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Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:37:30 GMT
Her sin stared back at her with bright crimson eyes.
She had never meant to be unfaithful, but her feelings had run away with her. It had been only once with him, the dragon whose life choices could relate to her's. Almedha had no desire to turn him into a consort. Yet in staring at the red twist upon the child's brow, the mirror image of that which she saw throughout her childhood on her younger brother's head, she knew she had done far worse than that.
I made him the first male concubine!
A gurgling coo brought her attention back to the child she rested against her breast. A young boy. A hatchling. She had manage to hide the truth from her midwives but Ashnard would know better. He may be mad but he never was stupid.
Will he care? Probably not.. He will just be delighted I gave birth to a child he can use instead of a Branded..
It hadn't been long into the pregnancy had the king's true colors had shown. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Almedha was aware he had always been like that, but her denial had kept her blind. That was until it was not just her life alone at stake.
Whatever have I done? The second he discovers this I will surely lose my child to being forced to be his slave.. Unless..
Despite that there was nothing that she could do to change things. But there was someone who probably could. The person who would surely be the first to come see the child, even before Ashnard. And this hated man would be the one to decide upon the baby's use.
It hadn't been long before the small blue-haired man appeared to inspect the young prince. Almedha had no choice but to help him, that is if her plan was to work.
Izuka examined the marking with relative interest and she had to struggled to slap away the man's corrupted figures as they traced the lines. Then, when there was no longer any excuse to inspect further, the madman regretfully released his grip from the newborn.
"What a bad girl you are. I wonder how Ashnard would react if he found out his trophy was sleeping around,"
"What makes you think he would care?" Almedha's answer was cold and icy as she tucked her child back into his blankets.
"Ah true. But I can't help but wonder, why haven't you run away? You have to know what is going to be done with that powerful child of yours,"
"I am well aware. That is why I am asking for your help. Please make it so that no one can expect what this child is,"
Looking upon the dragon swallowing her pride, his eyebrow rose in intrigue. Meanwhile Almedha kept her own gaze locked onto his feet, unwilling to meet his eyes.
"And why should I?" Izuka finally asked slowly but in a curious fashion, the gears working in his skull as he thought through her request. Relief washed through her as she realized she had gotten him. Now she just had to finish it.
"I hear your feral drug is still neglecting to work,"
"Ah yes..." His expression sunk as the old man was reminded once again of his failures, "What about it?"
"If you find a way to hide my son's powers, I will allow you to harvest my own and use them to complete the drug," Almedha uttered quickly before she could change her mind. True, she was giving a madman what he needed to reek havoc, but at the same time she couldn't find it in herself to really care. All that mattered to her right now was her baby.
"OH! That would definitely help my research greatly! And if I was to find a way to hide a dragon prince I would be all the greater scientist! Alright, I will do it! Just remember your part of the bargain," Izuka practically danced at the news, that is if the hunched old man still possessed the energy to do so. Then without much else he made his way to the door. Yet, just as he was about to leave, be paused and turned back. "I almost forgot. What is his name?"
"..."
"You have decided on one right?"
"Yes... Severinus..."
"What a strange taste in names you have. Soren then? That IS a pet name for Severinus after all," Without waiting for an answer the chuckling scientist left to begin his work.
Five days later, with Izuka keeping Ashnard away, at last the summoner finished the potion. With one hard-to-get sip from Severinus, the child's intricate marking turned to a simpler mark of a Branded. Though Almedha knew that would only bring the child more trouble she was too elated to question it. Upon the changed she both received a means to change the child back if need be and lost her powers. A mess of other events lead to her losing the child and she found herself questioning her decision.
Little did she know that the child was still alive and that her choice brought upon him nothing but hardship...
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Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:38:12 GMT
Soren lowered his head against the writing desk, something of a sigh blooming from his lips. It had all ended, the war with Ashera. With it peace had spread across the continent. Yet the mercenaries were still as busy as ever. Constant, almost petty, missions continued to be thrown at them. Everyone wanted to be saved by Ike. And the commander himself, having been dubbed the Radiant Hero, was busy looking into a trip to escape. Which was where Soren came in.
