i'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor
your morgue and final resting—


moonlight falls in tempered whisps; silver descends the dunes, touching mercurial light upon the red, washed-out sands. here, silence prevailed. only a cloying breeze would lift the strands of his mane, shifting glossy blue-black fur against the hues of his blazed, ivory tuxedo. his jaws part to draw in the fragrance of the night. in the last meeting, harou failed to see some of his progency. @Draugr had not been among the faces there, along with his adopted daughters. it left an unsettling feeling within the wolf. harou seeks out draugr now. motions were sensed behind him, and harou has that inkling feeling that it could be draugr, perhaps his wisest son.

"where have you been?" harou calls for draugr, beckoning the boy to step forward. the voice of the wendigo sounds soft, although laced in masculine sternness.

Draugr always seemed to find the dark the most comforting, and even as the sun had set on the Oasis, the younger man lingered in the deepest depths of the jungle that surrounded their little oasis. He was appropriately aware when he was no longer alone - not joined by the dead, but instead the living. Tall ears propped, he listened for the heavy steps of his father, approaching.

Words fell from the man's mouth, addressing him, even though the two did not yet share eye contact. It mattered not.

"Oh, here and there," he sighed, standing in his dark, little spot, closing the short distance between he and @Harou. "It is tedious being the one who must solve the dead's problems. Had I missed something for the living?" he asked, tipping his head to the left, allowing his green eyes to stretch into Harou's soul.

There was a rather important question biting at the back of Draugr's brain, but he held it in for the moment.

code © cala // art © drifter

i'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor
your morgue and final resting—


his son speaks with an esoteric quality, a notion that would have made him laugh, but harou remains silent and still. the breeze lifts through the winter titan's mane, rustling his too-long hair, drifting idle locks down his angular face. although he feels mostly calm in this moment, he cannot ignore the sense of irritation that wells in his chest. @Draugr appeared the least ambitious of all his children, and this would silently and secretly disappoint harou. while draugr were no where near the level of violence and restlesssness that rhesk posed, there was something in harou that wished for more from draugr.

"even if nothing is happening among the living, i would like to see more of your ambitious side. you are a prince of the desert, afterall." he had reputation to uphold.

"Ambition?" he quietly questioned, tipping his head to the side and pondering the notion for a moment. Perhaps he was not as violent as Rhesk or self-righteous as Arduinna - both constantly throwing themselves into battles that did not concern them half the time. He saw it as half-cocked bravado. A pissing contest, if one would. Draugr did not wish to waste his time with such antics. "And what of Arawn?" he pushed, fixing his eyes back onto his father. "Dear Arawn hasn't been throwing himself into meaningless battles either. Will you be having this talk with him, too?"

Oftentimes the quietest siblings was mistaken for the weakest one, and perhaps that was what Draugr had fallen victim to in @Harou 's eyes. His father believed him to be weak because he was not challenging others along every step of the way. He had silenced the feral growls in his mind and instead decided to focus on the whispers of the dead... and still, this pleased no one, apparently.

Something disturbed the stagnance within Draugr, and the young lion felt irritated. "What do you suggest I turn my attention to, hm?" he questioned, wondering what exactly his father had in his mind. Did he want Draugr to fight more? Did he want the young man to fuck more? Did he simply want him to court the ladies of his pride? What was it that his father was simply not satisfied with?

code © cala // art © drifter

i'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor
your morgue and final resting—


darkness saturates the rolling dunes, bedding down in sable shadows. opulent strands of moonlight would weave against harou's features, softening his angular visage in a veil of silver. he would seek to hold his son's gaze, and his voice, when it comes, is laced in that same chilly disposition; "step up to the plate, perhaps. Andal is without a proper heir. Are you not interested in filling that space?" The winter titan would seek to lock gazes with his wisest son; his tone remains even and cool, a brumal murmur as he continues to speak.

while their family thrives, now, danger would still lurk around every corner. he wanted @Draugr to be vigilant, steadfast. he wanted draugr to be more than the whispering cleric. "let's not speak of either arawn, or rhesk. both are outwardly violent, and sometimes, stumbling from one extreme to the other. you, however? you are balanced in your disposition." you are king material. breathes the army's wolf, as he seeks to close the distance between them, his muscular flesh moving forward beneath the tapering low-lights of the moon.

he would come to pause before the young man, studying draugr's features beneath the moonlight. for harou, it was like staring into his own reflection. his son would look every bit similar to the army's wolf. draugr would show his mother's beauty, too.

i expect more out of you.

do not disappoint me.

