The Red

why be a king—

Blood trailed after the buck’s fatal injuries as I dragged the prey to one of my favorite areas. My jaws were sore, mouth and teeth full of fur and blood. Muscles flexed and rippled beneath a monochromatic, colossal figure. The scraping of the carcass across the ground was the only sound one could detect, aside from the last and final pull to the precise location I wanted, in which I ushered a grunt and growl.

Releasing the throat of the buck, his antlers clanked against stone as his dead skull thumped to the sod. My body then rippled with a shake, releasing some of the hard work I’d just done. I heaved a heavy exhale as I moved to sit before my kill, letting my diaphragm swell and blow with labored breathing. I didn’t touch it yet though, intending to rest before I’d feast.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey

It was high time that he should be heading back no matter the phantom lure those ships offered, it was a reality that refused to settle. The unknown too much of a change for one such as he. Those rickety vessels had offered their siren call of falsified freedoms. Of distance between himself and those of a homeland and yet it still felt as if it were no space at all, that one of the clan might emerge from twisting shadows in an instance. Steal away what had been gained with but a single breath - even as his steps lingered upon unfamiliar shores.

There was no way they knew where he wandered though a mind refused to cling to such certainty. Rather it swiftly buried it beneath festering anxieties. This unknown, the possibility of threat from every angle; it all grated on his nerves far harsher than one might hope. Why didn’t distance feel any better than when saddled up alongside them? A culmination of thought Leslie could not bring himself to focus on. Choosing instead to banish it to the back of his cerebrum as if dreaded notions would not be so quick to resurface… they would, in time but not yet for distraction came with triggered alarm.

It came in the all consuming aromas of one’s life elixir being spilt against the earth. Scents of ichor near intoxicating in the ways they encroached upon the mind and sent it into a frantic mix of hunger, worry, and fear. Of wonderment on if this were an easy feast or if some beast requiring assistance. It was not his duty to care for these foreigners and yet a sense of purpose - of usefulness - had hardly ever been turned away from in his life time. Even when it went against his better judgments. It was always at least a bit better than the alternative.

Limbs shook in his uncertainty though soon enough a hound crept forth chasing perfumes of blood and rain without the storm, of a creature adorned in Mitne’s tears and her fury all in one. It is not until he spies a laboring titan beyond the brush that he finds pause, a kill lain at the behemoth’s feet in needed sacrifice. The fallen buck capturing Leslie’s focus more so than the brute, though he could not be ignored and judging by the size of the unknown - there was no one the diminutive hound could make away with a successful theft. No matter how winded the giant may be, he were sure to find his second wind when the taste of violence lay within reach.

It was better not to risk it. Still that silent urged coaxed him closer, just a step more. Thought which seized full control until one was betrayed by it entirely, fallen twigs snapping beneath even the lightest pressure and alerting to a presence better left hidden. And in that moment muscles seized up no matter how a mind rushed, pleaded with him to turn and dart away even if another could not be outrun. There was another alternative, one a body took to as snowy hide ducked low as if it would stop the bloodied beast from ever knowing where he lay.

why be a king—

The scent of another mingled with the death I wrought. It made a tattered ear flick, and a lazy look around my surroundings. Though detected through smell, I couldn’t see the source of it just yet. I heaved a sigh of being overworked, gathering myself bit by bit after such a taxing ordeal. Normally I would take such a prized kill to Parathion’s den, but the solitary breeze was a siren’s call. To which I was unable to resist, even if the wind’s lied to me and brought me someone anyway.

Baritones drawled like distant rolling thunder.
"Come. I am generous."
Truth leaked from each syllable. The command was given in a gingerly sort, authoritative in nature, but the tone was welcoming all the same. I was far too honest to lie. It wasn’t something I had to do in order to survive.

A large paw reached out to nudge the skull of the felled buck, moving the antlers away from me in case my current company had any squirrely ideas. The scraping sound was loud, ominous.
"There is much to share."
After scooting the wrack of weaponry from range of impaling me, I gestured casually with the same bloodied, dirtied paw which would be pristinely white after a wash.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey

Come. The reverb of such command echoed within his ears and brought all functions to momentarily cease as it felt talons embedded themselves to his skull. It brought limbs to quiver as steps thought to retreat but as it played on repeat he remained frozen. Demand uttered too many times to count, too many times to remember yet the more this one played those differences began to shine. While it may have carried the rumble of a titan… there was no snarling venom, no malice or outright aggression seething beneath a single word. Yet still it brought a pang to his chest and hesitation to flood his veins.

It is not until those thunderous lyrics rolled free once more that the hound would slowly creep from hiding. Eyes refusing the meet the gaze of the behemoth, there was no challenge here, no manner of trickery ready to blossom from deep within his breast. Warily sights flickered up - so very far up - to behold the marked features of the unknown. Bathed in the scars of a fiend, a fighter; and registration of such a possible role immediately cast his focus down. The overgrown curve of talons suddenly becoming very interesting as he fixated to the way they kneaded the soil.

Little had been understood from what sounded as nothing more than a tongue twisted and garbled in his ears. Only the issued command, of the likely false offerance to share but what exactly would that cost? The shadow of his paw bid attentions back, drew them toward the fallen to stir that sickening gnaw of hunger in his gut. But he would not move toward it, dared not step toward the threat of antlers before askance laced the air, “Tir wux ahfven ve for vi hofiba? Ehis ui majaktor mojka ios schredilom. Zyak svabol ui dout miskel for kaojir?” (Do you take me for a fool? Nothing is given away without sacrifice. So what is your price for sharing?) Why so eager to offer one’s kill to a stranger?

