Chapter 128: Big Moves
Tel stayed by his side as he made his way back to the building they were assigned, her furry tether still firmly attached to his arm. Though the congressional was somewhat over with, there were still things to discuss, so they needed to spend the night again. Regardless, that wasn’t the reason he was heading there.
He needed to speak with his brother before he started making any big moves.
The entire way was filled with whispering soldiers. Conversations regarding several announcements propagated throughout the ranks, sending concern into the members of the military. Their leaders were dead, and their First Claw was one of the eight who were instantly placed in the vacancy. Some theorized that a conspiracy was underway, others worried about what might happen next, and a few quietly ducked into alleyways and prayed for it all to be a chance to go home so that they could see their loved ones.
Whatever the motivation, there was unrest in the encampment. A palpable tension lingered in the air as people strayed from their patrols to speak with others. The increase in traffic had Tel insisting that she remain on guard outside of temporary dwelling. It wasn’t only her that felt the need for the increased vigilance, however; the human security had taken up posts just outside the building, nodding in greeting to their employer’s brother as he entered.
Unlike the activity he was prepared for, only half of the expected inhabitants were present. Rob and Sil were both sitting at the table, the Trilaxin wrapping a wing around her fiance’s arm while his other hand held his coffee. By the presence of a tablet terminal on the table, the First Claw had kept her word and shut down the ‘spike for now, letting the man get back to his messages and whatever else he had missed.
The only others in the room were Scarlet and Volta, the Wraith pouring more of the hot beverage for Rob, while the Head of Sanitation anxiously wiped down the countertop despite having done so before they left. It wasn’t hard to see that at least someone was a little rattled by the events of the day. The tension carried in her body abated as Scarlet returned to her side, helping the endless task of cleaning nothing in particular. The reaction brought both a smile to his face, as well as a determination to his mind.
People like them were why he was doing this.
Robert was brooding, but still nodded in greeting to his brother, tipping his mug to gesture towards the mostly vacant room when he noticed Joseph looking for where the others were. “Violet wanted to stay with Daisy for now, so Jax, Rose, and Cobalt went with her to Sunundra’s. She said that they would be back later and that she loves you.”
Joseph hummed his understanding, a small smirk winning out over the frown at his daughter slipping away on her own. His eyes strayed until they fixed on the Martian. With all the weight placed on the decisions he needed to make, the man was really the only one he trusted to help set him straight, because he knew his own choices were pulling him down a path he wasn’t sure he should be going.
No, perhaps he just needed someone else to act as his moral compass.
Robert nodded to himself tiredly when he noticed the pensive expression on the Grand Hunter’s face. His gaze drifted to the table. “You probably have some questions.”
“What do you mean?” Joseph asked reflexively, the flatness of his tone making it come out more sarcastic than he intended. Truthfully, he did, but he had gotten so used to things moving in the background and suddenly popping up, that his reaction was to simply adjust his plans, then worry about the reason after things were under control. Waiting for an answer had only ever screwed him over.
Rob winced slightly as he sipped his coffee, thanking Scarlet and passing her an energy drink to deliver. “The planet, the Union inspectors, the list goes on. I can’t claim to have all the answers, and I think I explained the ‘visitors’ as much as I could at the table, but I guess you’re curious about why or how I managed to buy this place. Especially when you were waiting a year to come home.”
Joseph’s throat dried as he accepted the carbonated beverage from the dark-furred female, her paws wrapping around his hand as she gave him the can. Reassurance coloured her eyes when he met them with his own. It was only a fraction of a second that she provided it before her usual ‘customer service’ persona came to the forefront, but that expression said more than words would have allowed. A flicker of a smile graced the Wraith’s face before she released his hand to assist Volta with tidying the already immaculate room.
‘No matter what he decided, she would follow.’ That was the message the usually mischievous female gave with that gaze. It hit him in his blind spot, truth be told; though there were plenty of people that he had grown used to hearing those sorts of words from, the girls in general just... Well, he wasn’t expecting anything beyond the ‘Blade’ style of subservience from them. It wasn’t a notion he was expecting to receive from someone other than Tel or Jax while he was here, but...it really did ease the burden on his shoulders. He turned his attention back to his brother as he cracked open the drink.
