10-08-2018, 11:10 AM
Vulgaris
Vulgaris has never been to Nerine but he follows Wolfbane all the same, without hesitation at their borders. His eyes drift across the kingdom as he comes to stand near the Loessian lord, admiring the cliffs and the smell of salt on the breeze. Sometimes he wishes he could breathe underwater so that he could explore what horrible things thrive beneath the ocean’s waves. He can only imagine the sorts of monsters that lurk there and the sorts of violence they could conjure together. A dreamy sigh escapes him before he turns to look at Wolfbane.
“Do you think they’ll want to renew their contract with us?” he asks with a slight tilt of his head and something dangerous gleaming in his eyes. Vulgaris and his king share a penchant for battle and so he’s sure they both have the same question on their lips. Peace is ideal for the sake of the children of Loess, of course, but comfort breeds weakness. Time without pain is time spent growing soft.
He turns his head back to Nerine as he wonders what sort of leader the kingdom has. The majority seem to be more like himself – rough around the edges, quick to bite back when they’re displeased. He can respect that sort of leader. The scars across his face and shoulders are quiet praise of the queen of Hyaline and her pet, a testimony to their meeting. The scales that grow across there are warped by the torn tissue but they shimmer in the sun all the same. How strange to be so mangled and ugly yet beautiful in their oil slick sheen at once.
His tongue boredly pins itself between two sharp teeth as he tests the points of them. If he only knew that Dovev hid here, he would leave his friend to hunt him. The day would not end without blood and gore despite their good intentions for this meeting.
“Do you think they’ll want to renew their contract with us?” he asks with a slight tilt of his head and something dangerous gleaming in his eyes. Vulgaris and his king share a penchant for battle and so he’s sure they both have the same question on their lips. Peace is ideal for the sake of the children of Loess, of course, but comfort breeds weakness. Time without pain is time spent growing soft.
He turns his head back to Nerine as he wonders what sort of leader the kingdom has. The majority seem to be more like himself – rough around the edges, quick to bite back when they’re displeased. He can respect that sort of leader. The scars across his face and shoulders are quiet praise of the queen of Hyaline and her pet, a testimony to their meeting. The scales that grow across there are warped by the torn tissue but they shimmer in the sun all the same. How strange to be so mangled and ugly yet beautiful in their oil slick sheen at once.
His tongue boredly pins itself between two sharp teeth as he tests the points of them. If he only knew that Dovev hid here, he would leave his friend to hunt him. The day would not end without blood and gore despite their good intentions for this meeting.
" ancient language, speak through fingers. the awful edges where you end and i begin. "