Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2019 23:42:33 GMT -6
They say pride goes before the fall; Ares personally felt that that was a load of bull crap because he had nothing to be ashamed of - yet there he lay. He supposed that no one could be infallible, if anyone could it would be him, but perfection was such an illusory thing. His wounds ached, poorly treated with battlefield medicinal logic, and looked after with the same scarce effort. Not because he was lazy, but because he was exhausted. Every movement was agitation on the bones he had broken escaping from the coalition of lions. His breath rattled his bones, but the pain had become background noise to the pangs of fear that were slowly growing in him each passing day that he remained immobile.
When he had been conscious enough to take stock of where he had collapsed after his escape he had tried to howl. Kairos, after all, was well inhabited and he was sure that someone would come, but eventually (when no one did) he had to conclude that he had fled outside its borders.) That would make the cave make more sense, though his exact location eluded him, something that nagged on his brain, not even knowing where he was.
Eventually the male had been too weakened to do that, and too wary of other predators who wouldn’t mind finishing him off for the easy meal or event he potential threat he might pose should he recover. The ways of the world didn’t bother him, but he had no death wish. And so, the calling stopped. He drifted in and out of sleep, something dreaming of a pretty chocolate face with fiery eyes and tiny pawprints nestled within his own, sometimes imagining them standing there in the light that trickled in and sparkled on the puddles that collected in indentations in the rock.
And when he didn’t see them there beside him, feel those faint warm impressions that always left him shivering and cold, bones creaking and blood crusting the rock as he moved, he thought of them. Wondered how much they’d grown, how much time had passed where he was left subsisting off of what he could lunge at in the dark as his muscles slowly wasted away. It didn’t give him strength, but there was a certain light that continued to reflect off his eyes stubbornly refusing to extinguish.
The paw-steps into the cavern were quiet even across the water, but he still heard them. His heartbeat hammered a faster beat between each one, making them feel as if they approached faster and faster though they remained perfectly even until the stranger realized that they were not alone. He hardly breathed. Ares remembered panic, but that time there had been fire. The heat unbearable and pillars of flame blocking his vision. Now it was hazy with humidity and darkness, but only the vague sound of crashing waves could be heard in the background. But still, he knew what had found him.
The stubborn beast that would not give up the hunt, not that he would have been persuaded to either. He was a mighty specimen after all. Another wolf, a wolf with less to live for, less to love, a smaller heart might have considered it a reprieve from the pain. A stop to the shuddering breaths that sent ripples of pain from his ribs outwards. But Ares was not another wolf.
The paw-steps stopped, and there were no words. Nothing was inevitable, just like nothing was impossible. In the grand scheme of things there is pattern, but there is also chaos, and so to say that he saw it coming would be both true and untrue. In his final moments the only thing he saw was his family. There was a feeling of loss, not that he would be gone, that he had lost, that he had finally finally lost, but that he wouldn’t be able to be there. What he was missing. What he had lost. Funny. Perhaps pride really did go before the fall.
When he had been conscious enough to take stock of where he had collapsed after his escape he had tried to howl. Kairos, after all, was well inhabited and he was sure that someone would come, but eventually (when no one did) he had to conclude that he had fled outside its borders.) That would make the cave make more sense, though his exact location eluded him, something that nagged on his brain, not even knowing where he was.
Eventually the male had been too weakened to do that, and too wary of other predators who wouldn’t mind finishing him off for the easy meal or event he potential threat he might pose should he recover. The ways of the world didn’t bother him, but he had no death wish. And so, the calling stopped. He drifted in and out of sleep, something dreaming of a pretty chocolate face with fiery eyes and tiny pawprints nestled within his own, sometimes imagining them standing there in the light that trickled in and sparkled on the puddles that collected in indentations in the rock.
And when he didn’t see them there beside him, feel those faint warm impressions that always left him shivering and cold, bones creaking and blood crusting the rock as he moved, he thought of them. Wondered how much they’d grown, how much time had passed where he was left subsisting off of what he could lunge at in the dark as his muscles slowly wasted away. It didn’t give him strength, but there was a certain light that continued to reflect off his eyes stubbornly refusing to extinguish.
The paw-steps into the cavern were quiet even across the water, but he still heard them. His heartbeat hammered a faster beat between each one, making them feel as if they approached faster and faster though they remained perfectly even until the stranger realized that they were not alone. He hardly breathed. Ares remembered panic, but that time there had been fire. The heat unbearable and pillars of flame blocking his vision. Now it was hazy with humidity and darkness, but only the vague sound of crashing waves could be heard in the background. But still, he knew what had found him.
The stubborn beast that would not give up the hunt, not that he would have been persuaded to either. He was a mighty specimen after all. Another wolf, a wolf with less to live for, less to love, a smaller heart might have considered it a reprieve from the pain. A stop to the shuddering breaths that sent ripples of pain from his ribs outwards. But Ares was not another wolf.
The paw-steps stopped, and there were no words. Nothing was inevitable, just like nothing was impossible. In the grand scheme of things there is pattern, but there is also chaos, and so to say that he saw it coming would be both true and untrue. In his final moments the only thing he saw was his family. There was a feeling of loss, not that he would be gone, that he had lost, that he had finally finally lost, but that he wouldn’t be able to be there. What he was missing. What he had lost. Funny. Perhaps pride really did go before the fall.
Valkyrie 
93 | 
