Tomas felt the heaviness that was still burning upon his body in a way that would not be met to a confrontation. It was an unwise thought to measure himself across the ground too far, knowing that distance would only begin to reaffirm that mindset which had settled across the vengeful youth of the mountain. Their home was indeed upon collapse, and yet in the rash instinct to drive those who could be associated with the pain - they brought upon a destruction. They shattered the barriers which had sheltered them in part.
The male had been left finding his way back to th caves, soon enough, although he was unsure of who he would be met with. It had been a fair assessment that the adults in the mountain wolves’ lives had been someone of a disappointment. But he had tried. He had seen the flash on Igbo’s face, and he had heard the sharpness of words that had not been for him.
But Tomas was not the sort to be like a mosquito, basking in the blood source when it was better to take a break and try again. Time to breathe, time to question things of a bolder brim was his route. It was why he found himself questioning who it would be that would need a speech, who would need to be told of the woe that would come to pass.
Tail slashed the air, his eyes glancing toward the depth of the cave that he had once upon a time wary to enter within the gates of.
But it was hardly even a Hellish gate, anymore. It was a dank cave full of broken expectations.
Apr 07, 2018 11:54 AM
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