![]() Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange. “In this same vein, I sentence Blythe to death…” The words ruminated within her pounding head. Her heart was racing as she moved slowly away from the courthouse. The woman’s lip curled in a silent snarl. Who did the judge think she was? What authority did the Royalists have on a Highlander wolfess who vehemently denied their king’s domain, his right to the throne? This was Blythe’s first time in the Mainlands. It was no wonder she had avoided the place her entire life. A burly guard had been sent to accompany Blythe back to the dungeon for the night: upon morning light, they would hang her — a widow, a mother, someone who had aided many Highlanders throughout her years. The guard’s face was angry and tense. When Blythe stalled, refusing to walk further, the guard forcibly pushed her onward. She regarded him with rage, barely contained within Blythe as she muttered, ”Nách mór an diabhal thú?”. Aren’t you the devil? The guard appeared confuse — the fool did not speak a word of Gaelic, which was just as well. White paws dragged across the dirt, tail dropping. But her head remained high. They could never take her dignity. The idea of the enemy stealing away her life was as awful and offensive as the impending prospect of death itself. She thought of her children — at least they were old enough to care for themselves in her absence. Blythe sighed, the tumult of rage and distress causing her aching head to throb. They had not offered her any medical assistance. Now she understood why. They intended for her to die, one way or anything. @Tiberius |
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The woman’s face had been bloodied intentionally, and a notch freshly torn from her ear to symbolize her status as doomed to die. Mainlanders had proven be better as brutal and despicable as she imagined. And they called the Highlanders barbarians! But Blythe scarcely seemed to notice these purposeful wounds given to her only moments before. She thought instead of her sons, of Queen Aileen, and—
At first, Blythe believed it was her imagination gone awry. Her personal soldier escort paused to speak to another brute, one that had been absent during her lovely trip to the Mainlands, unmarked from the violence of the day’s protest. The white wolfess narrowed her eyes to see this stranger, who spoke with great assurance about his mother being sick. Silent as a grave, Blythe listened to the exchange with full interest — until word that someone was attempting an escape. The stranger addressed Blythe with ease and confidence, introducing himself not by name, but by profession: mercenary. He concluded his speech with words Blythe had not anticipated. “as I will be helping you break out of this place....” The Highlander rebel needed no further convincing, and her dull yellow eyes grew wide as she realized this could be her saving grace — whoever he was. ”Yes,” she hissed quietly in return, promising, ”Whatever it takes so they cannot have me, friend.” @“tiberius” |
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![]() Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange. Blythe did not need any reminder from the stranger to stay quiet – she could scarcely breathe as the situation loomed like a phantom before her, its enormity too much to bear alone. But to have to trust this unknown brute felt foreign. The false king and his lackeys offered no alternatives. The pale woman moved with graceful urgency, her side brushing up against the cold wall of the prison. As the rather clueless guard returned, Blythe stopped midstep, with a dainty white paw still hanging in the air. Her breath hitched in her throat. The unknown brute used his again to send the dimwitted guard away. Twin ears perked forward as the stranger addressed her again, and she followed his lead – until it became clear that escape would not be so simple. As she heaved a deep sigh, the brute asked, "Would you attack a guard to be free? I can take one if you can take the other." Blythe looked at the man with incredulous eyes. Evidently, he had not seen her violent performance in the square; the wolfess was uncertain she had any strength left in her to do as he asked. Still, if it meant freedom, never having to be in the filthy Royalist dungeon, Blythe had few options. The Highlander fae certainly had enough rage to fuel the fire. She responded hastily, ”Ma dh'fheumas mi,” before repeating her response in messy language, in case he could not understand the ancient tongue: ”If I must.” @Tiberius |
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Life is strange. Blythe’s orange eyes narrowed as she listened to the male explain his idea, her lips pursing. The violent suggestion seemed like sheer madness at best, and a death sentence at worst. But given that the Highlander woman was already doomed if she remained, she did not bother to open her mouth to argue. And he had a point – if both guards went down, then who could stop their escape? Besides, the wolfess had taken down three wolves already. What was one more to add to her criminal record? Blythe could only nod in curt agreement, accompanied by a cunning grin as her eyes turned. to the brutish soldier on the right as her would-be rescuer focused upon the wolf on the left. Tiberius wasted no time, and he was a powerful wolf, undoubtedly – one swift movement and the other was out cold. The other guard looked over, but had no time to respond, not even a howl for backup. Blythe had lowered her head, and using all of her strength, she rammed the soldier into the wall, turning her head at the last moment so that the force of her shoulders could crush the guard to the wall, where his head made a sickening *crack* sound before he, too, was unconscious on the dungeon’s floor. Her entire body ached, but the rush of the violence was enough to keep Blythe on her paws. An unconscious growl rumbled in her throat as she watched the motionless guard, before wild eyes flashed back to Tiberius. ”Shall we, then?” The pale woman did not bother to wait for a response, and despite her injuries, she ran from the dungeon as if it were in flames. @Tiberius |
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![]() Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange. Finally, the two had traversed enough land to put space between the pair and the prison, and Blythe slowed to a stop alongside Tiberius, still breathing heavily from exertion. When he mentioned my payment… Blythe looked at him curiously. The Highlander woman was not sure what to expect, but as he spoke, her brows raised questioningly, and she remained quiet. And certainly, the man’s unexpected idea — his offer, as he presented it — was not anything Blythe had anticipated. She repeated his request incredulously. ”A child?” Blythe had birthed pups before — she had not wanted it then, but she had accepted the situation and her offspring. She had done what was expected of her. Now, they were grown, and she had no obligations. The offer ruminated within her skull. They hardly knew each other… but Tiberius didn’t expect any romantic exchanges, clearly, which was just as well. Blythe had no interest in such nonsense. Eyes like a brilliant sunset roamed the male’s physique. He was an enormous beast — even larger than her deceased husband had been. But Blythe was older than she had been that first time. With a sigh, her pounding head nodded slowly. A life for a life. It was fair. Blythe had offered anything… but it happen on her terms. ”So it will be. The winter is over now,” she offered with a thought expression — she had not yet discovered that hapless couples were accidentally still conceiving pups, despite the change of seasons. ”I will find you when the time is right.” ”But whatever the outcome, anything that comes of this favor will be yours,” she said simply and without further explanation. These would belong to Tiberius alone, whether there were one pups or six of them. Blythe had no interest in rearing any more young — she had other business to attend in the form of a brewing war. Jacob was more important than genetics or legacy. There was always a chance she would be dead by then, anyway, and unable to repay this favor. For now, the wolfess lowered herself to the ground, wincing as she was reminded of her aching body and head. The snowy woman cast the almost-stranger a final glance — apprehensive, but accepting — before she succumbed to an uneasy slumber. [exit via sleeps] @Tiberius |