"Intoxicated" existed as a word dear to Vadeen's heart. It implied the declining control of his mind and relinquishing himself to desires only known and coveted by the deepest recesses of his being. He craved nothing more in these moments of supreme intoxication than blood seasoned with the scent of fear. His very genetics demanded it. As an irratai barely out of his 80s, he bore this curse with juvenile restraint.
But in the underground slum of KaicēTyū, he was free to indulge.
Sweltering hot and simmering breath emitted from his open mouth. Liquid heat had pooled in his abdomen, a chillingly pleasant sensation. The hard thumping of his heartbeat thrummed in his ear, resounding through his mind, and dominated his hearing. With heightened senses, he detected the approach of his prey. Instinctively, he dodged the fist that went for his abdomen, then grabbed the outstretched arm and gave a twist.
His prey screamed as he broke its arm, the sound an echo in his psyche. Without losing momentum, he threw the body overhead and slammed it into the ground. Before it could recover, he grabbed its neck. It squirmed and fought against him; he could sense that much. Its kicks and punches with its free arm did nothing to him despite how hard it attacked, and he licked his lips with a croon as fear permeated his nostrils.
Slinging his arm back, hand in a fist, he gave a single punch to its face. It immediately slackened, the smell of fear fading. Upper lip twitching, he growled and threw the body aside for the fourth time that day.
Weakling, hissed a voice deep within.
He rose predatorily to his feet, only to stumble once standing. Nostrils flaring, he searched with his exterior perceptions for the scent of fright.
He failed to smell any, and his head slowly cocked sideways. Around him, the sounds of feet thumping resounded through his body. He smirked. Years of experience with this sensation told him the voyeuristic crowd sang praises to his display of animalistic combat.
His head snapped in the direction of a scent of bloodlust. A maniacal smile of pleasure spread on his face as a new threat thumped toward him at top speed. This prey bore a fiercer aura in contrast to the one he had just thrown aside.
Maim it! He crooned to the demand in his psyche, neck cracking as he ticked his head to the side.
His prey ran toward him one second and attacked up close in the next. He moved too late, causing a hard, coarse fist to meet his face. His head snapped to the side in a way that should have damaged him; his years in the ring showed him what a single punch could do to someone.
Yet, he stood still, shivering as more heat pooled within him. His tongue slid over bloodied teeth, and chills rolled down his spine when the smell of growing fear emitted from his prey.
His fist rammed into an abdomen. Blood splattered on his face, and he licked it from his lips with a breathy purr. Something wrapped around his neck, and he choked as a prehensile tail forcibly pulled him away. The smell of bloodied saliva alerted him to his prey's approach. Knuckles jammed into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.
The tail released him as he flew back, but he recovered in a crouch, skidding over the ground. He coughed, but the taste of blood in his mouth eased the pain.
Brought back into a stupor, he sluggishly rose from his crouch, arms limp and head lowered. Like a willow in the wind, he lithely dodged the oncoming attack. Vision red, unfocused, and relying on his senses, he lunged forward to tackle his prey to the ground with his hand around a thick neck.
The momentum sent it tumbling over the ground, and he threw it out of the ring. Before the large body could fly too far, he snagged its tail. With it in his hand, he slammed its body into the ground. Leaping over, he reached for and grabbed a fistful of hair. He proceeded to send a volley of punches into its face.
He felt each hard punch to his sides from the writhing body beneath him, but this failed to unnerve him. Even once the body went still, he continued striking until the smell of fear and panic eased. Head cocking to the side, he sniffed at the body, chest heaving with deep breaths.
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Weakling! the voice sneered.
Slowly, he moved to his feet. Blood dripped from his nose, the corner of his mouth, and his forehead from previous matches. When the dark liquid reached his lips, he licked them. The taste sent shivers of pleasure through him and tickled something yearning for it inside him. The echoes of the voice, just as pleased as him, brought a smile to his face, and the thumping around him increased tenfold.
He abruptly collapsed to his knees, blinking red out of his waning vision. After several long moments, he finally closed his eyes and fell into the bloodied dirt.
