[M] Perched on the Edge of Infinity
Don't Lose Your Grip

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: blood.
[[Oh ho ho, what do we have here?]]

[Image: Nazman.png]Growling, Nazar carted the boy's body through the snow before ultimately collapsing, himself. There, in a pile, Kazimir laid limp in his arms and Nazar struggled to pull himself out from beneath the pale Hushhowl boy.

He managed to stumble to his feet, only able to stabilize himself after a few faltered steps back from the whole of what he'd done. Kazimir, the youngest son of Zetsubou, had a knot on his brow and bloody fur etched across his cheek. He was marked with bruises from his head to his toes, freshly shifted from the trauma that he'd endured, and entirely unconscious.

Nazar's eyes then moved to himself, and hands rose up to his chest to rub the mud and snow away from his clothes. His face was streaked with wet earth, and his knee sported a tear in the fabric of his pants. Red flowered there as blood soaked into his clothing. They both looked worse for wear, but what was done, was done.

After Nazar managed to clean himself up a bit, scoffing at his pants that were a lost cause, he took a knee beside's Kazi's body and turned the boy's face in his hand. That was an ugly look and it'd take at least a week to properly heal. From there, he put a hand on Kazi's pallid shoulder and turned him over only as much as it would take to see his back. He was rashed up pretty badly.

Standing upright again, he left Kazi to the snow and took a few steps aside. Before him sat the wide open mouth of the Hidden Ravine. Cold blue eyes reached into it's depths, staring down at the dark nothingness that rested in the pit of it. An unending gap in the earth, where unknown things were buried permanently by time.

What was down there? He'd never know.

Standing against the background of snow and the reaching branches of slumbering trees, the cold wind blew. Black locks whipped around his face and he slowly turned, blue sights meeting Kazimir over his shoulder, quietly. His gaze, focused, and his mind, turning. Zetsubou wouldn't be happy with any of this.


[Image: image1.png]The trail left a clear indicator to him, who had spent his lifetime watching for such. Fitting his arrow into the strung bow, he stepped over the tracks and spoor, and disappeared deeper into the mountainous region of Casa. Snowfall dusted his hair, turning the silver to true white, where it landed on the fur closer to the heat of his body, it melting, chilling him.

He had two more fragile lives bound up into his own. Two sons that he now must provide for.

The instinct in him demanded he bring a food sacrifice. Even though they couldn't consume it yet, it was symbolical, in some deep seated savage part of his mind. He would celebrate his mate's labors by bringing her meat. As the wolves of old had done with their fang and claw.

Over hill and under foliage, he hunted, following the signs left by the buck.

He never expected what he found.

Shock stoppered him for a fragile moment as his eyes took in what was apparent here. The Dishonorable looming large and threatening over Zetsubo's son, who laid battered and beaten and unconcious. This conclusion was not a stretch to reach for, it danced in front of his face, bold and brazen.

"What have you done."

White muzzle wrinkled, as a rage wormed through him. They had given this man chance and chance again. Honrin's ears had heard from differing sources the trouble caused by him. He had no space within him to look at this any other way than how it appeared.

Up came his bow, the string of it drawn taut as he stepped forwards and forwards.

"Get back, NOW!" Barked the Labor Head, his cold snarling voice echoing from the snow covered cliffs below them, reverberating back up.

That strung arrow, intended for food now found itself settling in sights for Nazar's heart.

"Or I will shoot you where you stand."

Little Kazimir who liked to chew on fingers and gobble down bugs like a champion. Zetsubo had suffered too much to lose his son to the very brother he'd tried so hard to protect and direct.

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[Image: Nazman.png]A statement lingered in the open air.

Nazar's blue sights shifted from the pale boy that laid in the cold snow, to the white wolfdog who had come from the cover of trees to speak of what he didn't know. Rather than back away from Kazimir, he met the Wolfe-Denahlii man gaze to gaze, watching as Honrin's features devolved into a snarl.

A standoff resulted. Nazar's eyes watched the gears of the Labor Head's mind work with what he could see, what he could deduce of the nature of where he stood in contrast.

It wasn't until the threat came in the form of a demand and the rise of a bow that Nazar shifted on his feet. His posture tensed for just a moment, before he came to force a relaxed frame. Shoulders hung loosely, and his muzzle dipped just ever so slightly. Blue glared up through his brow, filtering through the dark, wet strands that littered his features intermittently.

Let that arrow pierce him now. What a show his own trial would make.

Yet, he wasn't so much a fool as to give himself for the sake of it. He'd recalled how long it had taken him to heal from so many different wounds, and an arrow was a challenge. It's depth, not the worst of it's bite, but it was removal that shredded the flesh. It wasn't worth it to prove a point.

Slowly, he took paces backward, while his arms rose, hands up, a sign of admission that he would not test the boundary put before him. Pale sights never yet left Honrin's own. Quietly, those pale blue's roved over the man, and his bow, and watched as he worked against the concept that Nazar could potentially attack at any given moment. The insecurity. He wondered if it was there in Honrin's eye, or if he was as sure as the point of that arrow that aimed at Nazar's heart.


[Image: image1.png]His surety did not flicker like smoke in the wind, it was a solid concept. He was an archer for war, not to play at being a mediocre dabbler. He'd killed the beast that had haunted Cercatori's borders with this bow and these arrows.

The young believed themselves invincible, Honrin knew better.

He met the eyes of blue and neither flinched nor faltered. Nazar's malignancy reached out through the fluttering locks of his dark hair, as Honrin's own pale strands were grabbed and flung by the freezing wind. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping there at connection to his face.

Gold only took itself from the suspicious individual when he had loosened his posture and taken his steps backwards. Face hard, Honrin approached, and kneeled by Kazi's unconscious form, turning the poor boy's face to him, he took note of the wounds and the evidence of swelling that would no doubt be painful below the fur.