“Rob—“
“—You’re not coming back. I know,” Robert sighed, placing his mug back down with a dull clack. Silva nuzzled into his arm, softening the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked up at the Grand Hunter, interpreting the confusion from the abrupt statement as a request for elaboration. “How long have we been talking over calls Joe? Not including any trips I had to go on, I was contacting you pretty much every week or so, right?”
Joseph tentatively nodded, deciding to just see where the conversation was going instead of trying to figure out where the topic had come from. Robert took his silence as something else apparently, his speech coming from a need to explain himself rather than answer any particular question.
“Between Pan and Harrow, I’ve spent more time talking to them than you. Not that I’m blaming you or anything, promise. Just...” The Martian’s speech faltered, a deep sigh escaping him as he deflated. “The way they talked about you, Earth, and the conversations we did have... Joe, they showed more interest in it than you ever did—which, I guess is to be expected, since it’s literally an alien planet for them—but when was the last time you mentioned missing Sol? The idea seems further from your mind with every call.”
“I’ve complained to no end about these,” Joseph retorted softly, a false smirk on his lips as he wiggled the can he was sipping from. Rob snorted.
“You’ve mentioned things from home, sure. Lot’s of times you’d bring up video games, or movies, or shopping complexes, but never going or taking your friends back. It was always about how much you wished it was here. ‘I’d love to show Jax that movie,’ ‘I’d pay to make Harrow play this game,’ ‘Pan would love to have that.’”
He tried to recall a specific instance that he mentioned wanting to bring everyone to Earth, but besides the start of his extended stay, he only ever really mused on going to Mars at any length, and that was just because he thought his new family would rather that over the alternatives.
“Maybe you associated Earth with Emma, Joe—I really couldn’t say—but...it’s been the last thing on your mind for a while. Hell, not once have you mentioned being excited to leave since I got here. Understandable, considering what I arrived to, but even when we had a chance to relax for a minute, you just wanted to make sure that the Lilhuns and Atmo were being treated right.”
Rob finally looked back at him, concern and pride in his expression in equal parts.
“You made up your mind a while ago, Joe. ‘Home’ isn’t back in Sol, on Earth. For you, home is here. Home is where your ‘pack’ is. Speaking of, did you notice that you default to their language now? You call the settlement ‘your territory,’ and the people ‘your pack.’ You order them without pause and without question. Joe, you shrugged off a room full of armed soldiers aiming at you with confidence...” The man chewed his cheek, an anxious smile growing through the hesitation. “You’ve changed, Joe. It worries me.”
“Why, Rob? I’m still me,” he defended half-heartedly. Despite that, he couldn’t help but think about it. Trying to put the man who stumbled off a cliff with a banged-up ankle in the meeting today would have just ended with a terrified puddle of piss and a passed out Joseph. His brother was right; he wasn’t the same as when he crashed here a year ago.
“I know, Joe. That’s why I figured I should do what I could. I bought this place so that the Union would screw off and give you some peace—so that you’d have somewhere to be.” His brother fiddled with his mug, tipping it back to finish off the brew and nodding his thanks when Scarlet topped him back up. “You’re dead, by the way, so this was also a perfect chance to sort that out.”
Joseph blinked. “What?”
Robert chuckled weakly to himself, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes as he forcibly lightened his tone. “Officially, I mean. The records and last transmissions of the cruise were pretty conclusive. As far as Sol is concerned, you died inside a silent inferno in space last year. I couldn’t correct them; you had a blacklisted species with you as soon as I confirmed that you were alive, then another shortly after. I had to sign the papers at the office to collect your things from your apartment—it's in one of the storage rooms on the ship, if you’re interested in digging through it.”
The Grand Hunter fell silent for a moment, his voice reluctantly working after a few attempts. “So, now what?”
A wry grin grew on the Martian’s face. “I would have loved to bring you back with me, but there’s a lot of paperwork in it. Ironically, less than letting my brother live on the planet he crashed into.”
