In Dire Straits
[PRP] hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground - Printable Version

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hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground - Erasmus - October 02, 2017

prp with pompilius, please disregard the lack of embellishment in this post. i'm still figuring out postscripts.

Colossal paws scattered pebbles and dust as Erasmus trudged towards the temporary den in which his mate awaited, great, mountainous shoulders shifting under his dense coat of fur. Sunset made the ex-Tiamat look particularly luminous in the waning light, igniting the splashes of gold that illuminated the apex of his body and silhouetting the rest. By the time he reached the entrance to his and Pompilius's shared den - the comfortable pocket situated within the rock wall of the canyon - he resembled a cluster of fireflies hovering aimlessly in the dark, suspended in midair around the faint suggestion of a waiting form.

From there, as Pompilius realized his presence, perhaps he would then notice the jackrabbit that hung from his jaws. The kill was clean. Erasmus had wanted to bring home a mostly untouched offering for his mate, even if it was a paltry relief from his mounting hunger. The Red Mountains provided only barely enough sustenance for both males, and though Pompilius was slight in build, he was still a dire of above-average size that required more nourishment than most wolves. Maintenance of Erasmus's monstrous physique and superior weight was an entirely different challenge. Occasionally Erasmus encountered a ram or a badger, but those were few and far between.

He was accustomed to hunting in unforgiving conditions, and the Red Mountains were a more prosperous terrain than terrible Za Kodan. But hunting for himself had been easier.

Nevertheless, he was determined to provide for his mate, even if the salient truth of their predicament loomed over his head. Their lives had not yet been jeopardized, but Erasmus knew. He knew.

He knew, logically, that they would find themselves on a pack border. He knew that they could not wander forever, eating rodents and snakes.

Erasmus set the jackrabbit down and lumbered deeper into the den, lapping dried flecks of blood from his muzzle. "I know it's not... ideal," he huffed, "But it'll have to do for now. I'll find you better." Erasmus himself had incapacitated and downed a rattlesnake before it had the chance to score him with its venomous fangs. It wasn't nearly enough.

Turning to face the open slit of the den, where the encroaching moonlight began to turn the night sky silverblue, Erasmus seated himself on the ground, tucking his paws to his chest. The air was cooler now. Tranquil. He could almost pretend that this place would make a suitable home. Erasmus struggled to make eye contact with Pompilius before his gaze filled the empty space between them, brow furrowed, muzzle wrinkling, eyes studying the floor; the hallmarks of the titan in contemplation.

"Where are you thinking we'll go next?" he asked, conversationally, as if the question wasn't eating him up on the inside.



RE: hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground - Pompilius - October 02, 2017


[Image: 1fdc4ca1ba8d21234675cfe7ad5c357e-dbcgqp8.gif]

It had been a long time since the Dominion had fallen and life as Pompilius knew it had changed irrevocably. He had come a long way from the boy prince born as a piece of godhood, surrounded by the wealth and security of an empire untested. Though just what he had become still eluded him. He had been somewhat… lost since he had been forced to run from the burning kingdom of his birth, from the culture that had crafted him into what was supposed to be the perfect vessel for his father’s power and prestige. He had depended on his bizarre, convoluted concept of family for his entire early life and for it to be torn away, with so much violence and blood, left him flimsy. But the Dominion had never been all that he was.

It took finding Erasmus to discover that, though, to truly see the world for what it was: a new opportunity, not something that he had been forced into because of the loss of his home and kin. They built each other back up, relying on each other and eventually loving each other. It was unlike anything Pompilius had ever experienced: the trepidation of trying to survive in the demanding world around them and the thrill of recognize his feelings for the other man. So long as he was by Erasmus's side, he would be fine. They both would be.

They'd make their way.

Though that did not mean they would be without their struggles. They were both free now, but the land was unforgiving. They scrambled for food and shelter, trying to properly provide for one another above themselves. It was tiring, and the strain of living on next to nothing day to day was wearing on them both. Pompilius found himself more sluggish than usual, almost dragging his feet as they searched for another place to rest and recoup for as long as they could manage. He tried not show any weakness to Erasmus, not out of fear or shame so much as a desire not to worry him. He didn't need his husband sacrificing any more than he already had to try to insure his health and happiness, not when they both needed their strength.

After all, Erasmus was the larger, more formidable of the two. Pompilius would be all flailing limbs and discoordination in a fight, and he had never been properly taught how to take down large game (his royal lifestyle had been especially stifling) - they both needed Raz at his best. Yet, no matter how many times Pompilius had tried to convince him of the logic behind such thinking, Erasmus pretended he was fine. That hunger wasn't eating at him the same way it was Pom. It was aggravating.

