I need you to be a monster
which is to say, I am trying not to love you
His mouth twists into a bit of a grimace at the mention of a war. He knows Beqanna has waged its own wars, kingdoms fighting for something (he wasn’t quite sure what – he’s never had a mind for politics, it all seems strange to him. Perhaps it was all just for greatness, the original purpose gone, or at the very least, laid at the wayside). The only war he knows is the war that Pollux had ridden him into. That had been an ugly thing. He had not known that blood had such a stench. Had not known how awful the cries of the dying could be.
“I don’t have much of a taste for wars,” he says, “but I will cheer you on from the sidelines.”
She gives him her name, then – Aela – and then asks a question. He wonders how honest an answer to give, and what is meant by greatness, anyway. Certainly he had found Pollock great, had found Bruise great, those terrible monsters to whom he had prostrated himself before. And those strange beings – gods? – he had so recently encountered, with their enchanted bridles and gigantic beasts. Was that greatness, then?
Perhaps he’s overthinking.
“I’ve known great and terrible men, whose powers were quite…overwhelming,” he says. He calls them men out of politeness. They are monsters, but they are the kind of monsters he loves. The kind he knows how to deal with.
“More recently, I met…some rather strange characters, with strange magic. Perhaps there was a goddess. I’m not entirely sure. I suppose they were great, objectively, but I didn’t much care for them,” he says. He doesn’t fail to note that all his examples are cases in which he was adjacent to greatness, and not great himself. Rapt is not great, and unlike Aela, does not expect an abundance of greatness in his future.
“What about you, Aela?”
which is to say, I am still dreaming of kissing your claws
@Aela