Nothing Could Control It [Leviathan]

There were so many more reasons V should have chastised Leviathan for the fights he picked in that pack territory. But as the brute strode quietly beside her, wounds still agape and fresh blood only just starting to clot, she supposed this would not be the ideal time to lecture the male on his decisions. The things Leviathan did, he did for a reason. However, the femme was far more shaken by the interactions than she dared to let on. Her steely persona remained intact, but she had lost her composure. How was it that male had known her name? Not just her name... but her birth name? The word had not been uttered in her presence for years. She had vague memories of her mother and the fact that she had not always been V. She had not even discussed it with Leviathan; it was dead to her. She had no desire to carry anything their mother had given her. And yet, somehow, a stranger in that land had known. He had called out to her, and her anger had nearly gotten the best of her.

That name was dead, and it was destined to stay dead.

Leviathan's movements were more calculated, and his demeanor had calmed significantly as his tongue lapped at the stale blood around his lips. He was a sight for sore eyes, tattered and battle-worn, but the blood lust had been simultaneously re-awoken and satiated. The spectacle had done little more than disillusion himself and V with the pack that lived in Kamari. He did not care. The tension had released from his body, and as the pair walked silently in step headed west, he found that he cared little for the outcome of the match up. The other male had been a reasonable opponent, but Leviathan did not desire to stave off the attack of an entire pack. Had their scuffle gone on much longer, he likely would have summoned others to their battle. That, along with the fact that he found V faced with two more wolves, was enough for Leviathan to take his leave without the brutal murder of the brute in the way that he had once hoped. One day, he would return. He would finish the task.

But today, the multi-hued male walked shoulder to shoulder with his Goddess once more, the gentle rub of her coat against his resulting in the trademark transfer of blood from his dark coat to her pale white one. It was one of the rare occasions that Leviathan did not mind the presence of blood upon his precious gift. She carried upon her his mark, and she shared in his victories. She was foolish to place herself in that situation, he wholeheartedly believed, but she grounded him in some ways as well. He was ultimately in control. But she was a corporeal reminder that upon the death of his brother, his ascension to the status of a God was fulfilled. This was merely the first step in the rest of their lives.

With the start of his blood oath towards fulfillment, Leviathan was free to do as he wished.

Truthfully, the pair should have steered clear of other wolves. In his state, Leviathan looked quite frightful, and though there was no measure of discomfort on V's face, any others might have found him quite appalling. She would tend his wounds once they settled for the evening. It had been a long time since the cuts had gotten infected in his coat, but V learned the basics in order to keep him patched up. She cared little that he fought so long as he always came back. Up to this day, he had never failed to do so.

V absentmindedly licked the brute's cheek, the taste of stale iron flooding her mouth. It had been a long time coming. She wondered when his bloodlust would return. It had been far longer than she might have imagined since he waged an attack against a pack. But now he had returned in all his glory, and the pale femme was prepared to elevate his cause at any costs. The two wolves wandered into the nearby grove, taking a moment to pause and breathe before continuing their journey west. However, it seemed they were not alone.

Leviathan's blue and golden eyes fell silently on the curled male, nestled in what appeared to be a peaceful sleep. How one could be in such a vulnerable position in broad daylight, he simply could not understand. It was foolish at best, a death wish at worst. He huffed loudly, V's attention drawn to the other wolf in that moment as her blue eyes appraised the brute with interest. Had they found someone to finish Leviathan's assault that he had started? He had been unable to end Fel, but perhaps another loner would hold him over for now.

"Slant me as you will. It does nothing for you or me. I do not wallow and I don't need advice from someone who appears to lose fights."

The male eyed his young counterpart with what could be considered a bemused expression if it were not for the bottomless pit that was his heart. Another wolf might have laughed at the taunt, or perhaps gotten angry. But Leviathan was far too matter-of-fact for that kind of bullshit rhetoric, and he would not hesitate to smack the youngster into the ground to prove a point if need be.

"Boy, if I was a loser, I would not be standing here," he rumbled, his tongue instinctively lapping at the dark stains around his lips. It was incredible to him in some ways that the young male was bold enough to stand before him and level insults. A wolf that was still walking, even sporting injuries like his own, was certainly not the loser in the fight. He may not have been the clear cut winner, but that decision had been taken out of his paws, and that left Leviathan with a blood lust unsatisfied. If the male did not exercise some care in his dealings, the kenai male would simply levy his attacks against little mister Tiberius, son of the oh so magnificent Typhon that he had never met.

"Big words for a boy throwing around his father's name, particularly not having met him," the male levelled, his face expressionless with the quip. "Seems to me at least I know who my parents are. They might be utter bastards, but I know where I come from, and I know who I am. And boy, I am not so sure you want to be around the devil inside me." The male's lip curled back in mock ire, revealing his bloodstained gums and canines once more. This one did not seem keen on getting the hint, and so the male rose once more, staring blankly down his snout at the pup. 

