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Strange how not so long ago magic had been on his mind just like this. Filling up every crevice and space within him, particularly a hole left by the death of a long-time friend, a brother, if you will, and giving him a newfound sense of purpose. He had never been one to cling to ambitions, and perhaps that was what made it so easy for him to blend in with the shadows and whisper into the ears of the unassuming wolves about the greatest pantheon of Álmos, a future consisting of titans and power and finding a solution to all their problems - if only they followed the right leader.
He was willing to wait. Play the long game and build up his repertoire in the eyes of their one true god - the Island. He’d be its warrior, a knight fighting its wars through preaching and spreading poison through the ranks of Osirus’s regime with words that dripped with the taste of his own father. Oh how he coiled with nausea as the taste lingered on his lips, the old man’s smug face lurking in the back of his mind as he suddenly found himself walking in his footsteps. Yet, it was worth it. Seeing how he had an influence on others, the way they so easily swayed towards his promises. She believed in him too. That apparently was all it took for him to strive like a young student in his craft and leave everything else behind.

However, he had seen the face of man. Their flat teeth and grimaces as they pulled long claws out of thin air, splitting his comrades in two right before his eyes. Was this what they were fighting for? Blood and sacrifices and endless war? Lives had been lost right in front of him, and in his panic, he had escaped with a wound that would forever torture him.

He had tried. Tried to undo his work, make amends, fix the gaping wound that was festering in plain air. But the island had changed too fast, he could not keep up with it, and especially not so from the shadows. And before he knew it? Everything crumbled once more. The newly founded Tündes split, and he found the world cracking open right below his feet, taking him and everyone else with it down the mudslide.

He could have gone south, follow the passive law of another deformed male. It would have been the easiest choice, he’d be able to rest and heal from his ordeals, but he would never be safe. Peace was a tempting proposition, but it was not in the cards. She would see to that, and Grimm pitied the fools who were willing to even hope.
He could follow Thetis west, where they were willing to make friends with the enemy. Make a bargain for the betterment of the people. It was a noble cause, but he knew his involvement in it would only doom them further. Was he important enough that Malaysia would ask for him in exchange for an alliance? It was a puzzle he was not willing to risk piece together.

So. East. Yetta, an established beta who saw the mountains as a fortified fortress. He did not like the idea at first. His ribs still stuck out from his sides, and he was not prepared to add sore paw pads and a cracked skull to the equation. But protection? A secluded pack who’s drive is to eliminate the biggest threat to him aside from the island itself? The way Grimm saw it, he had no other choice, and it was the one place he might be able to make a difference.
And again, the very magic he had denounced these last few years, took up space within him. Not as it’s warrior, but as a scholar. Learning its history and its ways, anything to smite the wicked wolves up north.

wordcount: 654

I KINDA HATE THIS DRAWING AND KINDA WANT TO REDO IT BUT I'VE BEEN FINISHING AND HATING SO MUCH STUFF THIS SEASON ITS GONNA HAVE TO GO FOR NOW OR ELSE GRIMM IS GONNA DIE AHAHAHA

character/art belongs to me (C)KIWIAKA

Description

Strange how not so long ago magic had been on his mind just like this. Filling up every crevice and space within him, particularly a hole left by the death of a long-time friend, a brother, if you will, and giving him a newfound sense of purpose. He had never been one to cling to ambitions, and perhaps that was what made it so easy for him to blend in with the shadows and whisper into the ears of the unassuming wolves about the greatest pantheon of Álmos, a future consisting of titans and power and finding a solution to all their problems - if only they followed the right leader.
He was willing to wait. Play the long game and build up his repertoire in the eyes of their one true god - the Island. He’d be its warrior, a knight fighting its wars through preaching and spreading poison through the ranks of Osirus’s regime with words that dripped with the taste of his own father. Oh how he coiled with nausea as the taste lingered on his lips, the old man’s smug face lurking in the back of his mind as he suddenly found himself walking in his footsteps. Yet, it was worth it. Seeing how he had an influence on others, the way they so easily swayed towards his promises. She believed in him too. That apparently was all it took for him to strive like a young student in his craft and leave everything else behind.

However, he had seen the face of man. Their flat teeth and grimaces as they pulled long claws out of thin air, splitting his comrades in two right before his eyes. Was this what they were fighting for? Blood and sacrifices and endless war? Lives had been lost right in front of him, and in his panic, he had escaped with a wound that would forever torture him.

He had tried. Tried to undo his work, make amends, fix the gaping wound that was festering in plain air. But the island had changed too fast, he could not keep up with it, and especially not so from the shadows. And before he knew it? Everything crumbled once more. The newly founded Tündes split, and he found the world cracking open right below his feet, taking him and everyone else with it down the mudslide.

He could have gone south, follow the passive law of another deformed male. It would have been the easiest choice, he’d be able to rest and heal from his ordeals, but he would never be safe. Peace was a tempting proposition, but it was not in the cards. She would see to that, and Grimm pitied the fools who were willing to even hope.
He could follow Thetis west, where they were willing to make friends with the enemy. Make a bargain for the betterment of the people. It was a noble cause, but he knew his involvement in it would only doom them further. Was he important enough that Malaysia would ask for him in exchange for an alliance? It was a puzzle he was not willing to risk piece together.

So. East. Yetta, an established beta who saw the mountains as a fortified fortress. He did not like the idea at first. His ribs still stuck out from his sides, and he was not prepared to add sore paw pads and a cracked skull to the equation. But protection? A secluded pack who’s drive is to eliminate the biggest threat to him aside from the island itself? The way Grimm saw it, he had no other choice, and it was the one place he might be able to make a difference.
And again, the very magic he had denounced these last few years, took up space within him. Not as it’s warrior, but as a scholar. Learning its history and its ways, anything to smite the wicked wolves up north.

wordcount: 654

I KINDA HATE THIS DRAWING AND KINDA WANT TO REDO IT BUT I'VE BEEN FINISHING AND HATING SO MUCH STUFF THIS SEASON ITS GONNA HAVE TO GO FOR NOW OR ELSE GRIMM IS GONNA DIE AHAHAHA

character/art belongs to me (C)KIWIAKA