[ P ] calculated risk

This was the most foolish decision that Atlas Argent had made in his almost two years of life. His heart twitched like a nervous rabbit in his chest as he approached the boundary of Arberdeen. Once he crossed that line, he knew there was no turning back. He had always done the right thing, followed the rules and obeyed his elders. It had done nothing to keep his family together and he would never see them again if didn’t take this risk. They couldn’t come back and he couldn’t leave Lenora behind to be with them. Just a few minutes to see if they were okay then he would go back. It wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

Slowly he reached over and touched the forbidden land of Arberdeen with his fore paws and he felt like a red hot alarm was pulsing through his body, screaming at him to go back. He pushed onwards, shaggy fur fluffed out against the winter coastal winds, as he attempted to sneak further into Saora. Obvious footprints in the snow from the border left a trail leading right to him and he, having never had to cover for himself before, was oblivious to this grave mistake that he had made.

code: elyon | art: renallia

He might not be an official warrior anymore but he put it upon himself to try to help with the segregation that had been achieved with the war. It wasn’t a win in his own eyes, at least it was something more than they had had before. A place of freedom from soldiers wanting to kill them at every step or torture them for their own amusement like they had done to his mother. With his hip healed up, walking a bit easier, he felt like maybe it wasn’t so crazy that he could do something more than lay around loathing himself. In the end, no matter how much he hated himself or the ways his father was so set to press him in a single direction, he would always strive to be the best he could be. Not for anyone else, only himself. Maybe his sisters by extension as he saw them as part of him, though he hadn’t seen either of them much since everything concluded, in part by his own doing.

A sigh escaped him as he thought of the ghost in the cells, the one his father had put there. Starved and alone. He wondered if he should have freed her or if she had been freed since while he’s been away. She didn’t seem demonic or calculated. If anything, she seemed more one with the world than most that spout that they do. Lost in shadows, vanishing in the streams of light. At times he wondered if she was real at all or if it had all been an odd dream because he didn’t want to believe his father was so cold like the prison guards of the Mainland. He wanted to believe they were better than that, that they weren’t monsters.

Just as he thought of heading back home, to get warm in a den and check on his mother, he would notice a set of footprints trailing over the border’s edge and into their domain. Dammit. Anger would flare in him, chasing those steps up the shore with a smoke flaring from his nose into the cold crisp air. He wasn’t graceful at this speed, especially with this more slick snow and ice that lined the beaches and stone, finding himself slipping every now and then.

Once he saw a flank creating the prints in the distance, he would slow, settling his breathing and prowling as quietly as he could as he followed for a little while behind what seemed to be an unknowing Mainlander by the scent that perfumed off of him. He didn’t smell of the dungeons but rather the more pampered regions. Was this a noble? He gave pause only to wonder if this wolf of pale hues could be a slave that got away like his sister but no, that couldn’t be right. He was too fit, too healthy looking and with that he made a clean decision to act solely on premonition. Without any warning behind the sudden heavy impact of earth below his feet with a charge, he would leap with intent to slam the other smaller boy to the ground, fangs snapping at his neck with no plans on letting the stranger walk away alive.

code: elyon | art: pixel

Unaware of the red eyed hunter stalking his every move, Atlas was already thinking of what he would say to his mother when they met again. He worried about her more than his father. It had always been that way ever since he was small. It wasn't that he loved her more than his father, but that she understood him better. Her kind influence had shaped him into the gentle boy that he was and coming from a family of warriors he sometimes feared that there was something wrong with him because of his unwillingness to fight. Even his mother had served in the army for a king of a land that she had not been born into. Atlas could not. He had been told that Jacobites were traitors and that the Royalists were just, but he couldn't draw a line between them so easily. He wanted to learn more about them before he decided.

