The Mouth of Hell

She had checked every unconscious body that laid out in the field once the fight was over, more than once and came up empty each time as her eyes burned in desire to cry from pure anxiety. His scent had been there though, those familiar notes had lingered in the air so clearly but without a physical presence to match it and she laid in the pasture until a soldier made her go home. The night had been long and empty and worry brought wrinkles to her otherwise pristine face. Sleep never found her. She spent a second day looking without anything to show for it again. Checked the barracks for any reports on his whereabouts, if he was dead or injured.

No answers. No pieces. No nothing. Half of her was gone.

No one seemed to have any clue and only offered the worst possible options, none of which she wanted to accept as true.

Lips parted just a fraction as she walked along the streets of Rionna, her ears tilted every direction as she headed to her last hope for information. A colonel would likely know and this particular wolf had no reason to lie, following some pathetic order to not worry the public but it was one of the last men she would ever want to bow to as she would stop just outside a peaceful cottage. She would have thought he’d have something more extravagant with how he treated her but that was a complaint for another day when she actually cared about him, if she ever could. The most she afforded him was a night of recovery for his wounds to be patched and his mind to be whole.

Though with the wounds he had sustained, she highly doubted he’d be walking up to the door anytime soon. So, she didn’t bother to knock. If he could stomp into her house without proper invitation, he could get the same treatment, if not worse.

Pushing the door open, she glided right into the house, her ears pinned as she instantly felt uncomfortable just walking into his home alone. “Nalik? Ryker?” She called but her voice was a frail note, riddled with worry neither had heard from her so earnestly before, almost begging. She half expected him dead somewhere, or maybe that was just a hope so she wouldn’t have to deal with him ever again. She had watched Ryker remove him from the battlefield so she made an assumption she would be with him. Now here, she didn’t catch a fresh scent of that woman as she moved further and further into the abode, searching for a living presence of anyone named Verlice.

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do not press this,
I am relentless.

He was finally home and quite recently so. The war was officially over. And yet, there was little cause for celebration. Ryker was home safe, recovering from her injuries, as was Asher. But Kenzo was still missing. He hadn't been located on the battlefield so it was presumed that he had been captured. The news had rocked Nalik to his core, just as it had when Ryker was taken. But where Rykers mouth was more likely to get her into trouble, Kenzo's knowledge would be his downfall. The army's victory had come at a heavy price.

The lowlands were being secured, Jacobites being chased back to the highlands where they could live out their miserable days under Jacobs rule. It was also where he would certainly find his son. But the Colonel was in no shape to travel, let alone lead a rescue mission. His body still ached, his injuries still irritatingly fresh. His sight, or lack thereof, was still a problem, even if it was slowly getting easier to move around.

Back in his home, he limped painfully slowly around, getting ready to fall into bed and stay there. Ryker and Noctis had stopped in the lowlands after dragging him away from the battlefield. Only one stop had delayed them, but it was that stop that had the Colonel still standing.

When the creak of his front door echoed through his home, he froze. Straining to hear, the steps were too soft to be Ryker or Asher, or even Kenzo. Illaria was dead. He had left her body beneath a willow back in the lowlands. He had seen her ghost. She wouldn't be opening doors anytime soon. Then his voice broke the silence. Adeline. Shoulders drooped as the tension immediately left them. "In here." He wasn't walking back to the foyer, he didn't have the energy, making it this far had been monumental. Waiting for her to find him, he would sink into his bed, wincing as he did so.

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A voice would catch her attention, beaconing her toward a deeper part of the house and it made her tense just a little bit. She rather he come and greet her rather than her lurk any further into the beast’s nest, not trusting him any farther than she could kill him. Fighting in the war may have upped her confidence in protecting herself but Nalik was an entirely different beast than some poorly trained Jacobite that tried to use outnumbering soldiers and civilians alike to down them. Not that she could say she was much different, most of the blood that she had spilled had been at the aid of another wolf, being a scavenger on the field to ensure someone more threatening was bodying damage for her. Sylvain, Ryker, that mammoth of a man, they were all the shields she had used without remorse yet there was gratitude for it.

