There was only one that Arthas had not given me control over, and it was not a name that I recognized. Sinner - the Champion - a position I should trust implicitly and yet have never met. There were many names I do not know though, faces that haunt my nightmares and prevent me from sleeping.
I've gotten little sleep since accepting my title, and it is beginning to show. There are dark shadows beneath my eyes and a hollowness to my already sharp-edged face. Those might be sign of fear (a reasonable reaction to living in a realm of monsters) yet there is no hesitation in my step as I move beneath the fiery canopy, no rolling whites of my blue-grey eyes. My tread is sure, and I walk the trails as one familiar with them, holding my golden wings to well-scarred sides. Little has changed in the autumnal woods since my departure, at least as far as the scenery.
My navy-edged ears flick curiously as I make my way through the woods, in search of the Champion that Arthas has named, but not averse to conversation with any other residents. This is not the life I had ever dreamed for myself, but it is the one that fate had given me. The subtle self-projection of calm is necessary, especially given my history in this kingdom, but it is not as strong as I'd thought it would need to be.
Perhaps I am healing after all.
 A simple life was no longer what Sinner had chosen for his path. He did not believe in things such as fate and the world giving you a purpose. Those were fickle ideologies that often came with nothing but weak and unexplainable answers. He might be thought of being narrow-minded, but Sinner had only known of such principles and values before. The principles of servant and values of the darkness that ruled the universe. He had only been created to serve, but little did he know it was possible to break away from it.
Until now.
He wears his newfound strength like a crown upon his head. Invisible it might be, but it is obvious by the way he moves beneath the canopy of the permanent autumn forest. He prowls forward—always within his hound form—with more pride than he did before and wearing a wolfish grin that likely could not be easily wiped off his face. It was the beginning of something new, and he cannot but wonder what sort of grand things will come in the near future.
In the corner of his gaze his red-gold eyes catch a glimpse of the winged mare. There was someone he should speak to—at least get to know. After all, there was always something to gain. What was her name again? It slips his mind, but he has never carried for titles, names and such other things before he had become the Champion.
The hellhound makes his way towards her. Sinner does not feel the need to call out to her in greeting. He makes it well known he is coming towards her by the thud of his paws on the forest floor. There was no hunting now, so why should he make himself a not so obvious?
“Hello,” he greets with the wolfish grin still curling from ear to ear across his jaws.
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@[Lepis]
Most likely always in his hellhound form
Though she has been toughened by a myriad of creatures whose names did not match their natures, Lepis is still appropriately wary upon meeting the unfamiliar sinner. For all her posturing, the cream and navy mare is well aware of her shortcomings. She knows she would be no match to this hulking beast that prowls toward her, at least not if it came to a physical fight. Best to prevent a fight then, or at least ensure it is not decided solely by brawn.
Though Arthas had described the hellhound to her, there is nothing quite like seeing him in person. He is like nothing Lepis has ever seen, though the closest are the rabid jackels that had lurked the hills during her yearling summer. Uncle Castile had dispatched them with relative ease once they'd been spotted, but she knew the real danger was when they stalked closer, unseen. Sinner is probably excels at such things, judging by the quiet footsteps of his massive body.
Compared to him, Lepis feels all the smaller. That doesn't show, not for a moment; she has squashed the thought with her steely control before it had even fully formed. The winged mare is every wary in Sylva, and she refuses to let her guard drop.
"Arthas told me he'd made a wolf our Champion." She says by way of introduction, tilting her head to better look him over with blue-grey eyes that are completely void of fear. "But you don't look like any wolf I've ever seen." She has seen very few, truly, but there are enough scars across her coat that having a few come from wolves is not too much of a stretch.
"I'm Lepis, by the way." While the Champion had been described to her, she is not entirely certain that Arthas had spoken of her to the residents of his new kingdom. She finds herself hoping that he had, which is unexpected, but she still looks for a flash of what might be recognition in Sinner's glowing eyes. They are hard to read, but Lepis has studied body language all her life. She can only hope that this hound shares at least something with the equines she knows so well.
