lost little boy (shadon)

[hyperion.]

He hasn't been around long enough to understand the four seasons. He was born in winter, a time of ice and snow and the constant crave of the warmth he once found in a heap of pups. Then came spring, a time of renewal and growth but also a time of mourning. Come summer, flowers grew wildly over Tauro's grave. The wall had been completed. His mother could finally see again. But he wasn't around for this. Any of it. He left during their family's time of healing. Does he regret it?

He was alone.

(but he was never truly alone)

He used to fear being alone, as most children do. But he's learned to appreciate being alone here. Where it's his journey, his story, where all he has to worry about is what direction he's traveling, and where his next meal would come from. There's still apprehension in him, and the farther he goes from the ocean, the more cautious he becomes. The outside world was unpredictable and uncaring, and he knew this. But he was beginning to learn how to fend and live for himself. Not for his siblings, not for his parents, not for anyone except himself.

He was selfish, after all.


There was something in the distance, something he could smell faintly at first but after a few moments, could taste the acrid smoke in the air. He kept his head low and followed the trail silently, but what he saw made him gasp.

It was a shriveled body, one similar in size to himself, who's fur was charred black and eyes melted shut. Their gums were crackled and tongue burned out of their mouth. The surface of their skin was molten and dried blood caked in the cracks of scorched hide. The young prince sniffed the remains reluctantly then sat next to it delicately. This could've been someone's Tauro. Someone's brother. Someone's SON. A friend, a lover, a boy, a wolf,

but it was nothing now. Nothing but seared flesh and ash and bone. Would their family remember them? Would anyone? Their scent melted away with the flames that consumed their body, their face terribly distorted... would anyone recognize them?

He felt a sharp pain in his stomach, almost causing him to vomit. There's nothing you can do. Just move on. He's dead. The fire's still close. This will be you soon if you don't get moving.

But the boy stayed. He watched flies pick at open wounds and bury their way into it's flesh. For some reason, he began to dig. Yes, yes, you must honor this fallen soldier and give them a burial because no one will if you don't. So he dug until his pads began to ache and he dug and he DUG--

He hears something behind him, a crackle in the ashy ground. He turned his head and called softly,

" Did you know them? "

[Shadon]

Years had past since he had last entered the forests around Saboro. His main objective was to follow the scent trail of his mate, worried she was taken or took refuge in a hovel to die. The hellion couldn't think of that now though, his guard had to be up at all times. He was not in the comfortable confines of the temple any more, cushioned by the status he had held within a home he had served most of his life now. This was neutral ground, anything could happen and no one gave a rats ass about status from any part of the world. Politics weren't his strong suit anyhow.

Shadon could taste the smoke in the air, wondering if the summer wildfires were starting already, knowing the dry grass in the south was vulnerable and any sort of spark could set them off in an instant. He hoped he would not have to venture through the inferno, he was tired of embers and hot coals at his feet, eyes closing as if remembering that day in the moment. Eye hot with ash, vision blurring.

You let him go.

Emerald eyes opened, one a clouded blue in spots from the scar of that day as father and son stood facing one another, broken apart by a red tree. Symbolism never failed, did it? Shadon nearly laughed as he continued forward, shaking his thick mane to untangle the thoughts of yesterday. He had bigger concerns now, ones that involved Poltergeist and what her fate was. He wanted to at least know, wanted to at least say his goodbyes if needed. She deserved it, after all. Would she be angry at him? Who knew, Shadon couldn't tell most days what her mood would be. He knew she was unhappy, that he tried to drown with affection, but that could only go so far.

As the hellion pushed through the forest, he noticed a figure pawing at the ground with fervor. A snap below the gray beast's feet alerted the boy, his voice smoother than Shadon predicted. Striped horns garnished the crown of his head, tail thin with thick fur across his body. Another hellion, though this one was young despite being bigger than Shadon. His fur was too plush and sheen to be much older than a year, and the fact he naively tried to talk to the notorious cannibal was quite obvious that this one was not used to be alone. "No." he said, eyes flicking to the charred soul on the ground. Poor bastard.

Unlike the boy though who was disturbed and nice enough to give a burial, the hellion was indifferent. He had been a war dog; had seen troops fall into pits with spikes sticking from their neck, blood bubbling from their throats. He had seen young drowning in the poisoned river and the blood pooling like oil above the current. He had been slick with death, his teeth like a sword to the gut, spilling and carving a way to victory for his Queen. He had eaten the stale flesh as maggots swarmed the lifeless on the battlefield. So much more he had seen, so much more he had done, and this lifeless body was no different.

"I assume you don't either." he said, voice as course as rock. Shadon was curious though, a boy giving burial to a stranger. Reminded him of Akki burying the head of that one idiot who died at the border.