"Tell me, do you make it a point to antagonize strangers that could eliminate your very existence without identifying whether they could be of use to you?" he questioned. There was always a use to another wolf, whether it be to satisfy bloodlust, satiate an appetite for sexual desires, or manipulate them into doing his bidding. This brute had much to learn, and if he were less fiery-tempered, Leviathan would have likely wasted him where he stood. That, and he had an unfortunate connection to the brute that, regardless of his feigned indifference to the words, had caught the brute by surprise.

The boy was his nephew.

It had been quite a time since the male had thought back to the days in Kal'dyne, and the invasion of the darker coated male that had led the assault against Valyn. In truth, the brute had done little to stop them. He had no qualms with pack politics in a place he had been considered inferior. But rather, Typhon's invasion had been his awakening. It had brought him clarity of the failures of those who called him family and the idiocy of the vast majority of wolves around him. He had never sought to befriend that Kairos wolves, but the male had begrudgingly grown to respect their thirst for power and the initiative of the raiding party. It had driven him to Mara and Raum, and it turned him upon that first pathetic offering whose corpse likely still rotted among the rocks in Tas'alea.

"If you do not want to be labeled pathetic, do not act it," the male snapped out. Leviathan scoffed lightly. The other brute had not even so much as taken the steps to protect himself. He was young and green, and he was clearly in over his head. Perhaps it had been too presumptuous to send V away. This male was no threat to her, nor was he a threat to Leviathan. It was unfortunate that the possibility of a familial link was enough to stall his ire long enough to analyze if the wolf could be useful to him. Frankly, he was looking at close to a blank slate. The pup was wallowing, and Leviathan could see an easily gained ally before him. He needed to toughen up and learn that the world was not simply a casual stroll through the loner lands. He was likely to get himself killed.

If Leviathan could not make use of him, he probably would end up dead.

"You say you do not fear me, and yet I find I do not believe you," he remarked coolly, his eyes scanning the brute passively. It was an honor to fear Leviathan. He was the nightmare that pups were told of to keep them in the den at night. He was the murderer. Rapist. Brutalizer. Kidnapper. 

"You're lucky you know your father's name, Tiberius. I suppose it is unbecoming of me to murder my own nephew."

"There is no point in lying to me."

The grumbled words slipped out as soon as Leviathan heard the brute attest that, once again, he was not afraid of him. He would have a far sounder head on his shoulders if he were to admit to the fact that the beast intimidated him at the very least. The kenai male was unsure why Typhon would abandoned his own pups, but he had never really kept up with the majority of his half-siblings. He only knew of the brute from their brief dealings in Kal'dyne, all those many years ago. It was only notable because he, too, was far superior in size to others roaming the continent. There were few that had matched Leviathan in stature, and Typhon had been one of them. So what, had he run off and found himself a little side piece in the way of a pack's alpha and left the whore with pups? Seemed to be a bit of a waste of their bloodline, in his opinion, but he could not fault the male for doing so. Leviathan had done far worse, though typically the femmes he involuntarily took would either become food for the buzzards or be left in such a condition that should pups take root, it would have clearly been the will of the gods to do so. He had no interest in a multitude of pathetic brats roaming away. If this was what the next generation was shaping up to be, Tiberius needed some strong direction. He had already birthed one failure of a son, and the other two simply had not measured up to his expectations. He knew a thing or two about pathetic offspring. They needed a reality check, but his own pups had meandered off on their own before the brute really had a good chance to instill an appropriate control in their lives.

Perhaps Tiberius would be open to a bit of direction.

"We shared a father," he confirmed blandly, his eyes raking over the young male while wordlessly appraising him. He was not too shabby, though it was painfully obvious the male had not had to do a thing for himself in his life. Levi scoffed; likely his mother babied him and turned him into a pathetic wimp. It was the poor impression of Harlot that had ultimately led to her death. He could not allow such a pathetic excuse of an example to be a parental figure to his pups.

"Though I must admit that I find it interesting that you would audibly insult your own kin. I never did specify that my mother was the whore and my father was the heathen," he mused with a bored expression on his face. "I suppose that each term could be used interchangeably for the other."

It would have been a funny coincidence, but in a way Leviathan felt irritated at his inability to just bleed the male out. It would have been the easier way to shape him up; just rid the planet of his pathetic existence. But there was a nagging in the back of his mind telling him that this male could be good for something. He was still young, and in many ways likely impressionable. It would not hurt to bring another strong male into his guardianship. Perhaps in time, he could be of use to the kenai male. He was not without goals; in fact, Leviathan knew that making enemies of Fel and his brood could come back to bite them in time. He could bolster his own forces through the strategic manipulation of those around him. Perhaps it would be good to let V spend some time around this one. She was better with words than he would ever be; his tongue was needlessly sharp, and most of it was simply his inability to read other wolves emotionally. V was a bit of a bridge for him in that sense.

"So, are you going to wander the continent aimlessly in search of a male that left you, or do you want to find a place?" he inquired bluntly. Typhon would not be back for this boy. It was unlikely the brute even knew of his own son's existence, and if he did, he would have found the pup before he reached such an age. It was disgraceful, but perhaps not everything was lost.