don't you ever tame your demons; luster

[fenris]

don't you ever tame your demons

fenris

(but always keep them on a leash)

Fenris had never seen much point in staying in Beqanna—even less so when the land had rumbled beneath his hooves and sucked the magic from his bones. For what? She had punished him for the sins of his fathers, and he wasn’t much for the symbolic nature of things. He had done nothing wrong, had done nothing but live a quiet existence on the outskirts of the land, and here he was—bearing the lashes. So he had done what he had assumed every self-respecting gentleman, of which he was not, would do: he left.

Once he had made it down the the mountain and felt the sand drip from his veins, he had sat there for a moment—dumbfounded—before he had metaphorically rolled up his sleeves, sighed, and turned his gaze toward the horizon. If Beqanna felt the need to place chains on him for wars he did not wage and blood he did not spill then he certainly wasn’t going to be kneeling at her feet and groveling for her forgiveness.

Of course, that did not explain why he found himself back here.

It was an unfortunate truth that he had simply not found much outside of Beqanna. There had been the occasional herd, the occasional home, and even the occasional distraction—but certainly nothing that manage to keep his interest. Nothing to anchor him to one spot. So he had rolled on, never staying long enough to put down roots and, eventually, finding himself back upon Beqanna’s shores. Unfortunately.

His mouth was grim as he walked into the forest, his veins dry with lack of magic and his mood darkening with every step. It was beyond him why he had though this was a good idea—why he would ever think this was a good idea—but it was also impossible to think of a reason to leave. There was nowhere else more interesting; he was damned if did, damned if he didn’t. There was no winning answer.

That was, until, he saw her. Blues and blacks and a constellations of white. It was enough to pique his interest, enough to halt his stride. He took a second, evaluating her, before he snorted and then angled his way toward her. There was nothing better to do. “There are things that go bump in the night,” he said, the hint of a smile outweighing the sharpness of his words. “Why would you venture out into them?” As the sky darkened above them, he took a step closer to her, perhaps too close although Fenris had never worried overmuch about things like propriety. “Why put yourself in danger’s path?”