For the moment, Pompilius rested in the makeshift den they had found, catching up on some much needed sleep. His head lay pillowed against his front paws, his tail curled over his hind legs. He lay peacefully, unguarded, until there was noise at the mouth of the den. Paw steps woke him, making him lift his head as a dark shape filled the entrance. Erasmus's scent flooded his nose and he relaxed, stretching out his long legs before rolling onto his stomach and rising so he could greet his husband. The other man brought with him a jackrabbit, but Pom paid it little mind as he leaned in to lick at his lover's chin and nose at the thick fur of his neck.

He stepped away to look down at the meal Erasmus had caught him before peering suspiciously at his mate. "What have you eaten today?," he asked, pulling the carcass toward him. He pointedly tore off the hind legs and deposited them in front of the large man, unwilling to eat all of even this relatively small catch. "If you start losing weight you'll lose your figure," he said, as he sat down with his meal, "and god knows if I'll be attracted to you anymore." He tried to make a point with his mild humor. Neither of them needed to get into the familiar fight over appropriate amounts of sustenance for the pair of them.

As he at, Erasmus's face was contemplative, his eyes flickering away from Pompilius. Pom studied him for a moment before he swallowed, licking blood from his lips to answer his question. "We'll follow the plants. Wherever it's green should be.. better." He offered his husband a smile. "We'll eventually run into a pack," he said after a pause, considering the rabbit between his paws, "it'll be safer for us. With others."
[Image: KUuYYRF.png]



RE: hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground - Erasmus - October 03, 2017

Despite Erasmus's attempts at normalcy, Pompilius had a way of cutting through his charades like a sickle through wheat and reaching his raw and red heart. Pompilius pried off the rabbit's hindlegs and dumped them at Erasmus's paws.

"I ate," Erasmus snorted, both dismissive and defensive. He nudged the pieces of jackrabbit back towards Pompilius before he could entertain any ridiculous ideas, such as trying to share the meager meat on that carcass with him.

Erasmus didn't lie about things such as where he had been or who he was with; in matters of the heart, he was always scrupulously honest, and he distinguished those as dangerous lies. His brand of lies were hasty response to certain uncomfortable questions - did you eat? how did you sleep? are you okay? Not a calculated effort to disguise his motives or manipulate his lover, but a paper trail of little white lies and conveniently-discarded details he had abandoned in the process of omission.

It was very simple: Pompilius worried too much about everything, and he didn't need to trouble himself with Erasmus's well being in addition to whatever else plagued his thoughts.

But guilt, strengthened by the memory of previous arguments as Pompilius begged Erasmus to confide in him, forced the truth from his tongue. "..A rattlesnake," Erasmus admitted, and his gut clenched for reasons other than hunger.

He knew Pompilius would feel compelled to offer his own food in exchange, and he didn't want that. He wanted to provide for his mate, he wanted to keep him protected in this unknown land, and he wanted to be the firm, decisive leader that he deserved. Instead, Pompilius had blundered into the companionship of this broken and unreliable thing that lied to him instead of answering simple questions. Before he could sink too deeply in the gurgling morass of self-loathing and doubt, Pompilius lightened the mood with a play at humor, eliciting a wry chuckle from Erasmus like rolling thunder. He gratefully seized hold of the distraction and forced his lips into the shape of a cockeyed grin.

"All this time you've been using me for my stunning figure? I'm hurt," he cooed in mock-offense. After that bit of repartee, he allowed himself a moment of silence to digest Pompilius's answer, and to pointedly not indulge the darker thoughts nibbling at his brain.

Pompilius's rationale made sense in his head -- in an ideal world, if there was no competition over resources, there would be less turmoil. The idea of a utopia where wolves could live freely, outside the rule of a tyrant, was too good to be true, so he refused to believe it. Where anarchy did not reach, there was oppression, and where oppression did not reach --

The fact it was so quiet out here, in unmarked territory, was bewildering. Za Kodan wasn't a barren patch of earth; it was a hornet's nest perpetually under siege from itself. The practical argument against a good night's sleep was that if he slumbered too deeply, someone could reach into his den, break his neck, and kick his cold corpse outside. Silence did not exist in Za Kodan. Neither did solitude.

Isolation had its benefits, but only to a point.

"So we stay where it's green," Erasmus reiterated. "Alright. But if we find a place... We need to have an escape plan. In case it goes... wrong."

Saying it aloud made him feel idiotic and paranoid, but he had to ask -- he had to ask because he understood that he could not keep them bumbling around in the middle of nowhere forever, and having a plan reassured him. If they were going to commend themselves into the metaphorical beast's mouth, he wanted to ensure that they could find their way back out.

He just didn't want to have to kill another wannabe king in order to do so.