A Midnight Dreary

With every word Falltore spoke, he could see the discomfort grow on Khepri’s visage, the pain bubbling out of every crack in his crumbling façade. To be reminded of his sister’s death in such a manner, at such a time, it forced his soul to consume itself raw, the guilt that rotted him away from the inside out. He could smell it on his pelt like a dark, musty cloud of remorse, that he couldn’t have stopped it, that he hadn’t taken her place, that he hadn’t been strong or brave or swift enough. Falltore had seen these things all before… and to see them again, it told him everything he needed to know about Khepri and his sister. They may not have been close, as he had said… but it seemed that Khepri wished they were, or perhaps not at all. Now all that remained of his dear, beloved sister was an empty home that was all his now. The subdued snarl in his retort meant nothing to Falltore, not only because he knew there was no threat in the manse besides himself, but that he knew where Khepri’s mind was at… and his mind, fortunately, might serve them both well.

Soon, he could tell by the unfocused manner in which Khepri described the wolf who killed his sister, the shakiness in his words, his struggle to recollect, his struggle to want to recollect, that he was at the breaking point. He could smell the emotions on the wolf’s pelt like the medicines he clothed himself with. He could hear the silent sobbing, the quivering of his frame, the waterfall inside his heart. He pitied him… and yet… there was hardly a warmth left inside him himself, something that had gone out long, long ago, if it ever was there to begin with. Still… sympathy was something most wolves besides himself needed, from time to time. He had practiced this enough, this show of empathy, to the point where almost he himself believed he cared about others. And yet… there was always that recessed part of him that knew it was always an act, no matter how sincere or convincing he was. He once wished he could be genuine in such a way with another wolf… but at the end of the day, losses like these did not make any wolf special. Life and death were but two constants in this world, so why feel anything about them at all?

With some semblance of sympathy, Falltore approached the breaking-down Khepri, and put a paw to his shoulder, his eyes cold, stern, yet sincere. Were Khepri a soldier, he would have approached his show of emotion in one way… but he was not the fighting kind, at least not in the way he knew himself to be. That did not mean, however, that this Tiamat could never be as brave or as bold as he could. No… neither one of them wished to see him be this way. “I have lost more wolves under my command than I can remember,” Falltore said, in a soothing, sympathetic tone, “but they do not hurt as much as would your loss, if I were you, Khepri Tiamat. I am… truly sorry for your loss.” He hoped that those words, kind as they might have sounded, might give Khepri some reprieve. He took his paw off of him then, knowing it best for both their sakes to give the wolf some space, and some time, to collect himself.

But unfortunately, despite how compromised the Tiamat was, Falltore was not the type to leave an interrogation with nothing. A fruit must be squeezed of all its juice after all, and such was his charge. But would Khepri but collect himself, this might prove like a useful visit after all. But how? How might Falltore get him to be of the most help he could be? There must surely be a way. “I know this is difficult,” Falltore went on, “but believe me when I say… it’s important for you to tell me everything. Every detail matters… though it may be painful to recollect. I ned to know how this wolf came upon you, was he alone, what scars he had, what size he had… and how he got away. The more you can help me… the more I can help you.”

Khepri didn't know what to make of the mans show of comfort. He glanced at the paw upon his shoulder, heard the condolences fall from his lips, but he felt nothing. The emptiness that ate him up night and day only seemed to grow with each passing minute; would it gnaw at him until there was nothing left? As Falltore withdrew, Khepri straightened slightly and shook his head at the next set of questioning. "I don't know anything else, like I said it happened very fast. He was there one moment and gone the next. I don't recognize his face enough to give a name or anything..." he admitted.

He didn't know how the man had managed to get away, probably due to the fact that they were all running to Nassar as he ran off with her blood on his fangs. He had come too late, the man already fleeing as her body dropped, but what was going on before that he had no idea. He sighed and shook his head, moving to stand up and head toward the door. He had nothing more to say and nothing more to help Falltore if he were truly a man seeking retribution. He'd given what he'd seen and that was all he could do. "If you don't mind, I was heading out for the night..." he murmured. He wanted a drink particularly bad now but he would have to wait for the other man to leave before pursing such things.