Joseph’s slightly furrowed brows was the only reaction. Rob sighed, his attempt at humour landing flat.
“Now? You’ve already decided; you have a new family—or pack, whatever—and you want to see them safe. That’s why I pushed for Horizon to deal with the UM; I’d send some of our more ‘at risk’ members to ‘disappear,’ and then they’d be free to build a few facilities on the planet. It would really give us a place to work on the more obvious projects that the Union would catch onto if we did them back home. Toss in some actual fabrication plants and foundries, and I could write this place off as a business expense, justify the traffic back and forth, and smuggle members onto the planet whenever we needed. The Union wouldn’t ask too many questions—some deliberate calibrations to defend against the warp-spike would make it look like we were just barely making it in and out—so they wouldn’t suspect or care about what was going on.”
“Then what was the deal with Trill?”
Rob’s grip on his mug tightened, but Joseph couldn’t help but feel like the image was weaker than he would expect. “He was supposed to work with Horizon and ensure that we would have a claim here. Not slaughter some world leadership. There were other methods to get what we needed.”
The Grand Hunter found himself biting back his disagreement. There wasn’t another way. Those ‘High Elders’ were the top of the pack; what they decided would be followed. Sure, some Lilhuns might defect if given a better option, but he had fought tooth and nail on the planet against people less happy with the one telling them to toss their lives away, and they still did it.
Robert didn’t understand how absolute the hierarchy could be. He didn’t understand the necessity of Trill’s actions. He hadn’t lived and breathed with these people. He hadn’t been forced to defend his own from them, nor had he experienced how much they could rely on the authority of those above them—how ingrained the need for structure was. He didn’t know how far they would go to be a part of their pack, how much they would endure for their loyalties, and how devastating it was for them to be tossed aside, even if the alternative was suffering.
Rob didn’t understand how much Lilhuns needed it—how lost they were without some form of structure.
How lost his own pack would be without him.
Robert kissed Silva on the head as he stood, freeing his arm from her and approaching the Grand Hunter. Both hands rested on Joseph, the reassurance from the grip on his arms failing to do what it was intended to.
“Joe, don’t start being like Trill. Focus on your family here. Just... You’ve built a life for yourself. You know who you are and what you should be. If you’re happier sequestered on this planet, then so be it, but I want to help. We’ll get you guys up to speed, get proper foundation for the settlement, and then you can focus on raising your daughter with your pack. There’s no need to break yourself to meet the expectations others have of you.”
Joseph smiled, nodding slowly as his brother’s words rang hollow. “Yeah, you’re right, Rob.”
The man patted his shoulders. “I try to be, when I can. Don’t worry too much. We’ll deal with the UM and Union visit, then you can go back to having Jax and Harrow try to drag you off for a night.”
“The horror,” the Grand Hunter drolled, rolling his eyes. He glanced back to the doorway, gesturing towards it with his thumb. “I need to go make sure Violet isn’t getting up to anything, so...”
Rob huffed a laugh. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be here with Sil if you need us.” He paused. “I love you. You know that right?”
Joseph pulled his brother in for a hug, tightening his hold before releasing him with a firm pat on the back. “Love you too. I’ll try not to be gone for long. Anything comes up, just ask Scarlet to deal with it.”
The Wraith turned an ear at the mention, giving a single nod in acceptance of her task. Robert chuckled.
“You’re overworking her. Let the poor woman relax.”
“I tried that, she just found more work to do.”
The Martian returned to the table, putting his arm around Silva and giving a wave as Joseph exited the building. Tel was waiting for him, her paws cupped behind her back. Her expression was blank, yet her eyes asked a simple question. Joseph chewed his cheek before committing to his decision.
“Let’s go.”
The grey-furred Wraith grinned as she turned to lead the way to her father’s den, the Grand Hunter sparing one last glance as he silently apologized to his brother. He wouldn’t start being like Trill—a male willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted, to do what he felt was necessary to right wrongs. A male who lurked in the shadows, building power to see his goals achieved, regardless of the cost. A male that none wanted to cross, because doing so would be the last thing they did.