Without them, she might not be standing here now and without them Mithras would likely be dead as well. She needed to find him as well to ensure he was as alive as she assumed him to be but he wasn’t her top priority right now. It might be cold hearted, however, she had already risked her own beauty for his ass, he better not be dead somewhere after she had done so.

Taking in a breath, she would center herself some, shaking the anxiety that had flourished to her in-law’s voice. He was injured, it wasn’t like he could do much, she would hope but she wasn’t looking for a fight in the first place. Not this time. With some hesitation, she would make her way toward his call, viewing him not telling her to get out as a good start to him maybe not being a threatening jerk today.

It wouldn’t take long to find his destroyed figure, his wounds only making him all the more ugly than he was before, taking in that milky hue that invaded a formerly vibrant emerald. On any other given visit, she might have made a snarky comment on his appearance or lack of endurance, just to crawl all the way under his skin for the fun of it. Instead, her tail was pressed tightly to her leg, a mixture of anger and desperation mixing with her perfume as she moved toward him with a purpose. To see him so frail would take away a lot of that fear she had a moment ago about him, her ears flicking forward with that realization. He wasn’t just unpleasant to look at, he was barely functioning, drawing away a lot of his worth.

Would he be forced to retire?

Her head shook for a second to banish those thoughts for now. “Where is my husband? Where is my Kenny?” she demanded, her dainty paws gently pressed onto his shoulder to faintly shake him as if that would help get answers or make him know more than he might know. When her voice started out strong, it would weaken with each word, becoming softer and more scared, her ears folding back in worry and uncertainty. “You always know something, so, please... don’t say you don’t know like all those incompetent soldiers at the barracks,” she begged, letting her pride fully go away at that moment. She was at his mercy, her last fading hope.

table ; bunny

do not press this,
I am relentless.

The old wolf had been handsome once upon a time. in his prime, his coat glossy, his skin mostly clear of battle scars. But over the years, life had chipped away at him, leaving a scarred veteran in his place. He wasn't ashamed though. Each mark on his pelt told a story, a battle won, a battle lost, a life spared, a life taken. Even now, as he lay wounded in his bed, he did so with an air of pride. He was battered but not broken.

She stormed into his room like she belonged, like she had a right to be in his house. Demands fell from her tongue and she would be met with exasperation . Until a small paw pressed into his shoulder, barely jostling the larger wolf, but it was no less offense. Greying lips lifted in warning, his temper electrifying the air. Injured he may be, but Nalik still wouldn't hesitate to remind her that she was his son's wife, she was no child of his that would afford her such comforts.

But, maybe inevitably, her voice started to shake as she spoke. She was pleading with him, begging for answers that he didn't have. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to be told that Kenzo was fine, that he was simply delayed because of his rank and he would be home soon. But it would be a lie. Soon the army would presume him officially captured, there would be a brief show of trying to find him, mostly to pacify family. An effort would be made regardless, a genuine effort only because Nalik would demand it so. The Colonel knew the truth though. His son was a prisoner of war.

Blowing out a breath, he shook his head. There would be no apology on his face, there would be no sugar coating the words he was about to speak. "It remains unconfirmed, but Kenzo was most likely taken prisoner." He said simply, though the signs of worry and stress became etched into his stoney features. "I can only assume he is deep in the highlands, within Jacobs camp." Speaking the words to somehow made it more real. He had read between the lines when fellow officers discussed Kenzo's imprisonment, but he also already knew, he had been doing this long enough. Nalik was almost certain of his sons fate.

"I don't know if he'll come home." It was unlikely that the army would be able to retrieve him. Any imperial soldier or mainlander would be killed on sight if they dared to enter the highlands so soon. Nalik was in no condition to make the journey himself. Kenzo would have to get himself free. After fighting a war, Kenzo would have to fight another one just to make it home.