He may have been truthful, perhaps honest in his intentions. Perhaps he had exhausted all that which he knew. Given everything he could. And yet… if he were truly as destroyed by Nassar’s death as he so claimed to be, why was it that he wasn’t even trying to be of further help? In Falltore’s business, wolves such as him would not hesitate to heap information upon information… but Khepri seemed to clam down. It was almost as if he failed to see how his situation was not conclusive, that his past was not truly behind him. He seemed so intent on living in denial on the reality of the life he now lived… to run from confronting his ills and demons. It almost irked the soldier, the way he acted… after all he was not here to accuse, but rather to assist. But it would seem the dear Tiamat patriarch was not too keen on a charity that he did not seem to fully understand. No, in fact, it appeared that the Tiamat wanted him out of the house altogether… to go out in the dead of winter, in the middle of the night. Once more… avoiding the necessary confrontation. But if he so desperately wished to have the full truth laid bare at his feet like a fresh kill, so be it.

“Were you… then,” croaked Falltore in response, not moving an inch from where he sat, “I see you do not seem to fully understand what I am getting at with my questions. It’s alright… I imagine these matters must be quite difficult to process.” There was a pause, followed by a long exhale, as the officer searched out the right manner to lay his point out bare. “This peace that so many seem to now enjoy… is a matter of politics. You know this as well as I do. But if you were to think that General Faust and his cabinet have forgotten about hunting down wolves guilty of war crimes, of bringing the King’s justice upon Jacob’s murderers and killers, of doing right by those who gave life and limb for their country, you are mistaken.” An oversimplification, to be sure, but nevertheless one that was not far from the truth as Falltore saw it. Those in Jacob’s army were guilty of so many terrible deeds. Massacres, kidnappings, organized chaos, stirring up the uneducated to distract the populace from the necessary, yet ugly work that had to be done. It sounded like a difficult matter, intimidating to be sure, but it was simple nonetheless.

Looking oddly relaxed, conversational, Falltore had hardly finished with his pitch. “You may see Nassar’s death as part of battle all you wish, Khepri, or worse yet blame yourself,” he continued, his tail flicking aggressively as he eyed the Tiamat, “but what you have told me of how it happened has taught me two things. First, your sister’s death does not fit our standard casualties. In war, wolves do not run up to a wolf and kill them in the manner you have described… unless they know who they are, and perhaps what they stand to gain. We have… few records on the subject… but there are a handful of cases of wolves such as the Jacobite you saw acting in such a way.” Another exhale, as if Falltore were working up to the true point he was making. “I ask for as many details as you can provide… because if you are certain that the wolf you saw is indeed the wolf you saw… then that wolf, the Crown believes, has committed atrocities of war. Murdering a high-ranking officer is one thing, but to my recollection… the description you gave matches a wolf of interest I am investigating for the murder of non-combatants and torture of captured prisoners… among other crimes. So in the interest of justice… I hope that you might assist me in ensuring that a war criminal does not go unprosecuted for any single crime.”

A noble cause, to be sure. A wolf like Khepri might not totally appreciate the complexities and intricacies that go into matters such as those that he dealt with. Nobody seemed to, and yet, what wolf in their right mind would turn a blind eye to assisting in bringing a wolf to justice, one who had brought his own family so much pain, as well as those, perhaps, of so many others? “And second,” Falltore continued, still remaining seated where he was, “you don’t know how much your family matters to the Crown. My superiors, as well as myself, cannot stomach having a wolf who killed one of our very best, and who has devastated your proud family, get away with it. It is unacceptable… and considering all that Nassar and your kin have given to our beloved King… we see it right to give your family justice. You may not feel entitled to any of it… but we believe those you now look after do.”

