Wilder</style>

He'd been gone far too long. That much was quite obvious to the stallion. Though not by choice, and now that the opportunity had presented itself, he was headed back home, to his mother and brothers. Thankfully he had wings- flying was a much more convenient way to travel. Shaking his delicate head, the crane wings brought him back home to the Foothills. Much to his disappointment, Mother hadn't been there; a few of his brothers were present, but aside from a quick nod of acknowledgement, he paid them no mind. They were, in the long run, unimportant. He only put up with them because Mother said too. Brothers looked out after one another; and Mother was always right. Logic would dictate that he simply wait- surely she'd be home soon. Then again, logic always got thrown out the window when it came to Mandrake. His mother. That title both filled him with a sense of purpose and wellbeing, while also being a knife driven into a bleeding wound. After all, while he did his best to suppress it, he held desires for the mare- desires and urges he hid as much as he could, knowing the damning consequences of such an attraction. Still though, every now and then they got the better of him. He was getting more control over himself though. Or at least, so he thought.

He should stay here. He should wait. But he’s not going to. Naturally. The ground was covered in mud, watered well by the melting snow, soft and sticky beneath his grey hooves. Black tipped wings outstretching, the stallion casted another glance backwards at the herd before taking off. Though Wilder was finding himself tiring of flight, if only for the moment as he’d spent so much time in the air as of late, it was the quickest way to find her. Earth, he only hoped that she would be alone- or at the very least with a son. That was preferable to the alternative; regardless of her intentions for them, Wilder would not be able to refrain from killing any strange stallion on the spot. Glancing down, he spotted Knox- curious, he hovered over the tree line for a moment. The wind shifted, threatening to rip Wilder straight from the sky and toss him right back into the ground, when he caught an all too familiar scent- While not entirely certain, it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to assume Knox was meeting Mother in the woods? Or maybe something to do with the fact that his father was buried in those trees- but that was silliness. Why would he want to pay his old man any respects?

Lowering himself, Wilder touched down on the ground, taking a moment for his legs to adjust actually having to work. Tucking his wings in, Wilder quietly made his way after Knox and the shadowed mongrel at his feet. Neither seemed aware of the eldest’s presence, though that was fine with him- It was no trouble to keep his distance and still follow, having a path of newly disturbed flooring to lead him.

Low and behold, Knox led Wilder straight to a pile of bleached bones. Not entirely certain if he felt like making his presence known- after all, surely Mother would be interested in hearing about this- when his mother wasn’t even present, his choice was made for him when Mandrake stepped from the shadows. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips before vanishing just as fast. Maybe he should have waited- after all, was an inevitable reprimand to his brother an adequate time to pop out of the wood work. But still, he couldn’t help himself. What devoted son hid from his mother?

Stepping into the light, he gave a quick nod to Knox.


"Mother."

Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love.</style>

      

Lost stallion hears the voices of his family in quick succession and wants them gone. Funny that the one he seeks is the one he wishes to be rid of now. Mandrake is like a figure outgrown, something he clung to in childhood but no rises above. She may tell him to kill and he may listen, but he does not feel a connection with her- not like Archibald, Kipp, or Vincent, the others birthed to her aside from himself. He knows that he needs her for this task, however, and that after his latest kill she is certain to oblige, so he behaves.

She is only certain to oblige if he does not let the connection he feels with his father show. She need not know the entire truth behind the task presented, she will likely see it as a sign of disrespect and partial disowning. If there is anything he cannot do now is offend her, for without her cooperation he will have nothing and will have failed his Goddess. It will be easy enough to lie to her, he thinks- or at least give her only the partial truth. Mandrake is powerful and can do many things, but a stallion lacking emotion as Knox is, is quick to lie and skilled as well.

But just as it may have all gone simply, Wilder arrives. It is not a surprise to see his mother's white shadow when he thinks of it at first, but then the realization of how long it has been since he has seen his eldest brother dawns upon him. He was present only at his birth, was he not? Knox struggles to remember seeing the feathered ancient at any other time or in any other place. Archibald, Casimir, and Evers have always been prominent influences, but his other brothers have seemed to fade. Even Vincent, normally attached to Archibald at the hip, has been scarce. He wonders if they avoid him, or if it is he who avoids them.

Regardless, he must show respect. The bone and his head drop as his body rises in greeting. "Mother, Wilder," he says with a sideways shift of his leg to nudge Manhattan to stand. Had their bond been close he would have not needed to remind her, but it has been some time since they have been in such a formal setting. There is a tenseness in the air, a suspense that hangs as he considers each word carefully. "The Goddess of the Moon has sent me here, Mother, so that I might grow stronger," begins the half truth. Stronger, yes, but not in a way she will appreciate. He walks closer to his arabian brother, looks over his scarred and lean figure with faint curiosity. He did not remember Wilder to be so short; in comparison to his own physique he hardly finds him intimidating, regardless of the experience he carries with him. Still he will do well to keep his mouth shut; he had already risked a battle with Archibald, and upsetting Mandrake now with such a habit would do no good. "She asks that I bring her a bone from the body of the sentinel, carved by your claws," he says with instruction and a disinterested glance down upon the corpse. He can only hope that from their place in the shadows they did not see his reaction.

Manhattan whines at his feet, carrying in her jaws a bone to present to his mother- the same bone he had picked up himself. He nuzzles his companion lightly and turns to his mother now, looking at her expectantly, hoping she will agree. "I would give you whatever you require of me in return, mother," Knox adds for assurance. Perhaps motherly love will overtake her, however- perhaps out of the kindness of her shriveled old heart, she will grant him this favor.