Moods, ideas, and even concepts can be described in colors. Isn’t it a common thing to say that green is the color of greed? Red is passion, lust, an emotion whelming over someone till all they can do is breath in the perfume? Yes, colors seem to matter in the perceptions of humanity, and so why would we ignore such a topic. Was Mal not a man? The Wolf was a creature sure, still nameless far as the self proclaimed fool knew, but this sort of behavior?

No. This required working with people one could suppose, and that wasn’t something Mal was keen on at all. Lost, perhaps not in the drowning cage to which just a little time before he had emerged from, but lost all the same. It could make a man on edge, even if it was a slow snailed pace mindset.

Mal brushed his hands off first, then would almost casually brush aside that spear that sat before his face. The Bird-boy wannabe was saying something, but not a damn word of it was under….
….did that feather-brained-hollow-boned-piece-of-shit….
…call me a pup?

Stomach grumbled as loudly as the storm cloud that seemed to hang above him. There was no gentle thunder in his voice, nor agitation, but the moisture was in the air, Fellow Traveler. It wasn’t bound to rain, no not that, it was bound to become a god damned bar room brawl. Sure, they had their magics, their little trinkets, but Mal? Mal was a god damned expert at being drunk, and punching people in the face while drunk.

Narrow little window in the resume that never really comes up, but it was there.

Of course Mal seemed at ease, bastard always seemed to be. To some it was confidence, to some it was stupidity, while the truth perhaps was in between. They always forget to add in the fact that it wasn’t only a cliff Mal had jumped off. Like a Raven knew, it grew tiresome this game, and without knowing the others thoughts they both agreed. He was tired of it all. Very tired of it all.

Upward the man stood, hands brushing down across tattered pants, a huff about his shirt though nothing said of it. Look how close Val was to the truth of it. Almost perfect, not bad for his first swing no?

It was when a question was asked of him. That ‘Tell us about your Wolf’, that jaw clenched. The man tried to keep temper in check, and showed little visible sign of agitation. Now that? Get insulted by her as well?

His finger shot up, holding up a single finger, the index. The man wasn’t going to be that crude as to use the middle on in addressing what just bound Vel. Bound them in truth. Not on his soul no, but it still restricted him.

“First of all, it’s not my Wolf.”

Purple. Yes, the color of purple sat in the air like a scent. Deep, ominous, almost confusing black, but not quite. There was enough of that pigment in his mood to almost look dangerous. To slide near the shadows, but never quite commit. 

A tightrope act, yes.
The color purple.

“Secondly.” 

Like a dutiful little digit it was, middle finger joined index, merely making the number he was on. The left hand was on display, but the right suddenly punched out. It wasn’t a full, swing your hips into it and through punch, it was more of a ‘I’m going to fuck up your day and break your nose’ type of jab. It was aimed true, the crunching of knuckles, his own, stated that his aim was good.

“Fuck you. What do you call yourselves? The Bird Man Group? I mean Sod this mate..”
The accent was as good as any Wolf could mimic from memory.
“..I get thrown in front of a car. Thrown down a damn hole.Mocked. All I did was try to be the good guy for maybe the fifth time in my life. I mean, seriously, which God did I have the displeasure of pissing in their shoes. And you want to know about me?”

Chest rose and a childish huff came out, looking at the Furry-wannabe-bird-man-thing.
“Hey I’m sorry, I…”
His head held low, humility there, then suddenly his fist flew out again in an exact jab.
“Fuck you.”

Like an upset teenager Mal stormed off, half a shoe still on his foot kicking at a rock to send it skittering across the pavement. Oh, he was still grumbling, growling, moving away, but not for long. It was like having a chain wrapped in your hair, or a cat suddenly pulling on your beard. No, the chain wasn’t attached to him, it almost felt like Mal could rip it out. Though it was the pain, the sudden jerk, the man’s feet shot out from below him. Neck jerking back, and landing flat there with the wind knocked out of him.

“Burgers. Yes, with a big ol’ onion. That’ll teach them.”
Hands tucked themselves up under his head, looking up at the sky since he was here anyway.
“Nope. Gona have to buy me dinner, and tell me what your deal is now. Even slit my own throat for these people. Definitely not feeling very appreciated in this whole matter. No appreciation. No burgers. Sure as hell no bacon around here either. Woulda…”

There is a voice.
A howl.
A little whispering scratch of spider legs near your ear.
It’s that sensation of something crawling on you.
That sooner or later it will find its way in.
It wasn’t Mal who was feeling it, and I can not say that the Raven felt it. That would be up to his perception. That would be his test to cross. Though there we Vel with a new playtoy, and all the time in the world. Sooner or later it wasn’t the only thread the Wolf would find. I know it. He knows it, and don’t you know it too?

Can’t you just feel those tiny little hairs moving like a cancer's promise?
Can’t you taste the heated breath at the edge of the other closed doors?
Little bird. Little bird. Let me in.

Though it was not silent in all things, for it spoke, yes indeed. Because it wasn’t a mind that played chess, or grew plans, but because it understood a few words. Petty Vengeance being on that list.

-Ask him-
That voice in the mind that was not Mal’s. A voice of cool certainty of a witness. It was Vel, his growling voice. 
-about a woman named …-

It slithered, it slides, behind his eyes just out of view. Though it was there, or perhaps if you wanted the honest truth, a part was now inside the Wolf. It was not Vel’s fault. It was his, but what seemed like a pause… listen close dear servant of Gods. Can’t you hear him all but shuffling papers in his mind? Could this possibly not work both ways?

