Redsand Canyon Always comes at the worst time

Tagging a wild @Wanheda!

Setting: Evening — 18:20
Weather: 78F — Sunny, slightly windy

Kyn knew she’d be awake by now. He hasn’t gotten a chance to speak with her. Or see her at all for that matter for the sudden disappearance of his silvery first born has him distraught. More distraught than anyone could ever fucking imagining him being. Still, he has a captive to take care of — to torture and tease.

So, on the way to her fun little area, he exerts himself out in the fiery sun in order to catch her a healthy looking jackrabbit. With it held firmly in his bloody jaws, he trots to her threshold. Stopping firmly at the edge he drops it between his paws for the moment being. His eyes find her form, dusty with blood and the scarlet clay alike. 

And he smiles. It’s a wicked thing — sadistic even. It’s quick to disappear though, settling for something smug, but not entirely as malicious. 

“Praimfaya.” He calls out to her by name. “Your oh so gracious grandmaster has brought you some food.” He hums out almost conversationally, albeit with a bit of a teasing purl to his tone. “Care to eat, love?” 

praimfaya —

though she does not recognize it as her name, she looks towards the brindled stranger ( to her in the herenow ) — she has many names, the commanders of the past tell her but commander of death is the one that stands out the most to her; telling her more of who she was than any other sound put to her being. it is clearly spoken to garner her attention and though it does not please her the way that hearing wanheda would, she watches his approach without feeling.

aside from the physical aches and pains and the annoying grit of sand in her mouth; red sand that stains her fur like the dried blood that she has not bothered to wash from her. still, she has no idea how she has gotten this way. without any past knowledge to draw on — not even so much as a will-o-wisp hint to clue her in she is left with nothing but abysmal blankness. thus, she figures she belongs without anything else to guide her to any other conclusion.

frostbound gaze settles upon the jackrabbit betwixt his jaws; her stomach giving a pitiful roll in hunger. hunger that could so very easily toe the line between being disgust but only because the pain keeps her from feeling up-to-par with how she should feel.

though his smugness does not go beneath her notice, she is not sure what warrants it; their history erased from her memory for better or worse. he calls himself her 'grandmaster' — in conjunction with the mental affirmation that she was commander, this feels strange and does not sit well with her — but there was nothing to do but accept it.

she eyes the jackrabbit at his paws once more; salmon pink tongue darting out to drawl across her jowls as she hesitated between being truthful or remaining silent; or demanding answers. for the moment, she settles for silence at first, though she shuffles forward a bit, drawing herself closer to him though she desires to slink away from the sun and remain in the cool, projected shade of the cavern mouth.

she isn't sure if she should admit that she has no recollection from any point before waking up here; her instinctual, draconian nature snaking 'round her and holding her tight; and thinks of a way to ask questions that might be subtle enough to keep from admitting it right off the bat. at least until she gets a feel for this grandmaster. why am i here? she asks; voice rough.

He sees the Wanheda’s eyes light up when he brings the food and a pink tongue lap at her chops, but something doesn’t seem right. Especially regarding her fiery personality, he definitely expected to be met with a sneer and some very harsh words. This confuses him and it shows instantly in the suspicious furrow of his brow and clear confusion sitting in canary colored eyes. 

Why am I here?

Her question confuses him even more. Now they’re both just sitting there just as confused as the other. 

What? How the hell does she not know why she’s here? He wonders internally. 

Despite his odd feelings, he lowers his head and throws the rabbit to her anyway. Might as well keep her happy. 

So finally, he plants his haunches on the edge of the chasm. “Why are you here?” He parrots the question back to her. “How do you not know why you’re here?” His tone isn’t harsh, just wondering — curious. 

He decides he would not remind her because there’s something weird going on here. “You’re here because we are star crossed lovers who haven’t seen one another for a long time.” He says overly sarcastic. “Why’re you asking? Do you not remember?” 

her question could've meant several things in the vague way wanheda tried to present it; and the fact that the grandmaster's mind jumped immediately to asking how she did not know fills her with a swooping panic. perhaps she had given more away than she intended; likely, she tells herself, given the natural progression.

even so, she does not answer his question. the commander of death is not keen on repeating herself; nor is she all that keen on not having the upper paw. clearly, she did not; covered in injuries that she cannot explain and kept in the shade of this infernal canyon does not exactly promote anything good.

his response almost drawls a snort from wanheda — but she catches it and smothers it before it can even take shape. instead, her mind whorls at lightspeed. could it be true? certainly. 'star-crossed lovers' easily meant that something kept them being together — likely that to be commander is to be alone — and her injuries could've resulted from being caught.

though that any of those beneath her rule as commander would harm her seemed far-fetched she cannot remember any of them to know the difference.

it was possible.

for a moment, wanheda eyes the rabbit thrown her way; frostbound gaze taking in the small stir of dust and sand as it lands at her paws. her stomach roils with hunger and her mouth begins to water but she does not dig in despite that everything in her tells her to devour it.

no. her honestly surprises her as her gaze moves back to the grandmaster. and then, because she has no choice but to take his word as truth, are we? she inquires. star-crossed lovers. is that what has happened to me?

the whispers of the commanders of the past are silent and give her no guidance on such things.

He sees her thinking, thinking about what he just said. And holy fuck does he not expect the answer that comes from her mouth. Such a grand opportunity laid out before the Saint, such a grand opportunity indeed. 

She wonders if they truly are star-crossed lovers and, god, he cannot stop the laughter that bubbles up past his lips. Oh, the Grandmaster can be a sweet man, he has charm, but his crassness always rules it out. Oh, and so does the violence. Still, he would shake his head as if he’s entertained but cannot believe this. The male would force yellow eyes to smooth out and gaze upon her softly, a small, borderline sad, smile blooming then. But he’s oh so good of an actor she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. 

“Darling — my love,” He begins lowly, but dramatically. “do you not… remember me?” 

He feels like he’s in one of those buttery operas. He’s playing with her, but why wouldn’t he? When would Kynareth fucking Deagon ever miss out on an opportunity like this. 

He would begin his next words just as smooth, pained almost. “That pains me to know that you do not remember me.” He comments, trying not to let his malicious joy show through.