At Leisure Lake the sun is always shining and only a few stray clouds roam the open sky; paradise is the one word that really describes it. This beautiful lake is clean and refreshing, the very best place to swim and fish. Pups are known to play here while older wolves watch at the side, engaged in their own activities.
THE HOLY BROTHERS [GM:S for Ing] IP: 74.199.21.5 Posted on January 21, 2018 at 01:55:23 AM by INMAR and IDAL
They were large, they were beautiful, and they were charging down the beach as though mad with a feverish disease of the mind.
On their own, the two males were quite capable of conducting themselves with some level of professionalism; they’d been raised as princes, after all, and were expected to show the right faces when they inevitably ascended to their rightful thrones. They knew how to banish smiles from their muzzles in a heartbeat, how to shift their gaze from warm and benevolent to hard and guarded so that none understood their true thoughts. Indeed, both brutes found themselves frighteningly adept at fooling not only their future subjects, but also their families . . . the very wolves who claimed to know the siblings better than anyone else. All of these sycophants were pathetic idiots, of course. The only person who truly knew Ingmar was Idal, and the only person who knew Idal was Ingmar. They might trick every other empty mind around them into falling at their paws or cowering in fear, but the brothers would always catch the moment his rival said or did anything that opposed the mask he wore.
Together, without supervision, they could be as violent and untamed as they pleased.
Ingmar raced ahead—in the lead as both an athletic runner and as the eldest son. His stormy coat seemed to swallow the summer light that fell upon it; mottled robes of steel and charcoal fluttered like shadows over a gigantic, thick-muscled frame, painting him all the more imposing. Claws like talons raked up wet sand and sent it spattering behind him—so much shrapnel and destruction—and if he bothered to look behind him, the thundercloud monster would have noticed the ragged trench left in his wake. Idal’s pace proved half as wild; he’d always been the “sweeter” brother, the so-called flower child doted upon by the entire court. If anyone glimpsed him now—mere tail-lengths behind Ingmar, a primal grin splitting his muzzle and his pale blue eyes glittering with insane energy—they would not recognize him. In this moment, struggling to catch up with his beast of a brother, Idal had shed his Good Boy persona. He snapped at the air behind Mar’s haunches, yipping a hunting cry. Where Ingmar loomed in his own shroud of darkness, Idal gleamed with light. He was a flash of red-gold light shimmering along the beach, all blonde and strawberry, drawing fascinated eyes like some exotic bird.
This new land excited them beyond words. Beyond comprehension. They had plunged outside the jurisdiction of their own realm—which mean there were no consequences. Ingmar and Idal could do whatever they wanted, and nobody could stop them. There would be no punishment. Should trouble arise, they would simply return to their kingdom until the fuss died down, and come back to “Blossom Forest” for a new round of mayhem. Glorious day!
“Have you seen any pretty females yet, Mar?” Idal barked up at his sibling, swerving sideways to splash through the shallow waves lapping up the shore. Ingmar gave a short snarl of frustration, not breaking his pace.
“No, not yet. But I can smell them. This land is crawling with wolves.”
“Oh, goodie!” A childlike laugh, breathless and joyous. “We’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we?”
