[ P ] Not Dead Yet

There is warmth, heat, a gradually rising burn; blood seeps into cold snow beneath his muzzle, something he only sees for a brief moment before he sees only black, before he sees the failure written across his very body. The disappointment had nearly burned more viciously than the pain that was laced around his right eye. While he was defeated and exhausted, he would drift off with a lack of clarity, all of his struggle was for nothing- and he hadn't even returned to the borders seek a fight with the Imperial bastard. Once more he was dragged into her life by fate, he was so sure of it. Her name left his lips more than once, and Aurelius was the poor unfortunate soul that he came across first.

And because of that, he was left cold, bruised, and battered against the base of a tree. He made it back as far as the outskirts of the fae forest; if they were always fated to run into one another, he hoped this would be one of the times Sienna would stumble across him-a part of him was genuinely hoping for it, the other part of him was convinced that she owed it to him to atleast find him. Though, the fates were cruel and he was so sure that the fae heard him stumble across the sacred ground.

Once more, he would fade back awake, this time only long enough to see a blurred, white face, mistaking it for Sienna's half-alabaster face. A short, small huff of a laugh would leave his lips as a faint smirk tipped the corners of his lips before closing his emeralds away and fading back into the dark that came earlier. This time however, the fading would continue to bring him in and out, his body being pulled through biting bushes and cold snow jostling him awake from time to time. The last thing he would see is a ghostly, white figure above him, he was in tow as they continued forward with him. Lips attempted to part as a heavy tongue twisted and contorted to speak but he only barely choked out saliva. His limbs ached but moved nowhere as he thrashed- atleast, did what thrashing he could, or thought he could. He would slowly roll his gaze to his hind legs. While he thought he was accomplishing massive movements, his eyes told him another story: he couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldnt feel. He would barely keep his eyes open to pick apart who this was and where they were going, but even those were too heavy to hold up anylonger.

art + code: clae

let me get this straight the only will is my own I will always find a way to survive I'm not a failure, but I know what it's like you don't always know where you stand 'til you know that you won't run away there's something inside me that feels like breathing in sulfur I'm a sinner to most but a sage to some my gods are untrue I'm probably wrong but I'm better than you the longest hours I've had in my life were the ones I went through to know I was right so I'm safe but I'm a little outside I'm gonna laugh when I'm buried alive

I can take it or leave it or die

There is a disturbance in her forest. She can feel it, as surely as her beating heart. It's a buzzing ring in her ears, a song to her blood, a call to action that she doesn't hesitate to heed. Parathion slinks through the underbrush with the familiarity of an old lover, leaves drifting across her skin as she passes by, following no sense other than pure instinct. Where the moonlight pierces through the canopies, it alights her fur in a soft glow, the pale strands of her hair standing out starkly against the brush.

When she finds the prize waiting for her at the edge of the forest, a slow smirk curls across her lips. Prowling closer to the prone form of an ashen-colored wolf, her face looms over his, assessing whether he is even still alive; the bloodied creature rewards her with a sluggish blink of his eyes, a breath of a laugh, a smile. He's delirious. But that's alright; she only needs him breathing.

She takes advantage of his quick descent back into unconsciousness to shove a few herbs down his throat, and then she waits. It comes as little surprise that he gurgles and his breathing picks up in rhythm by the time she's grabbed both of his ankles none-too-kindly and begun dragging him through the trees. Parathion does not ordinarily go after prey so substantial, both due to her less-than-impressive size and the fact that attempting to incapacitate an adult wolf would doubtless have her tied to a burning stake faster than she can blink.

She just can't help it though when such a gift is hand-delivered to her doorstep.

It's not easy. The male is substantially larger than her. Not so filled out as White Timber, but he still outweighs her soundly. Maybe she should've feigned helping him so he would do some of the work himself—but she'd been too leery about the idea of trying to drug him after he'd come back too much to consciousness. Adrenaline is a powerful chemical. By the time she manages to drag the limp bastard into her well-hidden den, she's breathing hard, her heart slamming across her ribs, but she hadn't dared stop—not once.