Despite Khepri's urging, the man made no move to leave. He continued onward, pressing the matter until the eldest Tiamat began feeling the makings of a headache in the back of his skull. The low, dull throbbing was an annoyance at first but would soon grow in tension and pain. Khepri grimaced now as he looked to Falltore, his honied eyes shining with unknown emotion as the Lieutenant-Major spoke. "I don't know if that wolf knew my sister, perhaps he did and he had a vendetta out for her. I wouldn't know." he murmured, shaking his head. He did not know every wolf with which his sister had associated with. He had been gone for some time before returning home.

His ears flicked as Falltore explained that the description fit a wolf guilty of other crimes and he blinked, his headache blooming to the front of his head and his vision blurring. He swayed, so slightly that it might be missed, but then tilted his head. "I'm sure he's done inconceivable things. He is a murderer, after all." he growled before shaking his head. Nassar had been murdered in his eyes and apparently the eyes of the Crown. They wanted blood for blood. Good.

If Falltore was right about anything it was that Khepri blamed himself, it was why he wanted to go drown his sorrows in valerian and drink- the mixture having become and addiction much stronger than before and driving him to leave in the late hours of the night so that he could get his fix. "I wish I had a name more to give you but I just don't," he said, sounding defeated. He wanted to be of more help, so that this man could be caught and brought to justice but he knew that the only justice his family would seek was death. A life for a life. It only seemed fair and while Khepri was a more tender-hearted Taimat... he would have agreed all the same. If given the chance he'd end that mans life himself.

It seemed that Falltore’s words vexed the Tiamat to an almost unbearable extent. He could see it on his expression, smell it on his fur, perhaps even catch sight of the tremors that rocked Khepri, ever so slightly. Falltore had gotten his point across, over and over it seemed, and yet it did not seem to occur to the Tiamat what it was that he was conveying. No, for he seemed almost entirely preoccupied with insisting that he knew nothing else about the matter than what he had already said. Falltore believed him… but that is hardly what he had asked of him, oar at least, hoped that he might give to him. It seems that gratitude was almost a foreign concept to this wolf, though surely given how well-off he was, such was not surprising. Not even a thank you, for the generous offer, was even offered. In fact, maybe he was under the expectation that he owed the soldier no obligation whatsoever, that to apprehend his sister’s killer, coming here to make such intentions known, came without its own price to bear? That was not how the realm worked. Perhaps if he had thrown himself at Falltore’s paws, thanking him as if he were a saint or a savior, begged to give any resources he might have at his disposal for such a noble cause, it would have been better received. Maybe then, he would have been left alone.

With a nod and subtle laugh, falltore swiveled, stretching his neck out with audible cracks. “Had I expected you to tell me the wolf’s name by this point, Khepri,” Falltore began, “then the matter of… disposing of this wild cur would be a simple matter entirely. You would have told me his name already, would you not? I would hope that there are no secrets between us.” He said what he did in an almost sarcastic manner, his cold words digging like venomous claws into the throat of an unsuspecting prey. “Rest assured, Khepri, that I will do all that I can to find this wolf and ensure he is given the King’s justice. Only the finest wolves are at my disposal. They uncover everything, in one way or another. It is not a matter of results, but rather of eventuality. There is not one place in all of Rionnach that he might be able to hide… and very soon I will come to know of everything he says and does, perhaps even well before he says or does it. I assure you, Khepri, the Eternal Promise sees, hears, and knows all.” Falltore’s determined, confident promise was unwavering, as if it were a guarantee.

Getting up, then, Falltore strode to the other side of the room, almost half-circling Khepri. “But, my venerated Tiamat,” he said, “I must ask only a small price in return from you. You see, your word, and that of all your relatives, weighs a great deal on those on the rock overlooking the city. I hope that you will speak positively of my abilities and assurances to your relatives, as well as to those who very much influence and shape our realm as it is. I require their finances, their willingness to support my work, and should you empower your clan to stand behind me, whether it be in words, Renown, or perhaps consenting to having your fighting relatives join me in my work… Rionna might sooner be restored.”