"Digging a grave so far from the body isn't wise, I hope you have a strong stomach." Because charred bodies often fell apart.

[hyperion.]

"No."

He stopped digging for a moment and sighed slightly, " Ah. " Then shortly after resumed his work as grave digger.

"I assume you don't either."

He considered stopping all together, so that he may face the stranger and not leave his back vulnerable; but he remained in his hole and kept shoveling dirt with tired paws. His eyes softened and he sounded almost embarrassed, " No, I didn't. Do...  do you think even if someone knew them they'd recognize them? After all this burning? I can't smell a thing... "

But he was also young and inexperienced, and this male (if he bothered to turn around and get a good look) was certainly weathered with experience. This train of thought made him turn from his hole and gaze at the stranger, when he noticed a lone acidic green eye glaring at him.

"Digging a grave so far from the body isn't wise, I hope you have a strong stomach."

" I've, uh, actually never seen a body before. I mean alive ones, yes, but, not... like this. It doesn't look real. It's too burnt. " He stumbled on his words, and in an attempt to calm himself down, he sat and faced the stranger. There were three things that stuck out the most; his eyes, one of which was clouded and scarred while the other was a ghastly green hue, his horns, which he'd been accustomed to from the sea of siblings with similar horns, and finally -- his tattoos. They stood out remarkably against his dark greyed fur, and reminded him of his mother, and where she'd come from.

The red jungle.

" I like your horns, " he smiled weakly and pointed at his own, then he moved his eyes to the scarlet markings etched into his face. He knew the jungle was no place for his mother, knew she left her own kingdom to save those from where she hailed, knew it spawned nothing but evil. The big bad wolves of the red jungle. He looked away quickly, debating on whether or not he should comment.

But, curiosity got the best of him.

" My mother had tattoos like that. They're very pretty. How'd you get yours? "

[Shadon]

Innocence often left him wondering just how much he missed in his childhood. Shadon was thrust into a dangerous world, he learned quickly of death and survival. Hyperion’s question made the hellion almost laugh, though he refrained as children learned better without scrutiny. Long tail swayed behind him as his large frame moved forward toward the body, examining the blistered skin and charred fur. Flies had already started to take residence in the open pustules. The body was at least a few hours old if not a day, but he wasn’t here to be an investigator. “I doubt it.” he said, moving away and sitting to the side to watch the boy work. “Too burnt to tell features and his scent has gone with the fire and rot.”

The boy’s confession of the lack of body experience finally made the hellion laugh. Throat was dry and scratchy, creating a hoarse sounding bellow of notes. Shadon clicked his teeth then, wondering how many bodies he had seen in his life, and would continue to see. He had rendered individuals far worse than this poor bastard. “It’s very real.” Reality was such a bitch sometimes, though he knew how much the universe favored the worst of individuals. This kid seemed too goddamn naïve to be out here in the wilderness alone. What was his story, he wondered?

Shadon watched as the boy now sat to face the elder hellion, observing and weighing the older man. He let the boy do so in total silence, clouded eye more visible in the light now and there was an odd sense déjà vu in the air. The scent of smoke, the charcoal smoldering in the wind; the crack of embers that floated, the effing reason his eye was now scarred forever. The white son staring back with icy eyes, a reflection of guilt and sorrow in both his and his father’s. Shadon blinked, Akki was gone and all the remained was the blue-gray boy.

“You too, though never seen them striped like that before.” he replied, licking his nose as if trying to focus on reality rather than flashbacks. Shadon knew there were many traits to the hellion lineages, more than he could ever imagine. He had seen others with long tails, curled horns, multiple eyes and many other odd features, though never striped horns. Those were new.

But then the topic shifted, a weird aura started to swirl around the two making Shadon squint his eyes slightly. Hyperion commented on Shadon’s tattoos, the red swirls that indicated his devotion to Saboro, the loyalty and service he had provided. Too few had them as only the trusted were painted with them. The red tattoo around the eyes were such a unique feature, so when the boy admitted his mother had them as well, he immediately assumed his mother was former-Saboran. “Is that so?” he asked, tongue gliding over his teeth as he weighed the options in his head. Many had escaped Saboro before, some with red still adorned under their eyes.

Like Kol Nidre.

“Who is she? Maybe I know her.” A deadly question from a deadly man.

[hyperion.]

“I doubt it. Too burnt to tell features and his scent has gone with the fire and rot”

Ah, as he suspected. He felt something rise in his throat and it took a moment to swallow it down, and the disgust on his face was likely apparent to the grey stranger. Hyperion gazed back down at the corpse and didn't move his eyes for some time. They were transfixed, studying every crevice of crackling skin and every fly worming it's way inside the body. He should get back to work, but he doesn't.

A dark laugh finally drew his eyes from the body back to the stranger before him, “It’s very real."