He felt comforted by the sound of his own footsteps, hearing only the crunch of the snow that his own steps made. No one had discovered him yet. That foolish thought lingered for half a second before his muzzle was shoved into the icy ground and his legs were flattened beneath him. Laid on his belly with a great weight on his back, he couldn't see what or who was pinning him down. When he tried to turn his head to look he felt teeth pulling at his scruff so he grew still. The wolf felt much larger and heavier than the average sized, more fluff than muscle student. “Ah! Wait,” he spoke up, lifting his muzzle from the snow. He tried to keep his voice calm and steady despite how frightened he was. A slight tremble shook through his fluffy frame, but he was determined to maintain his composure.

“I don't mean any harm. Uh… Gun a bhith cunnartach.” (Not dangerous) he tried to explain in common and then gaelic just in case the wolf didn't understand him. It was hardly a convincing argument, but he just wanted to get the stranger to listen to him first. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the paws pushing him down pressing uncomfortably into his back. That was going to leave a bruise.

“I apologise for trespassing,” he began, continuing in gaelic and hoping his sincerity would reach the angry Saoran. “I have my reasons for crossing the border and I will share them with you..but .. first would you mind letting my scruff go, please?” he requested, in gaelic, feeling more like a rabbit trying to convince a wolf not to eat him than of the same species.

He wasn't like Lenora and Riften. They would have fought back and maybe that meant he was a coward, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt someone, even if they were dangerous.

code: elyon | art: renallia

He had expected resistance or even elegant dodging of sorts from this outsider as adrenaline ranged and tingled into his limbs as he caught his prey a little too easily. Flattened in seconds, spread out under him like nothing more than a rug gifted to him without having to hunt it himself. Impulsively he nearly released the other out of some festering guilt of possibly hurting someone that had nothing to do war at all or the destruction he had witnessed but as soon as the common tongue hit his ears, that remorse was quickly tossed away. Fangs dug harder into the scruff that balled up within his mouth as his talons threatened to carve divots into the fur covered flesh underneath. Revenge piloted his actions far more than thought did as he went to start to pull upward with intent to bite off a chunk, his tail raised high with a pride he rarely ever felt as he was actually not losing for a change.

Yet, it all felt wrong too, even more so as his native tongue was swapped in by this stranger. Spoken far better than that healer in the dungeons, recalling her gaelic sounding almost drunken with how unused it had been. This one seemed comfortably versed in his language and it brought suspicion even more into his veins as he released a small fraction of the tension on the boy’s neck. His trust toward everyone had dwindled, he was realizing, expecting this one to react the way even Highlanders did toward him. Friendly turned enemy no matter how kind he was to start.

Blythe was a prime example..

His own family was that way at times and that thought made his ears fall back with a different kind of upset. Turmoil that had lasted for far too long but couldn’t fade away no matter how much they denied it as true.

That thought would be pushed aside as the stranger tried to negotiate deals with him, seemingly not aware of his own predicament to think he was the one that could barter. Everytime he had allowed anyone to garner his audience, it had gone awry in some way when done on their own terms instead of his. Dad had been right at least in that as his hot gaze panned over what he could see of this trespasser below him.

He wouldn’t let go of the leash, not fully, as his paws slid down from the other’s shoulders to press firmly on either side of his skull while his good hind leg dug into the other’s spine with a threat that if he tried to do anything he’d be met with instant pain and regret. Releasing his neck, he’d trail his muzzle upward while pressing his limbs into the sides of his head. “Speak,” he breathed before anchoring a hold elsewhere. Ivory caged an equally ivory ear, nibbling slightly to make it known it was a trigger away from taking it right off if the other tried anything stupid.

code: elyon | art: pixel

Being at the mercy of someone so much larger and stronger than him was terrifying. The closest he had come to being smothered like this were Lenora’s hugs, but there was no warmth in this embrace. Already he was regretting his rash decision to cross the border alone and without some sort of insurance for his safety. No one knew he was coming here so if the highlander did harm him no one would come to his rescue. The realisation buzzed through him like restless bees and he tried to ignore it. He needed to remain calm so that he didn't make the highlander any more suspicious of him.

