12-11-2016, 11:39 AM
Ruan
Shame. It was the secret he held close. He was weak, so easily tossed around like a toy. So quickly overpowered. What kind of leader was he if he couldn't even stand on his own? How could his family depend on him if he couldn't depend on himself. Reagan was all they ever needed. She always would be.
Even without her magic for a time, she'd stood tall. Strong. A true ruler. They bowed in her wake. She played the dancing phrases of diplomats, waltzing in and gracefully owning every match. She was made for this. It all went over his head. He'd never lead anything before, had never even thought on it. He was in over his head, in a world he didn't belong. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, supposed to say. How many times had he already fumbled things for them in his clumsy attempts at leadership? All he knew was his family, and his drive to love them and always keep them safe if he could.
But he was useless. Weak.
Even now he was fumbling, his step faltering and haphazard. No longer the grace of the wolf in his movement. A branch split beneath his weight. He flinched, and instantly a bolt of light shot towards him. His heart ached. She was upset. Why did that bother him? Why couldn't he just be cold and distant, safe from these pains? Why did she have to consume his every thought and rule his heart? Where. Have you been," her voice cut the air, sharp and chill.
He said nothing for a while, watching her back dimly. He was so small in her great shadow. Useless. A disappointment. Could she look in him, and see how pathetic he'd been? How swiftly he'd been overpowered. How weak he was. How much it hurt for them to be torn so aggressively from his flesh. All the times he'd curled them protectively around his daughters, kept them safe and warm, and now gone. There was no warmth now. Only a violent chill, a gaping lack in weight at his sides. The muscles still remained, useless and mocking.
He thought he blamed her at first. The beast had known her. He'd done it for her, to fulfill some unknown vendetta. Had it been her to be attacked, she'd have swept the demon from the earth in a blink. But it was her pathetic mate he'd sought, and all Ruan had done was fall to the ground and take it. His heart hardened painfully. A bitter taste crept up his throat.
When you go back to her, intact,
you tell her that I said hello, won't you?
There's a good boy.
The voice haunted him. He swallowed his pain. The beast had taken enough from him, he'd not get any more satisfaction from Ruan. The wolf would not do his bidding.
I am home now, he responded heavily, glad to hear his voice was strong and not as feeble as he felt.
He found he didn't want to ask her about it after all. He didn't want to know. He never wanted to think on it again. Let things just go back to normal. They could do that, couldn't they? Pretend it never happened. Cold eyes glanced at his wound, the pointless muscles beneath flexing experimentally. It seemed it was healed enough not to break open each time he did that now. Bitter resolve settled within him. It had happened. It was done. He'd mourned like a child, ran away to lick his wounds. Now here he was, a toy for a different magician. Whatever she wanted was hers, she never even had to use her magic with him. He gave it all willingly. Loyalty and love.
I won't leave again, he said low, ashamed of his time of weakness and wishing he could hide it from her. Ashamed of his reaction. Even now, he wished he could run, avoid the disappointment in her eyes. His throat closed painfully. Did she hate him now?
Even without her magic for a time, she'd stood tall. Strong. A true ruler. They bowed in her wake. She played the dancing phrases of diplomats, waltzing in and gracefully owning every match. She was made for this. It all went over his head. He'd never lead anything before, had never even thought on it. He was in over his head, in a world he didn't belong. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, supposed to say. How many times had he already fumbled things for them in his clumsy attempts at leadership? All he knew was his family, and his drive to love them and always keep them safe if he could.
But he was useless. Weak.
Even now he was fumbling, his step faltering and haphazard. No longer the grace of the wolf in his movement. A branch split beneath his weight. He flinched, and instantly a bolt of light shot towards him. His heart ached. She was upset. Why did that bother him? Why couldn't he just be cold and distant, safe from these pains? Why did she have to consume his every thought and rule his heart? Where. Have you been," her voice cut the air, sharp and chill.
He said nothing for a while, watching her back dimly. He was so small in her great shadow. Useless. A disappointment. Could she look in him, and see how pathetic he'd been? How swiftly he'd been overpowered. How weak he was. How much it hurt for them to be torn so aggressively from his flesh. All the times he'd curled them protectively around his daughters, kept them safe and warm, and now gone. There was no warmth now. Only a violent chill, a gaping lack in weight at his sides. The muscles still remained, useless and mocking.
He thought he blamed her at first. The beast had known her. He'd done it for her, to fulfill some unknown vendetta. Had it been her to be attacked, she'd have swept the demon from the earth in a blink. But it was her pathetic mate he'd sought, and all Ruan had done was fall to the ground and take it. His heart hardened painfully. A bitter taste crept up his throat.
you tell her that I said hello, won't you?
There's a good boy.
The voice haunted him. He swallowed his pain. The beast had taken enough from him, he'd not get any more satisfaction from Ruan. The wolf would not do his bidding.
I am home now, he responded heavily, glad to hear his voice was strong and not as feeble as he felt.
He found he didn't want to ask her about it after all. He didn't want to know. He never wanted to think on it again. Let things just go back to normal. They could do that, couldn't they? Pretend it never happened. Cold eyes glanced at his wound, the pointless muscles beneath flexing experimentally. It seemed it was healed enough not to break open each time he did that now. Bitter resolve settled within him. It had happened. It was done. He'd mourned like a child, ran away to lick his wounds. Now here he was, a toy for a different magician. Whatever she wanted was hers, she never even had to use her magic with him. He gave it all willingly. Loyalty and love.
I won't leave again, he said low, ashamed of his time of weakness and wishing he could hide it from her. Ashamed of his reaction. Even now, he wished he could run, avoid the disappointment in her eyes. His throat closed painfully. Did she hate him now?