Still puffing, but not stupid enough to leave such an obvious trail in her wake, Parathion snatches a wooden cup off her dilapidated work table and stalks back outside to cover the path. On her way back, she fills the cup with frigid water from a stream, and returns to unceremoniously dump the liquid over her unwitting victim's face. "Dùisg," ( Wake up ) she demands brusquely, leering over her prey with a cruel glint in her eyes. By now, his feeling should be returning, his consciousness obtainable—but movement will continue to evade him for a few hours more.

If he lasts that long, she'll gladly start the process all over again.

code // art

why be a king—

Approaching the boarder, I was sure to assess the area for potential guards. None in this area, usually, as the Fae Forest seemed to scare a lot of wolves away. But it was where Parathion and I truly connected and bonded, our devotion something impenetrable. It was quite a wonder, something I’d covet, something I would cherish.

Something I would kill if she were to prove disloyal.

But as I neared, something pricked at my nose, plucked at my one good eye, and tickled my ears. The deafening silence, the sway of trees. Crimson and rust. Musky cologne. Delicate perfume. Red sloshed on the sod.

The scent of my nephew was dripping in blood, masked by my Parathion, along with another unfamiliar cologne, sending me into a full confused panic. But while my heart raced and my mind worried, I didn’t let it show. The only sense of urgency was the earth eating gallop I’d taken to. Gargantuan mass was lurched forward with powerful strides, following blood and scent. like rolling thunder across the land, I moved with uncanny grace. I noticed drag marks, like a gator taking its prey, which lead me straight to Parathion’s den.

I paused outside of it for a moment. Why would she have Aurelius? What kind of trouble did he get into to be so mangled? I decided I’d not wait for an invite. I wriggled my way through her wormhole of a home, rounding the bend of her den to find a most unexpected scene. Aurelius, somewhat breathing I supposed, but battered. I felt disgust. Hadn’t he been taught better? Then I remembered, his weak father is what drove me to grow distant in the first place. I wonder, from my brother’s high pedestal in the sky, did he feel pride seeing Aurelius could not even fend for his own? And I would think Parathion would be helping him, but that gleam in her eye proved otherwise.

A sudden stoicism replaced the panic. Baritones lulled.
"My Witch,"
Even if Aurelius couldn’t hear, or whatever ailed him besides stupidity, her name was still sacred. A ruined chin dipped as my eye settled on her, diaphragm still heaving from the previous labor.
"I implore you, heal him."
While our mateship was new, a brand new bud just having been planted, I was mistaken to underestimate her. She single handedly took out an entire legion without even being seen. Her power was not physical, but still extremely dangerous.

I waited then, nervously, my eye unwavering from hers as I asked for Parathion to heal rather than poison. My body poised. But for what? a useless nephew who couldn’t fight? Surely I would not raise a paw against her.

I didn’t know. I waited with her to find out.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey

let me get this straight the only will is my own I will always find a way to survive I'm not a failure, but I know what it's like you don't always know where you stand 'til you know that you won't run away there's something inside me that feels like breathing in sulfur I'm a sinner to most but a sage to some my gods are untrue I'm probably wrong but I'm better than you the longest hours I've had in my life were the ones I went through to know I was right so I'm safe but I'm a little outside I'm gonna laugh when I'm buried alive

I can take it or leave it or die

The emerald eyes that look back up at her are wide, dilated, scared. Parathion smiles. She presses a paw against his ribs to feel his heart thudding beneath her palm, a rapid staccato that belies his panic; it's hard not to panic when you're at the mercy of a devil. She is poised over him, a sharpened shard of glass clutched in her grasp, when there is a disturbance at the entrance of her den. Her snarl cuts the air, fur standing on end as she immediately goes on the defensive—but the figure that bulldozes into her home is one she knows well. Intimately.

She does not flinch away from being caught red-handed in such a compromising position, but she only relaxes infinitesimally as his eye sweeps over the scene and finally lands on hers. "My Witch." Parathion's eyes narrow. She is frozen, her claws curling possessively into her victim's shoulder. He wants something, and he has caught her in the haze of bloodlust. "I implore you, heal him." Another growl cuts the air, her lips peeling back from her teeth anew.

