A Midnight Dreary

The harsh snowdrift seemed to obscure the world around the veteran, prowling as he did among the city’s silent streets. He was all alone, it seemed, for no wolf dared to creep at this hour. Though the days were short, and early evening mimicked that of early morning, he knew that the hour for his trek was… uncommon. Yes… far too many prying eyes during the day, when everyone was in a rush to fulfill their silly vanities. There were too many wolves to keep a watchful eye on, many whose daily habits were boring, repetitive, uninteresting. There were fewer wolves looking his way too, a feature of his existence that now was so commonplace, it sickened him. To be all alone at this time of night was to be at a time and place alone in his thoughts. He rarely slept well anymore, but meditative ambles such as these were the next best thing. While most feared the cold months, Falltore found an odd solace in them. It was as if the earth reminded the world to be silent, for once. And, not to mention, the cold soothed his face far better than any medicine ever could.

But, was the purpose for this trek a mere… coincidence? Hardly, for Falltore only left the comforts of his shadowy existence for good reasons. He had a destination, one he may not have been able to discern through the snow at that point in time… but it was a destination he knew how to get to all the same. Yes, everyone knew of the Tiamat clan, especially in this city. Their prestige was untouchable… in the opinions of most. They had suffered the recent loss of Nassar, a loyal officer to the Crown, by most accounts. Her reputation preceded her combat record. Of course… one could not help but wonder if these legends were true, or but fables. Yes, officers spoke well of her combat ability, her leadership. But at the realm’s hour of need… she seemed to just… disappear. The next thing anyone knew… she was dead. Some might dismiss this as tragedy at its finest… and yet… did the Tiamats truly earn every ounce of their renown… or was it all invention? What constitutes loyalty and excellence in this day and age?Falltore had his answers to these questions, but why ought he provide them? After all… that would spoil the fun.

Regardless of his true intentions, his destination remained the same, House Tiamat. The gorgeous homestead of Rionnach’s most noteworthy clan cut through the fog of snow as he approached it. Even if it was the dead of night… Falltore felt as if eyes were watching him from within, perhaps the den itself. But, if the Tiamats were so honest, noble, and loyal, what had they to fear from a midnight visit? Surely, if they were as upstanding as they claimed to be, this… conversation would go over quite well, for whomever it was to have the honor to greet the officer as he crept to the entrance. After all… they were loyal subjects, valuable assets, who were in the midst of a turmoil of their own, if he had to estimate. Why, of all wolves, would Falltore come to them with bad intentions? No… his reasons were perhaps more… inquisitive than accusatory. How his presence was received did not concern him, for wolves such as himself were not in the position they were out of kindness or weakness. He wished only that he might be taken in from the cold promptly.

It was late and he could not sleep; his mind racing, filled with scenes of blood and gore from the battlefield. So he slowly rose from bed, taking a moment to look at Sif's sleeping figure, before slipping out of the room and into the dark hallway of the manse. Shame filled him with every step he took, every moment he chose to do this instead of anything else was a moment he wished he could take back. Even as he did it, he could not bury the guilt and shame that filled him to the brim. He was going out into the night to try and find something to sooth his nightmares and anxieties.

As he opened the door to the manse, it creaked with cold and age. He was surprised, however, to find himself face to face with another. He startled, expecting it to be one of his kin, but finding a stranger in their place instead. He was thrown off guard, his hunt for drugs or alcohol momentarily forgotten as he asked the man, "can I help you?"

Entering one’s residence unannounced was… frowned upon, by most. After all, one should have the right to feel safe and comfortable in a den of their own making, no? Perhaps that is why the entrance to their manse was closed. But, it appeared that Falltore need not howl out for entry, or worse yet find his own way in, for the entrance opened up, revealing an occupant to this aged home. He spoke softly, politely, to ask Falltore his business, standing there in the cold. Of course… it would seem that he had been expected someone… or something. After all, to venture out in snow like this, or to be awake at this hour… how curious, it was. But no matter, everything would shake out, in one way or another.

