To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

Wrap up? ♥

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Szymon watched his brother coldly, and when the black-banded Cairn realized his littermate had taken his words to mean that Skellige was dead, he impatiently shook his head. “I am sure he is gone,” he clarified. “She has not told me where — or why.” Malice flared anew when Jagoda continued to grumble about serving beneath the erstwhile omega. “Then don’t,” he snapped, succinct. “Find a new stretch of coast — raise your own banner — or don’t you have the salt?” Szymon sneered, his temper growing uglier by the minute as he advanced forward a pace on paws that gripped the sand with nefarious intent. “You have found yourself in a new age, ‘Goda — an age where you are the Jetsam and I am the Leviathan. I will never ask you to ‘serve’ me. I have never asked for anything from you: not mercy, not my succor, not my own life. I don’t need you. The Turtle and the Sea have strengthened me.” He paused for breath, iron-laced tongue tracing scarred lips that wore a grim smile.

“But if my wife asks something of you,” he said more quietly, his sonorous bass timbre heavy with the weight of his threat, “you will do it right, and you will do it fast, or I will drive you from this land indefinitely.” Abruptly Szymon was tired of the conversation, and he howled a short, clipped note canceling his summons for Doe. He would go to her and beseech her and perhaps, in taking her, would release some of the terrible fire in his bloodstream. “Stay or leave,” he said sullenly. “This time, I do not care. Know this: if you stay and along the way desert these shores, do not bother to return.”

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