reunion of sin and wrath

The world beyond the dark ponds was suffocating, the air thick with a damp chill that clung to his fur. The Grand Sin moved with purpose, his form a shadow against the jagged horizon of these snowy, frozen-peaked lands. It was here he felt it—a pulse, faint but familiar, resonating with the threads of power that bound him to his scattered wards.

@Malachi.

The name was a whisper that carried with it memories of wrath unbridled—a storm given form, his chosen harbinger of destruction. The Grand Sin quickened his pace, his claws raking the brittle earth, leaving scars in the white, ashen ground as he descended deeper.

The pulse grew stronger as he moved, an undeniable pull guiding him through the labyrinth of mountain. And then, in the heart of it all, he saw him...

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He was growing frustrated—while not an impossible task when it came to Malachi—it could deem dangerous depending who he found in his company. The situation had the potential to spiral into something dangerous, depending on the company he kept. His large paws pounded through the snow, carrying him with speed and purpose. The cold dust rose in small clouds, clinging to his legs and drifting through the fiery orange strands of his fur. His orange eyes settled onto the vast expanse ahead, and he didn’t stop, not even as the wind bit at his face.

It was only when the faint scent of another lingered in the air that he paused, the movement subtle as his muzzle swung to track the source. His gaze narrowed as he studied the shadowy figure, unsure whether the sight before him was a cruel trick or reality. He'd come to learn this land had a way of playing games.

Sinister? Malachi’s instincts were sharp, but for a moment, doubt lingered before his curiosity took over. As he drew closer, the details of the man's face became clearer, and with each step, the weight of certainty settled in. This was no dream.

A cool smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, and his amber eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam. “Seems no matter how hard I try, I can't rid of you.” Sin knew the words were not laced with malice, despite the sharpness in his voice. The familiarity of the face before him—someone he'd thought lost—brought a strange relief. 

@Sinister
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He stood still as Malachi approached, the ever-familiar presence of his ward cutting through the silence of the valley. At the younger man's words, spoken with that infuriating mix of warmth and jest, a rare flicker of something unreadable passed through Sinister’s crimson gaze.

He exhaled softly, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Then it seems fate is kinder to you than you deserve,” he mused, his voice carrying the same smooth menace as always, yet softened by something almost imperceptible—almost.

His gaze swept over the man who was once a boy, assessing him as he always did, ensuring he was whole, unharmed. “Or perhaps,” he added, his smirk ghosting at the edge of his lips, “it is I who cannot rid myself of you.”

For a moment, the weight of their reunion hung between them—unspoken, but present. Sinister did not offer sentiment. He did not need to. The fact that he stood here, speaking at all, was proof enough.

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He followed up Sin’s comment with a soft snort. “I doubt that.” His eyes settled on the side profile of the man's face before he allowed it to linger elsewhere. 

Malachi had spent most of his life under scrutiny, but the difference was—he didn’t care. Consequences came and went, and there was no thrill in sitting idly, waiting for something to happen. Chaos controlled him. Violence fueled him. He couldn’t imagine life any other way.“Guess you’re not trying hard enough, then.” He shrugged, his gaze sweeping across the lands before them. ““Have you recruited anyone lately?” He was sure to inquire.

Malachi had taken his time exploring the surrounding areas, and so far, few had been claimed by packs—none that he had run into, anyway. Still, he was curious. Who else shared the same vision that he and Sinister did? Who could truly embrace the darkness that came with it? Sinister was no gentle leader, and few had the stomach to follow him. Only those with unshakable will and hardened hearts would survive the ranks.

@Sinister
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