Arthfael
Packs changed hands. It, as Arthfael would understand eventually, happened. Things happened. Things changed. He wouldn’t let it shake him. He wouldn’t let it change the way he thought and the way he worked. There was a certain density to his soul, a certain grit that made him… made him something else. It was easier that way. Be something else. Be outstanding. Get angry. That was always rad, right? Get mad. Do nothing other than get mad if that was what you needed. That could be what he needed. The grit was darker, clung like sand or rich soil to his insides. That was the thing. He was hard to get through to. Little did he know, no one was meant to get through to him like that. No one was supposed to make that difference.
Maybe that’s what made him a little mad. They could only speculate though. Arthfael would be the only one to know, and his understanding would only come with time. Time. What a strange concept time was. He wouldn’t worry about it, shouldn’t worry about it, and yet here he was. Time was what changed things, and there was no use fighting that. He was getting better at learning not to fight the future. That was the thing. Fighting the future would be fighting himself, and he was learning that it was the worst thing he could do.
He stands at what he feels is the edge of the universe. For so long it’s been the edge of his universe. Things are okay now, though. Things will be okay. He simply looks out, looking and trying to see. Yes, things were strange. Yes, things were slightly out of reach, out of touch, but Arthfael would get them back. He would find mom, but not yet. Eventually. They were headed off, and his best guess was probably… no. Never mind, he lacked a guess at all. He would go eventually, but… but maybe he could stay. This had been his home, after all.
fenrir x natu - zero - asteraia
html by jake |