[ P ] high won’t hold

to see an empire fall

She continues to be nothing short of astounded by the short-sightedness of every wolf who ties themself to an army. It doesn’t matter what side they fight for—in her mind, they are all fools. To think that peace will arise from war is the most blasphemous thing she can think of, but still, she put on an innocent face and used her highlander citizenship to get her past the doors. She may not have been on that battlefield with her own teeth and claws, but Parathion had been watching, and waiting. She knows that White Timber is here. This unholy obsession is certain to be her downfall, and yet she cannot help the draw. There is a fervent need, thumping rampantly against her skin, to see him freed of his shackles. Let her be his salvation. The darkness of night looms overhead, and she prowls quietly around the edges of the makeshift dungeon, clinging to the darkened walls as she eyes the battered captives of imperial soldiers. All that bravado—and for what? Peace? Honor? Glory? All of it stains her heart black with loathing; Parathion has never known such things to hold them dear, and she never will. If she carves a place for herself in this world, she has no illusions that the end result would be pacification. Her mantle would be one born of iron and grit. Slowly, she progresses her way around the room, taking care to keep herself hidden from view as she finally reaches the corner that houses a familiar mass of mottled grey fur. Parathion slinks back against the wall into an alcove, assessing his bedraggled state for some time in silence where she sits in the darkness, little more than a wraith in the night. Her head tilts analytically, pale green eyes studying what injuries she can see on him; eventually, she leans forward just enough that the moonlight catches the tips of her ears, the ridges of her cheekbones, and the sharp glint of her eyes. "How the mighty fall," she murmurs on a breath, her tone just loud enough to skitter through the bars and catch the attention of her intended target. She waits—perhaps a little too eagerly—for the intensity of that amber glare to find her, a wolfish smile curling the edges of her lips.

code & art

@White Timber

The defeat left a bitter taste in my mouth. My leg ached. My body was sore. I was unsure how it all came crashing down, but the Imperial Army was demolished. The jail cell was filled with so many of us, even Ryker, who kept her distance. Perhaps she was just as scorned by this loss as I was. But I cared not for the loss of the King’s army, it bothered me to my very core that the loss was linked to me. I was supposed to be mighty, I was supposed to be a rising warlord. But everything I did failed.

Maybe I didn’t belong in the army.

Maybe I didn’t belong under the rule of an absent general or famed, unpopular king.

My mind whirred as I sat in a far corner, the others being warned with fang and snarl if they came too close. I wanted my solitude. I didn’t notice her as she slipped in, her voice catching me off guard, causing me to jolt.
"How the mighty fall,"
I could scoff. What about any of us was mighty? We were pawns. And I so hated to be a pawn. My one good eye lifted, catching the shadow shrouded woman in her ghostly glory. I saw a spirit face in the dark, the abyss consuming almost all of her except the bits she allowed me to see.

So alluring. Yet I made very little movement so that way attention wasn’t drawn to her. She clearly wanted to be hidden, and so I would oblige. Besides, wouldn’t want her to pick up on the fact I was downright giddy she came to see me.
"Indeed,"
Baritones rumbled just above a whisper.
"Pathetic."
I tossed a glare at the rest of the cell. Some had escaped, some wallowed with me. If I was going to escape, I would take some lives with me.

But it was all I could muster at the moment. I didn’t want to say too much, seem too eager. I didn’t want to say too little, seem too disinterested. But my heart thumped a few beats faster and my stomach twisted.

What the hell was this?

to see an empire fall

She feels it, more than sees it, the moment that he notices her. Parathion could feel the weight of his gaze like a brand—only for a moment, but it seared her, and she wants to feel that heat again. She would, in whatever way it took; White Timber may not yet understand what she has in store for him, but it is so much grander than this…hovel that thinks to confine him. “Indeed.” His voice skates softly across the stone floor, and she can taste the bitterness in his tone, the disdain for his fellow armsmen. These are grand royal soldiers of noble intent—they are degenerates, just as is their enemy. All of them a waste of space and a waste of her time. All but him. Parathion studies him in analytical silence, letting it stretch and hang between them as she considers her next move. This, perhaps, has been her most daring venture yet. To visit him here—it is the most reckless thing she has done, and she thrives in it. The adrenaline rushes under her skin like a live wire, set to burn when he lights the match. And oh, how she wants him to light the match. “They are unworthy of you,” she murmurs—barely above a breath—and lowers slowly to her belly in the alcove, nothing more than a shadow. From between her paws, a nudge sends a small cloth parcel skittering silently across the floor in his direction, sliding to a stop just within his reach. Should he bother to take it, he will find an ointment for his wounds; thoughtful of her, isn’t it? Parathion has never extended and olive branch to anyone before, and now she has done so for White Timber twice; she has given up her futile efforts of forgetting him. She will have him. He has become an obsession, the waking nightmare who haunts her every step, and she wants him like she has wanted nothing before. She will dissect him from this army and have him for herself—and maybe then, she will know what it is like to be whole.

