La mère de mes enfants

Sirius Revlis · 05-23-2012, 01:46 PM

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Backdated May 19th » 3+

Evening was falling, and with the swelling darkness calm a strange air of peace.

It was the first night in over a moon that Sirius Revlis did not stir from his chamber and pace the borders like a madman, wary of strangers that lurked in the dark and sought to steal what was his away from him. The intruders, would-be conquerors, were dead and gone, and their blood that had stained his body head to toe was finally cleaned from mottled earthen pelt. The Boreas leader was dead, by the hand of himself, and by the hand of the Infernian Aquila. The pair had made an unearthly team, and the remaining missionaries had held no chance against their terrible wrath.

The warring was done; Finally, the time for luxury and rest had arrived. He had been absent from his chambers so much in the past month that to remain in them felt strange, at first, but his weariness won out, and the King slept for almost the entirety of the sunlit hours. He rose just before dusk, and the air was pleasantly mild, soft and silent and still.

Within him, a terrible grief had abated. He had taken vengeance for Larkspur's life, and although the strange bitterness remained, it was less strong now, and more easily ignored. He removed the soiled bandages on his arms, those which had hid the series of wounds underneath, and sent the slave-girl to wash them, as she had done many times since the beginning of their use. In her absence, he re-bandaged both arms with fresh white linen, the valuable material soft against the itching cuts. From wrist to elbow on both arms he was bandaged, the clean white contrasting with the dark ocher brown, but it looked worse than it was. The wounds would heal - Scar, but heal. Salsola would mend itself, and be stronger for what it had endured.

After that, he relaxed in his throne, still too sore from battle to wander about the Ruins, as he might have otherwise done. A strange absence was noted, and from this bloomed forth a thought he had suppressed, one he had not come to embrace till now. Clover. She had been safe, he knew - kept safe behind his borders of thistle, safe in the heart of the territory where the mercenaries could not get her. But he had not seen her since... Heated images flashed through the man's head, clearing it of it's tiredness, filling his expression with sudden hunger. More than just lust - It was the desire for her presence, for her soft femininity. Like a crusader returning, he had missed the subtle touches that only a woman could provide; Her gentle scent, her cool touch. His hair had not been brushed in weeks. How could he have overlooked her absence so?

The man rose slowly, stretching out his weary muscles before moving to the doorway of his chamber. Then, tilting his may skyward, he called for her - A low, melodic call, gentle and filled with poisonous longing.

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