Glorall had always been captivating beneath the light of a full moon. The heat of the day had faded, and all was quiet beyond the trilling of crickets and the crashing of waves. Eden moved along the shoreline and up the dunes towards Elohim, who had elected a position where he could watch the faint light playing off the water. Eden had requested they meet and had been surprised when Elohim had not resisted and instead, had seemed as if he had intended to make a similar request himself.
Pleasantries and formalities were made, and Elohim had quickly informed his father of his success meeting with several wolves from the other packs. He made note of several names, those such as Shaddix and Ruby, and went over the things Dexter had said in Taviora. Eden had listened closely but quietly, and Elohim could not discern whether he was impressed, caught in contemplation or if he had simply nodded along to satiate Elohim’s desire to be heard. In the end, Eden had been blunt: "These decisions will be yours to make, Elohim." Eden often spoke in the Old Tongue when his words bore more than their usual weight, and Elohim felt every part of them.
Elohim had little time to disagree, for Eden was quick to begin questioning him in relation to his brother, Erebos. He had heard rumors (though, Elohim had a suspicion his father had chosen that word carefully) of Erebos’ behavior, and he sought clarification of what Elohim had seen himself. The truth was difficult to pry from his son, but eventually enough had come to light that Eden could deduce the truth of the matter. Erebos was, for lack of a better expression, not quite Erebos, or at least, less Erebos. At least, both supposed, they agreed on one thing: who were they to make that claim? He had left them all so young, whisked away in secrecy and silence by Achlys. Her ghost lingered in Glorall, and both were moved to silence, as if they felt her resting between them.
It was Eden who broke the spell. He shifted his weight, and Elohim followed suit. "It is unusual for you to be so restless," Elohim observed, his eyes narrow as he watched his father closely. In the moonlight, he was a shadow, but his father seemed to glow beneath the silver light like a ghost in his own right. "What is unusual, Elohim, is that I have stayed so quiet for so long. Conservative, quiet. That is unusual. It was restlessness that bore me, and I shan’t ever see a day without it," he had retorted with a smirk and an unimpressed huff. "I did not expect to ever stop looking for a new something," he said, cutting off whatever it was that Elohim had been about to quip.
Elohim did not know what to say, so he said nothing. Instead, the two of them simply watched the ocean for some time. Elohim could feel a weight between the two of them, but he could not decide whether it was Eden’s or his own. Perhaps they shared it, after all.
"I am not a leader, father. I ask the right questions, seek the right answers, say the things others need to hear, but that does not make me a leader," Elohim finally said after too long in silence. His voice was hard, and he had turned to face his father completely. Even in the faint light, Eden could see the hard line of his son’s jaw, resolute in his belief. It made Eden laugh. The crickets paused for a second, surprised by the sudden interruption. Elohim, too, had been surprised into silence.
"Then do not lead. Can I force you to lead? No, I cannot, just as you cannot force yourself. So, don’t. I am not telling you to lead, Elohim. I am telling you that the decision is yours to make.” If Elohim had believed himself resolute, then he felt like a fraud next to his father in that moment. Eden did not laugh, did not move, did not do anything but meet his son’s eyes intensely. He was, Elohim knew, challenging him. Yet, Elohim did not retaliate. Instead, he shrugged and broke eye contact, looking down the dunes and out to the sea. "And what will you do, Fortitude? Crawl into the dunes to die, or walk into the sea to drown? What will I tell them all – Glorall's Fortitude grew too old and too afraid to stand anymore?” Elohim snorted, but Eden did not.
Instead, Eden lashed out. He reached across the ghost of Achlys and issued a sharp, sudden bite to his son’s scruff. Elohim bit down on his own teeth with a metallic snap but did not flinch. He hissed between his teeth, and Eden withdrew with the same speed. Elohim could feel the warmth of the wound, the creeping sensation of blood moving slowly down his skin. Another scar to join Aster’s, and another reminder to Elohim that his tongue was a weapon to himself too.
"I am not dying, you child. I am using my power to move on, something so few alphas have ever done. Why should I wait to die atop a sandy throne? I will wait for or find my death on my own terms, be it here or any other place." His children had not fought for the throne, and he had not lost himself to illness or injury. Why should he wait for any of those things to find him? No, Eden wanted to find Erebos, to find Ehiyeh and Enoch and Achlys. He wanted to guide Badar, Eira, Zion, Eva. He wanted to find Blackthorne, Underidge, Eve and her kin, even Anselm, wherever he had gone. He could not find those things by simply sitting and waiting. His curiosity had grown into restlessness, and his restlessness had become too starved to be satiated by the fickle power that leading gave.
"You can choose to remain here, Elohim, or go elsewhere. You will make that decision, just as you will decide this pack’s future. Even if you choose not to, that is a decision itself." With that, Eden had finished. Elohim grumbled, growled, could feel himself agitated in a way he had not felt before. He knew, though, that Eden had finished. Even if he refused, argued, or fought back, he was right. Those were decisions, and running away was one too, and it’d decide the future of Glorall just as much as any other choice. Elohim sighed and shook his head. He muttered beneath his breath, many accusatory things towards his father, but Eden did not respond beyond a smirk of amusement. For now, at least, they had met in the middle.