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The soft croaking of a raven stirred him back to consciousness. Muttering, he reached out, and the shift of material brought his attention to his right. A large calloused hand took his, familiar and gentle. He took in a deep breath and smiled at the scent of metal, licorice, and alcohol.
"Mokā," he murmured.
"Yes, Vadeen." Another hand, coarse but tender, caressed his forehead. "You're back home in the barracks."
He muttered and whispered incoherent words, causing his mother to chuckle. After a moment, he managed to murmur, "Lanad?"
"He brought you back," she said, continuing to stroke his forehead. "He said you were completely out during the attack."
His eyes fluttered open as he frowned. His mother's gem-green gaze looked down at him with an easy smile. She sat beside him in a chair and wore her silver captain's uniform with its hood lowered, revealing her long brown hair. Several strands of grey tresses framed the right side of her face, her signature feature.
Glancing around confirmed that he was in his room within their military bracket. The colors within mirrored that of the bracket's, mahogany and forest green with gold accents. His eyes briefly closed, and he softly sighed at the familiarity of it all.
He smiled when a large raven jumped from the arm of her chair to cuddle beside him. He placed a hand on its crown, then focused on her. "What do you mean, 'attack'?"
She moved her hand from his forehead, leveling her gaze with his. "You and Lanad were attacked after leaving KaicēTyū."
"What?" He sat up. "Is he alright?"
"Yes. He sustained some minor injuries. There were three perpetrators."
"Indrahti?"
"They used dendromancy[1]. They have to be."
He frowned. "You don't sound so sure..."
She exhaled deeply, standing from the chair. She took a few steps away, running a hand through her hair. "Something doesn't feel right, that's all. It's nothing I can prove nor can I rely on..."
He moved so his feet touched the low stool at the right side of his bed and looked himself over. Someone had washed and dressed him in a simple blue tunic and loose, matching pants. Reaching up, he felt his damp hair.
He focused back on her when she turned around to look at him. "Jonē'i-Bū is tomorrow."
"Wait, how long have I been asleep?"
She softly chuckled. "A whole day."
"Shit..." Resting his elbows on his thighs, he covered his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, Mokā."
"It's alright. You must have exhausted yourself in the ring." She neared and placed a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to lower his hands and meet her gaze. A soft smile flashed at him. "Do you feel better?"
He nodded, rubbing his neck. "Yeah. Where is Lanad?"
"Out and about," she said, beckoning toward the room's doors, "and on the mend."
"How bad were his injuries?"
"His leg was pierced by wood. He managed to get away—barely. The culprits were strong. Stronger than the terrorists we dealt with last month."
His brows furrowed in thought. "Does the Sanyerō know about this?"
At the mention of their military's General Commander, she winced. "Not yet. I'm not sure if I should inform her."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"There's no known motive for going after you two. That's what makes this so bizarre..."
He observed the expression of deep contemplation on his mother's face. After a moment, she caught his gaze and shook her head.
"We are investigating, but as things are, this is a family-only matter."
Something on her face told him she withheld information, making him narrow an eye at her.
A slight crease formed between her brows as she noticed his scrutiny. "Lanad said the culprits were after you," she said with an edge in her voice, some of her shark teeth peeking from between her lips.
"Me?" He glanced away in thought. "Someone from the ring, maybe?"
"Suicidal as it is, it would make sense if so, but..."
"Dendromancy. Right. Why would indrahti go to KaicēTyū?"
She sighed. "For now, don't worry about it. Finish resting. I think your raven's been trying to tell me that."
He looked at the raven, which cooed softly, rubbing its crown against his side. Smiling at it, he softly chuckled, "Alright. I think I could use some more rest."
She made a soft sound of agreement, bringing his eyes back to her in time to watch her approach the doors. "I will see you soon, Érsuko[2]." A green eye glanced back at him.
He nodded, then watched her leave and close the doors behind her. Once she had left, he softly groaned and shifted to lay back on the bed. His raven hopped on his chest, then ruffled its feathers and sat atop him. He idly brushed its silky plumage, smiling when it cooed.
After several moments in the quiet of his room, he gently drifted to sleep.
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[1] The ability to manipulate/control wood.
[2] Son.