"i wish to see your presence more within the kingdom. leave the dead. return to the living, draugr. one day, andal will need an heir, and i want to ensure only the strongest and wisest of my children would be fit to rule. perhaps, that future king is you."

"No," Draugr stated simply. His father mistook him for desperate, hungry for advancements. It was true; his siblings seemed to have more of a drive for obtaining those. Draugr simply wanted to left alone to exist, to find his own path on his own time and terms, and not be pushed towards it because others thought it was the right time for him.

"I believe..." he said slowly. "... that the position of Heir should go to the one who is hungry for it. If it hasn't been evident to you father, I am perfectly happy with existing and nothing more. Nothing in this fucking desert interests me." If that wasn't clear, now it was. He was silent, though, as Harou continued to speak, speaking of balance. He supposed he needed to be balanced given he had one foot in the afterlife and one in this world. His green eyes flicked to something beyond Harou, and then back upon his father's face.

He was putting stock in the wrong son, but Draugr would fight him on it no longer.

"It is certainly interesting enough that you are now seeking a balanced individual when there has been nothing but chaos in the upper ranks since I got here. Mother, Helah, you." The accusation hung heavily in the air between them, like smoke in humidity. "Tell me, father, who was that woman I watched you attack and drag into the Oasis at the border?" He quirked one of his dark brows, tipping his head in quiet curiosity. Of course, this was going back a while now, but... he had only witnessed this once of his father. Harou should know the one.

code © cala // art © drifter

i'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor
your morgue and final resting—


his son's eyes were intense, jaded green against the dark lines of their wolven features. it was like gazing into the mirror, gazing deep in brighid's frozen soul. harou would ignore the way the chill settles across his bones, the way the soft caress of midnight brushes down his flesh, haunting and cold. the conversation takes an abrasive turn, twisting like a knife gliding across phantom flesh, as @Draugr rebels against his word. an eerieness would settle between them, a standstill. harou remains outwardly calm, icy venom dripping from the core of his being, thinking of the right words to say, when there would be none.

if this is how draugr truly felt, then so be it. harou will not control their lives, he will let them find their own path, even if it was trekking through the dirt of false religions; even if draugr possesed his mother's outward softness. "times have changed. i've made mistakes, miscalculations. leading an entire kingdom does not come easy. in order to see that our family thrives, we have to adapt." that's what harou is doing, adapting, changing his tactics, ensuring that his blood would survive the ways of amaryllis. one skin alone will not fit all bodies. in order to rule, and rule successfuly, you have to wear many faces, many skins.

"you saw that?" came harou's stone cold reply, his gaze trained icily upon his son, hiding his surprise behind a facade made of stillness and shadows. "the woman you saw once held meaning to me. but, somethings are better left in the past, draugr. do not ask of her again." the finality of harou's response comes driving forth like a nail buried into a stiff coffin. he does not want to look into his past, he wants to close those chapters behind them, he wants to forget about old ghosts.

AND WHAT DO WE SAY TO THE GOD OF DEATH?
not today

"Just give it to Arduinna. She's obviously the most suited out of all of us to lead," Draugr stated as he shrugged. His sister was always a driving force. She always knew what she wanted, and a crown was likely one of the many things she wanted out of this life. But giving a crown to him, though? The man shied at the thought. He didn't want a crown, nor did he want to lead. He would sooner leave the pride than accept any offering of Heir from his father.

"I see everything," he replied, leaving his father to wonder. But at the command for him to never speak of the woman again, the Talon youth chuckled, "So be it." If he truly wanted to know of the woman, he could track her and ask her himself. He knew what she looked like, what she smelled like in the least. He could eventually find her. The best places to look were pride challenges... everyone showed up to those whether they cared for those fighting or not. They were social calls, battlegrounds, and grounds to find lions.

Perhaps he should make that his new goal... find his father's old lover and figure out exactly what she had done to deserve to be overpowered and taken as prisoner at his border. Draugr would return with the information and let his father know what he'd learn just to spite him.

"Was that all you wished to speak to me about?" he asked, growing tired of the conversation already. If it was going to be a lecture about his lack of ambition, he wanted out as soon as possible.

@Harou

table by ryuu