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Set at the same time as The End Of The BWP

He is barely standing when it ends.

When the chains break, when the ancients speak.

Vitus has done his part, taken blows and continued to break the chains that bind with the others, blows that would be the end of him. Bites and tears he could have avoided, if he had only moved.

The ground vanished beneath his feet, and for a brief moment he stood at Eastborne, baby blue eyes looking at those around him as the warmth dripped down his throat. The world was melting, at long last, the sun was shining.

So why did he feel cold?

Vitus looked down in annoyance as he felt another drip, not...registering, just what it was. The fountain that was coming from the side of his neck, his pale fur soaked in red.

Blood.

.....how?

He has seen his future, he has seen himself an old man, he was not supposed to die yet.

Fate it seemed, had other plans for the seer, as he slid to the ground with the thunder that boomed around the group.

It was....a good place to die, at least.

Pretty.

Did he have regrets?

He had wanted to do more.

skill: death touched

It came as no shock to Ezra, seeing his brother dying there. The moment he left Jakten, he knew he was a dead man walking. It was as though every moment Ezra (and for his siblings too before their death) he turned his back, someone died. As if he didn't constantly keep his eye on them, they would be gone in a blink. At least, as far as his family went.

Would it be the same with Amunet ? Ezra would be left to fear any time he was sent on mission, wandered to another nearby land, took a tunnel or two… If he didnt keep his eyes on her every waking moment, would she too die? But there wouldn't be any meeting her one day in Valhalla, would there?

I knew it…. He spoke the words outloud, now, as he stood over his brother laying, bleeding out on the ground from a gaping wound on his neck. How? Did it matter? It didn't change the end result.

He sits, then, slowly. His head lowering down as he hunched down near him, his crippled leg raised a little off ground. It ached, but surely not the way his brother did now. You'll wait for me with the rest of em, won't you? There was no use for dramatics - to yell, to wisp him up in his arms, to cry in agony. Ezra knew where he was going. He just hoped all he could do was wait for him.

Fear? Surely not, but being lost and the scent of blood heavy in the air...her mind went to the worst outcomes. Wincing, she choked back the sound, heavily pressing into her throat. Scents she did not know and one she had grown intimately acquainted with. Ezra? Her chest tightened, her paws moved before she could think. The dark woman had known loss, but she cursed the idea. Her breathing was ragged, uneven; it felt as though the air had been drawn from her lungs. No cry could be found on her lips; only her eyes would give away her silent curses and hidden pleas. Her family's words are forsaken this time. Her teeth gnashed as anguish rolled over her in waves of denial, cursing fate, and bargaining with it all the same.

It felt like an eternity tracing the scent, the overwhelming scent of blood now churning her stomach. The back of the familiar male was the first thing she saw. Ezra? Her words came out like a prayer, half-whisper, half-broken. She doesn't approach a weight settling into her bones as she takes in the scene. Her eyes rest on the silver and gold-hued creature on the ground, and her head drops slightly. She didn't know this wolf, but it seemed as though Ezra had. Everything in her screamed to reach out to see if it was real or an illusion. The dark woman couldn't bear to invade this space this time. She couldn't know the weight that this loss carried, but she settled reverently in the background. If it was he, then her presence was announced in his name alone.

Pale opalescent eyes lingered for a moment longer before she focused more intently on their surroundings. Uncertain what to do, she would stand in a silent, protective vigil. May you walk in the Field of Reeds. She muttered the blessings of her family's sake softly and mostly to herself, to fate, to whoever could hear the muffled whispers of reverence. She could only hope that whatever god the fallen male served would receive him well and bring the soul peace. Despite her attempts at being mindful of their surroundings, her eyes continued to find themselves focusing on that oh so familiar frame, anxiously waiting in a careful silence and conflicting emotions.

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— artwork: Ulfeid3 ·
Common Speech Coptic Speech

He was still struggling to breathe, gurgling breaths as he started choking on his own blood.

His eyes caught Ezra's, glad that he was here, that he would know, before Elli's voice reached his ears. He knew she was near, but he couldn't see her from his place in the melting snow.

Vitus was clinging to this life, clawing at the strings of his soul that kept him bound to stay until she was at his side too. He didn't want to be alone as she had been, he wanted her here with him. He knew Journey was around somewhere as well, he had seen her attack the chained wolf but this...this was a moment for the three of them. The Valkyrie would see him eventually, but there were no guarantees that his siblings would fall from battle wounds like he had.

But of course, in very Elli fashion, she directed her grief into anger at the nearest person.