"Why?" she demands, her tone venomous. Why should she give up her hard-earned prize? Why should she fix him, when he is a perfectly adequate canvas to paint on?

code // art

why be a king—

When she regards me, there is a flicker of something inside of me. An ember sparking, a new found love and adoration for the sheer ruthlessness in her emerald eyes and murderous intent behind her actions. She was thirsty, like a fabled vampire on the hunt having finally found its prey. I’ve interrupted her just in time. My eye did not fall from her glare. Excitement slithered its way down my spine to coax my manhood, but now wasn’t the time for such things. I could be her next cadaver if I didn’t play my cards right.

She asked me why, and I could do nothing more than give her the truth. But could I offer it all right here, right now? Did Aurelius know I was the culprit behind his parents’ demise? Would it benefit for him to know now, or later, or at all? Maybe I would keep it silent for now, and ask her more about it later. Perhaps her council would do me some good.
"He is my nephew. His name is Aurelius."
In this moment of pure clarity, I saw her. I observed the monster beneath that unkempt fur and burning eyes. I saw the pale demon trying to break free any chance it could. It didn’t make me shy away, instead I would embrace it.
Consume it.
But I knew also that she had to be fed.
"Spare him for me, my love, and I will lay at your paws a trophy. In his place."
Just not him. Choose anyone else.

Not him.

Begging was beneath me, and she was only offered a bargain because of our status. Otherwise she would be disengaged and thrown to the side, to decay beneath her chemicals and toxins. But there was a love beneath all of this, two monsters chained together.

Remaining still, my eye upon her, I watched for her reaction. I dare not steal a glance at him yet, although his situation would be dealt with accordingly, and post haste.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey

let me get this straight the only will is my own I will always find a way to survive I'm not a failure, but I know what it's like you don't always know where you stand 'til you know that you won't run away there's something inside me that feels like breathing in sulfur I'm a sinner to most but a sage to some my gods are untrue I'm probably wrong but I'm better than you the longest hours I've had in my life were the ones I went through to know I was right so I'm safe but I'm a little outside I'm gonna laugh when I'm buried alive

I can take it or leave it or die

He may as well lay belly-up on the floor, as prone before her as Aurelius, for all the begging he’s doing. She has seen many facets of White Timber in a rather short amount of time, but groveling is new, an unexpected turn of events. She eyes him for a long time, weighing his request against the roaring of her own blood in her ears; he is asking her to abandon an adrenaline high, just when her victim’s life is literally in her hands. “You love this boy,” she remarks coldly, her venomous gaze dropping to where he lays prostrate before her, his eyes wild and chest fluttering rapidly beneath her paw.

It would be so easy—she could have his heart in her palm in mere seconds.

Love. Such a fool’s errand. She’s never understood it. Parathion has a tormenting fixation with White Timber, an obsession that is all-consuming in the most primal of ways, but she doesn’t think she would call it love. It’s too soft a word for her, when all her edges are sharp and serrated.

“Cé mhéad saol is fiú a shaol?” ( How many lives is his worth? ) she muses, quirking a brow. Her claws tap thoughtfully against Aurelius’s ribs, and then her gaze lifts back to her mate, her head tilting in that uncanny way of hers. “I want five,” Parathion demands, arching her brows as though daring him to refuse her. She’s being greedy, but there’s just something about having him—having them both—at her mercy that delights the witch in a sickening way; she wants to see how far she can push.

It’s not like Aurelius’s life is at stake, or anything.

Tick tock.

code // art

why be a king—

My heart thundered in my chest. She said I loved Aurelius. Was it love? Possession? He was mine, certainly, as his mother and father were. A couple of souls already beneath my belt but the boy…the boy. Was mine. Not hers. No matter how much I felt and obsessed over her, Aurelius was not hers to dissect. He was mine. Always has been. And when it is time for his life to end, I will be the one to snuff it out.

Five. Five lives. I nodded.
"You will have them."
I promised with ease. I chose to skim over her comment of my love for Aurelius, and I dared to move a little closer to her.
"Alive?"
To satiate her need for beating hearts and pumping lungs. She wanted blood, I would deliver. I had to atone for this moment. A weakness he had made me exploit. Aurelius would get his ass handed to him when he could stand. He would feel my wrath as he should have before, to ever be put in this position. A Timber, so dismantled. It was disgusting. He would bring us all down with his idiocy, and so I will teach him.

