The pup broke into a humble amble, ears focused attentively on Rhonwen as the she-wolf lifted her head. Sunlight seemed to catch her auriferous optics, igniting them in a warm fiery glow. Aesir leaned into her touch, heartily welcoming Rhonwen's affectionate greeting. His tail waved aft and fro. Yet in his best knowledge to display respect, the pup's tail happened to subtly tuck. Aesir sat down beside the she-wolf, careful not to plop down atop of her.

Aesir studied the body language of Rhonwen for a moment. Her sweet scent of wild berries and winter pine permeated in the space between them as his gaze merely flicked to the repositioning of her lithe physique. His ears ever so slightly swiveled upon noticing her tucked paw.

Finally, the pup returned the smile. Even more so, he jubilantly chuffed. "Yes," he murmured after reading Wen's lips. "How are you?" His voice carried hints of his former pack's accent. It was almost guttural, though thanks due to being a pup, soft.

He liked to imagine Rhonwen's voice was like that of a mosiac of snow drifting beneath a brightly lit sky. A warm, yet ever cool, abundance of calm and serenity.

Acheron

Male | Omega Pack | Pack Member | Mentions: Rag, Bolverkr

Acheron could watch as anger seeped slowly into her features. Something that the male was far from scared of. After all, he liked it. As much as he loved seeing fear wash over the face of wolves, prey and all animals alike, upsetting them was often just as exciting to a wolf like him. Rag was far from an exception. She was just an angry wolf with a painful past.... Very similar to him, it seemed.

As she began her wrath by calling him immature names, he simply scoffed once more. He snapped his pearly caninines in the air by her face, not afraid to bite her nose right off. He certainly wasn’t afraid of drawing blood, or showing bones for that matter. He stood there, deadly eyes staring right back into hers as she unleashed what she thought was fire upon him. It didn’t sting, though. He was immune to pointless words from weak females.

As she finally finished, his eyes were dark, holding a flame that couldn’t quite be put out with anything but his own fiery wrath. He took a deep breath, trying to contain the dark thoughts that lingered beyond the surface.

'Kill her. We don’t need her. The Alpha would never know.... But Bolverkr.'

He growled lowly as he looked at the she-wolf before him. “Bitch. You’re not the only one whose dealt with pain. You don’t know my past just as much as I dont know yours, and here you are preaching on it as if you were there in the flesh.” He blinked once, shaking his head as he glanced around the current scene. “Most of my blood are rotting bones and I had to pick up the pieces for my little sister. You don’t deserve to know my past, and I don’t really care to know yours. But he’s never going to learn his own skills if you keep on sistering the hell out of him.” He barked out at her, before slowly looking over to Bolverkr.

He then watched as she lay down, and he shook his cranium once more as the cool earth met her fur. “Fine, Ráðgríðr. Lay down and close your eyes to escape.”

“Come on.” He stepped away from her, nudging gently the side of Bol’s own head.

Death avoided.

"Oh, oh, I feel faint." Yes, Bǫlverkr was dramatic, but he had a right. He was attacked, humiliated, scarred! What other wolf had gone through such a treacherous thing? None, that's what! "Acheron, my companion, my pal. If I die, you can have my den. I leave it to you and solely you." Releasing a sniffle, followed by a sob, he spluttered. "Y- you can customize it however you wish." A shaky breath escaped him before Bǫlverkr shook out his pelt and resumed his natural stance once more. "Alright, I'm over this." Tone falling back to normal, he switched entirely, chest puffing out slightly in response to Acheron's input.

"You're right, the scar will add character. Of course, I'd tell others I received it fighting off a bear, or perhaps saving a pup from the jowls of a vicious, rabid coyote. Anything but the truth." Turning to Ráðgríðr, he began to focus on her. "Oh, and I haven't forgotten you. If I die, I leave you my title. There, that should do it." Content, there was a moment of peace before Acheron began to snap in response to his sister's words. What more could Bǫlverkr do but remain silent? What more could he do besides watch his sister and friend begin to argue?

It reminded him too much of his past. Too much fighting.. Too much anger and malice. He wanted it to stop. Needed it to stop. The words were mean. The tones were growing louder. It was too much. Too similar. Needed it to stop. Loud. He didn't like it. The words were mean. Too much fighting.. Too much anger. Couldn't move. Frozen. Voices.

Loud. Loud. Loud.

"Do you know how my father used to be.."

Father, father, father.

"I have scars for a reason and so does my brother.."

What a treacherous male he was. What a cruel, cruel figure. He didn't want to think of him. Didn't want to remember. Didn't like him. Cruel male. Not a father. Bully. Murderer. Devil.

Bǫlverkr's eyes twitched, his mind racing until finally, he broke past his gibberish thoughts, pupils dilating. "Silence!" He roared, lips peeling back to reveal a row of jagged teeth, some missing, some still in tact. His hackles raised, eyes widened to the brink of madness as he stared at the empty space between his sister and Acheron. Ever so slowly, they traveled onto Ráðgríðr, his body remaining in a defensive stance. "We do not mention that individual. You are not to utter that word in front of me ever again." He didn't mean to yell. He didn't mean to use such a tone with his sister, but their father was a bad topic. He couldn't bring himself to say more than a few words when it came to him. It always caused Bǫlverkr to spiral, having been the root of his problems and why he became this way.

"I don't want to hear him. I don't want any mention of what happened." Tone dropping into less of an aggressive one and simply a stern one, Bǫlverkr released a deep sigh, composing himself. "No more of this. No more of these words. We have proper work to get done, and time is being wasted on this." Speaking to both friend and sister, this was why Bǫlverkr became a beta, able to implement a form of order. That, and because despite the state he was in, Berengar trusted him. He somehow became a friend to him, bonded in a sense, and Bǫlverkr would prove that he was a companion until the day he died.

"You'll prove nothing. You're better off dead."

"Berengar is going to hold his meeting soon. I want to head over there now." Interrupting his voice, Bǫlverkr became more stoic, glancing at his sister as his eyes softened. "I don't mean to be harsh." He didn't need to explain. Ráðgríðr understood. She always did. "Go rest in the den. You won't be of much use to the pack if you're tired. I'll come find you after the meeting. Hopefully by then you'll be better rested, hm?" It was up to his sister to decide, but Bǫlverkr allowed her to have that option nonetheless. "We all have bad pasts. It's why we're here. It won't help to move on if we're still focusing on what happened rather than on the path ahead." Frankly, Bǫlverkr was tired of it. He didn't want to think of what happened. It set him back, and he wanted to move forward.

Feeling Acheron nudge his head, the male nodded a singular time before turning to his sister, tone gentle. "If you would like to come, you're free to. If you'd like to go rest, you could do that as well. If you do decide to rest, send anybody you see Berengar's way. He will be expecting the others to begin waking up." Offering her a rare smile, he turned and began to walk off alongside of Acheron.

What a way to start the day.