Joseph wouldn’t start walking down that path...
...He’d already been walking it for some time, and now he was going to see what laid at the end.
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Trill’s place was a carbon-copy of Joseph’s own, save for the increased presence of Blades. It was pretty obvious that the Blademaster either got special treatment, or simply didn’t care about the restriction on guards. It was probably a mixture of both. Four of the blank-faced Lilhuns sported black-dyed fur and wore their rugged dark armours—from the way the material protecting their bodies absorbed the sunlight, it wasn’t made from local materials. The male obviously kept his good equipment close.
They bowed their heads to Tel, mostly ignoring the Grand Hunter. His grey-furred fiancee’s tail twitched in annoyance at the lack of respect shown to him, but a flat stare stopped her from getting too worked up over it. He had better things to do than getting into it over something trivial.
Two of the Blades approached the door, one rapping their knuckles on the false red wood while the other kept an eye on them, their paw attached to the dagger on their hip. Joseph couldn’t help but remember the conversation with Trill the other night—how he claimed to effectively raise unwanted children into obedient assassins that worked until they either found a Sheath, or simply ‘repaid’ the debt of raising them in the first place.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
After hearing from Harrow how limited the options were for orphans or the abused, he found himself less opposed to the idea. Not the whole ‘trials’ thing—that could fuck off—but the thought of giving a home to those who needed it resonated with him, and he wasn’t as disgusted with the employment option as he once was.
The important part was that it was an option rather than the default. Begrudgingly or not, he accepted that the type of occupation which once seemed so repulsive had now become a lifeline. His mate and the girls were Blades, and here he was, finding himself reliant on them and their abilities. Just like they needed people to hunt, cook, clean, and build, they needed people specialized in dealing with the threat of other people. Maybe it was just the circumstances he had gone through that encouraged it, but he needed them.
And he needed a lot of them for what he wanted to do.
The door opened, an orange-furred male resting his weight on a quarter-staff sizing them up as a paw stayed ready to close it again. He glossed over the Grand Hunter, nodding respectfully towards Tel.
“Mistress. How may I be of assistance?”
“Respecting your betters, for a start,” she retorted flatly, her eyes narrowing. Loptr glanced back at the human, but didn’t correct himself. When Joseph loosely caught her agitated tail and stroked it with his thumb, it curled around his wrist, her ire settling enough for her to sigh instead of stab. “We wish to speak with Trill.”
The male’s eyes settled on their weapons. Tel adjusted her holster, stopping herself from removing the daggers, while Joseph didn’t bother even flinching. He was used to this song and dance, but the power dynamic had shifted since the last time. Loptr smirked as he stepped aside, something of an amused huff escaping him as he gestured for them to enter. Sure enough, the place was basically the same. A kitchen on one end of the rectangular room, furniture for sitting and lounging on the other. Two doors led to sleeping areas, while a third remained closed.
The High Hunter pointed to the last room. “He is in his office. I will remain here if you find need of me.”
Joseph nodded, walking past with Tel and letting the guy get back to whatever he was doing. From the glance he gave to the table, the answer was ‘paperwork.’ Lots and lots of paperwork. It looked like his own desk back at the settlement, save for the material and language involved. It was likely trade agreements that needed adjustments after the territory fiasco that happened yesterday, too much changing hands for minor discrepancies to be ignored. A tablet had numbers splayed over the screen like a spreadsheet, and the orange-furred male let out the grunt of someone who had spent most of his waking hours hunched over it.
Hopefully, things wouldn’t get more chaotic for him; Loptr’s settlement treated them nice enough when they visited—minus that one Head who couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer as he tried to feel up Tel. What was the Paw’s name? Joseph only heard it once or twice, and the conversations were passed through translation at the time, so he couldn’t quite put voice to face. Oh well.
Tel stopped at the door to her father’s workplace, an ingrained hesitance showing through as she stiffened before she could knock. Again, he stroked the tail that held to him tightly, reaching over her shoulder and giving a few firm taps with his knuckles. A shuffle of papers could be heard before the permission to enter, a curious lilt working into Trill’s tone. Joseph pushed the door open.
