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02-22-2016, 07:09 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-22-2016, 07:10 PM by Albrecht.
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It's not curiosity that kills the cat - It's complacency. Everything about the Lord of the Basin screams predator, murderer, danger. He doesn't hide his venom behind pleasant smiles or kind words, but wears it bright and blinding in the tension of his muscles and the gleam of his penetrating focus. The tip of his horn glows brightly blue like the sickly florescence of poison dart frogs: a nature-made billboard proclaiming the beasts lethality and still old Albrecht lets himself fall prey. Like the cow in the lion enclosure he's lingered too long at the water hole, drinking unbothered as the lions move in, past peaceful encounters overriding his instinctive need to run. Stupid, he chides himself.
"Albrecht." He answers plainly, trying to decide in the fifths and tenths of a second between heartbeats what next move would least likely bring immediate impalement. The Lord Deimos has no need or want of civil pleasantries. He values practical assets above all else, so no adherence to the straight and narrow will convince him to allow a superfluous body safe passage in his kingdom. Inhaling deeply, bracingly, the old man lays out his cards - bent and discolored as they are.
"I have lived within these walls for an entire season without acceptance or assignment from the ruling bodies of your herd. I have mingled with the masses in official gatherings, received the ministries of healers, the worksmanship of crafters, and interfered with the acceptance of potential members by your soldiers and Corporal Ki'irha without any more question than the petty annoyance and exasperation that accompanies my nature. I have attended the birth of a new colt and spent hours alone with your head Thief Rexanna and still not been poked or prodded as to who I am or why I am here."
Talent, luck, or fault by either side, the facts stand damning. "I enjoy the anonymity, having been otherwise for most of my life. I won't insult you by claiming any potential or prowess in battle - you can see that I have none - but you may still find use of me as a spy. The old and the ugly are easily overlooked in this land of young and beautiful."
It's more than he's said to anyone during his time here, but still he fears it's not enough. What does rejection mean among monsters?
"Albrecht." He answers plainly, trying to decide in the fifths and tenths of a second between heartbeats what next move would least likely bring immediate impalement. The Lord Deimos has no need or want of civil pleasantries. He values practical assets above all else, so no adherence to the straight and narrow will convince him to allow a superfluous body safe passage in his kingdom. Inhaling deeply, bracingly, the old man lays out his cards - bent and discolored as they are.
"I have lived within these walls for an entire season without acceptance or assignment from the ruling bodies of your herd. I have mingled with the masses in official gatherings, received the ministries of healers, the worksmanship of crafters, and interfered with the acceptance of potential members by your soldiers and Corporal Ki'irha without any more question than the petty annoyance and exasperation that accompanies my nature. I have attended the birth of a new colt and spent hours alone with your head Thief Rexanna and still not been poked or prodded as to who I am or why I am here."
Talent, luck, or fault by either side, the facts stand damning. "I enjoy the anonymity, having been otherwise for most of my life. I won't insult you by claiming any potential or prowess in battle - you can see that I have none - but you may still find use of me as a spy. The old and the ugly are easily overlooked in this land of young and beautiful."
It's more than he's said to anyone during his time here, but still he fears it's not enough. What does rejection mean among monsters?
@Deimos @Rhiannon
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