TSUNAMI:
Time had given to him, and time had taken away from him: friendships and loved ones, there and then lost, scars that had faded, only to be replaced with new ones. The greatest gifts of all, experience, memory, age. Change. A wise man had told him once that there was no good and no bad, no life or death, just change. And change captured everything. It won and lost. Tsunami was long through fighting the sands of time. When the boy with his mother's smile had left his father to fight and find himself, bright-eyed and eager with all the innocent whimsy and fancy of youth, Tsunami had been sad and he had been happy, but he had not been surprised. Bane had been his reason for breathing for so long. The gray wolf didn't claim to be a perfect parent. He didn't claim to be a perfect anything.
Four-legged, one-eyed and wary in this heavy silence, the sturdy battlescarred wolf could taste the history. Ahead lay Jaded Shadows, and his paws carried him in a steady, albeit slightly uneven, gait towards it. He wasn't afraid, nor was he upset. Perhaps what he felt was acceptance, but it offered a kind of peace of mind that he gladly embraced. He felt the pull of both Storm (his childhood, his mother and his sister, Rashmi's grave, stories by the fire) and of Clouded Tears (so many paths left uncovered...) and neither went unnoticed. They were passing thoughts, fleeting memories he would sort through in the Great Chamber of his mind later. It was late, the sun was setting, and the three-year-old needed to rest. He had been walking for so long and now was not the time to remember. Still, he couldn't resist this, just this one thing. Ophelia and her children, Mordulin, the place where Malachi had taken his last breath -- Jaded Shadows. He had never belonged to it, but he would see it. He would look at a ghost, see himself in it, and move on. What if, what if?
It was different but the same. Everything was. Mordulin's scent was gone, and Tsunami assumed she had passed on. He wished he could have introduced Bane to her. Or Willow, or Ire. Are they here? Exhaling slowly, the gray wolf allowed himself a brief pause some ways away from the border, looking inward at a place he had never belonged to but nonetheless held close to his heart. Like so many other things, so many people.
The more things change...
Time had given to him, and time had taken away from him, but at his core, the gray wolf was still the same. Looking close into what had been his grandmother's packlands, this steadily darkening maze of forest and of life, he could almost see the small brown figure of his sister loping towards him, Hazel, Ireland and Tokyo in tow. It made him sad and it made him happy. He still believed.
ENDYMION:
It seemed as if the prodigal sons and daughters were returning as of late, and Endymion had been one of the first. Some brought children, others wore scars and told stories of wars fought for reasons unheard of. The pirate son had nothing with him upon his return, save the leather bag on his back. He had learned of his family in Awenasa, and the rituals which the Kali line practiced. But the things he had been most eager to know had escaped him; across the sea or underground, Thorn was always one step ahead of him. Though Endymion bore the name Russo, he felt more like a Kali. And perhaps that was the better part of his blood.
The russet wolf did not believe as he once had. When he was younger, he knew nothing of sin and redemption, and felt that people were driven by expectation. So when Salvaged left, he fell far and he fell hard. Of course, he had been oblivious to what Salvaged was. He was still oblivious, but did not hold him in as high regard as he once did. It bothered Endymion slightly to know that his "father" could never redeem himself in the eyes of his son. He probably wouldn't be able to redeem himself in the eyes of anyone, even if he was alive. It was almost a shame. Almost.
Wandering around the borders, a hobby he had taken up out of boredom, he caught sight of the one-eyed gray wolf. He seemed familiar enough to the two-year-old, but was a stranger still. As Endymion advanced, his pale green eyes ran briefly over the older male's scars, and he wondered if he was there to cause trouble. A few yards away, he flashed an easy smile. "Hey there," he said, stopping feet away from the gray stranger. "Can I help you?"
TSUNAMI:
The burly yellow-eyed wolf's appearance belied his demeanor. He carried himself differently these days; his back was straighter and his head was held high. It wasn't dominance Tsunami was trying to put across, or nothing at all, really. He wasn't trying -- it was something that had come upon him gradually over time. It was respectful, it was calm and serene, it was confidence without arrogance.
The scent came upon the wayward wanderer before the actual wolf. Fully prepared to turn away and leave his ghosts behind, the gray wolf found himself pausing and watching instead. It was nobody he knew, as vaguely familiar as the scent seemed. Somehow the entire Shadowlands seemed a ghost of his past. The entirety of the territory he had called home once upon a time seemed like a dim flicker of memory in the back of his mind; seeing someone would make it real again. Seeing someone would clear everything up in his mind, flood light into the shadowy corners of this once upon a time, this fairytale of days gone by. There were still wolves here, there was still life here, the many recent and strong scents he had come across proved that. But there had been times since arriving when Tsunami had wondered if his mind were supplying ancient memories, spoon-feeding him hope while waiting patiently for the truth. It wasn't so.
The one who appeared was a younger male. He seemed to hold himself with the immediate authority any pack member held over any stranger. Tsunami hadn't been a part of pack life for long enough that the customs that it dictated were half-forgotten. The Shadows wolf's greeting was friendly and, reading into the words, Tsunami saw no underlying concern. He didn't know what he was looking for; so Jaded Shadows was still real, and therefore so would be the other packs. What did he expect, the place to have burned down in his absence? Perhaps it was just difficult to believe that things changed, yet didn't really. The more they stay the same.
"I'm not sure," Tsunami returned the easy smile, turning to face the other as he spoke. "My name is Tsunami. My siblings and nieces used to live here, and Mordulin had the misfortune to adopt my father, which makes her my grandmother, I suppose." The battlescarred wolf had never known Mordulin well, though the few times they had met had led him to harbor a healthy amount of respect for the aging alpha. "I'm just here out of nostalgia, really. I apologize if I've interrupted anything."
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