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The raise of his lip didn’t deter her from those gentle shakes on his shoulder, having been told to come in here in here in the first place, in her view at least. He hadn’t told her to get out or anything along those lines when she had entered the house, making her see herself as a welcomed guest even if he didn’t see it that way. Maybe there was an odd sense of worth for herself that kept her believing he might not actually harm her, that his fangs would never be meant for her no matter what she did so long as she was faithful to Kenzo. Would he really harm her at the chance of upsetting his son? The thought did briefly appear, her chartreuse dancing between his facial features as she thought of his children and the way he actually seemed to care about them, at least to some regard more than her parents cared about her.

She wasn’t anything special but she was certain his warning wasn’t much different from Ryker’s, neither would go as far to hurt her if it meant hurting Kenzo in the process. So long as he was alive at least.

That was about the only thing that caused her paws to slide, slipping off his broad shoulder to fall to the ground as she looked at him with a more submissive gaze. Any fire that had been there was snuffed out as her ears tipped back, taking in a long breath as she held back the desire to let out a pathetic whimper. Her pride could only fall so far to someone like him, not about to show her belly to him unless he forced her down onto her back. There was only one that got to see her truest vulnerability and he wasn’t here right now.

The whimper she tried to keep at bay almost did find its way out as he started to speak, each word more and more crippling as her hind legs gave way under her, forcing her to sit down. A burn would claw at her eyes, but tears wouldn’t fall. “No… no they weren’t even that hard to fight. How… how could…he’s stronger than that… he… you’re…” she tried to speak but her thoughts didn’t want to flow in an order that was functional sentences, fumbling between many directions at once. To accuse him of lying wanted to rise up but even Nalik didn’t look at peace, a face she never thought she’d see on him. Worry. True worry was there and made her tense, those tears being harder and harder to keep together at his final set of words.

Her head would hang low and away from him to hide her face, not wanting to accept she might never see him again. Might never hold him. Never feel his touch, take in his cologne. Never have his kids…

An ear would swivel, changing the subject if only to lighten her own mood slightly while possibly dampening his own. Some pitiful attempt at empathy to liken her own loss with possibly two for him. “Did that tacky coated commoner woman matter at all to you? She seemed attached to you…defensive in your honor the only time I ran into her some time ago,” lyrics somber. She wasn’t sure if she should say anything about his loss or if that woman had just been a toy for him, just fodder he cared nothing about. She couldn’t fathom him seriously courting a woman without any status that she was aware of. If it wasn’t for that woman’s pelt, she probably would have forgotten her already but someone such an eyesore was hard to forget.

table ; bunny

do not press this,
I am relentless.

Deflating before his very eyes, he could see the tears that welled up in hers, stubbornly refusing to fall. For that, he was grateful. Her tears were useless, they wouldn't bring Kenzo home. Words were strung clumsily together, but in the end it was a denial. She wanted him to be wrong. Hell, he wanted to be wrong. Turning her face from him, she hid the emotion he had already seen filling her eyes and slumping her shoulders. A small part of him pitied her, she was losing a husband, the one she shared all the small details of life with. Something he hadn't had in years despite the horrors of his marriage, there were still the small things. Like putting their children to sleep, sliding into bed each night, having the vague sense of her preferred meal as well as her least favorite. All that was now over for her.

It was a loss he was a familiar with. So he could relate. However, it was but an ember compared to the loss of a child. His son. Gone. This war had taken so much from him, it was hard not to waver in his choices. War came with heavy losses, he knew it was always a possibility that one of them would perish in war, but facing that reality was something entirely different.

She would poke him with a hot dagger. She questioned him about Illaria. Any sympathy or pity that might have warmed his steely expression was immediately gone. "Get out." His tone was flat, she had very quickly overstayed her welcome. Whatever she had hoped to accomplish by coming here, he was putting an end to it. Hackles bristled down his nape and back, his displeasure evident in the thickening of the air. At least now he had no reason to ever see her again. He didn't have an easy for her question, if he were to ever answer her. In his own way, yes, she had taken up residence in his life and he started to develop a routine with her. But war called him from Rionna and her misplaced sense of duty sent her to his battlefield and then her death. She thought she could help, instead she lost something that couldn't be replaced. Her life.

