the stars are all afire

Ithiel de le Poer · 01-12-2012, 01:45 PM

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Ithiel is by me!

The dusky coyote watched his companion eat as he himself did so with more reservedness. Ithiel chose not to comment on her manner of eating -- it was of no consequence to him. He had planned to take his fill of this felled prey and move along -- if the remnants were torn to pieces and the bones ground to dust, it mattered not so much as a trifle to him. His pity for the coyote hybrid increased, though alongside it rose a stronger feeling of dislike for the wolf packs. Who were they that they might let a young woman starve and beg for her meals? Were he more charitable of heart, he might have attempted to insist she accompany him back to Inferni, no matter her feelings on the place.

Thankfully, Ithiel's dislike of wolves and desire to avoid trouble for his pack kept his good sense in order, and the man merely watched her eat, not wishing to move the knife and spark his apparent dining companion's suspicion. He had no ulterior motive; Ithiel was genuinely concerned of causing a fright by jabbing his big knife toward the kill (and therefore her, as well), as he presumed she was typical of the female sex, at least in his mind. Most were such flighty things, after all. When she seemed quite sated, she responded, speaking at length.

Ithiel, not wishing to be rude, listened to her with a cocked ear. He went back to work cutting his own dinner, tossing slivers toward Zedekiah. The big bird remained far outside either canine's reach, appearing more sour than usual. He gobbled his dinner all the same, however, and Ithiel ate several pieces meat while listening to his green-eyed companion's diatribe. Such lofty conversations were not Ithiel's favored mode of conversation, but he would entertain her all the same, in the only way he knew how.

No smile crossed his face at her talk of jesting and pranks; rather, a look of perplexity appeared on the dusky Praeses' countenance as he regarded his companion. The pause he gave following her answer was long, and the man appeared in deep thought. His gulping and cutting had ceased, and his crimson eyes narrowed in contemplation, brows knotting with the effort of it. The man's gaze drifted to his horse, and he considered her with contemplative eyes until it appeared he looked through her, as if the bonny mare was transparent. The dusky-hued coyote stroked his chin and finally moved to make an answer to her, having thought it out to the fullest.

Inferni does what it must, he responded. Inferni's leader is my very half-brother, yet I would not dare make a fool of him, so perhaps you speak truthfully. A soldier is obligated to follow his orders, and Inferni's ranks consist of soldiers. The man paused a moment, though the look of his face suggested he was not finished speaking. The death Inferni stinks of -- this death is that of our enemies, Ithiel added, his deep voice perfectly confident in his answer, though lacking in any proselytizing. He did not seek to sway the woman of her choice -- her path was her own to walk.

Tell me truthfully -- would you truly chose games and jests over strength and protection? the coyote asked at last, the tone of his voice indicating this was a truthful question rather than rhetoric. It was apparent the tawny half-breed had made her choice, of course, but even Ithiel could not help but ask the question, despite himself.

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