His path had been crossed, and it was all too easy to slip unnoticed around those he followed. Always following, skulking, sneaking around like some slippery weasel. He had finished what he'd started last year, and it felt good. He felt even. But he could not get back what should have been his. Gone, all gone. Long, long gone. Just like Liah and the pretty boy he'd spoken to before. Ashes, ashes.. He was cold. Everything around him felt cold and tasted bitter. Bones and dust and a stolen birthright that he should finally take responsiblity for. Cobryn hadn't done it, hadn't done much of anything except screw up. Fuck up all those lives he shoved himself into.

Mockingbird was angry in a frozen kind of way. It was an old anger, though he knew by now that everyone connected would still gain it. Part of him wanted to slaughter anyone involved at a distance, anyone borne from the marked critters. It was a vast array, and he had no way to branch out the blood as had been done by others. No one would remember him, no one would think on the fact that he had ever existed. A lost prince of a dead pack. His full sister was gone, the traitor half sister rumored dead and gone -- good, though he missed his chance to taste Jaidah's blood -- and now there were all those messed up little things to which he was both uncle and brother to. Disgusting in more ways than one.

He shook himself as if to rid the thoughts and send them to the dirt. It didn't work, of course, but the motion helped clear his head of the sickened thoughts. It let him keep moving into the lands at a jog, barely getting a look at all from any he passed. He did not smell like male nor female; a curse he'd been born with. He was a looker with the black brindling over grey, but it was all for nothing. He had the parts that said male but nothing worked quite right. Cobryn had known it right away, and Mockingbird still remembers some of the things his father had said to him, of him. The very fact that his name was what it was. Born a mockary, and it was blamed on Apollymi. Perhaps nature's way of attempting to save amazonian born males. But it had messed up. Perhaps that had been the point.

Still he moves closer, further into the area before he spotted the gathering. So many wolves wandering about, and like any curious creature, Mockingbird had to get closer to them, had to see what was going on. He circled the outskirts, getting closer with each passing second and wondering if the looks he got now were because he didn't make sense to anyone's nose. Freak of nature beyond what this place considered demons and angels. He shared a line with cannibals; the first unlabeled demons, but he did not need to feed on the flesh of his own. He could and would if there was reason, but there often was not. He had enough problems as it was. Though... he had eaten Cobryn.