thieves [Brontes/Agoge]

[attr="class","pltxt"] he talks he thinks

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If one had asked Brontes several moons ago if he would end up practically glued at the sides with the fiery femme who’d assaulted him in the caves of Ina’mos, he might have offered a disbelieving (albeit half-hearted) snort in response. She was rude, she was pushy, she was full of boundless energy that Brontes could not match, and she was his best friend. Because though Eos was certainly all those things, she was also unique and resilient, brave and ambitious, and she pushed Brontes to be a better version of himself, even if he did grumble about some of her more physical methods (he did not know if his nose would ever stop being sore from her swatting).

And so it was that the pair of them found themselves making an arduous swim through treacherously cold water, the shore of Vor’asa growing closer by the moment and yet still seeming so far away. Brontes trailed behind Eos, his sole eye squinting against the sting of the salt water, his large paws propelling him forward. He was cold and exhausted, and if the journey was taking such an immense toll on him, he could only image how Eos felt. But she did not complain, and she did not waver as she swam and swam, and so Brontes did not, either. For both of their sakes.

His gaze remained glued to her to steel his resolve, and so when his paws first brushed sand, he was both startled and relieved. He followed her onto the shore, where he promptly collapsed alongside Eos, blown and winded. So quickly that he would have been amazed if he hadn’t been so focused on breathing, Eos was on her paws, turning to gaze down at him with those blazing amber eyes. In true Eos nature, she implored him to hurry, throwing in a few choice words along the way.

”I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you call me by my name. If you ever do, I’ll know to be concerned,” Brontes grunted as he heaved himself to his feet, his warm breath puffing out in a small cloud from his nostrils as he turned his head to fully survey their surroundings. Dunes rose ahead of them in the distance, strangely crested with snow, and he narrowed his eye as he studied them. What was the chance that they would find some hidden cavern between the hills? Slim, he assumed, if the snow had concealed any openings. Instead, he turned to glance down the stretch of sand and water, considering. ”There might be rocky enclosures further down the beach, like on the shores of Ina’mos,” he suggested, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

[attr="class","pltxt"]he talks he thinks

Brontes watched in silence as she processed his words, her eyes darting to him and then away, towards where he’d suggested. He did not speak; he would let her come to her own conclusion regarding whether his suggestion was worth considering. If he pressed her, he knew that she would not take well to it. She was smart enough to decide whether to listen to him, and if she did not, he would follow her regardless. So it was that he stood there, clenching his teeth against the cold, pretending as if the breeze did not bother his soaked form.

And then suddenly she was moving, her tail smacking his face soundly, making him blink as she strode away from him, her words falling back upon his ears. He could not help but chuckle at the sound of them, though he did not argue; if she wished to bite him for being wrong, he would endure it. And indeed, he did not miss the small smile that flitted across her muzzle, warming him at the sight of it. But he did not speak on it; instead he silently followed her as she implored him too with her less-than-savory dialect, letting her take the lead in this foreign place. Though he knew that she could take care of herself, he kept a keen eye out, his limited vision scouring their surroundings as they moved across them.

For a time, they walked in silence, fighting against the wind that seemed determined to push them back. But during a brief lull he lifted his head, and called to her, ”Eos?” Though she did not call him by his name, he called her by hers, and he would not have changed their dynamic for the world. The wind picked up again at that moment, and he waited for a lull again before he continued. ”What made you decide to do this with me?”

It was a serious question, perhaps more serious than they were usually accustomed to. But he asked it all the same, no shame in his bones as he phrased it. ”Most would be reluctant, with my…eye, and my apparent laziness. But you saw beneath that. You saw something different. How?”

credits: wolf source
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[attr="class","pltxt"] he talks he thinks

credits: wolf source
Texture source

He supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised at her immediate reaction to his words. They were not accustomed to speaking about feelings with one another after all, and for him to suddenly broach the topic must have seemed…strange. But before he could part his muzzle to brush his questions off, she was speaking again, shooting him a look that might have quelled others but which only made Brontes grin. And yet that grin dropped off his features when she spoke, her words strangely…well, he would not say heartwarming. Reassuring felt too desperate, too. And yet the way she spoke of his missing eye, as if it meant nothing, as if it did not diminish his worth…well, he did not know how to feel about it. Did not know how to explain to her what it meant, for her to say what she did.

Not that he had time to. Before Brontes could fully process it, she was whirling, bringing him to an abrupt stop. She questioned if anyone had mentioned his lack of an eye, and by the threat that she offered along with her ferocious glare, he knew that she would thoroughly demolish anyone who might have mocked him. Luckily for this imaginary being, they did not exist. If they had, he did not doubt that she would march away back to the shore, swim to find them, wallop them in cold blood, and then return to his side. The fact that she cared enough about him to do so was flattering – but he would never say it. Not if he wanted to keep his other eye.

He had never been particularly serious. No, it was easier to regard the world with a carefree nature, as if it did not affect him. But this…this did. And her words weighed so heavily upon him as she turned again, waiting for him to move ahead, challenging him to take the lead. For a moment, he did not move. Her words rang in his head repeatedly, making his breath catch in his lungs. Not lazy, she’d said. She did not write him off as some dud, some good-for-nothing one-eyed sop who would never amount to anything. As much as she called him dummy and idiot, clearly she did not think it was so.

Silently Brontes surged ahead, not glancing back as he moved along the beach, paws leaving large prints in the wet sand. He knew that Eos was behind him and knew without asking that she would keep an eye on his blindside. And yet regardless of that, he still turned his head a fraction more than he needed to, so that he could observe his surroundings from all sides. Back and forth, back and forth; a slight tilting of his cranium, a miniscule turning of his frame. He had mastered these movements to look around him properly.

In time, rocky formations began to form along the beach, as he knew they would. And in time they solidified further, until the porous rocks formed caverns here and there. The first one he discarded for smelling too freshly of a fox family; they could have taken them, but it was pointless to expend their energy on the fight when they were freshly washed ashore. The second was too small, and he glanced at it briefly before moving on. But the third…it was perfect.

It was just large enough, with moss covering the bottom of the cavern floor, and no lingering scents. He stepped within and pushed himself against the back wall to give her more room, sighing as he settled on his aching haunches. For a heartbeat, two, he was silent. He gave her time to enter, to adjust. And then, his sole good eye settled upon her, sunset gaze flickering as he spoke.

”Yes, I let you call me stupid. I let you call me dummy. I let you slap me, and batter me, and push me. I let you do whatever you’d like.” He blinked, not looking away from her, too lax and comfortable to be ashamed. ”I would let no one else do the same. Not my brother, not my sister, not anyone but you. And no, no one has teased me over my eye. I fear for anyone who ever does.” He did not elaborate on his words, letting her deduct what she would from him. ”I have no further “dumb questions”. I am just happy to be here with you, who never looked at me funny, or treated me like I was glass. Even my own mother could not say the same. So from now on, we are equal. I will not bring you shame, and I know that you will not bring it upon me, either.”