Men who play games of war and soldiers born from circumstance...
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Scroll 02 : 01
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“This must be embarrassing for you…” Amused feminine notes carry throughout the hallway somewhere he is unable to quite see. Kso'ppghiel doesn’t need to look up from his flattened place against the cold marble floor to know whose voice it is. He grunts as a large guard shifts himself above his body, flinching away as dirty hands reach for his horns and face to keep him still while they reattach what is left of his mask, their white haired Captain watching looking on in the distance as he emerges from his own chamber at the commotion. “The same process repeated over and over, the same result every time. When will you learn, Kincaid?” “That is not my name!” The Harbinger strains the words through an angry growl, attempting to lash out at the one approaching to his front only to have another guard join the few already holding him in order to pin him roughly down before bending one wing at an awkward angle, ripping a loud cry free from the sudden sharp pain. “Kso'ppghiel…” Io’fayl says softly as she kneels down before him, slender claw-tipped fingers reaching forward and brushing the bloodied blonde plaits from his eyes. “Why do you do this?” “Let me go…” His voice is quiet yet holds a measure of reluctant defeat and for the first time since he'd been brought to her fortress, he refuses to meet her gaze. She smiles as tapered fingers continue to play lightly in soft hair. “That will never be an option for you. I have grown quite attached.” Io’fayl taps the one guard, signaling him to remove his weight and allow the wing free, the action causing immediate and noticeable relief in the one below. “I care for you, Kso'ppghiel.” “Why then do you keep me caged?” he asks as white eyes shift beyond her, briefly meeting the mismatched gaze at the far end of the hall before he again pulls away. “Because you give me no other choice.” The Queen replies. “If I let you go, you will run off to play those silly war games and I will never see that pretty face of yours again now, will I? I would rather you caged and defiant than dead on a battlefield. You are mine and I will do with you what I wish.” Light colored brows furrow in annoyance and pupiless eyes turn back to meet the ones above in anger. “You do not own me. You strip me of my freedom, my magic and my life, you make me a pointless portent, chain me to your bedchamber and you simply expect me to willingly comply?” “Of course not,” Io’fayl grins “Where would the fun be in that?” Beneath the mask, Kso'ppghiel bares his fangs before suddenly lurching forward, knocking the pile of guards off him. Swiftly reaching the bane of his existence, he moves to tear her apart with his claws only to find himself stopped dead in his tracks by a petite hand clasped hard around his throat. The air in his lungs is cut short, startling him long enough for a stream of words to leave her mouth as her other hand rips one of the enchanted chains holding the mask free. Metal drops to the floor, clanging loudly against the marble as the group of surrounding guards stand witness, half of them in shock, the other half groaning over their Mistress negating what they had just spent the last half hour achieving. Before Kso'ppghiel can register the movement, her lips meet his and another stream of words is spoken directly into his mouth, the enchantment causing him to instantly still. She smiles and her rust colored eyes slip partially closed as she brushes against his lips lightly. “Is this what you want, Kincaid?” She whispers, licking at blood spilt in a previous struggle from his lower lip before letting him go to watch with disinterest as he collapses in an unconscious heap at her feet. Delicate feet step off to the side and she slowly bends down to pick up the discarded mask, frowning as she looks over the extensive damage and half-assed repairs that had been previously made. She tosses the metal at Bal’thial as he approaches and turns to walk away, speaking as she goes. “Fix this properly and return him to my chamber with it intact and in place.” Without a word and only the slightest of nods given, he watches his Queen move casually away, the tall Captain silent until her presence has completely gone from the halls before he turns to his men with a frown. “Leave him be and return to your stations, I will take care of this.” A few quick nods are given to their commanding officer before the guards take their leave. Again, Bal’thial waits near immobile until all have left before his blue and green gaze slides down to the sleeping Harbinger at his feet. Weeks have passed since Kso’ppghiel’s arrival and the struggle between the blonde and their Mistress has become something of a routine in the fortress. One that ends the same each and every time; her Harbinger flees or attempts to break his bonds and she is soon there to stop him. Shaking his head, Bal’thial squats down and reaches out to gather the other man towards him before lifting him up and swinging him over his shoulder. With the broken mask in one hand and his hold on the unconscious man in the other, he turns back to carry Kso’ppghiel towards his room. Depositing the Harbinger on his bed once inside, the white haired man straightens before mismatched eyes shift down to look over features the very mask he’s now holding has hidden from him since the first days the other man had been brought in. Braided snow colored plaits spill over broad shoulders as he finds himself leaning in and before he’s had time to think on the movements, he’s reaching out with the intent of pushing tangled, blood stained strands of white blonde hair free of closed lids. But just before his fingers touch, Bal’thial realizes what he’s doing and he pulls his hand quickly back, frowning at actions he hadn’t even thought on before turning away and moving towards the double doors of his quarters. Heavy wood slides shut the moment he’s stepped through, the broken bits of metal in his hand clinking together to mix with the soft chime of dangling ornaments as he makes his way towards the winding stairwell at the opposite end of the marbled halls that lead to the smith located far below.
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