[ P ] the rocks beneath my feet begin to crack

back then, i was dauntless—

Senka would be hung up on what a horrible idea it is to be travelling with Odysseus if she wasn't so preoccupied with her personal worries. Her concern for Augustine had been relieved, only to be replaced by a rush of worry for the other most important man in her life. 'Your father was wounded...sepsis set in...darling, you should come home.' The contents of the letter won't stop repeating in her head; she knows her mother would never ask her to come if it wasn't serious.

Having just returned from Melrose himself, Augustine couldn't be spared from Sussex, which is how Senka wound up in this particular predicament—traveling under the curtain of nightfall with one of the most intimidating men she's ever met prowling at her side.

Senka hadn't bothered to ask much about the specifics; she trusted her husband to make arrangements to get her there safely, and she trusts Odysseus at least that much by extension. She'd been silent as their journey began, stewing on the reality of what she might be walking into; visits home had always been exciting in the past, but this one fills her with a sense of unease and dread.

The city falls away and the road stretches long and empty before them, and Senka only realizes she's been chewing on her inner lip when she tastes blood. She draws in a soft breath, exhaling it in a fog of steam around her snout a moment later. She needs to do something—anything—to take her mind off the morbid impacts of the war, and her olive gaze slips sidelong towards Odysseus, asking the first question that comes to mind. "Why, exactly, are we traveling at night?" She's not complaining, as Senka has a particular fondness for the stars, but she is curious. It hadn't escaped her notice that his meeting with August had been set after nightfall as well, leading her to believe that he has some aversion to the sun, or that he's...hiding from something.

She's grown suspicious of Odysseus' nature, of his involvement with her husband, and even harbors a seed of doubt for Augustine at this point. The last few weeks had left her to stew on her odd evening with Odysseus, and the feeling that her husband was keeping things from her had only grown. She may not say much, but her astute observation has turned razor-sharp; Senka is done with her rose tinted glasses. She hasn't touched a drop of alcohol since that night, she'd forced her sleep schedule back to something respectable, and she has quietly been sinking her claws into every scrap of information that she can when no one is looking.

Senka has a horrifying potential to become a weapon worthy of her breeding—but exactly who the enemy is, she has yet to decide.

@Odysseus

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

This job had come as a bit of a surprise. Augustine had approached him about a trip north, escorting none other than his wife. Senka. Something about her father being ill. The reason why really made no difference to him. She had lingered in the back of his mind all the same, ever since that night. He enjoyed her company without a doubt. She was so delightfully easy to get a rise out of especially she was plied with booze. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he wondered when he might cross paths with her again. Never did he think he’d been traveling to the lowlands with her, without her husband. The faith Augustine placed in him and the services he bought was evident in the politicians decision. Personally, he never would send his own wife anywhere with the likes of someone like himself. Thus far Odysseus had not let Augustine down, he had no reason not to believe Odysseus would deliver Senka there and back safely. But that didn’t stop the wicked delight that darkened his eyes.

They set out wordlessly, under the cover of darkness. It was the easiest time for him to travel. Fewer soldiers prowled the mainlands in the middle of the night. Once they reached the lowlands, they could travel during the day. Occupational hazard. Augustine hadn’t so much as blinked when he explained this. Senka didn’t feel the same though there was no complaint in her voice, only curiosity. He would cast her a sidelong glance, considering his answer. Brutal honesty was one option. Or he could continue with half answers and infuriate her more. “Less likely to run into trouble.” She still didn’t know the extent of his partnership with her husband, the back alley deals they had made, the blood that stained both his and Augustine’s hands. Nor did she know about the noose around his neck, waiting to be tightened with his arrest. Besides that, it was the truth. Only the stupid would bother them and, well, they would be dealt with swiftly.

To the untrained eye, he appeared at ease, like he didn’t have a care in the world. But even though he didn’t expect trouble, Odysseus was not unaware of his surroundings. Ears twitched gently every so often, scanning for any sound that was out of place. His nose quivered, searching for anything that didn’t smell of ocean spray and yarrow. “We’ll stop at a tavern in the redwood before we continue tomorrow.” It would have been easier to stop at his personal home, but he didn’t take anyone there. Ever. So a local tavern it was. Even with a rest stop already mapped out, they would be walking for some time.

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back then, i was dauntless—

His curt answer is every bit as informative as any other he's given her, and her dour mood has her not bothering to hide her eyes rolling in response. Rather than waste her time trying to get more an explanation than that, Senka presses on with her neutral tone, "and what if we do run into trouble?" This question is straightforward and serious—she may not be militant like her father, but she is adverse to being without a plan should the worst occur. Would Odysseus expect her to flee, to hide, or to fight? She doubts the latter option, considering the reason he's escorting her, but she isn't completely without self-defense skills.