As the two wolves exchanged first glances with one another, a wry grin seemed etched into the soldier’s complexion, a kindness that irradiated an energy that made it feel… unnatural… unsettling. But what would anybody have to fear from a wolf like him? He had done his part to hide his wounds from them, an innocent-seeming butterbur leaf plastered to his face to cover most of what he had lost. A pity… so many were so frightened by how he looked, a sting that that become numb to him as the months passed by. Of course… so many in Rionna these days were unfamiliar with the harshness of reality, what wolves experience. But… that’s alright, for they must have earned the right to feel the way they did, to fear their daily lives. Of course… when it came to wolves who… perhaps… had experienced things such as had happened to Falltore before… there was a higher expectation of how they might react. And from what Falltore knew of Nassar’s kin… maybe this interaction might be different from normal.

{{“May I come in,”}} Falltore said, flatly, a trail of smoke coming from his mouth as he did, {{“it’s rather cold out tonight.”}}

As they stared at one another, Khepri felt a spark of recognition somewhere in the back of his mind. Not many wolves walked around with their faces covered such as this and so he remembered while in service a man by the name of Falltore... Lieutenant Major, if he recalled correctly. What he was doing here, and at this hour, was still a mystery however. Khepri cleared his throat when asked to enter; a sense of foreboding entering his heart. "Yes, of course." he murmured as he stepped aside to allow him in the large entryway.

It was not that he mistrusted the man, or disliked him, or anything such as that but more so it was the thought that he had come to give him bad news that caused his morose disposition. It could be anything, but his mind fixated on the idea that perhaps someone else had turned up dead and he was just waiting to hear the bad news. His mind wandered to Badari, his missing niece, and he swallowed and wondered if she were no longer missing but found in the worst way. "What... what brings you here at this hour Lieutenant Major?" he asked, opting for rank over name in the moment. "Ah... I am Khepri, if you did not remember..." he added, dipping his nose slightly in introduction. He had been a part of the Army himself briefly, in both wars, but he was only a medic and as such easily overlooked by the higher ups, or so he thought.

Permitted entry, Falltore graciously entered the smaller wolf’s domain, finding the warmth of the den comforting… almost too comforting. Even Khepri’s cordiality was… an uncommon experience for the soldier. But who is he to complain about compliance? After all… it made their matter so much simpler this way. As the wolf took the time to recharge his energy now that he was out of the cold, the host inquired as to the purpose for this visit, at this time, at this place. He, of course, continued, giving his name, as if Falltore hadn’t already known it. But… this was how civil wolves spoke, he had to remember that. Hospitality was a tenet among those of high society, especially for such a noble clan as the Tiamats. Yes, their nobility was hard to ignore, hard to extinguish. He found it admirable, that Khepri wished to offer his name to him so easily, once more, an experience that was uncommon to him. He was proper enough to address him too by his rank, his proper rank, something that almost brought a smile to his scarred muzzle.

“Please… there is no need to be so modest with me, Khepri,” reassured Falltore, as he turned to face him, “I know quite well who you are. In fact… you are just the one I wished to see.” How long had it been? This wolf, perhaps they had crossed paths once, maybe twice… their roles in each other’s lives practically null. But… perhaps Falltore had quite a good memory. After all… Tiamats tend to stick out, and everyone knows a Tiamat when they see one. With all respect, of course, for they had not merely been handed their renown. “I see you keep up with your current events,” Falltore said, as he took the time to examine the manse space around him, taking in each and every detail, “there are not many who know of my recent promotion. Though I suppose… wolves such as yourself and the connections you have… I should not be entirely surprised.”

There was an awkward pause from Falltore that followed, as he found himself lost in the majesty of the Tiamat’s homestead. It was… impressive, to say the least, though he would dare not comment on it. He found the close study of intricate, if not meaningless aspects of this room far better than approaching the important questions at hand. That might have been an unwelcome experience for the senior Tiamat… but then again… maybe Falltore found himself in good company, given the course of the professor’s life to date. After some time, the male’s head snapped back to Khepri, as he spoke. “I apologize… I know the hour is late,” Falltore said, “unfortunately… the matter is urgent. It regards your… late sister. If I may ask some questions… I see no reason to take up your time any more than I need to.”

As Falltore entered, Khepri moved past him to close the door to keep a chill from catching them both. He supposed on a night like this he should not have been trying to sneak out and this man had stopped him in a way and that was probably a good thing- how else was he to see it when his cravings kept him up all hours of the night and just when he went to sate them he was stopped? He wondered if Falltore had been sent by some higher being though he quickly realized that was foolish; not believing in fate or the like.

