Post by Akante on Feb 1, 2012 1:08:32 GMT -5
Blade said:
Trample through the past
The future has absolutely no grasp
Be careful what you wish for prince
Things are not always so golden.
Ironic, was it not? Within the inexorable temperate his title was irrefutable. Defy the word of the Crown Prince and risk the diabolical wrath of the monarchy itself. Within his jurisdiction Blade's authority was ironclad. Beyond the rotting flesh of the empire his hierarchical title crumbled into the filth. Blade's mind stumbled over one simple truth; out here he was nothing. The sheer insignificance of his extinction within these unclaimed lands was dreadful to say the least. Perhaps, a more becoming beast would humble himself to the domestication and balanced nature of those who thrived in such an uncultured place. Yet the Black Prince could hardly wrap his monarchy soaked mind around the idea of equalizing himself with such scum, let alone actually do it. Lightened eyes tilted to the side reveling in the company he held. Any Alteronian, peasant or serf, would have sufficed as a decent travel partner compared to the ungodly shape of the creatures who probably dwell in such an aged place.
She had better be worth such effort.
Then again, even if she wasn't, the sheer audacity of those filthy mongrel blackbloods would have been enough to launch Blade from the comfort of his home. He would have marched to the end of the Earth and back if it meant ripping the throat from that arrogant red bitch and her fat insolent sister.
Such thoughts were quickly tossed from his mind with a rather sudden shake of his muzzle. Another matter was in order and rapidly approaching a deadline. What was the be done once they reached the Oasis? How would they retrieve the Marquis? How would they seek their vengeance if they find a carcass instead of a breathing body? Was it upon his shoulders to answer the many questions circulating? Yes. Yes, it was. How was he going to successfully bring back not only Brushfire but the Knights as well. Any loss and the mission could hardly be titled a success. Unless of course, the red bitch was dragged back to Alteron and tossed into the temperate for the empire to deliciously view.
Even a Prince was allowed the luxury of dreaming, was he not?
"Your titles should rarely require you to venture outside of the empire. Your presence is appreciated." His tone was nothing out of the ordinary although it did lack his usual conceited bite. Genuine Blade. Interesting. His statement was as close to a 'thank you' as he would dare speak. Especially in the company of those so regal within the eyes of the black and white brute. While she would undoubtedly see them as expendable, as Knights, they held the only words loud enough to possibly penetrate her thick unwavering skull. Aside from his own, of course. The last bit of drama he needed were the whispers of a softening Prince.
Idiots.
"In order to succeed we must retrieve the Marquis alive or drag back as many putrid blackbloods as out backs allow. The Queen will accept nothing less. I will accept nothing less." His voice was lower this time. His words meant only for his company; not the many spies he was convinced were listening. Nothing in life is never easy. Likewise, nothing is ever free. He expected a fight in his near future. Blood, guts, wounds, and squeals. He was content with that but were they?
"While it is a Knights duty to protect the royals; I'll owe both of you if you choose to stand by my side through whatever awaits us in the mongrels desert." In other words; don't be a coward, fight with me, and you'll be rewarded with my loyalty if not a favor in return. Blade's movements were just as slick as they would have been in his temperate. His agile gait strode through the unfamiliar forest without a single hesitation. His ears were pinned forward in a blatant statement that screamed alert. Trust no one, be ready for anything, after all there is always an assassin waiting for your mistake.
Hush now. There will be plenty of time for agony in the future.
Hush my little blackblood
your life is slipping out
Hush my little blackblood
this is what it's all about.
ooc - [Ridge and Kia should post first, in no particular order, then Ru can come in whenever you feel up to it Akante.]
Kiakime said:
Shangri-La did not end at the toes and tingertips of that fetid jungle; Blade wrestled with the concept of being reduced to commoners out here, but the Sun Raider -- er, Sun Knight? was attentive bordering on serene. She saw the bottom-feeding wilderness-dwellers the same as she did when they trespassed in Alteron; they were heads and shoulders above the wasted bodies outside the jungle, whether those bodies knew it or not. The only difference was that this was not their domain, and Kiakime had no border laws to enforce.
It was an unpleasant but necessary travel. So much...yawing space. It was like the shivering cold that came with leaving a warm, cozy bed for work. She missed the jungle's embrace. This was so -- so empty. The timber paid perfunctory attention to their surroundings, but showed only a reluctant interest at best, and seemed far more at ease focusing on her traveling companions. She flanked the tricolor prince, lithe body easily keeping the pace and deferring the setting of it to him.
"Your titles should rarely require you to venture outside of the empire. Your presence is appreciated."
A fraction of a dip of the muzzle, in time with her stride, acknowledging the compliment (though she hadn't really felt burdened in the first place -- work was work).
"If the monarchy ventures outside, so should the Knights," she responded honestly. That was how it should work, after all? This was the crown prince, and such came with the job description.
That being said, that old softening of the eyes and eager lift of the chin that had once greeted Blade (once shadow to sun) had gone, and left not a trace of itself. It had begun to ebb as she'd grown into herself, but the remnants had been scrubbed out the second he'd threatened her son. Maybe it had been best named 'love'. Or devotion. Something along those warm lines. The light had gone. He was still the crown prince to the she-wolf--
but nothing more.
"In order to succeed we must retrieve the Marquis alive or drag back as many putrid blackbloods as out backs allow. The Queen will accept nothing less. I will accept nothing less."
So she listened expectantly and wondered how he planned to accomplish this -- but did not question that it would be done. The Knight was unafraid and unwary, which might in some ways also be unwise. Was this before the Assassins and Spies flew from the keep to maraud the borders of the desert land? Ah well, who knows. Liquid time's a bitch.
"While it is a Knights duty to protect the royals; I'll owe both of you if you choose to stand by my side through whatever awaits us in the mongrels desert."
"Only a traitor would abandon royalty and flee."
Her assurances, given quietly but fiercely. Honor before reason. If nothing else, Kiakime was no traitor and never would be.
Ridge said:
Ridge was humbled by the conditions that bore into this land, and sought not authority, but exemption beneath its drifting clouds. They carried the earth from their paws with each careful step, unveiling fresh tracks and debris to be scattered in the trails behind them. Perhaps if they’d chosen to acknowledge the paranoid thread of thought plaguing their crown prince, their feet would’ve fallen more carefully against the soil. Apparently precaution played second banana to the regality of the monarch, however, and veered far from the composure stiffening the shoulders of Alteron’s black prince.
This trek into the wood and beyond would fare quietly, undisturbed. It was a price to pay, accompanying Blade as a knight and guard, and left nothing of a triviality to be questioned in the black of their shadows. Ridge filled the void of space at his monarch’s side, with his nose facing the dirt and his ears swiveling to listen for foreign objects and projectiles that would sooner land them in hot water than they could reach their destination. This was what the job was about, wasn’t it? His eyes hardly drifted to Kiakime’s claims, but he agreed, nonetheless.
Honor and duty—succession—were all part and parcel to the principles played by an act of breathing, listening, and watching for a time… If Ridge were chosen to explain semantics on this trip, then maybe the calm of his voice could pierce the forest with delusions of grandeur, will them to nest into the prince’s mind as they walked. Rather, no such silence was compromised this way; Ridge only breathed—the steady and hollow breath of patience as the world seemed to spin around them.
Being knighted was the honor. Protecting the crown and attaining succession was the fill they needed to empower the title with rank. It worked well in that dwell of a jungle some miles back, but out here?...
…Out here they were gorilla fodder. ”It would be easier not to die,” sounding as only contribution he smirked into that pocket beside Blade—offering the air a lighter tease as they trailed on out.