Tybalt Aetós
His stomach was angry. He should have known better than to eat that lizard he had caught earlier in the morning. It had been green with shiny blue stripes running along its back, and it made his tongue feel all itchy when he caught it. But the pup had been hungry, and it had seemed worth the risk at the time. Now Tybalt wasn’t so sure. The gurgling in his gut was noisy and relentless, and the boy moaned in discomfort where he sat alone beneath an evergreen laden with heavy snow. Dark clouds obscured any hope for sunshine that wintry afternoon, and the normally vibrant forest looked dismal and dreary.Tybalt was half a year old now, and life was predictably unpredictable. He saw Dad here and there, and did not yet think to question where it was Tiberius disappeared to most evenings, or why the scent of feminine strangers seemed to always accompany his presence. It was simply normal. There were others he interacted with like The Lady, but she was rather bossy, and The Girl, but he hadn’t seen her for a while. Mostly, Tybalt explored on his own, just as he always had. Today was different, though, as he had already emptied the contents of his stomach in the bushes until there was nothing left and he felt exhausted and weak. Emerald sights stared straight ahead. If a stranger happened upon him, maybe they would know how to make his stomach feel less angry and less agonizing. He would never make it to the villages on his own accord, so he watched the snow-dusted road hopefully. @Savard |
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Tybalt Aetós
The path was nearly deserted today, which did not bode well for young Tybalt as he waited for assistance that might never have come. Possessing little understanding of death, with the exception of the kills he had eaten, Tybalt began this new notion, to ponder that he, too, could wind up like one of his meals. They were alive… until they weren’t. Maybe he wouldn’t die from being eaten by a wolf like prey, but instead, because he ate a lizard.When hope seemed lost, a stranger appeared. As Tybalt looked up, he saw a man dressed in tones of pale russet coming nearer. There was no fear in the boy’s countenance – had Tybalt felt better, he would have been quite pleased to have garnered the stranger’s attention, and equally unconcerned. Sometimes, an entire day could pass without anything taking notice of the boy. But these were desperate times, and all that he could really feel was the agony of the poison that still churned in his system. Honey-hued sights found the emerald orbs of the child, and a gruff voice questioned: “You’re unwell, what is it?” Tybalt looked up with mournful eyes, an expression filled with deep regret. The man was only a little shorter than Dad, with scars decorating his facade, but Tybalt didn’t think anything of these battle wounds. Where the stranger was very cautious, the boy was lacking any semblance of awareness, even when he didn’t feel as if he were dying. The pup heaved a deep sigh and explained his predicament in two words: ”Bad lixzard.” His English was still not perfect, since the woman who had given him life had addressed him in the ancient tongue of the northlands – a move intended to irritate the father who would take him away to raise on his own. He patted his gurgling stomach for further emphasis. ”No good.” Tybalt had never felt so terrible in the months he had existed, and he didn’t know how to fix it. But maybe this wolf would. His mouth felt dry as a desert. ”An bhfuil uisce agat?” He would ask in his first language, but he caught himself and hurriedly repeated the question in the right way as he croaked, ”D’ye ‘ave water?” The lilt in his voice was obvious, even if he had been banned from speaking his first tongue by his father. His accent was more characteristic of the old Highlanders, suggesting the boy was out of place in Rionna. ”I’m Tybalt. I'm a good boy,” he offered with a forced grin, trying to appear worth helping. |
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Tybalt Aetós
The grown-up regarded him with frosty tones, but this didn’t bother Tybalt one bit. This was what he was accustomed to – cold indifference. Whether it was a stranger or someone known, the same reaction seemed to follow the boy, lifelong so that he knew no other way. The man would find no hesitation there, nor suspicion. Tybalt was still naive to just how unkind his world could be. But he was learning, one interaction at a time. For now, for this encounter, there was little choice but to trust. The scars that marred the stranger’s facade didn’t frighten the boy, who had no context for the violence required to earn those decorations. If it was a clue, any indication that putting faith in such a suspicious character was unwise, this never occurred to the child. Here was someone who sort of, almost wanted the masked pup around. That was enough.And so Tybalt followed the nice wolf as closely as a shadow cast near noontime, nearly tripping over the grown-up’s back paws in his eagerness to keep up. Tybalt didn’t ask where they were going, didn’t even think to inquire, for wherever it was, it was sure to be better than sitting alone, sick in the snow. The big wolf didn’t offer his name – another occurrence that was commonplace for Tybalt in his interactions with strangers, so much so that he didn’t think twice about it. They were each meant to remain strangers, it seemed. As they walked along, Tybalt babbled to himself, as children sometimes do, in the language his mother had taught him, that his father had forbidden him to speak: ”Tá an saol aisteach.” It was a phrase his mother, a true Highlander, had often used. Life is strange. Usually, the woman who had birthed him would mutter these words to herself wistfully. He had asked once what the words meant, before he had been Tybalt and was simply called child, but she hadn’t answered him, only offering a mysterious smile and the shake of her head. He would learn its true meaning someday, on his own. The pup thought of the white wolfess infrequently, but when he did, like in this instance, it was with vague curiosity and a hint of something else, a sadness that he couldn’t put a name to or begin to understand. She had been there… And then she wasn’t. It was another phenomenon familiar to Tybalt. No one ever seemed to stay. @Savard |
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