Three nights of zero sleep had left him exhausted as he constantly battled off Ike's stalkers that found a way to keep sneaking into the camp. The rest of the mercenaries were grateful for his presence. It was true that the tactician was only pleasant on those few rare occasions he felt like being, but sometimes his cold glare was helpful.
Midnight green locks danced as his skull lifted as he fixed the paper with a hateful glare. Why was it so hard to find an easy to man ship? All his research had came up with nothing but a few vessels, all being in places he didn't dare trek.
A sudden ruckus outside broke Soren out of his mental rantings. It was the kind of thing that could only be paired with the arrival of another unwanted stalker. Another annoyance and distraction in his already overworked life. Allowing one final weary sigh free into the air, he pushed back his chair and struggled to glare without looking bored. At last satisfied he abandoned his half finished work.
This is going to be a long day...
x.X.x
Pale robes danced around him as the slight tactician's speedy steps brought him into the clearing. Around Soren various mercenaries stood by tents and trees, all eyes focused intently upon a woman whom Ike seemed to be in a conversation with. A woman whose very presence meant something was going on. For it wasn't any old fangirl in the camp but the very princess of Goldoa, Almedha.
"Soren! Come over for a minute!" Ike called as he noticed the presence of the archsage's ruby eyes on him. Unwilling to disobey a direct order, said person walked over soundlessly.
"What do you need?" the emotionless voice pierced the air, low tones that were little more than a quiet rumble. All the while his gaze was fixed impassively on Ike's face.
"I don't need you so much as Almedha does," At the mention of the strange Laguz, Soren turned his attention to her.
"Is that so?"
Almedha was beautiful and Soren wasn't so much of a fool to notice their uncanny resemblance. But neither was he stupid enough to comment on it. Though she more than likely would. It was obvious that whatever her reason for wanting Soren, she was nervous about it.
"Yes, though I would prefer to talk to you somewhere more private... and alone... if that would be okay,"
Soren simply responded with a nod.
x.X.x
Almedha talked seeming forever, her hands never leaving the bottle that she found herself toying with. Part of the length came from the nervous tension that radiated from the child's ruby eyes.
They might be lighter than mine but they are far more intense...
Soren listened to her story with no much as a single word on his part until she had finally drew to a close. And her heart dropped as she noticed the cool impassive state of his expression. There was no change there save for the slightest touch of skepticism.
"You expect me to believe I am your son... You haven't necessarily been right about it in the past, so why should I trust you now? To make matters worse your story is little more than glorified impossibilities. And even if you are right, why come now? Need someone else to play house with now that Pelleas is gone? If you will excuse me I actually have work to do. Shouldn't you be getting back to the palace or finding a life of your own?"
"I understand if you don't wish to believe me-" Almedha began but was immediately interrupted by Soren's sudden outburst.
"You're right! I don't want to believe you! I was better off not knowing who my parents were! Now you are coming in here trying to tell me I am the bastard of a princess whore who was mistress to the man that tried to pull the whole word into war! You are even trying to tell me that his mount is my own uncle! Foolish! I don't want to hear it! If you are right then all this is simply the result of your own selfish attitude! Me, Half-Breed scum that doesn't deserve to exist being the heir to two kingdoms, one by birth and the other by lies! Hahaha! You really are stupid!" Despite the words that came out and the way his form was crumpled with laughter, Soren eyes were on the verge of spilling warm salty tears.
"I-" Maternal instincts took over as Almedha automatically reached out a hand to comfort the sad child. But the second her hand fell upon his warm shoulder, he was flinching away. The worn seams gave away from the sudden tug, and soon the cloth fell away to expose smooth pale skin where puckered silvery scars seemed to form winding patterns over his flesh. There were so many, old and new spiderwebbing across the canvas of his back.
A small gasp formed in the back of her throat and she found herself fingering the bottle.
So much sorrow this child has gone through... but maybe I can still make it right... I can rid him of the fake curse he bears and take him home to Kurthnaga... Surely brother and the other dragons would treat him like family despite everything that has gone on... But would he even agree to drink it? Would he trust me enough not to believe it is poison? I wonder...
