Ankyra Sound the horseman

“Oh, yes you are.”

Kierkegaard confirmed with an exasperated nod of his skull. He had never been more sure in his life that he had been thrust into the ring with someone quite as vexing as Arrille. Not wanting to argue the point someone as young as the pale boy, he decided he would no longer try to drive the point home. Instead, his ears swiveled forward to meet the next few words that fell from the other male's lips. Once he heard, he understood.

Arrille believed that everything was worth fighting for. Kierkegaard could not understand believing in every little thing so passionately that he would throw himself at a far more experienced wolf without so much as a diplomatic input. It made more sense why Arrille behaved the way that he did; he did not understand that some battles were better left alone. “Your body, your right to breathe, and those you've vowed to protect are the only things that you should fight so fiercely for. Everything else is a waste of your energy,” the mercenary growled. Nothing else would ever matter, and if Arrille realized that, he might have the chance to live as long as the grizzled old wolf had.