Her way of greeting is rather amusing to the black furred beast. Sinner was often familiar the way others would react to his appearance. Although most of others would describe him as a wolf—it was the closest thing he was if any earthly creature was to be his family. Perhaps it is often why he has found kinship with the other canines.
“I am no wolf for sure,” he replies without going deeper into what he actually is. The hound felt no reason to dive into such things. He was a simply being and careful with what he shared. Sinner then carefully takes a moment to study the navy pointed perlino dun mare. There was no fear in the way she looked at him. It was rather odd, but he cannot help but wonder if she does not easily allow her true emotions to show. She was a stranger in Sylva despite her new living circumstances here.
Ah, so you are her, he thinks silently to himself as she introduces herself to him. The hound had heard of her once everything had settled down into Sylva with the change of leadership. However, he had not expected just how much change would be without his knowledge. “So, you are the queen then.” He laughs softly after his words.
“It was quite unexpected when I heard the news of another ruling besides Arthas,” he states boldly. The news had been rather raging for him to hear, something he didn’t take too well. “Are you Loessians always this secretive?” He asks with a tilt of his black head, red-glowing eyes narrowly slightly at her. |
@[Lepis]
Most likely always in his hellhound form
He is truthful without revealing a thing, and Lepis' dark ears flick forward curiously. As the hellhound studies her she does the same, her blue-grey eyes flicking across his novel shape. Certainly not a wolf, though that is the closest comparison she can find. Had she ever seen a bear, that might fit as well, but Beqanna is rather short on dangerous predators.
Well, predators of the non-equine variety at least.
Fear remains - suspiciously, at this point - absent from my voice when I respond to his amusement at finding I am the queen. "I am." The two words are as lacking in exposition as his own admission that he is no wolf, and we might have been destined for a standstill until the fire-eyed creature speaks again.
"Are you Sylvans always this suspicious? " I parry back, and a self-amused smile lurks at the edges of my navy mouth. It is far easier to be bold when one has fear in tightly-lidded box. I do not give enough of a pause after my initial question to come off as evasive, and as I stretch one long golden wing before tucking it back in again, I continue to speak.
"I have talents Arthas does not." I say, and the emotionless statement comes with the quick fade of my almost smile. I am sure he has interacted with the dappled stallion. Arthas is more than capable, but he does have a brash edge, one that it is my intention to temper, at least if we mean to keep Sylva alive as a kingdom and not simply a story that mothers tell their disobedient children.
"Do you have concerns about me specifically, or just that Arthas chose to make his wife queen without consulting with you first?" One brow raises at this, but the almost smile is back. I know better than to prod at a fire (and have the burn marks to prove that lesson) but I am curious what this creature knows about me. Once I have that, perhaps we will have enough to build the foundation of a relationship - Queen to Champion.
@[Sinner]
He does not hide is amusement at the response back to him. It would be quite strange for someone like Arthas to place someone on the throne next to him that was not capable of holding himself. Well, at least he liked to think of Arthas capable of somethings. He still knows little about what things the dappled stallion is capable of.
The hound’s narrowed gaze falls away, naturally falling back into the wolfish grin he recently seems to always have plastered to his muzzle. “I think it’s rather proper for some of us to be naturally suspicious of those that come wandering into our home to claim it themselves.” Sinner might not have been raised to have political knowledge and skills, but there are some things he can naturally come to a conclusion to. “Besides, I am only ensuring our agreements are continued to be met. For my comrades, as well as Sylva.” But mostly for myself, but he dares not muster his own selfish accords so loudly to others.
“That is such a harsh statement to make,” he laughs softly, “I’m not sure Arthas would like hearing that. I am sure he has some talents somewhere. Why he was the Champion of Loess before and now he is the king.” Although it entirely could be something else. He thinks over the thought for a moment. “Unless he is simply the puppet. But then who is the puppeteer? Hmm. I wonder.”