Almedha's hand reached out slowly toward the hunched form once more, this time bearing the bottle. But this time Soren reacted before she could even connect with his body.
"Don't touch me!" He hissed as her twisted to face her, his small pale hand coming with his body. The impact of the blow left her in shock. It threw the bottle from her hands and forced her to her butt. Even then he was pulling back his shaking arm, thin as a tree branch and about as delicate. But the hand was another story. Cradled by the other, she could see knuckles were are starting to bruise and even from here she could smell the internal bleeding caused by the splinter of bone. He might have had a rush of strength but surely his body would pay for it.
"Here. Let me help you!"
"NO! I-I mean... Haven't you done enough? P-please... just leave..." The words came out broken, his face hidden by a sheet of hair but the teardrops were obvious as they fell. Upon staring at the child, her child, she knew then that no matter how much it pained her, she had to leave him behind. Bowing and stating a curt goodbye that was unreturned, she left. But in all the excitement Almedha forgot something important... The bottle.
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Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:39:10 GMT
Soren wasn't sure how long he laid there or at what point he lost consciousness. All he knew was that when he came to he was faintly aware of someone bumping around. His eyelids felt heavy as he opened them to take in the darkness around him.
As the crimson orbs adjusted to the darkness, he could clearly see the figure of Ike, who was blinding bumbling about, his hands groping at the bottles that he kept on his desk.
"...I-Ike…" Soren finally spoke, his tongue lolling thickly with exhaustion in pain. Still held against him was his dominant hand, the one he had sacrificed to rid himself of Almedha. Even in the dark he could see that it was greatly swollen, his nightsight being greater than that of a normal human, even if it was nothing compared to a laguz.
"Soren! I got worried when Almedha ran off and you didn't come out. I gave you your time, but when dinner passed and you still weren't coming out… I came to see if you were okay but I can't seem to find any blasted vulinerary to hold you over so I can get you to Rhys," The muscular commander continued to ramble, his very being reeking with agitation.
"I'm fine…" Was the lame response as Soren went to stand. A shock of unbelievable pain raced through him as he adjusted the position on his broken hand, forcing from him a rasping gasp as he squeezed his eyes shut before they could release tears. The shuffle of someone lunging forward told Soren that Ike was on his way.
"No… Find the vulinerary…"
"Um.. Alright,"
Then the rhythmic sound of shifting bottles filled the air once more, followed by the occasional curse. When at last the pain released its grip, Soren found rational thought gaining control once more. With it came a few questions. Number 1, why was there no light? And number 2, what bottles were he going through? Then it dawned on him.
"Ike the vulinerary is-" Before the sentence could be finished, Ike was spinning to face Soren, excitement at going to finally be free of the stupid task. But Ike really couldn't see well in the dark. It was evident when the man misjudged the distance between himself and the desk. Almost the second Soren saw the blue-haired man turning to face him, the sound of crashing glass sounded.
"...all that's on that desk…" Soren finished, flinched with each breaking bottle. When the harsh chorus subsided to little more than a constant drip of liquid, the archsage allowed his scathing gaze to settle on Ike. And by the squirming of the man, Soren knew that he could feel it.
"That… was my entire supply of vulinerary,"
"I'm so sorry! There has to be one that hasn't broken. I'll look," Was the hasty reply as the commander went back to work only to be interrupted by Soren.
"Hey Ike,"
"...yeah?"
"Light a candle. I don't need you cutting yourself in the dark,"
x.X.x
It took an hour before Ike's fingers finally closed around a whole bottle that was sticking out from halfway under the bed. Soren had spent the whole time complaining that Ike should just go get Rhys or Mist, but the commander wouldn't budge. He was determined to find the vulinerary and besides, the rest of the camp was already heading to bed when Ike came in and he wouldn't disturb them unless he absolutely had too. Their patience was being tried just as much as his with all the stalkers.
Ike turned, brandishing his discovery, only to find that Soren had dozed off. He roused his friend gently, only to get back a small moan of pain and irritation.
