Aren had paused his charge momentarily when he had unleashed his magical projectile, but he had known all along that such a spell wasn't capable of doing much to a creature that size. It had done what it had been meant to, and that was all that could be hoped for.
Although he managed to sneak a furtive glance towards his compatriot in arms, who lay not too far away battling her own canine adversary, Aren didn't dare take his eyes off the black wolf in front of him for more than a split second. Though concerned for her safety, the blue-skinned fighter noticed she seemed rather busy shish-kabobbing the poor beast atop her, and that IF she needed help, he would first have to deal with the threat before him. Once that was done, he could rush to her aid, assuming it was even necessary. For the moment, however, that was impossible.
“I see I have your attention!” He barked, trying to sound confident and intimidating. His bravado was unfortunately a ruse, however.
At last count, Aren’s current armaments consisted of a dagger he more readily used for picking his teeth than for actual stabbing, magical abilities he probably wouldn't be given the time and focus to make use of again, and… his bare hands. Veteran combatant that he was, the golden eyed merc knew that it wasn't usually a good sign when your most potent weapon consisted of little more than barely coordinated punching and kicking. Without his scythe, the Akalak warrior was significantly reduced in lethality, and he could almost swear that this wolf seemed to pick up on that.
Before Aren could even think on the matter much further, however, the Alpha darted for him with what looked to be the aim of scoring a maliciously low blow. Although it was a predictable enough move for an animal that would have to leap to even come close to his throat, it was one that needed to be avoided just as badly. An injury to a thigh, or any other muscle in the leg could be especially lethal when facing a maneuverable opponent. The additional risk of the animal’s fangs nicking a vital artery further complicated the equation. Oddly, in these particular circumstances where there were others around that might readily be able to treat such a wound, latter might have actually been preferable… if just as undesirable.
As the wolf lunged at him, Aren barely managed to remove his leg just in time to avoid the beast’s snapping jaws from clamping down on it. Knowing where the little monstrosities head was going to be a split second ahead of time helped immensely as the Akalak’s meaty hands jutted out towards the scruff on the back of the dog’s neck. Pushing the mutt against the ground, it was almost impossible to keep hold of the relatively little meat to be found on the animal’s body, and attempting to sustain the hold by its fur alone was perilous at best. Consequently, Aren was forced to transition to a more solid grip around the neck itself. The Alpha furiously scratched at its captor’s hands and forearms, but they would not relent. It was at this point that large, powerful fingers began to constrict around the black mane, prompting their victim to thrash even more furiously.
Before Aren’s hands could squeeze the life out of the midnight-furred hound they held in their grip, the Akalak promptly, and keenly, realized the mistake he had made by focusing all of his attention on the Alpha.
“RAAaah!” He roared, as he felt claws dig into his back, and jaws clamp down on a section of his trapezius muscle.
He hadn't sensed the second wolf coming up behind him. The battlefield was too chaotic. There was too much noise. He wouldn't have noticed a stampede, let alone a single, experienced predator. Even so, the giant’s hands refused to release the death grip they held on the leader of the pack even to defend their owner. Simple logic told him that a wolf on his back was better than one at his throat, and Aren did not believe for an instant that releasing his prey would bring about any different a conclusion.
“Res, you stupid bastard! Make that thing swallow some!” Seros shouted, recognizing that his life was in just as much peril as his brother’s. The darker Other knew, however, even before he had made the suggestion, that the feat would be impossible for Aren. His mind was too preoccupied with enduring the pain of the second wolf’s bite, with keeping hold of the Alpha. He simply wouldn't be able to muster the appropriate concentration to control his Res to the necessary degree.
“Let me do it,” Seros pleaded, what might have been brotherly concern coloring the mental projection through which he communicated. It was a strange feeling, even to himself. Never before had he felt a sense of responsibility for what happened to his brother beyond what any harm befalling their shared body would have meant; if Aren lost an arm, they both did. If one died, so did the other. This time was different, however. Seros wasn't enjoying seeing his brother in pain, and while this relatively new sensation confused him, he knew he was making the right call.
“What difference-” Aren could hardly find the strength to argue with his brother’s suggestion, and his Other wasn’t willing to let him waste precious energy trying to, “I am you and you are me. Everything you can do, I can. Everything you know, I do as well,” Seros explained, the very nature of this fact making both of them just as aware of it, “We are two sides of the same sky; one blue, one dark.” His words betrayed no deception, no malice; only absolute certainty.
“But you're tired, and I've rested for a long time. Let me do what I do best…” Seros stated, and his brother, for the very first time in their lives, felt like he could put his trust in him.
“…Endure,” Aren thought, a pang of guilt clearly coloring his perception of the term.
It had been an unjust imprisonment that Seros suffered. A hundred years of being locked away inside your own body. A hundred years of madness inducing incarceration. Yet, he had not broken. He had not lost himself to complete and total darkness, even if he sometimes pretended he had. Could he have endured as his prisoner did, the remorseful jailer wondered. The answer, he realized, was painfully obvious.
Almost without even realizing it, Aren had ceded over control of his body to Seros. Not tentative, chaperoned control, either. This was complete, unrestrained freedom. It couldn't have been any other way. Any unnecessary mental hurdles would have been counterproductive at this point, and the now dominant personality was going to need every ounce of his resolve to ensure they both survived their current predicament.
Twisting his neck to come face to snout with the wolf clinging to his back, Seros gave it a look that seemed to suggest that the animal’s bite produced no pain at all. Of course, that wasn’t true, but the stubborn Akalak simply refused to give it the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
Already with a plan in mind, the devious Reimancer breathed a white substance which seemed determined to find its way into the beast ripping chunks off his body. It poured through any available opening, in an attempt to find itself in a sensitive part of the animal’s inner workings. Though he had never attempted this before, and did not know if it would even work, confidence in the insidiousness of his own mind had never been something that Seros lacked.
He had to admit, though… it was no mean feat holding down an angry wolf, whilst simultaneously suffering the attack of another AND trying to produce and control Res. How could Aren both fight and hold fast against the constant assaults on his mind that his brother launched? Seros didn't know, but felt an odd sort of pride at realizing that this was the will it took to have kept him in check all these years. |
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by Saraphina Skyglow on December 30th, 2014, 11:04 pm 