My mind shifted from that, my eye remaining on Parathion, needing to focus on wrangling the slithery beast before me. My equal in many ways, able to take asunder an entire army unit, without even being seen. Yes, if she demanded lives, I would do as she pleased.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey

let me get this straight the only will is my own I will always find a way to survive I'm not a failure, but I know what it's like you don't always know where you stand 'til you know that you won't run away there's something inside me that feels like breathing in sulfur I'm a sinner to most but a sage to some my gods are untrue I'm probably wrong but I'm better than you the longest hours I've had in my life were the ones I went through to know I was right so I'm safe but I'm a little outside I'm gonna laugh when I'm buried alive

I can take it or leave it or die

"You will have them." Her brows arch, and then she smiles—though it's not a friendly gesture. It's cold, and knowing, and selfish. Of course, White Timber had not mated with her for her generosity, and he's well aware of her warped moral compass, if she even has one. He steps closer, and she curls a lip, but otherwise doesn't protest his cautious attempt to enter her bubble. "Alive?" She snorts audibly. "Obviously," Parathion retorts, the narrowing of her eyes suggesting he is smarter than stupid questions.

She sighs heavily, as though agreeing to this deal is some great burden on her—and in a sense, it is, because now she has to fix what she so badly wanted to break. Grumbling under her breath, Parathion turns to the crude shelves that hold her wares, pulling down specific counterparts to the toxins she's already used, and a few additional herbs to patch the injuries he already had. She leans over Aurelius then, peering down into his wild, frantic eyes with a chilling coldness in her own. "It's a shame you won't remember that you owe him your life," she murmurs, and then offers the boy a frigid smile.

"Hold his head up," Parathion directs White Timber, finally switching gears and relinquishing her ironclad grip on her prey. Amongst the herbs she forces down Aurelius's throat is one that will make the last few days hazy at best, and the few hours before and after its administration will be gone from his memory entirely. If she has to let him live, she cannot let him recall her face or what happened here. When all is said and done, she's forced a veritable salad into the boy's gullet, and his injuries are patched up and slathered in salve.

Lucky fucking bastard.

The pale she-wolf huffs and steps back, her eyes fixed upon her mate's face. He will find no softness in her tonight. "He'll be fine. Probably." Parathion's gaze flicks down to the still prone wolf at her feet before she shrugs around both him and White Timber, headed for the exit of her den. "You have an hour or two until the paralysis wears off. Get him out of the forest before then. And—" she pauses, looking back over her shoulder at White Timber, "don't come back until you have what I want." He will replace what he's taken from her tonight before Parathion welcomes him back into her bed.

As for the other four lives, she's going to take her sweet time cashing in those favors.

For now, she'll have to find something less...thrilling to tide her over.

exeunt parathion

code // art

why be a king—

I had not a word to speak as she instructed me what to do. I had no qualms as I was still rather afraid she could snap and end Aurelius right then and there. With a stoic expression bordering somber, I followed every word and latched onto his scruff with a rather harsh bite, and as I began to drag him out - she slams me, no… backhands me with her words. She spat venom, disdain, telling me not to come back until I have her lives. I dropped Aurelius’ scruff and looked at her with one golden eye, narrowing with a furrowed brow and instinctually, jaggedly cropped ears shifted to pin.

I knew I had made her mad, but this mad? My heart skipped a beat but then silvery, ruined lips split into a rare, toothy smile. A dedicated one, one full of lust and pain and understanding. I don’t know if she would regret my return, but she wouldn’t be able to forget it either.
"You will have your lives, my Witch."
Thunderous tones were laced in a threatening promise.

With that, I snatched Aurelius back up, then began the hard trek to drag him out of the woods and back to the border.
…
It took some time, he would wake soon. My breathing was labored, heavy, my mouth full of his fur and blood. I spat, snarling, my anger swelling with each passing second he was incapacitated.
"Aurelius… I don’t know if you can hear me. But I—"
What? I what? Love him? Hate him? None of it. These emotions were too much. My expression became pained and I snarled again, pacing before him. Back and forth, snorting like an agitated bull, lumbering like a bear. My eye would snap to him every once in a while, then finally, I growled loudly again.
"Have I taught you nothing?!"
I spat, I roared, stopping finally in wait for him to wake the fuck up.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey