they call kids like us vicious [open/returning?]

[Crackers]

FOURTHWALL
BLACK-MAROON MOTTLED HELLHOUND
MALE - 22 - SOCIAL & VIOLENT

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THEY SAY THAT I AM THE SICK BOY
EASY TO SAY WHEN YOU DON'T TAKE THE RISK, BOY

It had been a good chunk of time since Fourthwall had gone back to the Pitt, longer than he cared to keep track of. At one point in time the beast of a canine had considered the unforgiving lands his home, had spent days lounging in the sun with Jervis on the roof of his treehouse or patrolling the desert beyond. He could name a dozen people he could remember off the top of his head, but the ones that had really mattered weren't there anymore. That was life though; there one moment and gone the next. A series of chaotic, random, and often cruel events that were entirely out of everyones hands. And 99% of the time Fourthwall rolled with that arbitrary way of living, embraced it even. Of all the people there were to meet in the world, he was probably the most unpredictable and morally grey of them all.

It's how he could work his ass off for a clan to reach a high position only to leave one day without a word. How he could agree to bare children for a man and then leave them all behind when that man was publically executed in front of everyone.

Had Jervis been insane? Undoubtedly. But a part of Fourthwall had loved that madness, and had thrived in the currents of it's ocean. That fox had let the wild and violent side of the wolf run wild during their reign, and it had been beautiful right down until the last second, even when their jungle was being burned to the ground- right up until Jervis drew his last breath.

There had been nothing left for him in the Pitt after all that.

As much as he respect Kydobi, the male wasn't meant to lead the Pitt. He'd been too soft, too troubled by the weight of what such a clan did to a person, and Fourthwall had no interest in being muzzled again. And perhaps it was a cruel thing to say, but not even his children had been enough to keep him there. Jervis may or may not hate him for that one, but no leash could ever hold Fourth unless he let it, not even the leashes set upon him by their offspring. Besides, they all knew Fourth couldn't do anything for them. He wasn't a parent by any means. He could have trained them, yes, could have made sure they stayed alive first hand, but that parental bond would have never been there. He just didn't have the emotional capacity for it.

So why was he back? Not even he was entirely sure. On one hand he doubted very much that anything had changed since he'd left, not when it came to the big picture at least. The Pitt was supposed to be a clan that thrived on violence and war, that was fearless and ambitious toward its enemies, but the only time it had ever been that way was when Jervis had lost his goddamn mind. And as much as he liked Gael and Ain and Kydobi and the rest of them, the fallout caused by their Ardents actions had scarred them and left them shy of war, too caught up in the horrors of it to ever be able to embrace it again. Coming here and staying would mean having to muzzle and cage the monster inside of him, and he didn't like that at all.

And yet he still found himself seated on the border, waiting for the usual patrol to come along and spot them. Because while the maroon and charcoal hellhound may have been a monster, he was a social monster, one that sorely missed the sense of belonging to a community. 

WELCOME TO THE NARCISISM,
WE'RE UNITED UNDER OUR INDIFFERENCE

"Fourthwall/neutral/Glitchhop"

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