code & art

Witch drew my attention again with her subtle presence. Her words filled me with an unbridled ember that ignited the ambition once doused, where it erupted into a volcanic spew coursing through my body. I felt it at the edges of my toes, pricking at my eye, twitching the tail. Ego and realization swelled where it had been dismantled by the previous battle, and a couple of events before. I recounted my displeasure with the captain, the displeasure with how the imperial army functioned thus far. It was beneath me. I was to rise far, far above it, where it tried to shackle me.

Yes, they were unworthy of me.

It was becoming clearer by the second, and I looked to her, gold searching for emerald, where I’d find the solace I had once lost. Lips parted to let a reply slip, but then she slid me something, the hushed scraping noise of the item bringing ripped ears forward. I observed it, lifted a large paw to open one side of it to see a substance. It almost coaxed a smile from me, but i stifled it.

She’d not see that yet.

{They are.}

Ego confirmed, but the Witch was right. So where would I steer this unruly ambition? How could I quench this thirst for a crown and throne, when none were at my disposal? I had much to learn, this much I knew simply from my interaction with the stranger, but I’d have issue reining in the patience for it all. Maybe she was the key, or perhaps the lock.

{Am I worthy of knowing your name yet?}

Baritones suddenly asked, drawling in a low thunder, unchecked by premeditated thought and revision. The question was out before I could stop it, but I did not regress as my eye looked up from the ointment to her. The shadows still danced with her angular features, the wraith upon the stone flooring then. She was a certain kind of beauty I had not seen on another woman, and I felt a young boy asking the girl to play. The enigma surrounding her name, her purpose here, and why she wanted to help me was another alluring thing for me, but I wouldn’t speak on it yet. I didn’t want to scare her away, and as begrudging as it was to me, I much enjoyed her company. Even still, my heart continued to skip beats and flitter with the electricity she pulsated through my body.

Absentmindedly, I began to apply the ointment to my mangled forelimb. I feared I’d limp permanently, but it still made me proud to have gained this scar in battle - regardless of politics.

to see an empire fall

"No," she answers without hesitation, a sly smirk curling the edge of her lips. The army may be unworthy of him, but he is not yet worthy of her, whilst he sits here in this hole in the ground, nursing the wounds he'd earned fighting wolves who should have been her allies. Her friends. Her smile falters, and fades. Those bridges had burned so long ago, never under her control to begin with. Parathion had always been doomed to exile, and selfishly, she wants to drag White Timber into it with her. But she has to be certain—she has to know that this invisible bond between them is real, that he feels it too. Magnetic, electric, so tangible she feels as though she can hold it between her paws. She wants to dig her claws into it, into him, and never let go. "Free yourself from this cell, White Timber," she breathes, and the urgency in her voice is not a request, but a demand. Free himself, because she has willed it. Slowly, she pushes herself up to her forepaws, the intensity of her gaze enough to burn right through him. "Free yourself, and find me." Her demand escalates to a challenge and a plea all in one, and her green eyes are fervent and feverish with her desires, with this vicious, all-consuming need to have him for herself. She leans closer, allowing the candlelight to cast a warm glow across the high points of her features, and sending the rest into dramatic, darkened shadow. "Ansin is féidir leat a bheith agam," ( then you can have me ) Parathion promises on a whisper. If he doesn't—well, then she supposes this game will come to a disappointing and anticlimactic end. She doesn't think it will, however. There is no putting it into words, but she knows— —he already has her. She is gone as quickly as she came, vanishing into the shadows like a wraith, and hopes the distance makes him ache, like it does her. exeunt parathion

code & art