The air between them was charged, perhaps irrationally so considering he’d been quite scatterbrained lately. But there was nothing he felt he could accomplish better than charming a member of the opposite sex. Maybe it was in his nature to feel so confident in himself or maybe it was just the way the Corporal’s eyes seemed to widen when she was caught off guard (and naturally so in the wake of such flirtatious behavior). But why he had ever come to resort to such childish habits was beyond him in spite of the small bit of knowledge he kept hidden away behind closed eyes and an equally closed mind. He was born and raised to follow in the most traditional sense of the word and while he was more than willing to do so now according to the flux and flow of things, he simply felt as if there were questions that needed to be answered before he was to bow before a self-proclaimed authority. That’s not to say that he did not respect her for the title she wore, for she had surely earned it somehow, but as a creature built and molded from the father of war itself, one could understand his apprehension.

“I crave not the warmth you speak of Corporal. Surely you can understand why. Warmth provides us weakness, while the cold tends to numb mortal reservations. What must we be restless for if not the battle between life and death… However, the purgatory that exists in between is comprised only in the name of waiting and there is not a thread of warmth to be had in such dismal situations.” He could think of a few reasons behind the unintentional weaknesses a creature might succumb to in search of “heat”- quite literally so at that. Was he not only human, constantly compelled by the idea of primal and sexual release? Was he not only male, driven by testosterone and the intimate emotion we call lust? He could think of a million reasons why warmth was such an enthralling vessel, but if it meant losing sight of himself, why would he seek it out intentionally?

Even as his eyes locked patiently on his commander, he could see nothing other than a friendly face (albeit slightly awe-struck) eagerly awaiting a truth that would never be found. In this setting, they were but mere equals. However, upon their return to the Basin, he would not stand to question her sense and quick wit. He was designed to obey and so upon her order, he would act and upon her word, he would die. Was that not the testament of a true soldier? Was it not his duty to place family before pride?

“And what is it that you see Corporal? Indulge me, for I fear that without, I will be left to question your abilities.” A feeble smile followed such an antagonizing statement. Déodat wanted nothing more than to pick Illynx’s mind for hours if such time allowed, but he knew their time here would be short and soon they would both be restored to their rightful positions… ones that would not forgive his hasty tongue.

Or her subtle attempts to overwhelm him.

It did not escape the man when the golden-dusted mare sidled closer, the heat of her skin making him inhale sharply in spite of his practiced control. He did not wish to alert her to his sudden awareness of her and the way that she smelled- just like the fresh Basin air with a hint of strange wildflower- and he did not want her to know that she had beseeched him with her quiet confidence and charming wit… But what was a man to do when in awe of such femininity and power?

“We are stronger and more widespread than you think Illynx. I think a bit of faith is all that is required.” Déodat had no doubt that the “Basin turned Plague” was full of willing participants, it was just a matter of testing their will that lined up the worthy from the unworthy. However, there was no misgiving about the strength of not only their numbers but their hearts as well. The Threshold would never be fulfilling because there was too much outside blood, too many foreign genetics that just wouldn’t comply with their model. He had come from a small clan, one that rose above all expectations to succeed when all else failed. All it took was a little courage and faith in your family to make it through and the Basin certainly had that much. It was just a matter of putting it into action. They needed to take up arms and fight for what they believed in. They couldn’t sit around and wait for success to come knocking on their door- Déodat only wondered how long it would take Psyche to realize as much and make the connection. He was tired of sitting around…

He desired the bitter taste of blood upon his lips after so many years of wishing for rain in this perilous drought.