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Description

CRACK.

One missed step and he found himself at the bottom of an incline, a throbbing numbness engulfing the right side of his face. The extent of the injury hardly mattered- all Acheron could think of was the noise. Any scythe on this side of the Marrow would be on him in moments, and... he had already been caught once. The salty tang of blood was starting to register in his mouth, spelling doom to all of his careful scent masking. Head still buzzing, the youth glanced around furiously, scrabbling to right himself. Nowhere to run. They would find him.

Hobbling through the rocky copse, he could see the uneven path narrow before him until he was standing on nothing but a thin point of land. Penned in on all sides by swampwater, he stared into the murky depths for a precious moment, his options withering away to one. There were other things that could kill him in there, he knew. But the scythes wouldn't smell him. Shaking, unfocused, fueled by the lingering fumes of adrenaline long-spent, he lowered himself into the rank lifeblood of the swamp, sliding through the still waters like an eel. His heartbeat evened out as he fell into the vital rhythm. This was her place, and she- his real mother- would never abandon him.

But he was mortal still, and a mother could only help her child so much. Unused to swimming, the lanky wolf began to tire, sinking lower with each stroke, nose puffing desperate breaths just above the surface. With a last burst of motion he pushed forward, and the soft silt of swamp mud pushed back against his paws. He silently thanked Xibalten for her mercy, tears stinging his eyes. Unsteady, he waded toward the half-submerged shell of a fallen tree. It was all he could do to crawl inside, lowering himself as far beneath the surface of the water as he could. A sharp pain traveled through his upper jaw, and he tensed every muscle in his body against the sound and movement that would betray his position. All he could do was stay silent, and wait.

-----------------------

*wipes away sweat*

OKAY, this is part one of a little two-part initiation piece for Acheron, because Vektren rituals are super cool
I probably won't have the next part up until late August, but I'll probably give him his task before then

Featuring: (With a quick cameo for )

Description

CRACK.

One missed step and he found himself at the bottom of an incline, a throbbing numbness engulfing the right side of his face. The extent of the injury hardly mattered- all Acheron could think of was the noise. Any scythe on this side of the Marrow would be on him in moments, and... he had already been caught once. The salty tang of blood was starting to register in his mouth, spelling doom to all of his careful scent masking. Head still buzzing, the youth glanced around furiously, scrabbling to right himself. Nowhere to run. They would find him.

Hobbling through the rocky copse, he could see the uneven path narrow before him until he was standing on nothing but a thin point of land. Penned in on all sides by swampwater, he stared into the murky depths for a precious moment, his options withering away to one. There were other things that could kill him in there, he knew. But the scythes wouldn't smell him. Shaking, unfocused, fueled by the lingering fumes of adrenaline long-spent, he lowered himself into the rank lifeblood of the swamp, sliding through the still waters like an eel. His heartbeat evened out as he fell into the vital rhythm. This was her place, and she- his real mother- would never abandon him.

But he was mortal still, and a mother could only help her child so much. Unused to swimming, the lanky wolf began to tire, sinking lower with each stroke, nose puffing desperate breaths just above the surface. With a last burst of motion he pushed forward, and the soft silt of swamp mud pushed back against his paws. He silently thanked Xibalten for her mercy, tears stinging his eyes. Unsteady, he waded toward the half-submerged shell of a fallen tree. It was all he could do to crawl inside, lowering himself as far beneath the surface of the water as he could. A sharp pain traveled through his upper jaw, and he tensed every muscle in his body against the sound and movement that would betray his position. All he could do was stay silent, and wait.

-----------------------

*wipes away sweat*

OKAY, this is part one of a little two-part initiation piece for Acheron, because Vektren rituals are super cool
I probably won't have the next part up until late August, but I'll probably give him his task before then

Featuring: (With a quick cameo for )