There Trill sat, seemingly bored with the equally tedious-looking documents in front of him. His elbow was propped on the desk, one paw supporting his head, while the other twirled a pen with habitual precision. His gaze turned to them slowly, like it was happening through a fog that only a lack of sleep put on people. It was an odd expression to see on the guy who orchestrated so much chaos with the press of a button.
The lazily raised brow over his cloudy eye was followed by the other mirroring it. “My, this is rather unexpected. What might bring yourselves to my humble abode so quickly? Distaste for your actions? Seeking my guidance?”
He seemed genuinely curious, despite the mocking phrasing. He waved a paw to a chair placed opposite of him. Unlike his office back at his settlement, the seat was pretty close, likely used more for consultation than making a statement. Joseph accepted, Tel choosing to stand close enough behind him that he didn’t relinquish his hold on the point of contact.
Then he caught sight of it.
A smile. It was small, but it faded as quick as it came, pairing with a look in his eye that spoke of amusement. Where had Joseph seen that?
The answer was obvious. Hell, ‘it’ was keeping his hand hostage. Tel. He recognized it from whenever she was in the process of screwing with people.
He also remembered Tel mentioning that she took pleasure in the ‘game’ of her work. She would keep an ear still in view when eavesdropping, or purposely choose a risky hiding spot just to prove how much better she was than whoever she was after. Assuming she took after her father—and he had enough reason to think she did—then what was his ‘game?’ When has he seen that sly smirk?
When they first met, for a start; Trill had that expression when his own knife was put to his throat unexpectedly. After that, it was when they talked on the stump the other night, the grin appearing whenever Joseph ignored the attempts to drag him around in conversation or cower to the implied threats. When he offered the favour, suggesting various uses for it. Again, when he handed over Avalon. The last time was when Rob cancelled their agreement, except instead of being directed at the Martian, it was there, flashed for the Grand Hunter once more.
He smiled like that whenever there was a shift in the power between him and someone else. Both when someone wasn’t bending to his will, and when he utterly dominated the flow of events. So why when Rob called off their deal? Why look at him, instead of his brother?
Joseph drew a breath, testing the first theory that came to mind. “First, your deal with Robert.”
There it was again, shifting into his mercantile expression. It was an almost invisible transition. Almost. The Grand Hunter didn’t rely on scents to read the room like his furry counterparts, and a year of staring at those muzzled faces made it stand out even more.
It was the thrill of the game for the Blademaster, and his game was subterfuge. Control and deception.
Trill was hiding his cards and laying traps, sprinkling hints to see if anyone noticed. He was playing loose to prove he was superior.
But Joseph did notice, and now it was time to play the male’s game.
Trill relaxed himself in his chair, lifting slightly to shift himself into a more comfortable posture. “As you were there to witness, the agreement was terminated.”
“But you don’t do ‘terminated agreements,’ do you? You kill off people who try, and last I checked, Rob is still kicking.”
“Wish me to carry out the penalty?”
“I want you to tell me what it entailed.”
A pause lingered between them when Joseph didn’t take the bait, the grey-furred male letting his mirth show more openly. “It is not your contract.”
“I’m the Blademaster of Avalon, every contract is mine.”
“No, Joseph,” the male chided playfully. “The contract is mine. It bears my signature, not yours.”
Of course Trill signed every contract, he was the... Wait. He signed them all with only his signature, even the one that Joseph dealt with initially, and only ever referenced his station, not Avalon as a whole. He signed them to ensure that he would enforce the contract. It was in the phrasing that Sahari read out for him back in Trill’s office: ‘Trill, Blademaster of Avalon.’
That just identified him as the one who was responsible. Avalon was just the method he used—a toolbox, rather than the tools inside. If Trill only gave away the box...
Joseph’s gaze fell to the table, absently scouring everything and nothing as he ran through his thoughts.
