A journey had been taken. Time had passed. Eyes were far from what they sought to see. Words had been kept silent. But now.. — now it is time for those saved words to be spoken. No longer would he of right be kept from what had been earned.
@Ryzhov.
A crisp voice rung, hollow and daunting. It commanded the presence of an ally; a friend who would share the same path and guard it until a dead end was found.
She is near..; the bride that was stolen from me. A sickly fume, like honey, lines a claim not far from where we stand. I will go to her and command that she walk with us. You will stay here. Meet us when we return. If your presence is needed, I will beckon.
A pause. There was hesitance. Perhaps there could have been no doubt of return, but one could not be too careful.
Should we not return by the fall of the sun and the wake of the pale moon, leave this place.
Such a dear friend would not be placed in harms way. Not even Virion would request that Ryzhov stay and face the same fate of demise. I will be dead if not returned to you. Assume this is so.
Never would a fight be turned away from. Anyone who knew the blood craved beast would know this to be true.
His mission was a valuable one, even if it was in search of a woman. It was more than that; it was reminding the woman of her place. She could not get away from her destiny, and she was foolish to think freedom was in the cards that she had been dealt. He was walking just behind his friend and confidant until his name was spoken. His ears perked as the brute shifted over to stand before him, ready to receive his orders. He had fought beside Virion for most of his life, and he would not question an order.
He listened, minding his orders and committing them to memory. She was close? He thought he had caught her wretched stench, sickled with the herbs she had so desperately clung to back at the Trail. He offered a nod in response to the command to remain present. “Yes, sir. Whatever you ask, it shall be done.” There was determination in his voice, an eagerness to prove. He had never been made to be a king, but to be another’s right paw? That, he was more than capable of being.
“I shall not have to flee. She would be foolish to resist; what right does she have to do so?” He asked incredulously. “She does not even know how to fight. I will wait here eagerly for your successful return, Virion.” Surely the man could simply drag her by the scruff if it were needed, right?
Oh how great the sensation was to feel another be so obedient when addressed. The taste of power was sweet. It was a taste that could not be mistaken, nor denied, nor forgotten. Yes, it was sweet... but, perhaps not as much so when the thirst for blood and stench of death were quenched. Such was far more appealing.
Virion regarded the follower; the ally; the friend, so carefully. Each word rung through the audit like a softly sung ballad. It was then after that the term "sir" strung just the right chord, sending a thrill straight down the spine. Months, it had been, since any used such a phrase. It had been missed, dearly.
"She would be foolish to resist; what right does she have to do so?"
Scornful eyes turned upon the speaker, lip curling to reveal the perfect line of crimson stained daggers. It is not she I worry for! What fool do you take me for; to think I should be concerned for the likes of that pathetic zhenshchina?
Foam bubbled upon the lips, clear saliva spewing across the distance left between both men. The thrill once being bathed within had now left the air dry. Fury encompassed every aspect of the man. Even an ally would be shown no kindness, especially when present with such an accusation. This could not be let to pass.
Ryzhov had instantly sensed his misstep, and he acted quickly to backpedal against it. “It is not her I refer to.” He clarified, twisting the meaning of his words with a string of logic in order to avoid the very real fury he knew he would be forced to stare down should he not clarify.
“Women are weak, and are easily rested on their heartstrings. Should you meet resistance from her, she will go willingly to avoid those she is currently with from injury. Remember her pathetic wails at the deaths of her brothers?” He posed, recalling the horrific sounds she had made as her brothers bodies had been brought back from the battlefield. It had been pathetic, as if she had never seen loss before. They had been too weak to survive, and that had been their own fault.
“They would not fight for her even if they do discover what is falling on the borders; what could they possibly want with her? If she leaves willingly, they will let the burden disappear from their lands. I am simply stating I do not think you will meet resistance from those who currently claim those lands. I apologize for the lack of clarity in my statement, Sir.” He stated calmly, hoping it was enough but ready to accept a punishment for his misstep should his friend and Pakhan declare it.
Modification had been quickly presented. Each word and phrase was taken and molded anew. There was a different meaning behind the former statement. Though, regardless of the true intent, the accusation rung fresh through the mind.
Moments of silence. Dripping saliva ensued, falling upon the feet of its maker.
Then a glance. The mistake will be forgiven... this time. But not next time.
The foamy mess discontinued. Virion fixed what demented posture was presented during the discontented display. It is nonsense, you speak. Those that choose to lay claims will defend themselves, their land, and their inhabitants. If she is of their rank, it is likely that they will resist in turn. Retrieval will be difficult... however, even if I am unsuccessful, this will not be the last of me they see.
A blunt warning; one that would be declared both here and to those who opposed later.
Relief hid in his features as the mistake was forgiven; he did not let it show just as he had not let the hesitation show though he knew that he would not be lucky again. He listened as Virion explained the error in his thinking. It was fair, any competent leader would fight for his inhabitants. For a moment, he considered simply explaining the situation and requesting the turn of his property… but he was painfully aware that not everyone was open to the logic of their views on woman and so he found himself biting his tongue.
Instead, he simply handled the situation in silence. He would not speak up again. He was already treading on thin ice. “I will await your call or your return, Sir.” He stated with a sense of finality to it. He was going to take his orders, a good soldier in a storm. Virion was not allowed to die; he did not even consider it an option. He had fought wars beside him and seen him overcome. He would be fine, regardless of what this pack held. No one could match his ruthlessness and that would be their falling.
The last from me. I will close this thread once you've posted a final time.
Some form of reaction was due. It was heavily anticipated, in fact.
An expected result, it became. The soldier kept his tongue within, other than to bid adieu. This finality would keep Virion's mind at ease. There was something to look forward to upon return, regardless of whether the return was alone or accompanied.
The beast nodded, tail flashing abruptly as the feet spun 'round. You wait, then. My bride is calling to me.
A delusion, as clear as day. The last thing Aquene wanted was to see the face of her ex-betrothed, but this would never be accepted nor understood.
Passing a final chuff, feet kicked high upon the ground, pushing the heavy body quickly on into the distance to meet the border of those who held the bride hostage.
A dismissal fell, and Ryzhov took a seat, watching as the man he admired faded away. He would never truly understand the obsession the man had with this woman. He would never try to talk sense about the situation to him because he had his own skewed perspective: she thought she could escape her destiny. She was his property and property could not simply run away because they did not like the situation.
Different, but the same outcome and effect… moving along and travelling to hunt her down for months at a time. Finally, a search that had come to an end. He would idly himself with hunting and tracking, scoping the area in case a quick getaway was needed for stealing his friend’s bride away. He eagerly awaited his Pakhan's return, expecting it to be with her scruff in his maw, dragging her kicking and screaming if that was what was required.