The points of the claws that dug into his back left marks on his pale skin beneath the soft covering of fluff and the teeth that grasped his scruff tightened like a vice. He stiffened, waiting to see if his words had reached the stranger or if they had sealed his fate. The pinching pressure was loosened from his nape and he let his head sink to the ground in relief. “Thank you,” he murmured in appreciation.

”Speak,” came the demand and teeth seized his ear, nipping at the delicate skin. He winced before answering. “I came to visit my parents. If there were any other way that I could see them without intruding I would, but there isn't,” he explained, knowing it sounded like a convenient excuse and the perfect cover for a spy. There wasn't much he could do about that since he couldn't prove that what he was saying was true.

He couldn't see who he was talking to either without hurting his ear so it made him feel even more uncertain because he couldn’t see his face. “I haven't seen them since before the war ended. I need to know that they’re okay.”

code: elyon | art: renallia

The lack of fight in the others continued to be foreign to him, expecting to be taken over at any point and easily overpowered by a far healthier looking wolf than himself. His own confidence in fighting was abysmal to say the least, having never won a fight in his life besides some mock fights where he was sure his elders had let him win to try to make him feel better. The way he stood now was already hurting his bad leg, putting too much weight on it to seem as threatening as possible and not super unsteady and an easy target to take out. Despite all the thoughts and the aggression that came from him though, his expression as usual didn’t match the emotions within as it remained barely showing a trigger had been felt besides the occasional growl of dominance. He wanted to be intimidating right now but even he could feel he really wasn’t by the lack of tension along his face muscles.

Drawing in a breath at the mutter of thanks, it would cause some confusion to line his brow, remembering a different man that had vanished shortly after he had allowed him in. Arythmatock or something like that. The man had spouted things about serving the princess and wanting to join their forces for turning the girl against her own fleet. He wasn’t sure about how true any of that was even to this day but what he did know was the red male had looked the complete opposite of a soldier and only carried a manifest of manners like this intruder now. This boy wasn’t asking for recruitment like that older man, however, which made him bristle a bit more in what he wanted at all.

He wouldn't have to urge him further with his voice as the other youth was more than ready to answer his thoughts and resulting in Raith letting up a little bit, enough for him to talk without interruption. His tail flicked with agitation at the excuse, thinking if that was the case he would claim to be a Highlander himself and yet no such words came out of him. No: I live here and am trying to return home. Why would his parents be here then? Were they another set like that supposed Princess boy that was just trying to get away from treason toward the King? Wouldn’t the king have used this intruder against them to get their return then?

“Why believe anything you say? Prove it,” he asked in a thick breath, exhaling out of his nose at the same time as a paw raised to press down onto the pale skull of the other. He would roll the boy’s head in order to see his face to observe his expression and try to figure out if he was lying.

He couldn’t help thinking of when he was separated from his own mother, making him already soften under this answer given, more than he wanted to and it would result in him speaking one more time. “Why trust you?” Perhaps it sounded like the same question twice, but it was two very different things within his own mind.

code: elyon | art: pixel

ooc: lazy pixel is lazy. atlas is talking in gaelic so raith can understand better.

He could feel various bruises and scratches maring previously unblemished skin, but considered himself lucky because the stranger was actually willing to hear him out. It gave Atlas hope that he might be able to find some common ground with the highlander and convince him that he wasn't a bad person. It didn't stop his body from trembling with fear however. Atlas was not brave like Lenora or Riften. He didn't do reckless or adventurous things like this and he certainly wasn't prepared for danger.

