❝Thirst drove me down to the water where I drank the moon’s reflection.❞
photo for alurien in relation to this by henrikberkelley:
His hands don’t fall away immediately, even when his mate lets go of the other’s throat, Henrik’s hands are still wound in mud caked fur like he has to hold on – like it is keeping him grounded. But then Alurien is moving, his posture shifting just so as the creature on the ground watches with wary, half focused eyes, and the younger man steps back, taking a steadying breath and pushing the hair from his eyes and slicking it back with rain and dirt and not caring. The clear surrender makes that same thing that sent him forward shift restlessly, uneasy – and Henrik is moving again to touch him, to let him know it’s okay, but he hasn’t the chance. He isn’t quick enough and then Alurien is turning away from him and Henrik whines high in his throat, brow knit with confusion when his mate turns from him and leaves. His body moves of its own accord, taking a slow step in the same direction as if to follow, but he can’t see where he went and he doesn’t know what to do, wavering between trying to follow in the fog and rain and turning back to the town he knows – he knows now – is somewhere not far in the other direction.
(Source: satansbaby)
He only falters when he’s turning away, circling to the other side of the man. His green eyes snap out to the side, wander over his grime covered face, and then he’s off. Even with the injured left shoulder and his arm tucked away from the ground, he limps off with a loping, but clearly troubled gait. With the storm, the fog and the lingering smoke, he disappears into the woods almost instantly, heading in the opposite direction of the sleepy coastal town.
(Source: l-a-p-u-t-a)