Her smile is rather pleasant, not in an attractive way that he would fall for, but something is there that meets more than the eye. Sinner can feel it, and sees it in the little ways she reveals herself slowly to him. “I know nothing of you personally except a few rumors and here. Perhaps they are true, or perhaps they are simply just gossip.” He rolls his shoulder at the matter. “I’ve had little interest in the way of politics before Loess decided to show up at the door of my home. You can say I’m more active than I ever was before after calling Sylva my home for so long.” At least until there had been something interesting to do, and even gain in it all for himself.
“But perhaps you can tell me more about yourself?” If this so-called Lepis was going to be sticking around, Sinner might as well find out who she is. The possibilities of establishing some sort of relation as friends was out of the question. The hound did not make friends, and if he were to have friends it would be only for them to be used as tools in order to get what he wanted. |
@[Lepis]
Most likely always in his hellhound form
The fire-eyed creature claims that his suspicion is borne from concern for Sylva and the residents of his kingdom, but I have known these woods long enough to doubt the word of any that call it home. Still, there is only so far that my sovereignty reaches, and I am unwilling to press too far this early in the game. Sinner seems to have taken what I had intended as a claim to alternate talents as a declaration of Arthas' lack of them, but I do not correct him. I had told the dappled king that I would assure Sylva's reputation among our allies - it is not my responsibility to manage his reputation as well.
The comment about puppeteers elicits a faint smile on my dark mouth. It's something I have wondered as well, though most of my time is spent puzzling over to whom I owe my true allegiance - who am I puppet to. To Arthas, my husband and king? Or to Wolfbane, the king we had both served until a few months past? Neither feels entirely wrong, but nor does either feel truly correct. I've given thought to being my own master, especially of late, but the time does not seem right. Perhaps tomorrow, or next month. Perhaps never.
"Loess and Sylva have been at each other's doors for the better part of four years. The borders have been open as part of our alliance since Arthas helped create it." I reply, and it seems from the quirk of my navy mouth that I might be amused about this, or perhaps the fact that he doesn't know. "Though I suppose if you've been hiding out in the woods for a while, that does explain you not knowing that. And the fact that I don't remember seeing you at all in the year I lived in Sylva."
He might have held a rank in the forest then, but it was not one that required frequent socialization. I had seen most of the residents, after all; such was the life of a captive of rank.
Tell me more about yourself, he says, and I seem to search again for something in the creature's eyes. Whatever it is, I give no indication of whether I've found it or not, and I simply shrug my shoulders and reply.
"I've been Cleric of Loess for two years. Prior that I lived as a captive in Sylva for a year, and before that I ruled Loess, which was given to me at birth by my father." Straightforward and parsimonious, I doubt that is entirely the answer that Sinner wants. "My favorite food is mangoes, and I hate the cold." That's probably not what he wanted either, but there is telling twitch in my mouth that says I am amused, at the very least.
"And you, Sinner?"
At one time he had only shown his allegiance to the darkness, the creators that had made him from the elements of hell. His makers had installed the necessary values of servitude, but little did they know he would step out of their shadow. Little did they know he would become something more than they had every anticipated him to be.
Sinner was no longer the slave to darkness. He became his very own master, and his loyalty would only be to himself. His motives would only be to achieve whatever he wanted. No matter the price it would require.
“There is a world much more outside of serving a kingdom,” he says in reply to why she might not have seen him. “I’ve had little interest in serving simple things and fulfilling tasks when I arrived and made Sylva my home. Perhaps you could say I held a rank within Sylva when our previous clown king and demon queen ruled,” he pauses for a moment, considering how quickly they both had faded away, “But simple positions do not mean nothing.” Just as kingdoms might mean nothing either. Are they not simply a pawn on the chess board in the game of life? He has yet to truly know.