“Why believe anything you say? Prove it,” The highlander pushed him to prove that his parents existed and he felt his hope beginning to flounder. He didn't have any physical evidence of their existence on his person and he was wary of exposing his parents to danger by leading a dangerous stranger to their doorstep. “I can't. All I can do is tell you about them,” he offered, “You’re quite scary so I can't show them to you. I’d rather be in danger than put them at risk,” Atlas admitted, swallowing down a nervous lump in his throat. As his head was turned to the side by a large paw, he flinched, purple-silver eyes betraying his anxiety. Atlas hadn't quite perfected his poker face. He knew a lawyer had to be good at controlling their emotions even in tense situations, but he had yet to master that skill. ”Why trust you?” A ruby gaze full of suspicion glared down at him and he was stunned for a moment by the intensity of them

“I won't hurt you,” he promised, realising how silly that sounded when he was the one being pressed into the snow. Still he hoped that the sincerity he felt was reflected within his features. “My name is Atlas Argent. I am a law student studying at the Eolas College,” he introduced himself, giving the other boy some information that could be used to track him down if the other chose to. “Is there anything else you want to know?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going in an attempt to build trust with him.

code: elyon | art: renallia

also assume everything is gaelic dialog for raith too in shared laziness lol

His gaze would sharpen as he waited for answers that didn’t sound so crafted just to get some form of empathy from him, though he had a feeling such an answer wouldn’t change and he would be right in no time at all. There would be no attempt to go a different direction with what brought him here, only further babbling he couldn’t quite make heads or tails was real no matter how much he twisted the words in his head. What caught his attention far more than his words, however, was the trembling that would shake his limbs. He thought it was his own body at first but he would realize as he shifted his footing that wasn’t the case at all as his paw that was further away didn’t quake like the ones touching the other man did.

Was this cotton ball scared? Lowering his muzzle and taking in a deep, steady breath, there would be those familiar perfumes that came with prey that wanted to escape a hunter. Despite the cold he was being pressed down into, there would be that aroma of the sweat glands working as the body panicked, that drive to get away. He had never seen anyone truly fear him. Be cautious or anxious around him? Yes but not anything like this. It seemed so abnormal and he didn’t revel in it like he thought he would. No high or sense of pride like he felt when he first pinned him.

No. He felt pity. Guilt.

Uncertainty.

It only heightened when lavender met ruby, feeling a rising loathing only for a moment as he recalled that soldier who ruined what little future he might have had. His lips parted a hair, a trigger that he would force to calm instead allow another wound to be inflicted because it wasn’t the malice of a soldier that looked back at him. Quite the opposite. Pure anxiety flared in those noble hues. It was making him waver, that resolve coming crashing down as a paw itched to push that face away so he didn’t have to look at it any further, talons digging into the snow to resist such an urge.

Won’t hurt him? The thought might have been comical to another but it only would make the young Jacobite tail lower and his ears swivel to pick up any sounds of others that could be nearby. They were very much alone. Only the crashing seas that purged the icy from every forming a solid sheet and the winds that made the waves that raged on high.

“I will accompany you…Atlas,” he concluded. Burning eyes would pierce into those confusing lavenders again, letting out a frustrated low growl, more so at himself, as he would abruptly lean down and grip him once again by the scruff to attempt to jerk up upwards to stand. It wouldn’t go so smoothly as his body didn’t move as he had hoped, his bad leg hitching onto a body part he wasn’t even sure what it was causing the larger male to fall right on top of the other with a pained grunt.

code: elyon | art: pixel

ooc: all speech is in gaelic still.

Though fear warned him not to surrender himself to the jaws of another predator. Atlas did not tuck his tail and plead for his life. He maintained a measure of control over his panic and kept a level head. The outcome of this standoff was going to be determined by the effectiveness of his communication. Gaelic was his secondary language, but his father had wanted his children to inherit a piece of the lowlands. He could speak it almost as comfortably as the common tongue and it was his first time conversing in it with a native speaker.

With nervous anticipation he looked into the red eyes that were his judge and jury, evaluating his innocence and measuring his sin. White ears lowered hesitantly and his rosy tongue swiped over his lips. One fluffy cheek was sodden, pressed into the snow dappled earth, giving his round face a misshapen appearance. The cold nipped at his skin with its biting icy fangs and soaked his underbelly that was flat against the frost. In contrast to his freezing belly the heat of the larger wolf’s standing over him radiated an aura of warmth and heat pulsed from the paws pushing him down.