Trill hadn’t given them much at all. Territory, sure, but fuck all else. Assuming his Blades were signed to him, then Joseph didn’t own a single one, save for Tel. The male was just choosing to treat the girl’s time under him as a part of their normal service.
That smirk appeared again as the Blademaster watched the realization pass Joseph’s face, expectation and amusement in equal parts. “If you came for little else than to pry into that which is not yours, then I believe we are done, no? Unless you have decided what you wish of me?”
Not yours.
“You,” the Grand Hunter whispered, his eyes focusing. He looked up from the organized paperwork to meet the passively interested stare that Trill returned. “I want you.”
Trill let his revelry show openly, dismissively waving a paw with a chuckle. “As flattered as I—“
“’—No cost is too great,’” Joseph quoted sharply. He leaned forward, placing an elbow on the desk to point a finger at the male. “That’s what you said. From your life to the lives of every Lilhun. I choose your life. Specifically, I choose to command it. You, your Blades, your contracts, every favour you were ever owed and every tool at your disposal. You work for me, you follow my orders, and I can do the same to everything that you lay claim to. That is what I want from you. That is what I choose.”
“You choose to be my Sheath?”
His hand dropped to rest on the table, certainty and confidence fuelling his words. “No, I am your Blademaster and you will listen when I speak. No games, no deception, no getting out of your promises. You. Are. Mine.”
The grey-furred male fell silent as the final words were all but barked through a growl, his blank expression and eyes searching for something on the human’s face. Slowly, that smirk surfaced again, stronger than ever.
A blur of black came from in front of Joseph, silver streaking past his cheek to intercept. The two knives clashed above the desk.
Trill lazily shifted his gaze to his daughter, nodding towards the dagger she had defended against; it was held by the blade, the handle of his weapon meeting the cutting edge of Tel’s. She reluctantly eased off, staying at Joseph’s side. Satisfied, the male turned his attention back to the Grand Hunter.
“I asked you if you would slay another again—to wield your Void, as it were. To embrace that which gives you power. To truly become the Essence that you were ascribed. You responded that I was already in possession of the knowledge I sought, but I still found myself with that query unsated.” The dagger was placed on the table next to Joseph’s hand as Trill leaned back in his chair, the pitch-black metal of the weapon adorned with red designs and engravings, trimmed in an odd bluish silver along the sharpened edges. Lilhun script ran the length of the blade. The Grand Hunter raised a brow, picking up the opulent knife and turning it curiously.
“And this is?”
“Acknowledgement that your answer is satisfactory,” Trill replied smugly, his teeth showing in a vicious grin. “You have greed in you, but it is focused. Controlled. One who could not spot my deception would suffer their ignorance, but one who accepted it regardless would suffer my blade. I am relieved to see that you are neither, and that dagger is the symbol of my blessing. How may this one be of assistance, Blademaster?”
“We’ll start with my first question: Rob’s deal.”
The grey-furred male chuckled, slipping a contract out from the stack and flicking it to land in front of the Grand Hunter. It was only a single sheet, albeit densely packed with text. He grabbed it, offering it to Tel to skim over.
Her expression said it all. “Robert? He was the one to suggest the Elders be removed?”
Trill chuckled as Joseph furrowed his brow. “I had planned on doing such regardless, but I must say, the human appreciates theatrics. Shocked, Blademaster?”
Surprisingly, he shook his head, though it took a few seconds to happen. It made sense, in an odd sort of way. Or maybe he was just growing suspicious of the way his brother was acting. It was like Rob to ‘save’ him the burden of killing more people, just like Tel tried to do when she took the initiative to press the button. The only difference was that Rob pushed the blame to Trill before asking for Joseph to forget about it all and instead live his life with his loved ones.
Maybe Rob understood the Lilhuns more than he gave the guy credit for, but he understood the Grand Hunter less.
“Truthfully, I expected neither of you to confirm the order,” Trill admitted, flicking two pens out from his fur and retrieving another bundle of blank sheets from one of the stacks. He glanced at Tel as he situated the papers and started writing. “Though I am delighted that one of you did.”
Joseph ran his fingers through his hair, sighing in an attempt to distract himself. “Why?”
