[ P ] The Journey

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?

code // art by whiskey

While he had spent many a dull moment worried sick about the moment in time he might encounter any one of the number of wolves he wanted nothing to do with, the past few days had been better than most. He had thought very little of them, of Nicharion, of Nora, of Bastien… and of course of White Timber. If ever there was something about a wolf that worried him, he need not look no further…. save for perhaps Nicharion. But at least Nicharion seemed to have an agenda that he need not be apart of, not after he made it clear romance between them, if he might be so generous as to call it that for that hedonist, was not in the cards. But White Timber? Though they shared some of the same vices and ambitions… there was something utterly concerning about the prospect of encountering him again. So much so, that in order to avoid being carelessly caught, he had changed his routine up. Little did he know, alas, the only time he chose to go back to his normal routines, his normal paths, his normal life… would it be his mistake. Good sir, a voice rang out, like a spear piercing his mind. He had seen a wolf but a moment sooner crossing him some distance away… and yet he hadn’t stopped to think about what made that wolf’s appearance so familiar. But that voice, that arrogant, cocky voice, who spoke those patronizing words as they did, he knew who it was. It was a bit of an unceremonious way to cross paths. He had expected to be confronted by him in a tavern, in his home, somewhere not in the public eye like on the Redwood paths. He sounded so excited to see him, and that was something that seemed to be neither a good nor a bad thing. But Savard had no interest in seeing White Timber, or being a part of anything he was plotting. Wolves like him, they were always up to something, and if he had been looking for Savard, he wanted what everyone else wanted out of him. There was only one way to deal with this. He kept on walking, as if he had not heard a word spoken to him.

everything he touched fell apart

code // art

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?

code // art by whiskey

The second echo to ring out was enough to get the attention of Savard, as well as some of those in his vicinity. Pardon. The polite word was so only in its definition alone, for as it was hurled at him with impatient venom, Savard could begin to feel the fur on his back prick up. He did not like his chances to get away clean from the likes of this wolf. Not one who was an officer, no doubt. A million reasons had run through his head as to why this had to happen, here and now. It had been made so very plainly clear that Savard had no desire to see this reckless brute again, and here he was, pursuing him. He had his suspicions as to why they were once more crossing paths, both neutral ones, as well as ones that were far worse. Perhaps there were some things from their discussion he sought clarification on, or perhaps he sought, as others had, to make use of his skills for some reason. These seemed the more likely cases, as this meeting of theirs, however chanced it may have been, was in public. Starting a fight would not be the smart move. But then again… a wolf like him had boundaries that were quite flexible. There was no saying what would occur, but Savard knew that to continue to ignore him was no longer an option. He had to face it. Turning around, albeit slowly and reluctantly, Savard came face to face with the quickly approaching soldier, his scarred appearance now even more so, now that the wars had concluded. Carefully, he studied the greyed wolf’s complexion, a poorly mixed cocktail of emotions, thoughts, considerations, it seemed. A scowl seemed etched into his maw, angered that it taken so long to get Savard’s attention. Was it really so pressing, so urgent? If so… what might it have been? This wolf was unpredictable, that much was certain. He had checked in with his connections about him, and they had turned up a number of things about him. Stuff that was more or less common knowledge no doubt, but enough for Savard to decide that this was not the type of wolf to do business with. And yet, here they were, with no choice to be made in the matter. His guard was up, his eyes trained, to see what move White Timber was trying to make. After all, he was not about to be careless around a wolf like him.

everything he touched fell apart

code // art

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?

code // art by whiskey

What ails you, gentleman? Those were the only four words he chose to speak, once Savard had stopped his retreat and accepted his conversational fate at the paws of a wolf he would rather have not seen. He seemed far more scarred now, no doubt due to his enjoyment of senseless slaughter during the war. All that, and to still lose. Maybe there was far more sense among soldiers than it seemed these days… save for a few such as him. There was some sort of disappointing tone to the comment he spoke, as if he had expected this meeting of theirs to have been warm, that he somehow saw a friend in Savard. That, or he took him for a fool, that this meeting was something other than what some might call coincidence… and others might call stalking. What was it that he stood to gain from Savard’s presence, exactly? What depraved fantasy was he after? Carion had such machinations no doubt, but at least he was as easy to read as a bad saleswolf. White Timber though… he wasn’t sure what it was he was after, only that he intended to use. Either way… it annoyed Savard that there was even the slightest expectation of surprise that this meeting had happened, that the soldier had tracked him down. After all, one cannot impress a magician by showing him his very own tricks. And yet… maybe White Timber had done what he did, come all this way, for some reason. Was it Savard’s words he was after, his wisdom? Was he here to gloat how wrong Savard had been about him, or to praise him for being right? Whatever it was, he wanted not a single drop of it, because he knew the taste of poison from the scent alone. What ailed him was not the correct question to ask the ex-enforcer… but rather who. Either way… it was far too risky to do then and there what he wanted to do, and too cowardly to do what was the smartest thing to do. He had no choice but to hold his own. Returning an icy glare of contempt his way, Savard remained on guard to see what this wolf was really after, with this ‘chance’ meeting of theirs. But make no mistake, Savard was never one for bullshitting. And besides… with so many eyes on them, and knowing his propensity for violent solutions, he knew that if White Timber had come to make his move… it had to be a good one. “Nothing ails me,” Savard responded, hiding his grit teeth with a sneer, “I just do not take kindly to being followed without due reason.” Had he been followed? Likely, if not by him, by one of his subordinates. After all, the odds of this meeting were as short as could be. And given how his predecessor had found him… there was always the possibility that he knew now what the other soldier had about him. Imperial records were easily accessible. And yet… did White Timber possess that cunning, or was he far too brutish and reckless to be so calculated? No doubt, that either could be true. And yet, if he did know, why was it that he did not use his name to get his attention? Something deep down inside him seemed to tell him he he would have his answer quite shortly.

everything he touched fell apart

code // art