Dividing his attention between the two, he felt over the boy, to ensure nothing was broken, nothing damaged beyond repair although only an awakening would tell the entire truth of it all, of every injury Kazimir had suffered. Don't think Honrin also hadn't noticed the scuffed and bleeding appearance of the Dishonorable neither. That, the stare of Kazi, the tramped down snow, their closeness to the edge of the ravine, all of it added to a murderous tale.

Most would have protested, proclaimed their innocence, attempted to explain themselves, but not he. He simply stood and stared, as Honrin looked over the boy. Maybe he wished to save his speech for the leadership. Honrin could not concern himself with trying to guess at the reasons when Kazi needed more pressing attentions.

"Move. That way, towards the Fort." Snapping out at the silent Dishonorable, he jerked his head in the direction Nazar should begin to walk. A gaze of insolence was the return his orders received, and Honrin stared him down until those shoulders began to turn, and he was presented with the back of Nazar. Only then did he move to pick up Kazimir.

Setting away his bow and arrow, Honrin picked up the limp boy, setting him over his shoulders, to easier carry him as well as be ready in case the Dishonorable got it into his head that he would attack. Chewing away in his mind upon the scene that had occurred, he pulled his hunting knife from the sheath on his belt and held it in his free hand.

Protecting Kazimir was his directive. A child who could not defend himself. Never did his eyes leave the space between the Dishonorable's shoulder blades. Watching the language of body to caution himself against any potential action.

Their descent was held silently, with tension running rampant through his body. The snow did not help at all, giving rise to difficulties in traversing the terrain though he worked to keep his pace steady. Mouth held in a grim, unpleasant line, he dreaded the repeating of his story, dreaded what further damage may have been done to the boy at the hands of his own father's brother.

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[Image: Kazimirpub.png]A haze had drawn over him. He could hear the ringing of his blood in his ears, feel the chill of the snow on his body, but he couldn't move. Obscurity veiled his sight, the never ending blackness that was all encompassing, encroaching on the edge of his wakefulness that was not yet lost.

When the ringing in his ears faded, the sounds of the world came to play, and in them, was the crunching of snow and a voice that broke the silence.


He knew that voice anywhere, his family being so close to Kazi's own, but it was in that tone of voice that Honrin sounded like a stranger. A turning churned in the pit of Kazimir's stomach as he fought for sight, his heart screaming in his ears against all that was happening.

There, laid across the frozen ground, he could hear the threat come from the labor head's, a lethal tone that dared another to contest him. Yet, no whistle came from his arrow and Kazi fought again to wake. Unsuccessful, he bid his time and listened on to the interaction that he could not stop.

It was in the midst of another gap, another silence filled with the crisp sound of snow beneath paws. A tender touch found his face, and his head turned, he could feel the world move around him.  Then, suddenly, his form left the ground. Lashes fluttered and the world flickered for a spell, until the light of the snow was gone again.

That's when the ache started. Kazimir could feel the sting on his back, on his face, in his bones from what had happened. As the sound of two souls walking in the snow, he grimaced, his features finally moving at his command.

Towards the Fort, Honrin demanded.

Urging his body to fight the sleep that slowly worked it's way out of his mind, he finally stirred, “Wait,” He mumbled, his tones stressed from the shoulder that buried in his stomach. A gasp came beneath this breath, “Stop. Wait,” His tune lifted as he tried to wiggle his way weakly out of Honrin's grip, to what avail he wasn't aware until his paws met the frigid white of the earth.

The pale wolfdog set him down carefully, and Kazimir stumbled, placing a hand on Honrin's shoulder to steady himself. Sights shifted their golden hue from his protector to his savior, finding the dark pelt and blue eyes of Nazar at the fore, “I slipped at the Ravine. I fell and hit my-” His notes stopped when he noticed his hands gesticulating the story.

Brows rose as he looked down at himself, noting the scars, sure, but his body. It had changed since his fall, “Nazar must have pulled me up,” Words trailed off as he turned to the woodsmoke Dishonorable, “He saved me.”

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[Image: Nazman.png]Nazar's intense eye watched as Honrin crouched at Kazimir's side and inspected him. It was not lost on him, the echo of his own actions in the image of the Wolfe-Denhalii. How he turned the boy's face and looked him over resembled Nazar, and the image of something greater than the son of Shaamah could ever imagine to be.

After the scrutiny of Kazimir's wounds, Honrin wasted no time in scooping up the boy and ordering Nazar around.

A long look befell the pale man's face, before Nazar ultimately decided to do as he was told. Minimal disobedience would be the price to pay to see Honrin's face when he figured out he'd done wrong. How he would come to find out is the only uncertainty, whether it be a fancy trial, or the boy himself eventually waking and giving up the tale, he couldn't say. What he could deduce, however, is that he'd be held until the story was straight. If he didn't kill anyone, and the trio of loners were only demoted, there wasn't any risk to him to being cast out. Especially, with the truth of what had happened.

With Honrin at his back, he sauntered at a pace that would draw the walk on. Some time passed between the Ravine and the road the Fort, though they were still a ways away from his ultimate detainment. A grey ear flickered behind him as a mumble came, and he turned around to see exactly what was happening.

Kazimir was waking. That was no fun, was it?

Pacing backward until Hornin decided to come to a halt gave him the proper distance to stand before the two of them. Their white outlines faded into the pallid world covered in snow, but sapphire sights found Honrin's eye. His gaze remained static on the man, waiting for the inevitable moment where the Labor Head would be put in his place.

After being announced as Kazimir's rescuer, nothing more than a wide smile painted across Nazar's dark maw, a shit-eating grin, just for Honrin.


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