The roads that stretch across the mainlands are so familiar to Senka now that she could walk them with her eyes closed; she knows precisely how long the journey will take, and while she won't utter a word of complaint, it's anxiety-inducing rather than calming this time. The world is a little less bright with her focus set so intensely upon whatever is waiting for her in Yorkshire.

"Okay," she murmurs compliantly when Odysseus outlines their travel plan. Worry or not, they will have to rest at some point—it would be stupid and selfish of her to try and suggest they skip it, though she doubts much sleep will find her. Odysseus carries himself in a way that reminds her of her father, and of Roman: alert in the most subtle of ways, like a serpent lying in wait. Despite the fact that she has only seen him move with deliberate slowness and control, there is no doubt in Senka's mind that he is capable of unfurling and striking his prey in the blink of an eye. He has a predatory way about him that is unlike her father and brother—unlike any imperial-trained wolf she has ever known.

But he's no imperial-trained wolf, now is he?

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

The neutrality in her voice was at odds with the way her eyes roll to the back of her head. Normally he'd find the action disrespectful. Now, he almost smirked. Already he liked that side of her, the one who's perfect cracked and splintered until it fell from her face. That night lingered in the back of his mind, from the fire in her eyes to the bite in her voice. As she rolled her eyes, she was did so sober. She couldn't blame the crack in her facade on booze.

She wasn’t pleased with his answer but here is no further argument from her. There was a question though.. “Then you’ll run and hide. I’ll find you.” It was simply really. Basic instructions seemed to yield the best result, being so easy to remember. He supposed he should be grateful that she was asking the questions now and not in the heat of the moment when terror would grip her and she couldn’t listen. Though it would beg the question, could she handle herself? Push come to shove, would she brandish a dagger or roll belly up? This was not the first time he had escorted a pamper noble and he had run into trouble before. He had learned quickly that things could turn sour and a moments hesitation could come with a hefty price.

No argument left her tongue, only simply acceptance. They had a destination but it was still a long walk. They had nothing but time. Time that passed without incident, Mostly. Twice he would pause, his head lifting as ears rotated carefully. Tension would race down his spine and the air crackled with energy around him. It was easy enough to avoid trouble, thankfully. A quick alteration in their course and the quiet of the night continued.

"Shouldn't be much longer." He would say finally. Relief barely caressed the rumble in his voice. Even just walking, the journey was tiring. The tavern owner was a friend, she would have something for him. She hadn't let him down yet. There they would grab something to eat and rest, at least for a short while.

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back then, i was dauntless—

This is not the woman who had spent that odd evening with Odysseus, but nor is she exactly the demure housewife either—something in Senka had changed that night. She can feel it, buzzing beneath her skin like something alive and angry and vengeful. She doesn't know what to do with it yet, so Senka holds that kernel of a flame close to her heart, every bit as guarded as the rest of her.

Her only answer to his direction is an incline of her chin, signaling her acceptance. His job is to keep her safe, and however Odysseus sees fit to do so is just fine with her, despite the fact that she can hold her own reasonably well. That doesn't mean she wants to, and her head is not entirely clear—weighed down with the heaviness of thoughts sent from Yorkshire and Sussex both.

In the moments where her escort freezes, she watches on with intrigue, and follows his change in course without argument. All the while, though, the gears of her mind are whirring; Odysseus avoids being seen like a wraith in the night, and it leaves her wondering if he's avoiding crossing paths with anyone for her sake, or for his. She's yet to figure out what he is, but Senka is slowly eliminating the things that he isn't. Since she'd only gotten half answers out of him anyway, she's decided to collect her information with clever observation.

The eventual rumble of his voice pulls Senka out of her thoughts, and though she hasn't acknowledged a word of it, she is exhausted on multiple levels. Her paws ache and her ears lay half-mast and tipped back towards her skull. Lifting her head, Senka can make out the faint glow of lamplight in the distance; she assumes that's where they're headed. "You've stayed there before?" she murmurs softly, if only to break the looming quiet between them.

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

The longing for a comfortable bed had hit hours ago. His paws ached and he was tired of being on alert. He craved a full belly and a bed. So when a light flickered in the distance, his pace would pick up fractionally, like a final burst of energy to get them here. An ear would tip towards Senka, catching the first words she had spoken in hours. "Yeah." He answered. "She's a friend.

Soon enough the smells of the tavern touched his nose, growing stronger with each step. When he finally pushed open the door to the dining room, he breathed out the breath he had been quietly holding since they left Sussex. It was quiet, but several patrons lingered, each one hovered over a bowl and a cup. Amethyst hues swung towards the bar, his head inclining in greeting. "We can grab a quick bite before heading upstairs." There was a dip in the roughness of his voice, the innuendo rolling unconsciously off his tongue. Not waiting for an argument he would guide her to a quiet corner, offering her a chair to sit first.