The male signed the bottom of the page and slid it over, a pen rolling to a stop on top of it. Trill nodded his head to the freshly made contract and started work on the second. “Because Avalon requires those who will make all kneel before it, and to do that, one must know what they desire.”
Tel confirmed the contents of the impromptu agreement, paraphrasing it as his demand in the form of a document. Joseph signed before he could swallow the reality of condemning someone to servitude. “You seemed happy to leave me with nothing.”
Trill closed his eyes with a slow shake of his head. “As I have said: you have given me that which I desired most.”
He passed back the paper as Trill presented a duplicate, signing that as well before standing and putting it in his pocket. “Well, we have a lot to work on before I get mine.”
The grey-furred male bowed his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his muzzle. “This one shudders in delight to serve.”
Joseph exhaled through his nose, turning to leave after a moment of contemplation. “Be yourself, Trill. I don’t have a use for a mindless servant.”
He could almost swear there was a genuine satisfaction in the male’s expression.
Tel lingered behind for a second, failing to follow him as he reached the door. He turned to see her staring at the ground between her and her father, her voice flowing softly, like she was asking a question that she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to know the answer to.
“What did he give you?”
Trill blinked, a fatherly smile replacing any lofty display. There was no power in his response, no lilt of excitement as he manipulated the conversation. He just spoke in a tone matching his daughter’s—wistful, yet warm as memory washed over him. It was loving.
“A reminder of how beautiful your mother was through you, and a sense of how proud she would be if she were still by my side to witness all her kit has achieved.”
Tel nodded, her muzzle closing wordlessly, despite the attempts. She turned, passing Joseph and leading the way out of the building. She kept her head down as they passed Loptr and the Blades, heading nowhere in particular while her tail tethered his arm and dragged him aimlessly through the encampment. He was about to tell her that they did have somewhere else to go after this, but the evening sun peered between the buildings, convincing him to wait.
The sunlight didn’t care for her desire to hide her expression from others, shimmering off the tears in her eyes and her rapidly dampening cheeks. Joseph shut his mouth and let her take him where she wanted to go, because he knew anything he could say would just ruin her moment. All the stress and worry he had been through was worth it to feel what he was feeling now. To see what he saw in this moment.
The smile she wore—tears, stifled sobs, and everything else—was breathtaking. Trill was right.
Tel was beautiful.
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Rey’zel assured her guards that she would be fine if left alone for a moon, irritated that the sun’s events had also led to her crew suddenly fearing for their lives. She couldn’t blame them; with one touch of a claw, their entire utmost echelon of command was suddenly removed, then replaced by one who they already felt intimidated by. It made the need for a few moments alone difficult to satiate, and it made doing so without terrifying her subordinates almost impossible.
Promotion or not, she was still stressed beyond measure, and even the smallest reprieve was a blessing from the Hunt Mother herself.
Of course, that wasn’t to last long. Much like any positive experience she had since being introduced to the alien who had enthralled her kin.
She had changed from her uniform, her pressed-down fur leaving her flesh aching as she loosely brushed it with her claws. Her simple top covered little more than her breasts and allowed a freeing feeling, but her pants were still the unforgiving rugged material she had kept from her training so long ago. The red hue had faded since, but the small nicks and tears reminded her of simpler times. It was nice to just be herself, rather than the position she held.
She dropped onto her haunches on her bed, her arms resting against her knees in the barely moonlit room. A deep sigh escaped her as she wondered how long it had been since she had spent her rest with another, carnal or otherwise. Commanding a ship carried its benefits in such regards, true, but a bedding earned using fear of reprisal wasn’t something she wanted. At this point, just feeling the fur of another against her own as they drifted off to sleep was all she had the mind to ask for. The comforting scent of someone close to her would probably fend off the fitful rest she was sure to get.
Jax’s scent—and the presence of her sibling in general—was what she wanted for the moon, since it was so agonizingly close. A part of her whimpered to hold him again like when they were kits, free of worry and awaiting the next dramatic tale that their father embellished for the den-kits. She wished to take solace in a scent like her own, assuring her that she wasn’t as alone as she felt. She lacked a mate like he had, so maybe the mark would ease her burden as well.
