I WILL NEVER BE FREE // LEAVING

[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]//all righty, so this is part of a longish term plot that i won't explain right now (it's a secret) but he'll be back eventually lmao
+ please wait for Laz!

Gabriel felt as though he were a walking bruise. Considering he had a sizable Cane Corso gnawing on him at every opportunity, smacking him against the ground and other various hard surfaces, that was completely understandable. The hybrid stumbled back, limited facial features twisting into the equivalent of a grimace, and he had a cut above one of his eyes leaking blood into his vision thanks to a sharp rock. His interrupted sight and battered body kept Gabe from managing a dodge when Lazarus bore down on him, pinning the owl-cat to his back, wings crushed painfully beneath him, though nothing was broken- not yet. A bit more force in the right areas and Lazarus could easily shatter hollow bone.

Onyx eyes narrowed into a glare at their attacker, an approximation of a sneer contorting Gabriel's face. "So this is what I get in return, huh? All that time- fucking mongrel." A growl built low in his chest, and he snapped at Laz's muzzle, his beak leaving a notable wound in part of the canine's face as his claws left lines along the chest pressing him down. "Pinche puto pendejo baboso!" Had to spicen it up a bit, right? Had to make it believable, beyond the wounds Gabe had already inflicted on Lazarus' scarred hide, and when the owl-cat leaned his way up to Laz's ear, he disguised the whisper as a bite, murming, "Hazlo, mijo. No olvides que te amo mucho," before leaving a laceration on the ear's base.

"So eager to go back to the streets?"
[align=right][i]——INFO

[LAZARUS]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/ i'm gonna die crappy post but like i said. dying.

Gabe wasn't the only one with an injury. The broken part of his antler (bandaged by Gabriel) still throbbed, the cuts on his throat (also bandaged by Gabriel) stung as exertion heated up every inch of his skin under short black fur. Were dogs capable of sweating, Laz would be coated in it — instead, hot breath leaves his mouth in a harsh pant and his paws feel slick even on thick grass. Most of his fights began and ended within a minute, blood leaking hot to the ground and a startled expression on his opponent's face. The hybrid who'd picked him out a crowd all those months ago was a little more dangerous than that. From the start, there'd been a certain wariness, even fear, to his dealings with Gabriel. He'd plucked out eyes and left corpses that used to be people he'd looked up to. Fighting him now feels like confronting an old fear, but also like tearing up the only thing that'd ever — mattered. There's redemption and grief mixing in his chest, right alongside the adrenaline. It's not what he'd expected it to be like, pinning him to the ground, paws on either side. More confusing than victorious.

There's a beak in his muzzle anyway, and Lazarus almost roars, shaking his head so fiercely that more drops of red splatter against Gabriel's fur. Mongrel cuts deeper than his talons, but the next phrase almost makes him laugh even with all the bile rising up in his throat. He has to pretend like it's the bite that finally pushes him over the edge, not the permission he was given in a voice nobody else could hear. For a moment, just before it twists to rage, guilt pulls his mouth tight. "¿Por qué no? En cualquier lugar es mejor que esto." He rears up and slams down within a second, the sickening crunch of bones making his stomach twist for the first time in his life. He doesn't (can't) wait for Gabriel's reaction before ducking down to fix his jaws around his throat (gently, gentler than usual, but still enough that he can feel him breathe, feel his pulse). He mutters a heavy "Lo siento," against him before lifting and shaking, releasing just at the right point to send the hybrid a good distance away.

Instead of chasing, the Cane Corso stands there with bristled fur, bloodied mouth bared in a snarl. "Vete, anciano."

[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/i was trying to ignore the feelings and of course you beat me with them thanks Rev

For Gabriel, it evoked an entirely different reaction in his mind to have Laz's wild eyes trained on him, to feel even just a portion of the viciousness others had fallen to. When Gabe had returned to those streets in search of a younger Lazarus, he could've left him there after killing those in charge, as he had with the others of that group he didn't end; however, those people were destined to be small fish. Lazarus, however- well. If Gabe had left him there, Laz would've become very big fish, would have walked the path of no return, and where the former bosses had led by manipulation and cunning, Lazarus' reign over the streets would have been purely brutality based, his fierceness cultivating fear in every single one of those in his orbit. He would've become the type of person Gabe would spend weeks gathering intel on before killing, and after so much death had hounded his heels, he couldn't allow the child to twist into something unrecognizable, something hateful.

He saw a glimpse of that alternate future in the bared fangs and heated breath; in the next moment, the insight vanished, chased away by the guilt haunting Lazarus' expression. It was the only real warning Gabe had before a stinging comment -he reminded himself this was for a reason- preceeded a searing hot blast erupting in his wing as bones gave way to great force. Under normal circumstances, Gabriel would have been eerily quiet for such an injury; enduring pain had become a part of his life years ago, but people were less surprised by a shout of pain than by a silent shudder, and so he allowed a gasp. In its wake, he found himself lifted, as planned, by jaws around his throat, hurtling him across the border as though he were little more than a ragdoll. He certainly hit the ground like one, sprawling limply.

Gabe lifted his head to see Laz's snarl, his command receiving a sneer. "You want this place to yourself? Fine. Hated the grass anyway." He dragged himself to stand, wing hanging at an awkward angle at his side, and without another word, the hybrid turned, limping away from the border, away from a home, away from his son.

Sometimes, you had to break a bone to mend it.
[align=right][i]——INFO

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]Moon only sees the end of the spat, but it's enough. Gabriel is bloody and so is his kid, and all it takes is one glance at the Cane Corso's jaws to know it'd been brutal. They speak in Spanish; Moon had no idea what's going on, only the snippets of English, so he's ultimately confused. Weren't the two close? What the fuck happened?

He's standing there, completely useless, when Gabe stands up and just-- walks out. There's some lingering thought at the back of his mind telling him that he should be checking if Lazarus is okay-- if Lazarus should be fucking put down, but he just watches Gabriel's figure, passing the border with intent. "Gabe!" He yells, because Moon has no filter and this is makes no sense, where was he going? He glances between the two rapidly, lips pursed and frowning. "What the fuck is going on?" he knows its no use; he wasn't even expecting a response. But Moon knows all too well of disappearing fathers and so it hits hard, and he's more agitated than he appears. Gabe was going out to buy some milk and he'd never come back. The one guy he'd never expected to be a deadbeat Dad. "Fine, whatever. Enjoy the wilderness, Asshole."

[BASTILLEPAW]

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BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS

BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

Bastille didn't know Gabriel too well -- the daze that had settled over him with the sudden turbulence of his souls had limited his socialization in the past week -- but he didn't think he was a bad guy. He seemed decent. Not annoying, possibly even chill. Moon seemed to like him, and he assumed that Moon had good taste, which meant that Gabe must be alright. But still: he knew nothing and felt nothing for this stranger, which was wrong, in a way. He should feel capable of caring for his people simply out of principle that they were people. He couldn't help the slight relief of knowing that was one less individual for him to worry about, though.

[b]"Huh. Who knew tastes in grass were so important," he drawled as he stood beside Moon, pale stare following Gabe's retreating form. He glanced at Lazarus and arched a brow but said nothing.

[B]ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — [color=#e2e2e2]TAGS — [color=#e2e2e2]MOODBOARD — [color=#e2e2e2]PLAYLIST