"Hey Soren. I found one. You should probably take it before the wound becomes way too old for it to help,"
"Okay…" said boy murmured sleepily, reaching out a hand to take his bottle, only for it to be his injured dominant hand. Ike took the hand by the wrist and put it back down gently before unstopping the bottle and lifting it to Soren's lips.
The archsage lifted one eyebrow in a lazy questioning, before taking a long drought off of the bottle, only to pull away coughing.
"Are you okay?" Ike reached over to steady the form, discarding the bottle in order to help his best friend. In between coughs Soren said something that came out as, "That is not vulinerary,"
"What do you mean? You said you only had vulinerary on that shelf. Is it possible you had something else mixed in?"
Soren shook his head.
"No. I keep all my magic items in a separate tent ever since Boyd broke in and used one of my potions for a prank,"
Ike took in the information, immediately switching into commander-mode. His azure gaze fixed into the distance as he mulled over the dilemma. At last, he finally utter a single, completely intelligent and thought out question.
"Then what was it you drank?"
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Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:39:42 GMT
Rhys woke to the frantic sound of someone banging against the pole of his tent followed by his own name, the fabric muffling the voice of a worried commander. Using one arm to push his slight night-garbed frame up, Rhys blinked in the darkness, attention focused on the entrance.
"Come in," His voice shook weakly as he called, before reaching over to fetch the lamp and the box of matches from nearby. The flap opened then, releasing a flare of cold air, as the large shape entered the confined space. A single strike and the lamp lit up the room, and Ike, with a sudden brilliance.
"What do you need?" Rhys asked, as he tried to clear his eyes of the floating bright patches and from here he could see Ike was doing the same. Upon hearing the priest's words, however, the blue-haired man's demeanor immediately shifted into a strong emotion that could only be described as panic.
"It's Soren. He broke his hand earlier but since you were already in bed, I tried to give him a vulinerary. I accidently knocked them over, and the only one I found that was still whole turned out not to be vulinerary at all. Now he seems to have gotten ill from whatever it was. He keeps moaning and when I touched him, he was burning hot," Ike's steady voice cracked a little as he spoke, his eyes not leaving the flickering flame of the lamp. But even without that, Rhys still felt his heart drop.
"Ike, I know you are trying really hard to stay calm and I hope you will continue to do so, but giving someone something when you don't know what it is is really dangerous. I am not sure what it is either but whatever it is, it doesn't sound pleasant. I will do what I can, but there are no guarantees what the outcome will be. Now you are going to turn around and walk back to Soren without freaking out, and I will get dressed and head right over. Do you understand?" The healer spoke in calm, grave tones, as he turned to begin fetching his clothes without another word. He was so absorbed in his activities, he barely heard Ike's quiet "Yes."
x.X.x
The young tactician laid twisted on the bed, his breath coming out in ragged heaves. Eyes darted back and forth behind flushed eyelids, his skin pale and covered in sweat. Around his head, dark green-black hair fanned out in messy tangles. He was hardly moving, something that made Rhys's mind cry out in alarm, though the priest was sure to keep his face impassive.
As the ginger approached, immediately Soren began to move, his limbs jumping as the muscles danced and spasmed underneath his skin, skin that seemed oddly darker in whatever illness had befallen him. Ike moved then, pinning the flailing youth down.
"He was like this when I came back until he suddenly stopped. The episodes seem to be coming and going," Ike said quietly, concern obvious. The trashing continued until each movement began to slow. Finally Soren was left once more in the condition he was when Rhys walked in.
"I-I… I will do what I can, but…" the healer sputtered, dumbstruck, as Ike retreated from the archsage. Anxiety churned inside him and he began to feel the familiar weakness that came with one of his fevers, something that would only make this situation worse. But he couldn't help it. There was definitely something horribly wrong here.
Could he have really been accidently given a poison? I have no idea what else would cause this…
.xXx.
Soren woke, disorientated and feeling a kind of odd weight near him. At his side, Rhys was face down on the bed, having fallen into an awkward sleep. But there was something different here. He had been cared for by Rhys many times in the past and this wasn't all that rare. Yet this time, he couldn't help but feel like there was something very wrong.
