cue a little wolf falling asleep against alesh shoulder, his lashes throwing shades across his cheeks in the setting sun. a soft sigh falling from his parted lips ; fangs shimmering in the flames of the campfire before them. they ate recently --- catello had made a simple vegetable stew with what they could find around them. just simple & sweet time spend together in nature. it was somewhat . . healing. his guard easing around the fisher greatly to a point where he allowed himself to fall asleep. feeling safe.
The frontier was Catello's homeβand it was Alesh's playground. They both knew these lands intimately, much like messengers and travelers alike. While IV was not his immediate home, his operator suties lead him in every direction at the beck and call of Endfield, and he'd find himself staring from the view from Dijiang, seeing if he can trace his steps between the clouds. His day job was his life, typically uneventful ( thankfully, he's still tired from his youth, as much as it's behind him, he tells himself ), fins often in the same orientation lest some vagabond believed they could stir up the weeds around his city, his turf. There were also the angling classes, a nice change of pace, and a fulfillment that his survival skills were worth learning from that old fart of a teacher. Shit, he's becoming just like the guy every day...
..but, then there's the excursions, where even Alesh remembers he's a liaison with the UWST once in awhile, sent out with other frontier experts in covert operations.
He's starting to think the staff are doing this on purpose, putting him and Wulfgard in the same area code. The thought brings a huff, bemused, as he sips at the lovely stew cared for by the lupo in question, who was idly conversing up until some minutes ago.
Really, the man is hardly as difficult to spend time with as he made himself out to be.
( although, when one grows up as a gun, or a knife, or what-have-you... it's easy to believe that's all you needed to be, isn't that right? being the protector of a clan, a gang, a family... the roles are all the same. there is no room for individuality unless you make it out alive. if you do )
Well. They survived the last assignments handed to them, and inevitably, they decided to procrastinate on returning to Dijiang, filing out reports, and debriefing. The cool night and soft echo of howling wolves was far more appealingβsunset fell behind pine, casting a warm glow across the land, across Catello's eased expression. It draws a smile, curious how most folks fell for the hardened, aloof front the Pack's claws and fangs had carried with him. Despite the damage that would not cease to spread from his oripathy, Catello was quite soft up close, bronzed by hours in the sun, and sculpted by his duties. And yet... his expression was always soft, features barely changed despite the scars and the dust and blood that would seldom adorn his cheeks. Perhaps... soft wasn't entirely correctβsolemn, maybe. Youth was preserved when little facial expressions manifestβand Alesh would know, burdened by smile lines that kept giving away his age. Was it normal to analyze a companion this close? Ah, well, probably not, but... Catello was the one to determine he had made an adequate pillow, shoulder to shouler, body weight slowly pressing against him as he relaxed.
Alesh takes another joyful sip of stew, debating on how long he could hold off turning in for the night. The fire was built to last far longer than a short excursion, wholly responsible for the richness in flavor ( he always insisted to cook for the both of them ever since alesh gushed about the meal he'd prepared for him as a gift of gratitude.. ), and there was enough to go around for tomorrow as breakfast with a hefty coffee from the grinds Alesh stashed. Catello is a kind soul at the end of the day, isn't he? With few opportunities to show why his Pack looked to him, even if he insisted they adored Rossi far more. Famiglia. FamΓlia. Though, he'd never seen this type of closeness with anyone else, it was just him ( oh, that stirs a little bit of greed somewhere back there, doesn't it ). Maybe he'd been duped by his anaty charm, impressed by his angling skillsβha, no shot. They both just found a comfort in the closenessβCatello was able to show it more earnestly than he, it was as simple as that. Too many extra years in solitude and a failed dream that the hometown that swallowed people left and right would finally rid itself of that awful appetite. Alesh was crazy for believing the old fart even for a second, and Catello was crazier for finding a home port in a guy like him.
He still wouldn't have it any other way.
When the anaty finally finishes his second serving of stew, the sun's ever reaching gaze casts deeper hues of red, turning the sky into a transition of pink to purple. The campfire draws closer to becoming the only source of heat for the operators, and the shadows cast over Catello's resting face dance along with the flames, crackling wood periodically.
Perhaps the most significant shift Alesh cannot ignore is the peace that followed wherever they wentβangling was his tried and true escape and joy, but maybe the personal connection was slowly inching it's way through the damaged guards around his claims of being a loner as well. Damn.. that stupid gang of his made him soft, even if they constantly were beating the shit out of each other on top of rival groups, didn't it? He knows what the idea of love can feel like, and it's messy and stupid. But what Catello continued to give him was something else, something steadyβhe's never known steadyβand it lingers even after they step apart. He's messed him up bad and he's warmed up to the notion.
( catello's trusting him to keep him safe more and more these days, hasn't he? )
"Ai.. You're gonna be the reason why I lose my other eye, Catello," he sighs, shaking his head. There's no exasperation in his quiet observation, however, practically accepting of his inevitable fate. Alesh shifts his posture, setting his dish aside and snaking an arm behind his back, hand settling against his waist. His thumb hooks through a belt loop, bearing the deadweight as he opens the invitation for Catello to rest more comfortably, chin content to rest against the lupo's temple. They'll be here awhile, at least, until the fire dies down to embers. Perfect, really, it's more than enough time to get through the rest of his current book and pick up another.
@solaurous / good morning aletello nation. inbox call. | accepting.