The seer would laugh, if he wasn't...struggling, to stay in the now.

He felt...so....

His body let out the final death rattle, but the man was already gone.

skill: death touched

Amunet's voice was an echo, distant behind him as his head spun as his brother under him struggled to breathe. Elli's voice too, a whisper on his mind too, beckoning, calling… She was here to take his brother away, but Ezra could not join them. Not yet.

Too focused on watching the last breaths of his brother leave his body, it wasn't until Elli was at his side with Vitus that he realized it was she which called him - she… who sounded like Elli, smelt like Elli. It was Elli, despite her different flesh. He knew it to be so. After all, she didn't look much horribly different - and her eyes; her eyes were just as he remembered them.

It was those eyes which pulled him away from a brother now gone from him. You're alive…? Ezra's eyes moved back to Vitus, to Elli and then back again. She had been given new life but that had come at a cost, or so it seemed. He didn't know what to think, what to say. That she had killed him with her return? That she should go back? But Ezra didnt fucking want her to and yet-! FUCK.

Teeth clenching, he takes a step back, stumbling as he shakes his head to try and make sense of this, to control the emotions that ravaged his mind. Meanwhile Elli begins to burn bright, wraith fueled with god-given light as runes begin a faint glow across her body. Runes he had seen in his dreams, seen on the stones circled all around them during the freedom of Fenrir-not-Fenrir. For he could not be the true deity, for he was freed and still the world did not burn! But Elli did - and so did Ezra.

For the first time he would be forced to face her with ire. He takes another step back, his head lowering and tail down, but his legs splayed and fur bristled. A defensive stance, which he would do, if he must. He would take those blows and he would let his sister take his throat if she so willed it. After all, had he already not deemed his life sacrificial for her? To find a way back to her?

No. He answered sharp, true. If she were thinking clearly, she would know Amunet had no blood of any kind on her but we all knew (and with good reason) Elli was not being rational. He knew Amuney could handle her own. She was a valkyrie in her own right… what were these called in her culture, he wondered? He didn't think to ask if there were any.

She is… Mine? He wouldn't be foolish enough to think he could call her his own. Who was he to think he ever could? She's with me.

The light colored woman seemed to appear from nowhere in particular, and yet, upon first glance, she didn't appear as a threat. The dark woman sympathised with grief. Her eyes were watchful, mindful. Sorrow had a way to turn things ugly even if it wasn't desired. Admittedly, she cared little for the woman's reaction; others were permitted to grieve in whatever way felt right to them in these matters. Amunet felt no need to intervene, even as the feeling of what one could consider jealousy crept up her spine. No, this moment was for Ezra and the fallen; she could temper trivial emotions for the time being. Even she had reverence for the dying when it came to someone important to those she cared about.

It wasn't until the woman flashed from looking at Ezra to herself that she lifted her head to full attention. If the matter were not so heavy, she would almost find it insulting. Still, she caught the fact that the poor man on the ground had been his brother, and this was apparently his sister. Even Ezra had seemed to be perplexed on the matter. She watches as he takes a step back. He stumbles slightly, shaking his head. Amunet cared little for the glowing oddities they seemed to carry in their own was her concern was the reaction, and it was enough to captivate her entire attention. The rest of the beast scattered about no longer mattered in the moment, only the three in front before.

It wasn't the baseless words and accusations that made Amunet bristle, witnessing Ezra's stance change to something defensive, wrong. Even as he uttered words in her defence, her snarl broke her silence. She stalked forward, muscles rippling beneath obsidian fur. Touch him with ill intentions. I swear before all the gods, all the fates. Whatever the fuck you believe in...I will drag you into the abyss with me. The dark woman couldn't control the fury radiating from her body. She cared not if she were injured or worse; Ezra was hers. As capable as he is as a fighter mattered little now. In her presence, she wouldn't tolerate it.

She closed the distance from Ezra, close enough that if the stranger lashed out, she could place herself in front of him. Her eyes were cold, and her tone even more frigid. I do not wish to dishonour the dead. I desire not to fight you, but I shall if it is required of me. She lowered her head slightly to protect her throat as she subtly widened her stance. Still baring her teeth, she waited for an answer or movement. If she opted to lash out at Ezra, she wouldn't hesitate to throw her shoulder into the woman's smaller frame. If the woman's fury was turned on her, she could take her retaliation. Grief was a feeling she knew well, and while she desired for this to be amicable, Amunet wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for the male before her.

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— artwork: Ulfeid3 ·
Common Speech Coptic Speech