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flip your calendar ten years back, when human found a child disappeared into the fog of nightfall with his wolf pack. it was almost inevitable, for the howling in wolvendom called a glance from god upon its territory ━━ a vision is born. drown in the thriftless hunting and thunders knell. but one devastating storm quaked from the child’s heart is not how this story begins; it’s only a juncture.
the beginning here is:
razor is a wolf.
razor is a wolf amongst wolves. a bit smaller, a bit more special, but indeed, a wolf.
and then he isn’t, because one day, andrius tells him he is a human. one day, a tall, tall man comes crashing into his peaceful life with a name and a way to swing the sword, only then razor realizes how human-like he is.
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razor considers humans his friends, but every time a human comes to wolvendom, they unconsciously take something from the wolves back to the other side of human with them. sometimes it’s small. sometimes it’s big but not really significant. it’s never enough to his family to bare their teeth when the only thing could make them rise is andrius (wolf of the north, guardian of wolvendom, stormborn and windclaw, lupical ) has to rise himself first ━━ that one segment razor thought he would never have the privilege to witness if life could only be simply day and night and razor and lupical.
but, slowly like that, his wolfborn picture is painting over with the colours of human. he sees it in the way he cut through tree branches with the steel claw called a blade. he sees it in the way he starts to unknowingly name the being as what it is: star instead of tiny shining dot, cloud instead of long and fluffy tail in the sky, ruined construction instead of stone. and he sees it in the sound of his name. razor. rae-zer . named by a human, despite there was no human in his earliest memories.
razor enters the city once. he sees human suffuses in every nooks and crannies he can find. it’s also how he runs away from it. human is there in the defective sky eating up by those high and so high towers. human is waiting in the glinting utensils which are not quite a sword and the way they hold it, lightly and loosely like that. human is there in the curled tongues vocalizing word after word like they can’t bear the silence. human is present in the hand that wants to touch him and the eyes contained something that tugs on his heart, not in the alarm way, but another, scrappy, dull, heavy.
“this adorable child, welcome to a city of human.”
razor does not ask the purple teacher about this feeling. she teaches him a lot, teaches him to talk, to read, to save his lupical and himself. she’s teaching him to be human. but one thing she forgot, is she never teaches razor how to cope with the difference between being a wolf and a human.
and it’s not like this question is something razor can figure out on his own. he spends so long wondering, worrying, speculating, so much that it consumes him, eat away at him. when razor looks at another him reflects on the glassy lake, there are so many things he can not see. there is no paw and tail. but there is no human either.
something is wrong with him.
the demanding heat comes urging to explore in his eyes, but in the end, nothing is voiced. see, he can’t even━━ something must be wrong with him. something makes him no wolf nor human.
what am i?
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(“this is a matter for the wolves, and the wolves alone.”
that way, razor lost.)
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a titchy sob crawls through the forest.
razor found himself peeking over the human━ the woman, strolling on the road while weeping unceasingly. it’s a bad form, really bad , razor thinks, carefully follows after her using all of his nature. walking alone in the forest has never been a good choice, much less crying alone in the forest.
the tears’ rolling down her cheeks like a rill of constellations, bright, sparkling and glistering under the daylight. razor does not understand tear, but he hears all human cry and they cry frequently. andrius says it’s because of how weak creature human are.
(andrius often speaks in riddles, forward and backward and backward and forward. sometimes, the question arises if it’s only how he is, an ancient soul that he is, but sometimes, sometimes━ because, you see, razor knows andrius loves his pack. more than anything, more than his god, his land, his very own life ━━ andrius values his pack above all, so close does he hold it to his heart, his soul, his core of being. above even his despite toward human.
and the wolves tie their heart to their lord. they love as much as andrius does, and hate as much as andrius does. but━━
but…
maybe it is razor where the problem lays. razor who does not understand human. razor who can neither understand his lord of kind.)
razor doesn’t.
razor is a wolf.
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humanity follows razor like a shadow no matter how much he tries to reject the idea of belonging to anywhere besides his pack. then, andrius says he is a human. the wolf above all wolves tells him that he is a human, that those things are not his matter to involve. razor is rejected.
he feels rejected.
(razor is a wolf amongst wolves until he isn’t. they don’t need him anymore.)
but even then, tears still cannot pour. what makes him a human if he can’t even act like one?
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“razor?”
when he meets the soft gazing boy again beneath a pool of stars, the boy’s no longer smelled familiar. he carries the scent of various herbs that wouldn’t grow in the land of wind, of burnt earth and damped fire, of blood. yes, blood. he smelled like every bit a wild animal would smell, but despite that, he still smelled more human than razor.
is it how a human is? being so easily adapt to a new environment, a new name, a new form? assuming that razor has to be a human like a demanding creature they are?
“i don’t belong there.” razor shifts back to the night sky, declines the invite as clearly as he can with his limited vocabulary.
“i understand,” is the response aether gives him. “i don’t belong there either.”
there is a slight curl of lips presents on aether’s face as he says it. aether speaks of the unravelled years in reverse, slow, quiet, and kind, and gentle, like a kiss of shine and a caress from wind entwists in the hair. it leads people to listen attentively and believe innocently at him. razor is not any exception, foolish as he was.
(foolish as he still is.)
“i and my family come from a really faraway land. we were supposed to leave this place, too,” aether starts, in a low, low voice as if he’s talking to himself, “but then, things happened.”
“was it bad?” razor asks without meet his eyes.
a distinctive pause. then, “just like you, mondstatd is not your home, and this place is not my home.” when razor does not speak, he continues, “so i think i understand it, if you feel like you have nowhere to come back.”
razor is a wolf.
then he isn’t. not a wolf who lack his fangs and claws, razor becomes a human, with steel sword and magenta lightings like the wrath hidden behind the birth of thousand dead flocks of crows, darken the world beneath their wings and grieve.
and the next thing, razor is no human either. he may has the look, but he has little to zero quality that required to be a human. razor just━━
he just cannot feel them.
“you will leave?” it isn’t supposed to be a question. but it is as it left his lips, left behind unspoken words condensed in his throat.
leave. because you lied. you don’t understand.
“i will. but━━” bottomless amber like suns and all of its shines captured inside staring at him, razor has always imagined the sun is coloured this way. “━━before the farewell, there’s always a reunion, you know? i’m only looking forward to it. ”
(razor is a wolf.
then he isn’t.
the wolves don’t need razor anymore. and since when human need another human? since when human need razor, the boy-wolf with empty outstretched palms cannot be wolf nor human. who is he without them? who is razor without the name that is named and bone-sharp kissed skin bruised on rugged ground?)
“so am i.” the words burned past his tongue.
so am i.
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despite everything, they still are his lupical.