silver tongue

Constantine had dismissed Artemisia for the day, as he was often prone to doing to annoy her. She was not required, but tolerated, and that was a phrase he often used around her, too. One of his singular joys in life was trying to piss her off. He very often succeeded, at least in his estimation -- she tried to be harder to read. That was fine. He was patient.

He walked idly along the beach. It was early morning, and the sun was peaking up now above the distant horizon, throwing beams of sunlight towards the pools in ways that made them look like shards of glass. He had nowhere in particular to be except alone with his thoughts. This was rare. He was prone to filling his life with revels, galas, exorbitant parties, luxurious company -- the more expensive, the better. But this morning, he was alone. He was pondering, which was a dangerous pastime, because he so often found things to be...displeased about.

Today, he was displeased about money. It was always about money. Or, in this world, it was always about meat and land and power. But they were one in the same. Constantine Cato was of noble stock, his family older than most, their roots in power thick and strong. But Constantine was no fool. He had spread those roots himself into other areas, ensuring that if his family's fortune dried up, he would still be paid for. Of course, he also ensured that he would have endless entertainment, devilish delights, and the like. It was a selfish pursuit, like all things in his life. For no one but himself. But his contact had, as of late, been...distant. And this perturbed him. It was this that he mulled over as he kicked a nearby stone into a pool, watching the ripples on the surface.

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table by ferus, image by claerie, bg from unsplash

baelfire

it had been some time since baelfire had wandered all the way to the beach. admittedly it was not one of his favorite places; he much preferred the open air (that wasn’t heavy with salt) and tall, soft grasses that caressed your paws rather than sharply stabbing at them. his muzzle wrinkled slightly as a shard of glassy stone wedge itself between his toes and he had to think to himself “why am i here again?” oh yeah, patrol. he wanted to prove to himself and everyone else that he could handle things— despite missing an eye. that was nothing!

his nose wriggled at the smell of something through the salt. another wolf. interested, he changed course and while he limped slightly thanks to the rock slicing his paw, he still pushed through the annoyance readily. this kind of pain was nothing compared to the pain he’d dealt as a kid. he shook his head, pushing the thoughts away from his mind as he bid them not to resurface. thankfully, he spotted the wolf he’d been smelling and so the distraction began. hey stranger! he said with a small smile as he approached slowly. he didn’t know this character but he always tried to be nice to everyone he met... at first.

@Constantine

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Constantine looked up as another approached, the stranger's stark white coat sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the stoney gray and blue backdrop. "hey stranger!" He paused, noting several things at once. First, the stranger was missing something rather important: an eye. Scarred flesh marred an otherwise pure white face. Constantine wondered what could have caused such a mark, though he had a feeling it might have been another wolf, considering the next thing he noticed: the scent of the Imperial Army. Perhaps it was a battle scar? Or a spar gone wrong?

The third thing he noticed was the stranger's slight limp, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood in the air. It appeared as though the man had injured his paw somehow. But he was limping determinedly towards Constantine with a smile on his face. "Morning, soldier," he said, his tone easy and relaxed, his amber eyes trained interestedly on the stranger's face. He, a royalist, had nothing to fear from an army soldier, but it was not often that he interacted with one directly. They tended to run in different circles.

"Isn't it rather early in the day to already be injured?" he inquired, his eyes moving briefly to the man's paw. His tone had an air of jest to it.

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table by ferus, image by claerie, bg from unsplash