his brother. Tumbling to the sand, reaching up to tug at the loose fur of Idris's cheek and neck. Tail doesn't stop wagging. Holy fuck, they'd done it. They'd really done it. He'd made it, he was whole, and his mood was too good to have fumbled the bag in the process.

"Of course not," the words breathless, grin wild. "How did you make out?" There's an edge of concern in Mati's words, in his tone, paw running carefully across the larger man's chest and shoulder.

The familiar rumble of his brother's voice is enough to have his heart soaring and body wiggling as if they were puppies all over again. Idris can't hide the grin. Of course he had wondered if Matija would make it alive and even make it alone across the fucking torrent of ocean that they had had to cross. It was nothing compared to the terror of making sure Cambria kept afloat as well, but he still worried. Matija was his other half after all, his literal blood, his forever. A pleased grumble leaves him as his brother's paw runs carefully over his chest and shoulder. His own nose is nosing through his brother's scruff, inhaling the scent of salt and smoke deeply, not the usual notes of Mati, but he could get used to it. Glancing over to Mati's concerned look, he lets out a laugh, brushing off the worry that his brother holds for him. "No worse than you did," he murmurs quietly, another lick to his brother's cheek, comforting, more tender this time. "I have her hid over in the brush. Couldn't be too certain it was you until I got closer," his fur bristles as memories threaten to trickle into his mind. They had so desperately wanted the princess back and there was no way either of them would be letting her go. Idris Ashcroft

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Inseparable. Hell, if the sea had taken Matija, he'd just have to make good on his promise-- haunting Idris for the rest of his days. His confidence is really for their benefit, more than his. There was time to look freaked out after, but the first rule of having a plan was full faith in the plan. None of his plans had failed so badly that they hadn't been able to bail themselves out, at least not yet... that's why they're still here. It's a good thing Matija wouldn't understand confirmation bias, even if it was explained to him.

The laugh, it's comforting. Leaning into the tenderness for only a moment before his unrepentant desire to be a pain in the ass wins out again. Leaning up, he tugs at Idris's ears. Holding on perhaps a bit harder than he needs to, but only for a moment. "How can you be certain it's me, then?" A wiggle in the sand, a grin crossing his face. Rakish, brilliant.

"Big scary skinwalker Matija, all ookie-spookie and shit," he teases, tail wagging in the sand. Was he having a little too much fun with it? Maybe. Did they have bigger things to be worried about? Maybe. But he's coping with keeping his shit together through that whole ordeal, and being a pest is the only coping skill available at the moment.

A growl is quick to come out when Matija reaches up to pull roughly on his ears. Idris is used to it and he retaliates with a quick nip to the soft spot behind his brother's ear. He meets his brother's rakish, wild grinning expression with a devious and rakish expression of his own. Light eyes shifting a shade darker, his lips pulling up as his brother wiggles in the sand. As the words leave Matija, Idris lifts a hind paw and places it firmly, but gently onto his brother's stomach, right above his groin. "Would big, scary, skinwalker Matija allow some thug to do this to him?" Idris' words are a hushed whisper as he quickly strikes. His teeth grasping just enough delicate skin beneath his brother's chin to make it hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Was he enjoying the moment? Of course. There was no doubt that this was indeed Matija, his brother, but if he could get a few moments of something out of it while they were alone, he would. Idris Ashcroft

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With a habit of pushing things too far, there's a reason that Matija's skin is nicked and scarred if you bother to look beneath his coat. Just as plush and warm, though it hangs closer to his body-- soaking wet and sprawled in the sand. Smoky, grinning, high on all the finer things in life. Victory. Destruction. Alive with it. They'd pulled things off. They'd pulled things off, they were here, and they had a life to start free of everything that previously held them back.

Free men. A glimmer in his gaze, resisting to being pinned. Though he weighed less, he wasn't going to make things easy. Writing, nails on a hind foot raking down Idris's leg. Grinning. Relishing in what came next, it's all a game. A delicate game, one they know all too well. Matija comes alive, pulse racing, head spinning-- breath slowing, though his head swims. A thrill through his system, though his eyes slip upwards.

"We're too good looking for the thug routine, remember?" The words are harsh, labored, but they're worth it. Rakish grin falling over his face, the fight in him a little too hard to be playful, a little too meek to be genuine.

The wiggling, near writhing, of his brother beneath him has him chuckling again. Even the raking of nails down his leg is enjoyed. It would be a lie to say that Idris' own skin was spotless. Scars, marks, anything from pricks to jagged lines mar that fine pinkish grey skin beneath his plush fur. He does well to hide it, grooming it often, bathing when he can, but it's there, that much is true. Idris' own pulse races as he tugs at his the skin he has between his teeth. Mati's words have his lips pulling up into a salacious grin. Releasing his biting grip, he pulls his head up, tongue running over where he had ahold of his brother's tender skin. "Would they call us proper villains than?" He hisses as he releases his paw from his brother's stomach. As much as he wants to stay, torture his brother, hold him down in the sand, that pricking sensation at the back of his mind can't be ignored. Cambria is alone, untended to. She could run if she wanted, but she would never get away. A chase would be fun, wouldn't it? One last lick to his brother's muzzle before he steps over and away, giving Matija room to stand up. "We did it. I believe it's time to celebrate," that grin meets his darkened eyes as his eager tones shift into something... terrifying. The girl had little hope of ever being free. Idris Ashcroft

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The tip of his chin, the sharpness of his grin, and all the terrible things stretched between them. No, there's no one he'd rather have by his side, both at the start and at the end. Wrapped in an eternity together-- that's how they'd gotten here, after all. Never one without the other. It was easier to be perfect if they weren't alone. Balancing each other out, keeping each other in check.

A little grumble in his throat as he presses the flat of his cheek against Idris's face. To think, they'd come close to never being here again. Close, but ah, how they'd made it. "They will call us whatever we tell them to, my dear. It's our history to rewrite." Grinning, he rolls to his feet the moment he's released.

Ah, but it's true, he aught to see it with his own eyes that she'd made it safely. Shaking the sand free from his coat, tossing his head, his posture shifts. Something a bit more predatory in his step, reaching out to jam his muzzle into his brother's neck. Teeth first, grinning. Egging the man on, moving to stir him up. "Just about read my fuckin' mind."

Something wicked this way comes.