“Please… there is no need to be so modest with me, Khepri,” the man said and Khepri only dipped his head slightly as he turned back to face him. “I know quite well who you are. In fact… you are just the one I wished to see.” At this, his ears perked and he looked at Falltore with a question in his honied eyes. Why would anyone wish to see him? Unless the man was here to take him away and throw him into the dungeons for his recreational drug use. The thought made him nervous, though he tried his best to hide that. "Oh," was all he could muster before the man spoke again about his rank. His cheeks felt warmer than usual and he wondered if it was something he should have said at all, though it was not like it was a secret to those who paid attention.

The pause between them was somewhat awkward and it cause Khepri's mind to begin to race to all the place he did not want to go. However, when the Lieutenant Major spoke again it was not of his drug use but of... Nassar.

He was blindsided by the request and that much was obvious in his slack-jawed stare. "I... uh, I..." he said, finding himself at a loss for words. What urgent matter could Falltore come to discuss about his dead sister? "I can try," was all he could manage, his curiosity finally unstunning him.

How might a normal wolf expect to see someone like Falltore at their door, in the middle of the night? Well… perhaps not pleasantly it would be supposed. There were those who might feel angry that their independence was disrupted by the likes of someone such as himself, though few had the gall to admit it. Most might be too tired to even care, would do anything to get the conversation over with. A select, naughty few, might just bolt out the front door, as they had something to hide. But Khepri? Silent, not so much as a breath out of line. It was as if he were uncertain what to do, what to say… as if he didn’t know what was about to happen to him. Or… perhaps he couldn’t help but stare at Falltore’s scars, the salve. Did his appearance unsettle him, or was it his mere presence? That, alas, was a difficult question to answer.

But what Falltore felt was even more curious, at least to him, was his continued silence once the reason for his visit became that much clearer. Nassar, his sister, struck down in battle, and all her brother could manage to say about her was “oh” and that he would try. Not to mention… to have her brought up wasn’t met with grief, relief… but cold, confused indifference. Falltore suspected Khepri of no crimes, no wrongdoing… and yet, when there is a berry filled with the juice of mystery… it must be harvested nonetheless. Every wolf had something to hide… and if there were things that Khepri was keeping from him, whether it be knowledge or even emotion… it would be brought out, one way or another. After all… he did not get to the rank he was if not for his particular talents.

And he knew when to apply them, above all. “Very good,” Falltore said, in a piercing, burning compliment, “I hope that my presence regarding these matters does not… upset you. Unfortunately… these matters are important.” The scarred soldier made his way back to Khepri, tail swingling lazily, like a predator on the hunt. Of course… he was here on good terms, despite appearances. “As you may know,” Falltore began, “the Crown investigates the deaths of any high-ranking Imperial Army officer rigorously. Of course… between the loss of the Highlands and recent political happenings, it appears our official records on Nassar are incomplete. I was hoping you might be able to fill in our gaps.” It was an odd ask, to say the least, since after all, Khepri was no longer in the army, nor was he perhaps a witness to his sister’s death. And yet, the questions spoke for themselves.

“Why don’t you begin by telling me about your relationship with your sister… and please, the more details you can provide, the more you will help us, and the sooner I can leave.”

As Falltore began, Khepri felt his confusion rise. They were investigating Nassar's death? He tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat as he thought of the moment that Jacobite bastard stole his sister's life right before his very eyes. He closed those same eyes for a moment then reopened them when he was asked about the relationship with his sister.

"As you may or may not know, I left my family home when I was younger to avoid following in their footsteps. I wanted a different life than what was given to me. Nassar was the only one who understood, the only one who saw me. We were close as children, but grew estranged into adulthood. It is only recently, before the second war began, that I returned home upon her invitation." he said, his gaze falling on the other male. "I saw her die. A Jacobite tore out her throat and then ran off in the midst of battle. We carried her home for the funeral that day. There's nothing more to it," he said. She had died in battle, like many others that day.