Sitting comfortably for the first time in what felt like a lifetime was a blessing. He reclined with a quiet sigh, happy to get off his paws. Looking at Senka, she was tired. It was evident in the way her ears tipped back and her expression dropped, in the sag of her shoulder. Even though he was slowed down, he had still get a grueling pace for her to follow, but as he understood it, time was of the essence.

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back then, i was dauntless—

The inn is small, quaint but busy. Senka takes it all in with a curious eye, allowing herself to be directed to an empty table in the corner. If there's an implication in Odysseus' tone, she is both too tired and too preoccupied in her surroundings to notice it, and she simply nods absentmindedly whilst her eyes dart around the room. The low chatter of patrons fills the space, and it doesn't take long for them to be served—though Senka politely declines the mug of mead that most of the other customers have.

She settles enough to turn her attention back towards Odysseus, eyeing him between bites of her food. When the edge of her hunger fades, she tips her head slightly to the side and lifts her gaze to the intense violet of his. "Why did you agree to do this?" Senka asks, and though she doesn't expect more of an answer than some shallow mention of coin or his arrangement with Augustine, she still hopes for a bit more than that—for a glimpse of the man who had called her an asset.

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

Their meal was served quickly, the young waiter stumbled over the directions to their room. Odysseus nodded vaguely as the boy dismissed himself. They would eat in silence for the first part of their. Senka would break the silence. His eyes flickered to hers. A shrug lifted his shoulders first. “Your husband pays well to keep you safe.” It was a standard answer, the truth without revealing anything to her. But here he could regard her as he did that night. Amethyst hues turned appraising.

In truth, he wasn't entirely sure why he accepted the job. Between the coin and his preexisting relationship with Augustine, it was already difficult to turn it down. But he hadn't decided what exactly he hoped to get from her. Sure falling into bed together would be great, but there was a fight to her that he enjoyed toying with.

Maybe he was lonely. He'd never admit it, but he had spent the last few years on his own. His brother was only presumed alive. His sister flittered in and out just as she always did. Even Mutt had been absent as he took strides towards his shot at nobility. He had to hand it to him, the kid was relentless when it came to what he wanted. It got him thinking back to his youth, the parties, the gatherings, there was always someone around, something to do. Not to say Odysseus wasn't busy, he had his hands full. But did he grow tired of his nomadic bachelor life?

"Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you." A wolfish grin should have accompanied the joke, but it came out far more serious. No matter his expression, a dark desire flickered in the depths of his eyes. He would sip at the mead in his cup, his lips twitching at its sweetness.

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back then, i was dauntless—

"I'm sure he does," she murmurs softly—more to herself than him—with a faint smile curling the edges of her lips. It's not a warm smile; there's something in the hard glint of her eyes that give the impression her expression is closer to bitterness than happiness. Despite knowing that August is safe—and she is thankful for that—Senka cannot simply shrug off the way he left her to worry, as though her concerns were unfounded.

As though there wasn't a possibility he might not come home.

Senka is finishing off the last of her food when he adds to his answer, and she slowly brings her gaze back up to his, her expression carefully schooled. She can't tell if he intended it as a joke or not, but something tells her it's the latter. There is little that is innocent in the lingering stare of Odysseus Barin; she'd felt it that night, and she feels it now. "Really?" Senka says in a skeptical tone, drawing out the word. Leaning back in her chair, she eyes the man in front of her with a challenge slowly building in her eyes. She shouldn't, but she pushes: "why?"

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

Where one would expect to find pleasure, happiness, that her husband was willing to pay handsomely for her safety, he found what looked like bitterness. Her smile was hard, there was a bite to it. It contoured her features in a way that suggested she was upset with Augustine still. She hadn't been subtle about her fury that he had gone off to war, leaving her to fret in an empty house.

He's met with skepticism next. Pale green eyes flick up from her meal to meet his. A faint smile hangs off one side of his mouth. She leaned back then, the challenge in her eyes starting as an ember. Why? He smirked in earnest then, though the humor didn't touch his eyes. "To see the pretty mask you wear crack." His voice was a low rumble and though it sounded matter of fact, as if he were discussing the weather, those words were heated.

He had always enjoyed the hunt. He had learned that there was no better high than to see behind the mask of a woman, to see her bare, her true self. Granted, his tactics could be better. But he had never claimed to play fair. Breaking her down, little by little, just to see the viper that lurked just beneath the surface.

With dinner done and forgotten, he reclined back. Comfortable, he was no in rush. The tavern was busy enough, just as it always was. But its occupants were placed on the back burner, not completely forgotten and but no the object of his focus. The room he had organized would be waiting for them regardless of when they actually turned in. So Odysseus would linger, his attention freely given to the woman across from him.

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