Lakota & Ktulu

The Poisoner & The Constrictor

As if the two were crafted of the same flesh and soul, Lakota's ears sliced back like daggers at Resplendence's first husky words just as Ktulu's did. But, more used to Valiance than Ktulu, she caught on a tad faster. She did the same with Aodaun, after all, though verbal words were unnecessary when it came to those bonded by soul. Or was Valiance still too young for such a total, unimpeded connection? As Aodaun had grown older their power together had grown, until he could overtake her vision with his own, until they seemed to flow back and forth so seamlessly there could never possibly be any distinction between them any longer. Still, though the words had not been directed at her, they placed her upon edge. One dull, echoing thud of her hoof upon the earth and she was drawing up closer to Ktulu's side, edging past the tattered curtain and staring down upon the crumpled, broken medic. 

The names were not totally familiar to her, but she'd been part of the medical circle, knew the name Rue at least. "Mate and foal," she said in the barest whisper to Ktulu, the tiny crinkle of confusion around her mate's eyes familiar to the Poisoner. Her eyes never strayed from Resplendence, for they did not need to. She and Ktulu were always on the same wavelength regardless. Though for a moment her heart ached with phantom, empathetic agony. If she ever lost Murtagh...or Ktulu for that matter. She couldn't imagine the pain that would accompany that kind of life. But she would never be this. In fact she would throw herself into her work, because Ktulu would have been ashamed of her to have broken down so far. She would do their memories proud, she would not wallow like an angsting child until death claimed her. If she wanted to die, she would do it the right way, not this slowburn agony. At least have the decency to die with pride if you want it so badly, she thought venomously, but Ktulu was already speaking and so she held her tongue. For now. 

"You can't help them if they're gone, or dead. But you're making everyone else suffer by laying there limp and crying. This is your job. You are hurting others with your selfishness. Either get yourself together, or sacrifice your title to me," she said coolly, silk over a silver dagger. She had despised her uselessness, chalked it up to favoritism when it came to Kaj doting on the brindled baby. At least she hadn't minded, not when she was heavily pregnant with Murtagh, and not when she was raising him. But he was capable of taking care of himself now, and if she needed to, she would wrest Resplendence's title from her forcefully. "You have one thing, at least, to still live for. Mourn them, if you must. This? This is not mourning. This isn't even living, much less capable of being respected." She cast her sharp violet gaze around the prison cell, maw twisted into a ghost of a sneer. 

"This is defeat."