Rikyn

They both seem to remember me, which improves my mood only in the slightest of ways. Hell, any other day, I’d be smiling and eager to carry on with them, but today, it’s all I can do to keep to my duties. Even when I’m mistakenly called Dristan, the impish grin that would have alighted on my lips remains absent, the false title instead earning a glance, with amusement only a tracery element gleaming in the precious metal tones of my eyes.

Kicking a chunk of wood unceremoniously while dragging another, I gracelessly deposit them into Volterra’s already amassed pile. Looking back up at the black behemoth with a flat expression, I try to appear interested in our conversation; really, I do! Before I can answer, Sacre adds his own question.

Did I get hurt?

My buck relinquishes a sharp snort of laughter, prancing over towards the two foxes. His heart is not so burdened by mourning, as mine is, and he thinks to himself, as he trots: more like when doesn’t he. He greets the foxes with his usual cheer, joining the fold with a small bob of his crown, before he cautiously extracts the fallen limbs, cautiously avoiding the raining sparks of the kitsune’s blasting magic.

"Some men hold no blows, even when fighting friends," I dryly tell Sacre, first, my lips twisting into the slightest of smiles, mostly because I hold very little against Volterra for the ass kicking he’d given me. How else might I have met Aelin, and dreamt of flying? "nearly two years ago, yeah? Regardless, they are fine."

Other than, that is, having been more recently fractured again by a hormone crazed woman, whom, ironically, had been sent to attack me on emotional whims initially stirred by this very friend of mine. Did I know that? No. If I did, I might be a little more hostile towards him, for his senseless treatment of women, and how it had led me to several weeks of very painful breath, and wary watching of the horizon (not because I would actually care that he was fucking every woman in Helovia – his venereal disease, I guess - but because it had effected me). I certainly hadn’t gone back to the beach until Kisamoa showed up, that’s for damn sure.

"You manage to actually kill someone you care about in the name of training, yet?" I jest, without mirth, an emotionless smile accompanying my quick glance towards the tall, pale faced stallion. Maybe it’s a bad one, but I don’t care. Having your dad die leaves you in a dark sort of place that makes jokes about murdering one’s friends for the sake of power seem funny.