<3 ; 3+
He lounged laconically, occasionally spearing a morsel of meat with one wicked claw and devouring it absently. The meat was neatly sliced into chunks, and rested on a dulled silver plate on one side of the giant stone throne in which the monarch lazed. It was a mild day, and boredom had fast overcome his intense and unpredictable mind, but the urge to leave the dark solitude of his chamber was far less than the desire to exercise. He had been awake for the entire night prior, and was enjoying the chance to nap frequently, and rebuild some energy reserves.
The King had been busy of late, riding about the territory, seeking men and women for various ends. The Russo girl, Liliya, was completing the construction of a dock and boat that would make feasible travel to the mushroom-infested island. Larkspur had returned from a secondary trip to Freetown, and trade with the Infernians had gone smoothly. Ezekiel had his horses, and Sirius had his leather pouch of jewels - The world continued to turn.
Salsola had not been blind to the unease in the South. Packs down there were stirring, bubbling trouble and discontent. Sources told him there had been a battle - Not quite a war, but conflict nonetheless. It would be important to continue monitoring such a thing unseen. Pink tongue licked the remnants of the raw meat from his fingers, before lifting them to rub at one dark temple wearily.
Near his feet slumbered Noble. The bird was many months old now, and had begun to grow into his splendid plumage. Although his tail was not quite as large as it would eventually get, the deep sapphires and brilliant emeralds were a beautiful sight regardless. Old enough to have been weaned from him, the peacock spent most of its time wandering the skeletal remains of the ruin like some beautiful specter. But with the coming of Winter, it had taken to returning often to Sirius' chamber, where slaves plied it with a warm nest of furs and food enough.
Dwelling deep within his thoughts, it took Sirius a moment to react to the soft sound of greeting from his doorway. Large coyote ears perked up expectantly, and the Thistle King raised his head from where it was cradled docilely in one palm. Acidic olive eyes, wicked and cunning enough to burn through flesh and set many veins to ice, looked for the figure he knew had come. "Enter, Bastion," Came the smooth caramel swell of the King's voice. At last, something to entertain him! For while the grey youth may have been rather offputting and bizarre at first, his habitual gifts pleased the monarch, who had grown to expect them regularly. Already, within his chest, was a small wealth of animal tails - A red fox plume, the short silky tuft from a doe, and more. Curiousity narrowed the man's pupils, which eagerly sought the outline of the small Arbiter.
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