Rhys's body moved with each deep breath, heat radiating from the form so much so that the ginger practically reeked of fever. The deep salty-foul scent of sickness rushed over Soren with such intensity, the youth all but gagged before covering his nose.
What's going on!? I've always had senses that one might consider a bit sharper, but never this much…
With that in mind, he came to realize something else. He could see. Around him the looming shapes of the different bits and pieces of simple furniture were silhouetted and strangely easy to make out. And though things weren't as clear as they were during the day, they were clear enough to navigate if he needed to.
Carefully, with no intention of waking Rhys, Soren inched out from under his covers and off the bed. Each step echoed painfully loud in the sudden thick silence of the night as he made his way to the flap. Then he was free of the confined space and the chance of waking up the man.
The camp was quiet save for the sounds of life and sleep that danced around in the air. Occasional snores pitched breaths, things that could normally be ignored seeming almost too loud to not noticed. It took all of a minute for Soren to be overwhelmed.
The buzz of wind rushing through his ears, the thump of each bare step, all these accompanied him as he fled from camp. What he was running from and what to, he didn't know. All he was sure of was the intense desire to escape.
Soren ran and ran until his balance failed him and he was deposited among the wet leaves. The bare air touched his skin which prickled beneath the uncovered sky and the pale moon that floated up in it. On the ground another moon show, distorted with each ripple that moved along the water's surface. But there was something else, some other nagging desire, that spurred him forward and prompted him to stare at his reflection in the pool. And what he saw stole his breath away.
His body was there, bare-backed and clad only in thin bretches. But there was something different about his body, his skin. The moon didn't make him glow paley as it normally did. Rather it framed him, lightening flesh almost too dark for him and carving out each scar upon him with startling intensity. His ruby eyes were almost luminescent as they peered back at him from the liquid fantasme.
The oddities didn't end there. Always his hair had appeared more black than green, only taking on the sheen in the light. Now it seemed lighter, closure to the hue of Almedha or Kurthnaga. Though in the end, that wasn't truly what stole his attention. It was his brand.
Rather than the usual extraverted N cut with a jagged line, it was the intricate twists mirroring Kurthnaga's own brand. The tattooed brand of a dragon laguz.
But how… His mind broke off as he remembered the bottle Almedha had been toying with. The bottle she must have dropped when I hit her. That one must have been thicker than the vulinerary bottles, which explain why it was the only one not to break. If that was the case...
With all this evidence, he concluded two things that he found rather disturbing. One, he had somehow turned into a black dragon Laguz. And two, whatever had happened it must have been Almedha's fault.
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Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:40:14 GMT
The bare Earth was soft and cold beneath the male's bare feet as he continued to distance himself from the camp. Yet this time he had a reason to behave so. For surely to show up would bring about many questions, hardly any of which he had an answer to, which was a fact that greatly annoyed him.
His head spun as all his senses prickled with new information, so much so that it threatened to disorientate him. Lucky for Soren, his will was strong enough to resist the urge to curl up and block his ears, fighting through all the sounds that threatened to lead him astray.
Rather he was fixed on another sense. A soft sort of tingling that danced in the back of his mind, like the inkling of another presence that was just within reach but unobtainable. This feeling lead him, like a gentle tug, into a certain direction. And though he wasn't normally one to put all his reliance into something seemingly unpredictable. Though in the end he had hardly another choice when this might render the chosen result.
To those who happened to see him, he would have appeared like a phantom. His speed, while human, was near silent, the damn ground muffling each footfall. Dark green locks spread out behind him, tendrils dancing against his newly tanned back. The flash of red eyes seemed almost demonic in origin given the time they appeared. And if they did know the tactician, perhaps that would only help to boister that belief. After all, he was hardly what one would consider a friendly type.
But maybe they would think different, if let into his mind at the moment. For amid what was originally a near inhumanly rational mind, thoughts and worries were spinning. Blending emotions of panic, confusion, and a profound sorrow at the possibly permanent parting spread like wildfire, infecting his heart. Yet as Soren broke through the undergrowth and into the camp, all of it evaporated at once, replaced by an all consuming inferno of rage.
