shirt of violent green; p Latterday

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    ✦ ✧ ✦ Super was very eager to get along with the disposing of the Exile leader's body, the hunger in him having welled up to the point it could have spilled over if he weren't so iron-willed. Having enjoyed his meal in private, he's dragging what's left (some cracked bones) in a bloody rug to the remnants of still churning lava. The beastly canine spits his own fire onto the edge of the rug, watching it well up the fibers before kicking the whole of the roll into the molten rock. It sinks slowly, the smell of polyester and the hint of singed fur being the only sign off as it crackles down into the heat. He watches it, licking his chops of the male's blood, then spits a final bone down into the orange slurry. It's so hot, it disappears instantly and the hellhound retreats back through the soot with satisfaction, heading back to finish the rest of his job. Unaware that he's just consumed his own father.


    ------


    It takes a few hours longer, but soon Super is back where he wants to be in the first place. With paced steps, he heads into the hosting district, warding off touchy suppliers with a snarl. Like a gargoyle, he returns to his perch beside his brother's door, waiting for him to make an appearance and ready to demolish anyone who causes trouble. His self appointed bouncer, so to speak. He's in good spirits (arguably hard to tell from his normal look, but Latte probably can), but it's tested as time crawls on. Eventually, he demands for his brother to come out. "We need to talk."


    BISONCHARGE

    'We need to talk.' Rough and guttural made him sigh softly as he forced himself up from where he had been resting. Things had been rough and he had a similar worry about where things were going to go from now. He hoped that the Solaris Kindgom realized before things got bad that this action was not condoned by all of them. It was obviously something that Ryad had been disgusted by and they had tried to get the child back safe from harm. Things had broken down and now he also had a prisoner that he had to care for. A light breath left his pale stained lips as he made his way out of his room and he turned to look at the hulking figure of his brother. He inclined his head slightly before he turned his nose up to the air, taking in the scents and grimacing at the smell and taste of ash. "What do we need to talk about? Although you doing a lot of talking at all is surprising." His voice came out a loving tease as he nudged gently against his brother's shoulder just lightly.

    ✦ ✧ ✦ Super's expression lessens in severity when his brother finally comes out, a low huff pulling from him due to the contact. He turns his head, looking down at the smaller canine and nodding lightly. It is odd for him to want to speak (even he'll acknowledge that) but they're in an odd place in odd times. Super stands up then, heading back into the chamber so they may speak in private. As the door shuts, he gets straight to the point like he always does. "You'll be a whore. I'll be an odd job. Caught up in inter-clan bullshit." He gestures to his shoulder and the manacles for Latte's newest acquisition. That kid was messed up alright, but only the one across from him would care about that detail. "Is this what you want?" It's a simple question, sad in his usual near monotone yet booming voice. What someone wants doesn't really matter to him except for this one individual right here. So he waits in deadpan silence.

    There was that word and yet he didn't find himself offended in the slightest. He knew he was loose and his job entailed that he be so but also be respectable. He knew how to work it but also how to hold himself in the highest regard, so it didn't bother him that he was called a whore. It was what it was and it wouldn't be any different way. His eyes focused on his brother as he spoke of how their lives was going and he truly should have considered how Super would feel about the whole ordeal. Was he selfish in not asking him what he wanted to do? He couldn't help but feel bad about all of it and he cowered back a but before he sat down with his ears pulled back against his skull. Curling his tail thick tail around his paws he took in a deep breath. "Would you rather we still be moving around? I know it offers more freedom but also less protection. You have to admit we can't win every fight. Though being politically involved will have it's down falls. I just want us to be able to survive and we have a good thing here. We won't have to worry about watchig our backs. I....what do you want, Super?" Because his brother's opinion mattered to him and he closed his eyes before he went over to him, carefully. Pressing his head up under his chin. Super was all he had left.

    ✦ ✧ ✦ What do you want?


    It's a hard question for someone like him. Too vague. He who wants from instant to instant, never much focused on a specific future. What he wants is dinner or sleep or perversions. He has no all encompassing want. Freedom maybe, is as abstract as it gets, but then there's also the matter of how it's enabled. It's true that they had more freedom away from here, but less influence. Now more influence, but more trouble. He's frigid when Latte comes over him to him, stiff, like he might turn and snap at him at any moment. Yet on the contact, his body eases down on a silent sigh. "For you to be more careful. I'm going traveling. If I come back to you hurt, I'll get us both exiled from here." And he'll slit as many throats as he can on the way. It's a serious threat by his tone as he tilts his head down and looks to his brother. "Don't ask." It's his business what he's doing and if he wants to tell him eventually, he will. "Just be safe." He means it, giving a firm nudge to his side.