That smile, that one he was sure to have, locked away or not, hissed the lane through teeth, but it was not the voice of a Wolf.

It was the voice of a single woman. One who had tears in her voice.
-Arabeth. Ask him about me Huginn. Arabeth, and wipe that smile right off his face.-

Crawling, slithering, stalking, stopped. Retreated. But it was there, shining eyes not in the dark, but rather places lit up by thoughts. Inside. He is him. Him is he.

I can leave whenever I want.
Are you sure about that?
Are you sure that’s the truth anymore?

But the answer has changed to Nevermore you cocky bastard, but none of this is said. No, like a miasma, the color purple simply seeped into the corner of the Raven’s attention now. Waiting. Watching.

It would seem like Mal was simply going to lay there, be stubborn, childish, but it only took him a minute or two. A heavy sigh announcing the change of pattern in him.

“Long time ago” 
His head tilted towards them. 
“Well, long time ago for me, I was raised like many were at the time. What people call orphanages today. If your family didn’t have money, and your pa’h got shipped off to war? As I might add, it was a common thing those days. Getting money became signing up with the local troops. Signing up with them got me into killing. Killing got me noticed.”

He sat up again, using the flats of his hands to push himself back further away from that line that had yanked him. Mal was smart enough to at least consider the possibility his leash was within a radius, and didn’t feel like having his neck yanked again.

“This was back in the day where a bounty or thousands of crowns would be a reward for bringing you practitioners of magic to heel.” 

That voice changed again, as if it wasn’t intentional this time. As if Mal was right back in court, vest on, shiny boots a’ shining.

“Wasn’t anything personal, just orders, and let’s be honest here… It was also a fear well earned. Local lands getting robbed, we find the location, it’s some cave that some druids thought of like a church. Half my unit didn’t want to go, but wanna know what’s even scarier than myths told from one stupid man to another? That’s the certainty that the Noble in charge of your fate is a moron, childish, and happy to do away with any commoner.”

Oh? Mirroring here? Was his eyes accusing the group of something… like throwing a mortal in front of a car?

“So we went, but not all of us came back. It wasn’t a bandit fort, it was two men. Just two.” 


Holding up that V of a peace sign again, a wink at the Raven if he was available. Last time Mal had done that, he put the period right on the bird-brains fucking nose.

“Two men that turned into nothing like I’ve ever seen. Tore through almost everyone. Some of us … well we came out just a little bit different from the whole ordeal. Wouldn’t you say?”

Just a teaser, a little appetizer for them, because Mal was a generous person. They sure as hell don’t treat their prisoners right. No appreciation or Burgers! Can you believe that shit?

Purple was not a color to describe Vel anymore.
There was no sign of hiding, like almost an old friend the Wolf had pushed himself before beside Huginn, listening to that story that fell from Mal’s lips. Red. Pure fucking red was the color of that creature now.

Rage Red.

Like a roommate who just went a bit crazy, the Raven could almost hear the crashing sound of furniture being torn apart in the apartment next door. Like a renter at a motel, the once servant of Odin could hear the snapping, snarling, of a lunatic.

And could hear the words…
…No…
I’ll do you one better.

Huginn could hear the Wolf song.

There is a forest, a place of dappled greens. Sharp reds of cardinals danced through the limbs of nearby oak trees, and the blues of Jays winged by in sudden splashes. A place like this no longer existed, but even back then, this place was remote, removed, safe from Empires. The people here worshiped the world, the core of it, the reaching of the branches, and the budding of acorns. Nature Fellow Traveler, in all her masks, glories, and fundamentals.

The Wolf sang of it, knew of it. Watched it burn.

Burn it did, great gouts of sweeping fire. Heresy. Witches, Warlocks and Demons! Men on horses in bright colors of houses, and shiny self important armors, rode through the heathens and cut them down. Footsoldiers, long spears, glaves, things meant to keep creatures at bay, stabbed, slashed, laughed.

Only two of the heretics survived.
Brothers. 

Once this place was lush and budding with life, only now stood a charcoal forest. They moved to the sacred cave. They asked the spirit to help them. To give them the strength to return the balance. To renew this land, and make peace with it.

Their prayers were not answered.

They offered the sacrifice of goats, chickens, animals they could have used to fill their own bellies.

Their prayers were not answered.

There was no balance left in one of the brothers. There was no calm. No peace. There wasn’t anything left. Just emptiness, detachment, and abandonment of faith. There was just surrender to the hopeless nameless god that does nothing but laugh at humanity.

Though it wasn’t any of these in the end.

It was Vengeance which left patches of frost in the cave where it stepped. It was the promise to be able to hunt them to the ends of the world. To track them. To tear them apart. To hound them like Wolves.

It was that one brother who turned, and in the end turned his brother.
It was the day that Vel was born.

The Curse. Isn’t that how they saw it? A curse of the Wolf? A thing? It had learned it had a name, but call it what you like.

Though Vel knew the truth, and so did now the Raven.

It wasn’t a curse. It was a blessing. It would turn back the tide of Humanity. Look at what they have wrought, o’ brother of the forest. No more green, just filthy cities. Look at how it is, but you know this lesson. Two brothers gave up their souls, because the monsters had already won. 

Let me out.

A heavy sigh from Mal, looking at them expectantly. 
“You can move cities, but can’t start grills around here. Tsk.”