Before him, leaning against the fire and looking at him almost innocently sat the woman responsible for it all. And it took everything in him to stop the archsage from marching over there and slapping her across the face. That sensation only increased as tears begin to pool from her eyes, her expression shining with a sick kind of joy. And from those cherry lips who smiled timidly, Almedha's voice came in a broke coo.
"M-my son…"
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Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:40:50 GMT
Thud Thud Thud...
Her heart pounded in her ears as she stared up at the child. The last time he had looked as such, he had been a tiny warm bundle in her arms. Now he stood, thin and almost feminine in his build despite the lean muscle that clung to his arms. Those were the muscles of a mage, whom spent all their time hefting around tomes.
Almedha found herself unable to suppress the joy at seeing what a person he had become, and at the fact that he was whole once more. Yet somewhere in the back of her mind she noticed the enraged expression that shone in his eyes and on his face. Though she knew she should not be pleased, she found herself unable to care whether or not he was upset.
Maybe it had been all her years losing everything to Ashnard.
Maybe it had been loneliness.
Or maybe she was naturally just too selfish.
She simply found herself unable to feel guilty about possibly having ruined his life.
He must think I'm a horrible mother... then again THIS is what is best for him and mothers are supposed to know what is best... So I am doing the right thing. Even if he hates me for it, I am doing the right thing and he will thank me for it. Maybe not right now but a few decades down the line he will thank me...
x.X.x
Soren's fingers twitched as he repressed the urge to lash out at her. Rather he pushed his anger down, allowing it to seethe silently. Slowly his outward rage pulled inward, resulting in an eerie kind of calm.
"Almedha, what did you do to me?" His tone was simple and almost casual, but pulled taunt in an underlying kind of strain. This would have been a cue for others to back away or at least tread carefully, at least among the mercenaries. But Almedha didn't know him well enough to tell. So when faced with such a thing, she took her sweet emotional time.
"Why don't you sit? It's a rather long story," She finally managed at last.
"I would rather stand,"
"U-um... Might I ask why?"
"Because sitting would mean I plan to stay,"
A hunger entered her gaze at those words, the expression being a hollow and almost feral thing. No longer did the woman look like a calm and regal figure. Rather she appeared as a broken woman, desperate clinging to whatever strings she could find. Almedha's gaunt and haunted appearance unsettled the tactician despite his best effort to remain calm.
Why should I care if she is suffering? Whatever she did might just have ruined my life? Damn me and my empathy... I really should have learned by now not to care... To care is to show weakness, but... Damn it.
He hardly knew he was instinctively pulling away until he felt the touch of skin on his own. The uncomfortable shock of heat and flesh on his own sent a chill up the young archsage's spine in the form of a hardly suppressed flinch. Such a foolish and instinctive reaction brought red to his cheeks and caused Soren to lower his eyes to the ground.
"Fine, I will sit and listen to what you have to say. Just please, don't touch me,"
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Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:41:11 GMT
The boat cut through the water as it made it's ways past the jagged cliffs. The bluenette sat, eyes falling upon the clear expanse. It had been months since the Greil Mercenaries had lost one of their family and everyone was feeling it. As much as many had disliked the tactician, it felt wrong without his constant presence by Ike's side. Yet he had little choice but to accept it and continue on.
Goldoa was in the distance, the destination in mind. Ike had come across Soren's work when he finally dared to entire the man's tent once more. It took a while to puzzle through it, but at last he had made coherent work of it. And when he finally had the time, he concluded that he would follow one of the leads Soren had uncovered. A ship in Goldoa.
Luckily when Kurthnaga took over, the isolation of the country was ended and people could come and go as they pleased. Many of the Dragon Laguz still held some distrust of Beorc, but slowly the relationship between the two species was beginning to improve. Even the Branded's treatment was easing. Maybe that was why Soren left, to tell Stephan. But that still didn't change the fact of his parting without a word as if he had vanished off the face of the earth.