He then falls into a comfortable sitting position, but still facing towards the navy-pointed mare. “Ah, but that was sometime ago. Surely, my presence before you both arrived and took your positions would meaning something now.” He did not need to prove himself to gain anything. Simply, he had gotten what he wanted with the use of words and just showing up. What sort of other things could he easily gain with putting a little more effort in? There are many possibilities.
The hound listens carefully to her answers in regards to his recent question. “Ah, so you are a loyal kingdom-dweller. Is that all you know?” He cannot help but ask. A kingdom life sounded so boring when there was more outside of the walls, and bound the kingdom life. There was much more than the game of politics and plotting to gain power. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a mango,” he laughs softly at her random additions to who she is.
“Well, I was born in Pangea long ago before the kingdom had fallen. My childhood and growing up was rather boring. Perhaps my entire life may appear to be boring compared to yours.” Sinner had found it thrilling though. “But when you are a hunter and the love for blood and killing flows through you, it’s a rather exciting life.” A smirk grows across his lips at the thought of it. “I suppose my favorite food is blood, and I don’t like to keep still for too long.” Not when he was the hunter—the hunger always called him out into the forest, to taste the flesh and blood on his very lips. |
@[Lepis]
Most likely always in his hellhound form
There is world outside of serving a kingdom, he says, and I cannot help but smile. I’ve heard such claims, but always from those with worldviews far different than my own. Tasks, routines, and discipline have always been a central part of my life, and the concept of throwing them aside for other things is nearly incomprehendable. Still, I know that not all others are like me, that there are those who scorn rank and tradition and loyalty.
Sinner continues to speak, and is far more forthcoming than I might have expected from a creature of his ilk. Still, most of what he says is defensive. Not aggressive, but pointed enough for me to take his meaning that he is well aware of his own value, and firmly set in his ways. So be it. I knew coming to Sylva there would be monsters. My intent had been to cast them out, but Arthas had given me one that I could not.
I cannot help but wonder, as the fire-eyed creature tells me that his favorite food is blood, if Arthas had truly known the animal he has appointed Champion. I had asked little of the takeover, assuming that it had been done easily, as no Loessian I had seen bore fresh wounds. I don’t make an effort to hide the distaste that flickers across my face at his mention of his love for killing, but it is easy enough to overwhelm before it disappears. Arthas might have given him the impression that his kind were welcome in Sylva, but Arthas is not the one making promises, and will not be the one to suffer if they are broken.
A path appears before me suddenly, one I had not considered.
"And have you had your favorite food recently?" I ask, resettling my wings but remaining visibly alert. "You haven’t eaten any Ischian children lately, have you? Or perhaps a green mare?"
Loyalty had been branded in him from the very beginning of time. However, in this world, he had learned differently. Loyalty was a fickle thing much as these creatures within the world he was born in are. There was only one thing he could entirely rely on, and that was himself.
Sinner is not easily swayed by others. Words are words. There is truly no meaning in them in his mind. However, it is actions that speak louder. Then again, everyone seems to change their mind. He has been one to change his mind, but often he is set in what he wants. If he wants something he will get it, no matter the price.
Perhaps this is why relying on himself has made it so much easier.
The hound does not miss the way she shows her disgust for what he enjoys doing. Their life-styles are obviously different, but she was not born to be a predator. Perhaps she was only meant to be a prey. However, he considers she may be a predator in other ways. The life-style of being a kingdom-dweller offers many different opportunities. Perhaps there was more than the type of predator he is.
He does not hide his amusement from her reaction. A small wolfish grin curls up, revealing his teeth slightly. However, her question next is rather intriguing and it falls away as he listens carefully. “Children, really?” He laughs softly, perhaps bewilder by the idea of hunting such a small prey. “I have never been desperate to eat a child. There is utterly no fun in chasing a child that.” He pauses for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “But a mare? Well, that’s quite a different story.”
Sinner falls silent again. This time he does not show a sign of emotion on his face. It seemed Lepis was considering something, but he isn’t certain yet. It was best to not let her question be answered just yet. |
@[Lepis]
Most likely always in his hellhound form
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