THE NIGHT ALWAYS FEELS SO LONG;; open - gift

[Atticus Roux]

The idea was a blessing and a curse for Atticus. Revisiting his childhood home was traumatic, yet somewhat soothing and therapeutic for the male. Their home held so many memories. Some he had thought about, while others he had repressed and left to the dust mites in his head. Even so, Atticus could feel the warmth that once radiated within his family's home. The confident babble of Ivan, Selby's affirmative and soft words, the subtle smell of pine wood, and his siblings glee as they roamed the house with their games. It seemed like a dream... Until it faded into a nightmare. As the earth trembled, the home began to crumble with it. He could remember being carried down the stairs, golden eyes settled on the doorway and his mother's warm breath running down his neck, only to be shot forward. Debris rained down as he flew through the sky, slicing cleanly through his ear, but that was far from the worst. As he landed, the young child had turned around. Wide eyes watched as the door frame splintered away from the house. It slammed downwards. Onto... her. The crackle of bones radiated in his head to this day, even if Moth's body was not the same as before, and the fear that ran through him kept him alert. If they were going to do this, Atticus wouldn't let the same mistakes happen again. Even if it was unlikely.

After reluctantly agreeing, they set out to the rubble. Atticus' heart pounded as his gaze grazed the remains. Memories flooded his mind. Gritting his teeth together, the male set out to work with Sweeney and tried to instruct her the best he could. What they accomplished was stunning. While she did the bigger parts using her powers, the canine did the finer details and rearranged what he could. He worked mindlessly, trying not to acknowledge the obvious longing within, and kept his head high. Until they reached the final touches.

Claws dug into the porch's wood as he stared down at what laid before him. The doorframe. Atticus ran his right paw slowly over the split wood with his eyes beginning to water. A wavering breath left him. Shaking his head, he picked it up in his jaws carefully and moved towards the doorway. Raising himself onto his hindlegs, he transferred the slitted, wooden piece into the opening with a vicious slam. He settled his head on the adjacent piece, closing his eyes momentarily in his fit of sudden rage and letting himself breathe ragged breaths. As his temperament settled, the canine dropped to the floor and wandered to the edge of the porch, turning on his paws to stare back at the house. Was this the right thing to do? Emotions wavering, Atticus decided to let time decide that for him.

As Sweeney settled before him as she finished, the wolf looked down at her with a weary gaze. He attempts to reach forward, gently wiping the blood away from her nostrils with his paw pad. His chin lowers down, trying to connect with her neck and nuzzle lightly into her soft fur, expressing his silent thank you. Atticus' eyes close again, taking in the moment. Her warmth, the gratitude, and the overall feeling of home that swelled within him. This was where they were supposed to be. These people were his family.

The subtle crunch of snow caused his eyes to slowly open and look up. His head turns. A shocked mother runs to Sweeney and he pulls away, allowing her silent gratitude to fill the silence, but as she looks around, Atticus can only help but stare at her as her eyes travel across the home. Had he missed anything? Searching for a sign of approval, the canine found none, but truly understood her quiet reaction, as he did the same.

A soft smile graces his maw. Yellow eyes tried to catch his mother's attention as a paw gracefully gestured forward. "Care to come in?" he tenderly muses.