Sounds no ones ever heard . Open . Savage

[AMUNET]

— Ament's world was divided in two from the very start: predator and prey. As a child, it was absolute, that he was a predator. His teeth, his wraith, his sisters. He was a pack animal and together they were unstoppable, unkillable - gods that could not be touched by the vile of the world. They bathed in blood and slept together in nests of soft down, with Mothers chilled form surrounding them: the night itself served as their protection as they rested. During the days of innocence Ament and his sister's were never truly innocent - as all predators: Instinct driving them to kill for each other. Ament's own wraith was easy as breathing then, a pick of who was threat - who was prey for his sisters, his mother - their home.

Now, things were different.

His sisters were gone, Their mother's own remembrance simply a shadow on the ground. Ament was Grown, truly and fully grown. He was alone and vulnerable. Without pack, without something to temper his wraith he was fraying - he could feel it - hear the soft static at the edges of his perception. It was there, madness waiting to take him from this place - this oblivion again.

Expelling mind control was trickier than simply killing the caster; Ninazu did something to him, slunk her way into aments skull and wrapped her control through his heart, his soul- his wraith. Carved pieces of himself up and away to fit herself in, even gone - even dead: those pieces had to go somewhere.

Something had to fill the void she left.

The Static called his name, and ament grounded himself with the sound of rattling chains. It was a clatter to his ear drums, filling himself with the noise- shaking loose the wraith that he no longer trusted within himself - hated about himself. All he had left to him was his failing logic - logic and static wraith.

The scent of a group of animals catches the raptors attention from the grounding mechanism, the crispness - thinness of the air here makes ament breathe slow. steady; Far from whatever plauge that he was left with by the Pittian's cruel hands. Ament breathed even deep - cocked his head and smelled again, bringing to the surface memories of things - things from before as well as during

A group of animals: A large pack settlement not too far head. Ament hesitated near the border of such a large clan, eyes like ice looking towards the snow capped mountains and chirping softly, reminding himself that he- could talk. It was a choice of wither he wanted to emerge himself with a group again - They were not his pack - but the law of his kind: he would surly die alone.

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[conrí]

▶ CONRÍ Ó FAOLÁIN | current track ♪ | engaging. . . |
The young dire wolf nearly tripped over an inconveniently placed rock, muttering only for a moment in discomfort.  A quick inspection of a snowy paw and the boy kept moving down the mountain side.  A restlessness burned in his soul, drawn by recent events.  The sight of someone lingering on the border caused the canine to pause.  Conri blinked then quickened his pace into a trot.  He grinned lopsidedly, tail wagging as he came to a halt on the Elysium side of the invisible line.

"Hey! Welcome to Elysium, can I help ya wit' anythin'?"
[align=right]— you will remember me for centuries

[AMUNET]

— the clatter of a nearby surface caught ament's attention. The savage's own muddled mind reacting instinctively. Ice blue eyes searched for moment - constricted pupil catching the soft shift of grey to alabaster, a soft sorrel eyesight flickering down; muttering nonsense that the raptor only recognized due to his exposure with other large packs. Nothing said was significant; for the creature traversing closer towards him was insignificant. It was not the individual that Ament ever privatized in places such as this - gatherings such as this. Larger packs of animals grouping together in a way that was peculiar; forming connection and bonds through shared language while he were left struggling at mere concepts.

No, Ament could easily kill the small little direling, but it wasn't a matter of killing for food: not now at the least. Watching the small thing traverse down the slope- ament was sure of his ability to kill them should they be a threat: for now they accepted that the creature was neither Prey nor predictor - something too akin to pack that it left a bitter taste in their mouth: Ally ?

Watching their eyes catch on the raptor's form made him weary never the less. A low purr bubbling from his form as they reached closer - joy apparent in their body language only agitating them further. Ament kept still, watching the other through stilted eyes stop far enough away. It eased the purr of threat in his throat, the crest along his head slackened back to a slight raise - weary - always weary - but interested too.

The raptor shook his head: a grounding mechanism for the jarring clackclackclack of chains attached to his throat. The collar there snug as a reminder to them both : a warning that ament was a savage thing - dangerous - preditory - hungry thing. He blinked in a slow, practiced move - to show non-aggression, though from the tense line of the raptors form there was no mistaking the lack of trust yet there.

The silence spoke words that ament could not convey, his body language an open book as were the young dire-ling. Too young to hide what instinct it was given with sense. Happy - it was trilled to see someone beyond the border. Weary as not too approach too closely, looking for a distraction if noting how they quickly shifted from pain to a newer experience - of another's abet silent company.

Ament's only reaction to the other words - however 'verbal' one would merit: was a soft croon. His head cocked slightly and lowered to peer at one of the individuals of the many - the larger pack that existed beyond this land - ament wanted to see - wanted to explore : A memory long forgotten-

three little changelings standing at the border of a fogged pine border-

© LEXASPERATED