An almost convincing warmth crossed the soldier’s face, as he laid out the terms of their arrangement. “So… I take it that we are agreed, Khepri?”

"Of course I'd have given you his name," he murmured, though that mattered little when he did not know what it was. To talk in hypotheticals was pointless yet he still felt the need to assert himself regardless. He paused a moment as Falltore began, stating that everything would be done to find this wolf. Khepri could only hope that were true, and a sigh escaped him as the man finished with an ominous flare. "Thank you," he murmured, unsure of what else to say for the man's efforts.

It would seem he was not done, however, as he stood and partially circled Khepri, continuing on an long-winded speech about a request for a return. At this, the tawny male's ears perked up and confusion skittered across his features. Of course he needed resources for this manhunt, but Khepri was not the one to address for such things. "I can offer my word of your efforts, but nothing else unfortunately. Since my sisters passing the head of household has fallen to her daughter, Cairo. She would be the one to speak to about such things." he said. He had little to no control over such things and he wondered if Falltore would come to understand that he was perhaps speaking to the wrong Tiamat. "I understand if that means you cannot continue your work," he said, though his tone was a bit morose. He was certain members of the family were already taking matters into their own paws when it came to finding Nassar's killer, so he wasn't sure how much outside force would be required anyway. Still, he fell silent and looked to Falltore, his honied eyes somber.

How funny it was. Falltore was not particularly close with Nassar, nor did he know of her outside of the things that had been said about her. It was said that whenever she was given a task to perform, a mission that only she might be able to see through, she did it with such grace, that so many seemed to underestimate how difficult it was. She had such a knack, it was said, for understanding each and every meticulous detail required to see it through. Even those things she could not hope to do herself, she always found a way to get it done, knew who to rely upon. How funny it was… that Khepri was nothing like her in the slightest, it seemed. Compared to her, the soldier vented to himself, he was a husk, a shallow ripple in a pond he did not deserve to share. He had none of the gifts or the skills that she had. No wonder he was a professor, with all that waffling and helpless floundering he seemed so intent on doing, he truly was a bureaucrat. Falltore began to wonder, as a look of vexation crossed his face, if Khepri truly was that much of an incapable coward. He had his expectations, but even this was a new low.

Falltore fought back the urge to snarl in annoyance at the small Tiamat’s inability to provide even the slightest bit of assistance to their discussions, to even so much as offer to move this forward. How might the others respond, were they to find out, that Khepri was once offered the chance for the Imperial Army to assist in their vendetta, but due to his weakness could not be brought to see it through? Was he speaking to a wolf, or a mouse? Oh how it annoyed Falltore to his very core to play this game. He was the eldest, he ought to know better than to waste the soldier’s time in this manner. Maybe he ought to learn just how bad an idea that was. “But of course…” Falltore hissed in a subdue, forced manner, his tongue curling around each and every syllable, “I ought to have anticipated Nassar’s daughter being the… responsible party for this household. Of course, as I see no other elder Tiamat present here tonight but yourself… I trust that you shall speak to her on my behalf… if my proposal might be suiting, that is.” He was not asking, but rather telling, this pathetic whelp to do so. His patience, after all, had run thin.

If it had not been made obvious beforehand, it was now clear that Falltore had long overstayed his welcome. He had found that he was not particularly fond of this Tiamat, and all of the teeth-pulling he had attempted with him tonight. It was hardly the expected interaction, to be sure, but then again, he tried to remember that there was a sizable difference between how a soldier spoke, and how a bureaucrat did, and while one made sense to him, the other vexed him to no end. But so it was, and he could do nothing to affect a change to how matters stood in the Tiamat’s head. It seems that all he knew was how to cover his fur in so many different herbal scents… but not how to lobby on his family’s behalf. His loss, nevertheless. “I’ll be waiting, Khepri,” Falltore said, heading to the exit, “I appreciate all I know you will say to your family about our discussion tonight.”

He did not wait for a response, however, vanishing out the door and disappearing into the dark night.

[Exit Falltore]