Each shade of blue is kept in our eyes

Anatole Aston · 07-15-2012, 11:01 AM

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(317) someone put his sassy pants on

In many ways, Anatole’s exterior—this gruff, unromantic man—was exactly what he was. A predator, a wildling, a beast that knew the law of club and fang and followed it as he followed no other. He had come to find his own little niche within AniWaya, where his leaders saw his open rebellion for what it was; he did not disapprove of them, nor did he disobey their will, but he needed the freedom to function beyond a strict system of rules and laws. As long as they gave him that, he remained ever faithful—and he had already made it clear he would spill blood, Tribesman or not, if the time so came.

The shadow on his face turned it grim as he nodded, recalling the horror story laid out by his cousin. Even Claudius had seen the war; what did Anatole have? No claim to such a thing, no. He would need to test himself against the world in other ways.

His aunt went on, mentioning her other son (the one Anatole had liked better) trying to aid her but instead vanishing. A gruff exhale of displeasure escaped him. To abandon others was one thing, but to abandon ones mother on the eve of vengeance was a crime. He was less moved by her cursing than he was by this idea of her son choosing not to stand with her. After all, he had left this place doing such a thing. Left this place and never thought to question his mother’s decision.

“You are selfish,” he said coarsely, tongue twisting his words with the all-too-present accent. “She was my cousin. What does it matter, eh? If I get a few scars? My mother always said you liked to do things on your own,” he added. His eyes focused on her, cruel and unforgiving. He suspected this was something both of the Aston women shared.

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