[P] [M] I’ve felt so many forms of defeat

[Mithra Blacksun]

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[+000] | Ooc: June 3rd | the boye is return

Piece by piece ※ We're torn apart

Every step, hard though it might be, brought him closer to... home; And not once, on the journey back, did he have to work too hard to ignore the ache in his feet and his hips and how his pack pulled down at his shoulders. A lonely man, walking through a quiet place that hummed with the idea of something.

Rattling with each footfall, his beloved necklace reminded him of what he had to return to. What he was learning for.

Mithra's frown was a thing almost permanently etched into his face. Heavily pulling down the corners of his mouth until the brief few that crossed his path ducked away as they met his face and eyes, preferring to hike up their own packs more securely and stride with faster steps and hunched backs, peering back at him furtively, as if he might attack them once they could no longer see him. It had long ceased to trouble him, or so he told himself.

That time spent silently by himself was the worst of it. His own company not a thing he wished to keep, and yet, he found himself with an excess. Too much to stomach and that meant he had endless time to think. Mentally chewing on the words Zetsubou had seen fit to grace him with, a shock amongst the other grim surprises that had washed over him in waves. So when he stopped at night to make camp he would find himself slipping into the forms that his brother had given him to begin with, working his way through them with a less than easy grace.

And suddenly, he was home. The familiar building rising against the trees with smoke spewing into the sky. Almost unable to believe it, he had to set a hand against the fence that kept in the garden and rest against it for a long moment. Dragging feet took him around the back, small ears turning to catch voices from within. His frown didn't disappear but it was not so heavy as he took up his regular place without even a shout to announce his return.

Unshouldering his pack, he let it fall at his feet and took hold of his axe, the familiar handle sliding into his hands against callouses worked up over the time he'd spent here, doing exactly this. After a time in a strange place with strange people, Mithra craved nothing more than the warmth of familiarity.

Silver spotted paws raised it high and the first smack of the axe head against wood that split because he wanted it was a balm for a burn he'd never realized he was suffering.

---

[Uriah Greyfire]

Word had gotten around that the Rest Stop had issued a closing time in light of recent events that had brought tragedy to those who resided there and ran things. The light was dim inside the building now, the energy low as the last guests began to trickle out for the evening, leaving Uriah there to wipe down tables by the dying fire's glow. 

Despite his best efforts, it was still hard, hard not to look at the empty spot in the room where the table had been that his mother had laid upon when her surgery had been done, the spots where her blood had been scrubbed from the floorboards where a vague shadow of a stain still remained. But still, it was the times like these that were the easiest to ignore the pain. When all was quiet in the clearing and Uriah found himself on his own, it was easier not to think about the faces that were missing in every crowd Uriah saw.

Still, there was no denying the fact any longer that things would never, ever be the same for their small and broken family. The silence permeated every space in the Rest Stop, every crack in the wood, every breath of air he took, until that first strike and the sound of clattering wood met his ears. Looking up, Uriah put down the wet rag he'd been using to clean up and hurried out the door, long strides carrying the man out behind the Stop to where the wood cutting was done, and Mithra was back, the brother that had been taken in by their parents..

"Mithra." Uriah breathed with a relieved tone as he strode up to the other male and pulled him into a tight hug, patting the broad back of the male solidly and another quick squeeze before he held him at arms length. "How was your trip?" The silver Greyfire asked with an emotion not unlike the one Mithra himself was feeling. A desire for normalcy. "You look well... Strong..." He added, letting his hand drop from Mithra's shoulder. "Did you just get back?"