Query issued as if he himself had not done the same before. As if he’d not seen a faint reflection of self in another, taken even fleeting comfort in the notion that one so subdued would not eagerly leap at the opportunity for harm. Those comforts hard found now as they lay strangled beneath overwhelming unease, its tendrils like a vice as they crept against his throat. For when one dared to look upon this unknown… there came no relief. So he would ask again, ask in the broken tongue issued against him, “What want for… for, tekir?” (deer?) For when one lay in the presence of monstrous titans, there was always a cost.

why be a king—

The smaller male would creep forward, timid and unsure. Driven, I surmised, by a hungry belly and blood. His language was different, an accent on it I surely didn’t understand. But it surely wasn’t the first time I had a language barrier, and perhaps not the last. A stoic expression painted my war-ruined face, taking note of him crouching low and eyes averting. Corpulent skull shook side to side slightly, a low rumble in my chest as I spoke again.
"It is called kindness, friend. The world needs more of it."
Kindness. Is that was I am? Kind? Some would beg to differ. I had always been generous, always been willing to share the things that I had in case another needed it as well. He was scrawny, perhaps unable to take down a buck on his own. I could share. There was more than enough.
"Come."
Came the thunder again, just as firm, just as gentle. Just as concrete as last time.

A large paw raised to place firmly on the skull of the deer, subduing it so that he couldn’t get a hair up his ass and decide I was attempting to trick him. His behavior was the result of this cruel world. And while I could certainly be just that, there was a time and place for it, that much was certain.
‘What want for tekir?’
I assumed that meant food in his language.
"Naught but your belly to fill."
A scarred up nose lowered to nudge the belly of the beast toward him, showing I wouldn’t be a merciless trickster. I was far too raw and honest for such maliciousness. I needn’t hide my intentions like a snake.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey

Suspicion was all one could feel in these moments as mixed sights lingered upon this towering beast. On how easily one such as he cast a shadow, how a titan loomed over both a hound and the slain which garnered so much interest. Yet such was a man who seemingly wore the permanent etchings of disinterest across his countenance making it all rather hard to decipher. All one could be certain of was there came no anger, no lash of fang against him… not yet anyways for while expression never waned acts alone were so very telling and it is they which reflects another’s unspoken disappointment.

A notion radiating so clearly with but a slow shake of that heavy crown. Being even a fleeting witness to this brought a heart to sink beneath suffocating notions of dread, the crow ever wary of what even the slightest inkling of such emotion may bring upon him. However, with this one, there came nothing more. Only phrases that further stirred confusion. Kind. Friend. Each words he’d heard before and yet with the way so many scars razed this man’s hide, neither were words Leslie would have chosen to describe the one before him. Not without knowing anything more than the decoration of jagged marks.

Though this was no time for contemplation for again those thunderous tones would command him closer. Lyrics inescapable as they rolled like a storm overhead and this time such demands would be heeded. One would listen, choosing to ignore the warring conflict that echoed between his ears in the depths of his cerebrum. Worries, terror, they would not stop the way paws slowly crept forth no matter how a mind raged.

Foolish idiot. That is what one was for choosing to believe in the lies another spoke, to treat them as something true. Surely it was all a trick with the way digits coiled about those antlers. Claws resting over spindles of a branching rack as if ever ready to seize hold, to spear protrusion of bone deep into his ribs… Leslie would not blame him if he did. For it would be the very thought to cross his own mind should he have held on to such weaponry.

One could never be too careful.

A hound found pause as eyes flickered up, ever uncertain even as a simple utterance slipped from his lips, “Vinxa.” (Thank you.) Yet sights refused to stray as he reached for the belly presented, unwilling to truly believe in the kindness of a stranger. It is not until fangs sink into flesh, how the blood of a beast who no longer breathed painted his tongue that a guard steadily dropped.

Paws only back tracking a touch whenever he’d been able to tear away a sizable chunk of meat, leaving crimson to pain snowy features as glittering sights danced to meet the stranger in hardly silent curiosities, “Svaust re wux ekess nomeno thaczil?” (Who are you to this land?) Though after speaking attentions would falter with a grimace as he fought with the locals tongue, of what he heard lacing the breath of one before him now. “Who you tazkera ir? What your… your,” (scarred one?) lyrics trailed off for a moment before falling back to what was known. What one found comfort in, “Svabol ui dout ominak?” (What is your name?)

face full of teeth white, but not smiling—

Tearing a chunk of meat from the carcass to focus on first, the stranger and I ate together. Mostly in silence as both of us were still wary of one another. For good reason, as you really couldn’t be too careful. But when he did speak, he struggled to speak my language and often faltered to his own, where it was impossible to understand him. So I studied him, trying to read his body language to couple with the few words he knew.

I chewed as I squinted, my one working eye being the only one to be able to move. The dead eye was naught but a clouded piece of gold.
"White Timber,"
A large, ivory blood stained paw tapped against my chest, ankle to sternum. To signify that was my name. I wasn’t sure what else he was asking, so I just shook my head lightly.
"My name."
I tapped my chest one last time as my one eyed gaze fell back to the meal between my paws. I ate a little more, nodding as he tried to ask something else, but it was lost on me. So I simply pointed at him with a bloodied maw.
"Name?"
I asked mainly, trying to gesture to my asking for his designation.

—all teeth, but not smiling

code // art