A sudden churn of the water made Ike's stomach lurch. While normally he was not one for sea sickness, he had ate too much this morning and the confidence that it wouldn't bother him had come back to bite him. A sort of pride kept him from going to lay down, though by the way Rhys was hovering it must have been obvious that the leader wasn't feeling well. Maybe if the sea was still enough to reflect, Ike would have noticed his skin had taken on a lovely green shade.
Sadly, for him, he didn't have time to wallow in his own nauseous sea-sickness. At the same moment they rounded the bend, a pirate ship came sliding toward them from a place it had hid among the rock. The black shapes that rose from said ship had only helped to prove that there was no such thing as total peace. For there, even before the ravens were above the ship, everyone knew it was a pirate attack.
.xXx.
"Are you alright?"
Soren flinched reflexively as the voice sounded behind him, only for him to process that it was Kurth's. Thank Yune it's not his sister! It had taken little over a month to travel to Goldoa, a decision he had made after learning the truth. But even though it was Almedha that he had traveled with, it was hardly lovely family time. Most of it was spent in awkward silence, Soren refusing to attempt to even try to shift despite the fact that it would part him from her all the faster.
Call it denial, but it took a long time for him the accept the role of a Laguz, mainly because he didn't wish to part with his link of humanity. After all, how could a Branded embrace finding out that they are truly Laguz and all the suffering he went through was merely lie that was the born of Almedha's selfishness.
But time heals at least some wounds. Then again it is hard not to warm up to a childish and naively friendly king. Kurth had been quick to accept the truth, if only for the prospect of a friend. Or maybe that was merely how Kurth was. Though of course like all things like that, it had started awkwardly.
"Erm.. yes, I am,"
"When you brood it is hard not to worry. Your expression is unsettling distant,"
This caused on of the ex-tactician's eyebrows to rise curiously. He wasn't aware his face was showing anything besides his regular default expression. Instinctively he moved to pull his hair away from his face, only to have his fingers fall short. After so many years, it was hard to grow used to the lack of hair. It had been Kurth's idea to cut it, the heat being great in Goldoa and with Soren not used to such weather, he had a greater risk of heat stroke. Despite all the fight the slight archsage gave, it was fairly hard to argue with a dragon.
Even though I guess I am technically one too..
"You traveled with the mercenaries for a while. You should be well aware I am always like this,"
"Still... What are you thinking about anyway?" His attitude still made it hard for Soren to believe Kurth was centuries old. So shelter was the King, that he seemed to have a mentality that matched his physical age. The complete foil of Soren.
"That's my business and mine alone," Whether the older Laguz was a king or not, Soren had no need to let Kurth into his head. His thoughts were his own and no one could take that away from him. Not even Almedha, who had already taken everything else away.
.xXx.
Somewhere along the way, Kurthnaga had come to understand Soren. Not completely but enough to be able to notice when the archsage was thinking about Almedha, the youths mother and Kurth's own sister. Something in those crimson depth would begin to boil with rage and pain, like a volcano gushing blood.
Blood... Oh why did I have to get that mental image!? Kurth struggled to suppress a shutter. Even in war he had never gotten over his uneasy fear of the red liquid. If anything it had only made it worse. I should think about something else. Maybe I can offer to practice with him again. That always makes him feel a bit better. Even if it is for all the wrong reasons...
Kurthnaga had began working with Soren if only to be kind. It took much time to get the ex-tactician to open up to the idea. Yet when he did, his reasoning had been this. "If I am stuck being a Laguz I might as well make use of it," Naturally Kurth had hoped his reason would be a bit more optimistic, the older Laguz being how he was. He had learned all too soon that it is very hard to change someone's view point, especially if that viewpoint is a pessimistic one.
No soon after Kurthnaga opened his mouth to offer, was the form of Gareth walking toward him. The red dragon looked tense, radiating an official air about him that screamed he had something important to say. It took hardly a moment for Kurth to issue the hasty and ignored parting before he hurried to meet the other Laguz.
Gareth fixed his eyes on the King as Kurth approached, his expression matching his body language perfectly. He waited a moment for Kurth to near, before allowing the news to fall from his lips.
"Pirates are attacking a ship a little ways from the sea border. And according to the patrols, the Greil Mercenaries are the passengers,"
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*in a toilet*