Never in his life would he question why he reacted the way he did. He wouldn't wonder what emotion sparked such a reaction. That wasn't him. Maybe it was because he had come to care for her, maybe it was because after all these years, he was reminded that he enjoyed having a woman in his home, and this one had been content with whatever he wanted. It didn't matter anymore.

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Her ears tilted back when something bitter weaseled its way out of the older man, making her appear from his angle perhaps scared and nervous but it cloaked something far different. A manic smile grew along her maw, her satisfaction rising swiftly like a tidal wave at the way he became volatile, finding humorous how easy it was to scrape scabs off a man’s pride. Seeing him angry was always a breath of fresh air, as much as it was terrifying, sending goosebumps along the entirety of her body in a strange mixture of anticipation, fear and exhilaration she could never formulate into cohesive words. It was the same feeling she obtained when she got her way in a courtroom, when the audience was too dumb to know she got exactly what she wanted even if from their eyes she lost the case. The same burn the trail of alcohol created when it slithered along her tongue and down her throat as an aftertaste. It was magnificent.

She cared little for what happened to the woman, only feeling bad the day they met for taking a compliment posed on her beauty and shoving it into her as a blade simply for smelling like someone she hated. She was just another number on a guillotine and not one of her own doing but just as satisfying to see the way it crawled under his skin.

The smile would fade as she composed herself enough to wipe that bliss from her expression, turning her head to face him with that same docile pleading expression that had been there before but with a practiced shock at his reaction to appear taken off guard. She wanted to leave him on that note to wallow, almost taking the invitation to leave but she hadn’t come here to place a knife into his heart in the first place. “My condolences, Nalik. That was a crude way to speak of the dead,” the words were falsely apologetic but sounded as genuine as her pleading moments prior, holding back every bit of herself that wanted to dig into the wound she just opened and pour salt into it.

She had other goals, far more important ones than to see him lose it and possibly regret it one day. If he was capable of feeling guilty anyway. Doubt boiled there, feeling he was egotistical to even accept he was in the wrong.

“I hadn’t come here to start a war with you.” Oh but she wanted to, if only to dull the pain over her missing husband in a way other than ones that broke promises to him. She drew in a breath, her ears twitching with a paranoia, admittedly finding him menacing as she saw the ridge of fur along his spine and the threat that tangled with his very soul. Even so damaged, he was intimidating. “I’ll leave once you tell me what you plan to do to get Kenzo back. You stormed into my home without invitation, and I put up with you until you chose to leave because it concerned a man I love and the fact we are family now. It is only fair for you to do the same in return and not chase me out just because I hit a nerve. You hit plenty last time,” there was no point in hiding the malice she had toward him and their last exchange, and yet her voice never became sharp. Hanging on gentle, worried, desperate tones.

Where he could call her bluff on words alone, there was no denying the scent that came from her that her emotions were true, much to her own discomfort. "Please, we aren't enemies. We are on the same side in the desire for his well-being and for him to come home. I saw that look on your face a second ago, you are a worried father, rightly so," came that soft plea once more. In some way she was envious he cared, when her own parents didn't give two shits about her.

table ; bunny

do not press this,
I am relentless.

His eyes narrowed. Facing him once more, she maintained that doe eyed expression, as if his anger was misplaced and unearned. Her apology was feigned and it left a bitter taste on his tongue. With every passing moment he had the misfortune of spending in her presence, the more he learned just who he had married his son off to. A snake in the garden. A bark of laughter parted his grey jaws when she claimed to not be here to start a war. "Yes you are." It may not be a war over Illaria, but she was here to start something.

