why be a king— It was as if my world was beginning to open up. My mind had begun to expand, my heart unsure of my path, my ambition yearning for something more. For something greater. Being under a king wasn’t exactly what I had hoped for nor had it been turning out the way I intended it to. War was necessary, but the lives lost were for two wolves i held no love for. No respect for. Where were they on the battle fields? Where are their scars? What have they lost or gained besides pieces of land and titles? I could almost spit at the thought. I walked in silence, my mind whirring with thoughts and plans for my future, accounting for all that I’ve done and all that I’ve seen thus far. The events of which had happened closely knit and constructed a piece of my journey that I could admire - save for being under the service of another. I could sneer at the thought. The autumn leaves above clashed with my iron figure, painting me in a fall-like light as leaves fell from massive redwood trees around me. It was one of the more beautiful spots of Rionnach. I loved walking here on cooler days as this. It was then I saw a flash of earthy pelt sauntering in the small distance. I staggered slightly, trying to see who it was, my one working eye scanning the little bit I saw of them. The cologne on the wind’s carry suggested someone familiar. Savard? It would be interesting, surely he’d like to hear of my escapades and tell me how I’m on the wrong path. I moved with purpose now, deep baritones calling out to the man to have him stop. "Good sir!" Muscle bound limbs moved to attempt and intersect him, hoping he would hear me. —when you can be a god? |
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why be a king— As if unheard, the wolf kept walking and said naught in response. It caused for a grimace but perhaps, on some minuscule chance, he actually didn’t hear me. Feeling generous in my new mind, my warring emotions, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even if I wasn’t entirely sure that he actually deserved it. The once perhaps eager expression worn on a battle broken visage had now changed to a more stoic cast, but the glint in my one working eye would suggest a light air to my aura even still. Even with the alleged disrespect. But the man who meandered on before me had once offered me a kind word of advice - albeit useless - I still valued it and tucked it away for a rainy afternoon. I cleared my throat. "Pardon," Baritones did boom louder, more definitively, as I quickened my pace to perhaps close the gap between us faster. Surely he wasn’t running from my appearance? The wounds given to me in the war were scabbed and surely to become beautiful pink slashes against my hide. The scars whipped across my neck, ringing down to my chest, new and gorgeous in all of their might. But still sore, however. They were nasty wounds, but I still wore them without shame, proud of the Jacobites who dared to give them to me. I blinked, trying to still my growing anger. This was a friend! A dear acquaintance. Surely he didn’t mean to be so… rude. —when you can be a god? |
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why be a king— Something radiated from the earthen wolf that I couldn’t quite say. Anger? Dread, maybe? A combination, perhaps. It startled me in a way I couldn’t quite put into words. I thought we were friends on some newer level, even if we didn’t agree. Even if his old man lectures fell on deaf ears. My one brow furrowed over a brilliant golden eye, the other too desecrated to express properly. Corpulent, heavily marred skull canted slightly in confusion and curiosity. What have I done? Is it because of politics and my current - albeit rocky - position? "What ails you, gentleman?" Baritones rumbled in pure inquiry. Anger did bubble beneath the surface but I kept it at bay. I still was being so generous in offering the man, still nameless to me, the benefit of the doubt. He preached so much yet offered not one ounce of reciprocative respect. It was too much and it coaxed a sneer, but I stifled it and kept the stoic, taut line. I’d continue to wait, but my patience was running thin. Like a lit fuse, steadily eating up the wire, creeping to the dynamite. My one eye scoured his figure again, but I refrained from speaking further. He would either divulge why he was upset, or unwilling to entertain me, or he would prattle on as he did previously. I had thought he’d want to hear more of how my mind has changed, how my position has shifted, how I realized the wrong and darkness on my current path. That, maybe, he had helped to correct my journey. But he was off. In some way, somehow, completely switched off toward me. His chances were few to begin with, and running out fast. One more chance. Just one more. —when you can be a god? |
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