Arthfael
There’s a lot going on, but no fear creeps into Arthfael’s system. He’s been watching from Natu’s side for most of the calamity, for most of their little sky falling. It was all very strange, and it was all happening seeming at the same time. A bear. Uncles that weren’t moving. Uncles that were moving. Dad moving his brothers that weren’t moving, at least not on their own. The carcass of the offending creature, the bear (he committed that to memory right there), being ripped apart by dad and then that woman. Right. There was something about this that was the opposite of routine, especially as the grief permeated the air. Ankh was asking questions, mom was fielding them, and things were much in the same way they always were. Arthfael was thankful that mom knew so much stuff, otherwise things would be… weird. Different. Less okay than usual. Not okay at all, sure.
As mom manages to get everyone out of the den, Arthfael takes to a lolloping run. They were going to dad, why not race? Moving quickly, kicking out with his too-big feet and the lush grass. Something oddly pervasive about the sadness, but he’s not sure about this concept of mourning. He has his uncles to mourn, and yet… that is all. Not his mother, not his father, not the other monsters (he needs to stop calling them that, oops) from his litter. The independent streak in him sends him a little past his father, turning to look questioningly at him. Head cocks to the side, bright eyes sitting on the man that had sired him.
“Lavender fields? Where’re those?” Words that come out half lumped together, curious, already straining at the bit to get out of this situation. The stench of something that wasn’t good in the basest way had come into the air, and he didn’t like that at all. Getting outta here—best idea anyone’d had all day.
fenrir x natu - <1 - asteraia
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