“I will accompany you…Atlas,” Words that would have been welcome if not for the growl that was deep enough to rumble through his ears. Motion from above made him stiffen with anticipation, muscles aching to be released from the extra weight pressing downwards. Hot breath against his nape blew the fine hairs at the base of his neck as teeth seized his shaggy mane of white and lifted him.

Fiery paws dangled in limp confusion and a soft “Huh?” followed. A precariously placed paw became entangled with his ember touched tail, rolling beneath the scrambling foot and anchoring his lower half to the ground as his front quarters rose. Then he was falling again, crashing into the snow with the highlander flopped on his back. Pain jolted through his back and chest upon colliding with the ground. He lifted his head, snorting out droplets of water from the snow he had inhaled accidentally. The sharp scent of pine filled his senses and the warmth of the highlander boy reminded him just how close they were. Blood rushed to his chilled cheeks and warmed him all the way to his ear tips which grew very pink under the light covering of white fur. “Err… Sir Highlander?” he spoke, voice tentative and concerned. He wasn't sure if he had changed his mind about accompanying him or if their current predicament was accidental.

code: elyon | art: renallia

The fluidity of this shared language had perhaps been the main thing that had softened him to even allowing him up from the earth, giving him some credit to having those that dwelled within the highest points of the land that he knew as home. It wasn’t everyday a Royalist could serve as a proper translator for their own tongues but there was a chance this wasn’t a follower of the king at all. Aside from the scent of a land he hated, there was nothing that could really place him as a true enemy to him or anyone else here. His job was recruitment, something that even his leg hadn’t stopped him from keeping close to his chest as a way to stay within the Jacobite camp with his family. He was doing a poor job at recruiting everyone now that his paranoia had gotten the best of him and Roisin’s willingness to provide him her burdens awakened a side of him that wasn’t neutral at all.

Fae were supposed to be his keepers, listening to them every step he took, not the views of others and perhaps the fae wanted to humble him when he completely lost control of his own form. A grunt could be heard, holding back the desire to let out a whine of any sort. Embarrassment, pain, frustration; all three would be correct right now. More feelings than he was used to having to understand all at once. With those that had known him forever, he could easily fall into apathy to his own situations. It was easier than showing his true face and the last time he had, it didn't go smoothly no matter how he folded it.

His ears twitched back when Atlas muttered words of concern instead of taking off like he would expect the stranger to do, taking advantage of his own failures. He was tempted to jolt back up and snarl, show a dominance like his father might have but would that not just show insecurity instead? Socializing was confusing and even more frustrating and he saw no point in over thinking it for it never did him any good.

What surprised him even more was that the smaller male remained not trying to knock him off, swearing he could hear a heart racing. “Raith…Raith Samaire,” he would say in monotone as he raised his head when a voice called him something so peculiar. Silently, he laid there, just enjoying the heat against his body, fighting the chill that encased his limbs from hours of patrols. Absent-mindedly, he had nuzzled his muzzle into the fur below him, sapping up that warmth he so craved to bring some feeling back into his face.

His tail twitched before he abruptly tried to get up, not even attempting to pull him up with him. He stumbled a few steps away, shaking himself free of the snow that knobbed on the tips of his fur like mats as the heat of his body fought with the chilly air in thawing and freezing. He’d do his best to hide the frailness of his limb though not being able to move it made it near impossible to not be noticed. Awkwardly, he just kind of stared at Atlas, uncertain what to do or say as he would slowly turn,/h> his head away and lowered with his ears back in silent apology. “Cold,” he tried to explain his snuggly action a second ago in his normal lack of detail, not even thinking about explaining how he ended up on top of him.

code: elyon | art: pixel