And the rest is rust and stardust

A E D I O N you died screaming, yet the monster who took your place was silent — Aedion wasn’t sure what kept him at the Portal. He hated this place the most out of everywhere in the Rift. He also had work to do, so much of it, that perhaps the overwhelming sense of having nothing accomplished thus far had something to do with it. It was this anger from within him that he struggled, day after day, to return to his equine form. Instead, a perpetual loop of wolf in the morning, afternoon, and evening. Perhaps for a brief moment before he slept he’d return to his wings, clutching the feathers close to him whenever he could, before it was swept away with fur the following morning. The Portal had also not left a son of the Rift alone during his transfer, instead it swapped his coloring in his wolf form. During the day, the stripes in his equine form would remain a brilliant crimson red, in his canine form, his stripes were the greyish brown hue of his pelt and the rest of him were rivers of crimson. He huffed a sigh through his nose, clenching down his sharp teeth as he scouted the Portal with those mismatched eyes, one pale and silver, the other scarred and white – luckily for him he could see clearly. It was with those mismatched eyes that he spotted the pale damsel through the trees. He surveyed her for a moment, wondering if perhaps she was indeed Helovian – but haven’t they been here for a while? The Rift pulled people from other lands too. He figured he’d get a better result of finding out through being courteous rather than fighting and finding out he was wrong later. Aedion was a blood thirsty beast, but he wanted justice. He didn’t want more blood tainting his soul than necessary. When he decided that she probably wasn’t Helovian, he managed to calm himself enough – shifting into the equine form he loved so much. Tucking his crimson barred wings in tight, he hauled his large body toward her, breaking through an opening in the trees. His masked head dipped in greeting to her, noticing the fact she had wings that Aedion silently envied. Perhaps she wasn’t cursed as he was and could fly at any time, unafraid of barreling through the sky to an untimely death because his anger got the best of him. “Welcome to the Rift.” His gruff, baritone voice called out to her. “I’m Aedion. Who are you?” His head tilted as he realized he hadn’t talked with anyone in quite some time and perhaps being as blunt as he had been was probably worrisome. It was too late, however, he couldn’t take it back. And so he waited, patiently, for her to either respond or run. "Talk." — you are a weapon; and weapons don't weep.

x

@Arithena sorry it took so long ;-;