Some might feel that valuable resources were being wasted on a conversation concerning a series of events that were pretty cut and dry. At least… as they so seemed on the surface. Many an Imperial might have been surely and thoroughly bored to root out information, abandoning the mine just before a precious nugget of valuable stone were recovered. Such was Falltore’s patience, inwuiring into the relationship the noble Tiamat had with his now departed sister. Two lives they had lived, and quite distinct ones at that. One the one paw, Nassar was exemplary, well known among all facets of Rionnach, an upstanding example of nobility and virtue, of loyalty and service. And then, her brother… a family outcast, a wolf whose life was spent in turmoil and hardship… a wolf without stability or clear purpose, whose death, perhaps, would make the tiniest ripples upon the surface, compared to the waves Nassar left.

Falltore had listened to each and every word Khepri had spoken carefully, taking note of what he said, and how he said it. There was something quite curious about it all, how cold and distant his words were. It was almost as if he didn’t seem to care at all about her. His dear sister, who permitted him to forge his own path in life, was there to bring him back from his depravities and reinstall into the family manse, and who gave her life in battle defending the monarchy. She had done so much for him, and while he acknowledged its meaning to himself, it was as if he had no emotional attachment to her at all. So matter of fact, so superficial, so… insincere. Some might be horrified by the words he spoke. But for Falltore, it only drew him more into the small wolf’s state of mind, now that her home, was now his by right, more or less.

“I see,” Falltore finally spoke, coldly, as if he were taking note of his account, “I am aware of many of these things, Khepri. Imperial records for you are… better than they are for most. Rest assured that I am quite familiar with your… history.” After all, what a tortured life the wolf had lived. Official Imperial records paint Khepri’s life as one of moving about, two steps forward, and two steps back. He took up medical education from a young age, operating a private practice it seems, if but for a short while. Married, widowed… transitioned from healing to teaching, now that he is a professor of medicine at the college. An esteemed position, to be sure. And yet, those very things he spoke of were things he did not know, about how his relationship was often strained with his family, how he felt out of place most of his life. And it was only recently that he had found his place again. Safe to say, of course, because of his dear, departed sister.

What followed was but three, harshly whispered words from the soldier to himself, but four words he had heard uttered but a moment before. ‘Nothing more to it…” he said under his breath, chewing on it like a charred piece of meat. Despite the tension that came from Falltore’s words, and the awkward silence that followed, the fun was only just beginning. All of a sudden, the soldier feigned as if he had caught a chill, his fur bristling. “Now… Khepri,” he went on, “either there is a window open in the manse somewhere… or something in the words you speak now… strikes me as so cold. The way you speak of your sister… it sounds like she was such a large part of your life, important to you in every way. And yet, while I admire your objectivity… you speak as if she didn’t matter to you, when she clearly did. May I ask why you speak in such a… rehearsed manner?” Was there an accusation behind all of that? Some assumption of how a wolf ought to behave when discussing a relative? Or did Falltore want to see Khepri merely squirm under such a question? His intentions, it seems, were quite nebulous. And he preferred to keep it that way.

“Now,” Falltore said, “about this Jacobite you saw. Could you describe them to me, and… if you are able, how it happened, exactly?”

There was a part of him that wanted to tell Falltore to go, if only so he could go about his business and creep off into the night, but mostly because he did not wish to speak about Nassar. Every time he thought about her his heart ached and he felt a loss he could not describe. It wasn't even the same type of loss as when Rose died, this was some new, fresh hell all his own. He didn't know he could grieve like this and he hated every moment of it.

His ears flicked at the other man's comment about his history-- he cared little for how others saw him, he hadn't cared about that in a long time if ever. Maybe that was how he'd been able to leave his family behind and venture out on his own. He hadn't even cared what they thought, except Nassar... he'd always regretted leaving her behind.

Khepri's ears flicked as Falltore commented on the chill in the air, only to then question him and ask him why he seemed so... held back when discussing his late sister. A small growl rumbled in his chest at the insinuation and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Because I don't like talking about losing her." he bit back perhaps a little more roughly than intended. Then hew as being questioned about the Jacobite. Khepri could hardly recall him, it had all happened so fast.

He swallowed and shook his head. "He was earthy... browns and tans... and of larger stature than myself," he added as if that would be hard for anyone to accomplish. "His eyes were red and filled with hatred. He killed her like she was nothing, no one." he said, hiding the sob in his voice. He closed his eyes and shook his head, shaking the memory away as much as he possibly could.