That doe eyed look faded as she picked up her backbone once again. Tit for tat, that was her game. She stood in his house because she felt he owed her for doing the same all those months ago. He sneered. She was a bigger fool that he thought if she truly believed that he owed her anything. If anything, she owed him. He had presented her with his firstborn son on a silver platter. A Lieutenant Major that was on the cusp of becoming a Colonel. She married into a family name that was a staple in the army, one that commanded respect. Her family had been quick to assume that they held the only fortune and Nalik was fine to let them continue believing that. He had built his reputation on his career in the army, not the wealth that he had been born into.

Adeline may have decided to be straight with him in that moment, but her voice, her expression still lacked the true sharp edge of anger. He would see her worry, smell her fear, all but taste her horror. Her husband was a prisoner of war. With a heavy sigh, most of the fight would ease from his shoulders, his temper dissipating as quickly as it had ignited. "The army won't risk sending in a formal unit to get him." Not so soon after the war, not when they were likely deep in the highlands. "It'll have to be handled privately." He didn't get into details with her, mostly because he didn't trust her. Nalik was old enough, wise enough, to know that he would have to travel deep into the underbelly of the criminal word to find someone suitable. But that was his sole redeeming quality, he would walk through the fires of hell for his children.

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Her gaze hardened just a hair when he denounced her claim, shoving it down to the earth with a bout of laughter that seemed wrong on him. They often claimed a man that laughed when he rarely smiled were the biggest threats around but she wouldn’t crumble where she stood, submitting like a pathetic peasant. “Not with you. My war is with the cowardice primitive beasts of the north,” she said with a huff, turning her head away from him but those devilish peridots would glance toward him from the corner of her eye, taking in his appearance with a grain of salt. There was some surprise he didn’t come to destroy her now if he thought there was a high chance Kenzo would never return, bringing fruit to those past threats she had informed her husband of not so long ago. He didn’t seem keen on keeping that promise, quicker to get her to leave or try to scare her than actually unleashing his fangs to see her dead. She should be thankful that animosity was thinning but she wasn’t, desiring him to keep that flame so it might burn down those not her in its wake.

With the first comment she half expected his to tell her to leave again but it seemed he was full of surprises as her ears twitched upon her crown, watching that serious tone take hold though something didn’t feel quite right in those ticking seconds. He reiterated something he had already addressed, as if she hadn’t heard him the first time and as if it was the only option to obtain him back. It hadn’t answered her question at all as she turned her head back to face the broken colonel, her tail giving one delicate thrash of annoyance it seemed he was skipping around the answer she sought but soon he would click upon an answer that was a little closer to home. “Obviously. Which is why I asked what you were going to do about it, Nalik. Not the army,” she said with a cool tone, keeping her voice calm.

Colonels were supposed to have connections, do a dance of gods that the general public shouldn’t be able to orchestrate legally without consequences. She didn’t care about what he couldn’t do. She wanted to know what he would do.

An ear ticked back as her mind went to Galadriel, her own pet hound from the Highlands; she could possibly have fetch her husband, though this wasn’t his kind of work. He was a killer she kept out of jail, not a man trained in recovery missions that would succeed without a hitch. There was a chance he would do the job but she had limited belief he could no matter if there might be trust in his rodent blood among his peers.

She tilted her head to her father in law, knowing the judges she kept close, Jacob wouldn’t listen to so her friends high up wouldn’t be much help at the moment. No gavel would procure her what she wanted in this situation, not even Mithras had power here. She risked her hide for a man that wasn’t any help when it came to something important to her.

She didn’t want to believe Nalik was useless either but there were still others she could flaunt with power. A hum buzzed in her throat as she recalled Augustine’s invitation to a party that seemed like just a mask for something more serious. “Actually, I think I might already have someone more capable than you at this given time,” she smiled faintly, not actually wanting to be surrounded by drunks but August seemed to have something up his sleeve, he often did.

“Adieu,” she would attempt to leave, not expecting him to stop her at all as she walked with a sway of her hips toward the exit.

-ade exits unless stopped-

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