She shook her head, dispelling both the kit within her that feared the growing isolation, and the adult that yearned for touch, regardless of intent. Jax had forsaken them. He had made his choice.
And she had made hers.
His hurt expression when she denied his comfort flashed past her vision, burned deeper than she thought possible. The pain in his eyes and the sorrow that followed was as fresh as if she was still watching him leave.
...Dammit, Rey’zel.
A breeze blew through the open window, the moving air giving some facade of life to her features. Though alien, the scent of impending rain carried strongly in the wind. She wasn’t looking forward to overseeing the dismantling of the encampment—her uniform would leave her soaked long after she had fled from precipitation.
She rested her face in her paws, closing her eyes as her claws pulled her ears flat to her head in an attempt to block out reality. The tug of sleep battled with her overworked and overactive mind. She only barely registered that the smell of outside had dulled, but unconsciousness was washing over her in ineffective waves, so she ignored the oddity in hopes that she would fall beneath the veil of sleep.
“You look nice in casual wear.”
Rey’zel jolted upright, her attempt to distance herself from the voice proving fruitless as her pads failed to gain traction. She flung her arms back to catch herself before she could fall onto her back, her chest heaving to fuel her body with oxygen as the startle gave way to alertness—foggy alertness, but far more awake than she had been all sun.
The alien Blademaster rested against the window frame’s low ledge, the meager light illuminating the edges of his silhouette. His mate wandered the room and idly inspected the items within as if they were not intruding on her domain, but instead visiting a novel attraction. The male gave an apologetic smile.
“Don’t get many compliments?”
“You are trespassing,” she hissed in return, one paw subtly feeling for the holster she had discarded when she changed. The sound of the grey-furred female clearing her throat drew Rey’zel’s eye, finding her pistol being dangled by a whimsical tail instead of laid on her bed, the Blademistress still feigning interest in the furniture. She swallowed, fighting back the urge to quip or utter sarcasm. After the events earlier, she held little doubt that her life was forfeit if she antagonized them rashly.
“Relax,” the male cooed, holding up his paws to show they held no weapons. He folded his arms loosely across his chest and crossed his legs, adjusting his stance against the window. “We’re not here to do anything, just figured you’d rather keep this private.”
“More forced dealings? Came to trade blood for favour?”
Dammit, Rey’zel.
The male’s affable atmosphere lessened, tinting somewhat sorrowful. “No, actually. I came to collect on a favour owed by the UM. We figured it would be best to ask before you need to leave.”
She kept her muscles tense as she ran through the locations of her weapons in her head. Some were close, but she doubted she could arm herself before the female did away with her. “Was a continent not enough? Was my kin too little?”
He cycled a breath slowly, his regard turning to the room as a whole. “Before that, I want to follow through with the embassy.”
She blinked, forgetting which gun she had decided on. “Why?”
The Blademaster shrugged. “It would make your life easier, and I already agreed to it.” His gaze returned to her. “On one condition.”
Of course. “Speak.”
“I pick the one assigned as your delegate.”
Her eyes narrowed. “For what reason?”
“How many strangers do you trust enough to let inside your den?”
The glimmer of her pistol on the female’s tail reminded her of her actual position at the moment. “...Fine.”
He perked up, almost seeming surprised to get what he desired so easily. “Huh. Well, okay. We’ll sort that out next sun.”
She nodded her reluctant agreement, his lingering gaze on her form making her nervous—even as vacant as it was. He chewed his cheek for a few long moments.
“As for the actual favour...”
She braced herself for everything, from the intimate to the abhorrent.
“...It’s about Jax.”
Her breath stopped in her throat while her mind fizzled, failing to gather enough of a coherent thought to respond. Was it a trap? Was he going to request that she never see him again? She should be on guard. She should be wary. She…was the one who cast him aside…
Her inner kit trembled in fear at losing another sibling, while the rest of her could only agree as it prepared to suffer the consequences of her own actions.
…Dammit, Rey’zel.