He stared at it again, unsure of what to really think of it. This was once a living, breathing being, with their own thoughts, own family, own story; and now, they were nothing but ash. " Sure is a crapty way to die. " He mused, a half chuckle hidden under the seriousness of his tone. He prayed to God he never died by fire.

“You too, though never seen them striped like that before.”

His weak smile grew into a proud grin and his pale blue teeth poked out of scarred lips playfully. " I'm not sure where they come from. Some of my other siblings have them, too, but neither of my parents had horns. "

But... did Hawthorne have them? The adolescent knew so little of his father that he couldn't quite remember what he looked like. Hyperion suddenly longed for his tiny, curly coated father. Did.. he have curly hair? Or was it long and wispy like his own? He felt his heart quicken and an anger beginning to boil at the base of his chest, but he bit his lip to force it down. He could taste blood in his mouth and felt a moment of respite.

“Is that so?” The dark hellion glided his tongue over slick teeth. Hyperion felt hairs on his neck prick up slowly.

“Who is she? Maybe I know her.”

The grey-blue prince trailed his gaze to the ground, hiding his eyes after he felt the first sensation of burning. " She died trying to protect my brother, but he died too. " He wasn't necessarily lying, since the mother he knew died with Tauro the day of the attack. He bit back the tears. He would not allow them to pool over. Not in front of this stranger. " If you were a mother, would you sacrifice yourself for one son, even if you had ten more waiting for you at home? " The anger in his voice grew and he felt his blood pumping faster through his body. His feet began to burn.

He drew a long breath and calmed himself. Not another episode.

His voice was soft then, and he looked down at the body laying in the dirt below him. " I didn't really get to know her, but I know her name was Serrate. " For a moment, he wished this stranger knew his mother. Wished he could tell her anything about Serrate, even if they were all lies. At least he could pretend he knew anything about her.

" Did you know her? Would... would you tell me about her? What was she like? " He felt like a boy again, hopelessly trying to relate and get to know his mother, even if it were through stories.

[Gothy]

ye sorry been busy but i haven't forgot!!!

[Shadon]

The boy seemed so fascinated with the body as he stared with an intense gaze. Those indigo eyes tracing each flaked skin where maggots burrowed deeper. Shadon was not so observant, he had seen bodies with several possible injuries that his mind over looked the disgusting smell and horrible disfigurement of what was once a living being. As he had said once, death was his domain and death had followed him everywhere. Demon had given him a taste of hell, and even Shadon himself created a hell to forget the horrific childhood he endured. A hell that hurt those he loved and developed his unsavory appetite. The boy though, he was innocent as he commented on the style of death. "Yeah well, any way is a crapty way. There ain't no good way to die." A statement that should've hit home.

Ah, but back to the fun.

Hyperion seemed very proud of his genes when the elder hellion commented on how strange his horns were. Striped, and he wondered if his bones too were striped. May not, because then Shadon's bones would've had to be black with that logic. Never said he was a scientist. "Must be part hellion then, cause some of my kids don't have features, some do. My wife isn't hellion at all." Just a small woman with big attitude, one Shadon hardly wanted to test.

The mystery of which parent was hellion for this boy came to light though as he confessed wo his mother was. She had died though, apparently, according to Hyperion, which should've warranted a reaction as any normal being would. Something like a 'Aww, I'm sorry!' but Shadon didn't say a word, didn't shift his gaze or even look sorry. He had no empathy or sympathy to give. The hellion never knew his mother and death did not phase him. The boy was alone in the world, just as Shadon had been. Life was a bitch sometimes. Hyperion asked a question though, one that shouldn't be answered by someone like him. But he shifted some, thinking of an honest answer. "I lost many children." For some were lost in the abyss and some had been lost to the cold of winter. Some were even eaten by their own father. "But you're asking the wrong person. I would protect my children, yes, but if it was their own stupidity that put them in that situation, no. I'm not a good father. I never have been." Emerald eyes shifted down.

That's why he betrayed you in the end. He may have forgiven, but he has left you as you left him.

And it hurt like hell.

The word Serrate caught his attention though, making his head pull up suddenly. This boy's mother was Serrate, the red queen that abandoned Saboro and left the reign to Coven. "Ah, the Red Queen that left her King, though I'm not surprised. He went insane after all." A flame nearly roared through his chest, but he refrained. If this boy was telling the truth, she was dead, there was nothing to report back to once he entered Saboro again. He would, however, have a small talk with Coven once he finished his business with Poltergeist.

The boy wanted to know more, though. See? Children were so curious. "Sorry, kid. Didn't know her personally. She was Queen of Saboro though, the Sabora is what they called her." Shadon refrained from anything else. Saboro was particular about secrets and culture being shared, and with an astranged boy, he couldn't take those chances.