boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
Starsin’s sultry scent comes to Litotes faster than her physical form. The quick breeze ruffles his lion’s mane as he turns his head to the direction it came - eyes falling into cold, detached slits. The wind tells the Primarch that a mare is wandering closer than most of the residents of Loess, but still he pays no more mind than the previous glance. If she approaches, then she approaches; the captive has not a care in the world.
As the minutes pass, he dreams of his Kensa: her soft golden fur just beneath his lips, the melody of her laugh, the fire in her eyes when she whispers about how beautiful their home is. Just a passing glimpse of their youthful conversations from years ago presses a longing into his chest like nothing he has felt before. Who he was before leadership, pain, sickness - oh, how the time has twisted his mind.
Just like his father.
A snarl curls his lips back, but before a noise can be uttered, the gray mare stops a short distance from his place atop the rock. Surprise passes over his face, warmth that appears misplaced amongst the negativity he typically feels. The thought that he likes the sugary sound of her voice passes through his mind, quickly followed by interest at her wicked smile. If their meeting had come sooner, her well-hidden snideness might have sent hot anger up his throat; instead, he merely cocks his head and twitches his ears.
Yes, the couple of weeks in Loess have furthered his dark attitude, and he takes quite a liking to her poorly illuminated manipulation. A smile just as coy curls dangerously up his lips, revealing the cruel points of deft canines.
“Is your worth based in psychopathy or just poor self esteem?” he asks, smile fading into a suggestive line. Litotes is almost certain the girl has an inflated sense of self, but finds it amusing to play her game.
Before offering her anything else, he stands suddenly - drifting lazily into a signature cat-stretch (legs outstretched, butt in the air, tail pointed to the sky in a pleasurable quiver). The ground is soft beneath his paws when he leaps to the ground, offering her a faux open gaze as he pads closer.
“Maybe you’re not worth anything at all, Starsin,” he purrs, wrapping his tail over his paws when he settles into a relaxed sit, just a few feet from her. “But something tells me that you are. Humor me, does your snake-king take orders from you or is it the other way around? Perhaps you can advise me just as you’ve been doing with Vulgaris.” The growl in the back of his throat is charmed, a hoarse feline laugh.
The Primarch is no idiot. Beqanna talks, and when a new king does something as rash as to declare war the day his rule begins, people will listen. Litotes did just that: analyzed the rumors as they came. There is something terribly suspicious about a two year old advisor that has been unknown until now. Certainly there is manipulation involved. He knows nothing other than his assumptions, but perhaps time and a little conversation will tell. The lion shrugs: “I’m sure the East can offer you far more than a new king.”
and if i fall would you know that to do?
and if i'm caught up would you stay?
@[Starsin]
