AFRICA | open + ooc prompt

[ARGUS]

ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ sᴄʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ

As much as argus’ own history entwined with lucas own, they grew up in different times. In different universes almost. It was told in the way both of them disliked each other. Different ideals clashing heads enough times to despair Argus’ father. Argus could not tell you truly how old luca is now. They could list you clans and the rises in power- in rank the hellhound took in each, and how he fell. Could list you his strengths and his weakness in battle. Could detect the vulnerability in the way he hides the scars around his sides and notice how entirely different they were. But luca’s upbringing to them was a mystery, and it was enough apparent with how little Argus’ temper was around them. Missing puzzle pieces just pissed them off.

Because luca knows enough about them. He may not know that Argus was grown up in a clan that honored the living by killing them. May not know why or how touchy the quartermaster is when family is present- how quiet how distant how hard it is to focus beyond the jealousy burning in their vision or the spite that seethes between their teeth. But they know why they hunt at night. Why they shy away from the entrance of the typhoon’s territory and wait to meet joiners and newcomers until they are well past the empty subway/train cars that haunt them. Know why they hunt at night. Luca knows enough- and argus will not settle for knowing less than everything about someone who even knows a little about them. it frightens them. it scares them.

The differences in that missing knowledge are apparent. In the way argus prowls with lethality- they do not hide how dangerous of an animal they are. The differences between the two could not be more apparent. Two necessary evils. Both dangerous in their own right, monsters by nature.

Argus keeps an eye and an ear reserved for the demon, While Argus has no daughters in sight for him to torture and then date- there were still argus’ reservations about luca pulling the same stunt they did in their old home. Only to watch the hellish lupine seem to wither away from his own touch. Seem ashamed of the scar that he had been given. The differences are clearing up. Touches of a upbringing becoming clearer to the hollow in the way it hadn’t before.

Self-conscious had never been a part of argus’ own thought processes. Their scars were a symbol that they were still alive. and of coarse luca was different. Hims image was everything about him. It was vain. It made him weak and it was another stake to drive into him- a jibe for argus to pull. and they wanted to but...

the insult fell flat against their tongue, and in a way that was extraordinary they tried to find something to say. A light humm escaping the quartermaster’s throat as they approached. While wings curled at their sides in the way luca’s were not. scars open and showing in the way that luca seemed to want to hide his. Maybe that is where the differences are but that isn’t were the hate comes from, there is no hate- not really- not from them. Just restlessness. And there was no honnor in kicking an opponet while they were down.

“could always get some ribbons to hide the scars, if you don’t like them luca. Jacob takes to weary sweaters sometimes- although he used to live in a colder place.” It was not what they would do- argus is more attuned to showing them off than they ever would to hiding them. But they knew enough about hiding them to offer advice. Even if clothing wasn’t ever really something argus took an interest in, it was something luca could, for vanities sake.

I LEARNED THE VOICES DIED WITH ME