Men who play games of war and soldiers born from circumstance...
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A small stream of words leaves Kso’ppghiel’s mouth, healing the injury on the side of his head that he’d received the day before as well as the marks on his neck. Though he knows it’s pointless as they will soon be returned. There is something… off in the Captain’s words and mannerisms he doesn’t quite understand. Everything fluctuates and he is unsure even the white haired man knows he is acting that way. “I do not understand, I will freely give you your fight, just hand me a weapon. I will take your head and go.” With the mask off, he has no need of the collar and so the Harbinger unlocks the metal hinges in the back, tossing it to the floor. He closes his eyes for just a second, savoring the feeling of freedom he’s sure will probably not last long. Bal’thial can’t help the amused smirk that leaves him at the other man’s words as he’s pulling his heavy blade free of the wooden pegs that secure it. “You have been pretty confident from the start that you can kill me so easily.” Holding the mask up before him as his mismatched gaze slides over his shoulder to meet the pupiless white behind. “It is unwise to underestimate an opponent.” Without bothering to look away he slides the sharpened end of his sword up to sever the snow colored braid tangled within the dangling enchantments before he places in back on the wall. Turning to face the Harbinger before moving forward, clawed fingers begin slipping the long plaited strands free, blue and green eyes never leaving Kso’ppghiel. “Say you manage to take my head as you want, where would you then go? Our Mistress holds those treasured swords of yours captive and while, according to your claims at least, I am an easy kill, as you have been shown time and time again, she is not. Her strength surpasses you Kso’ppghiel and your lack of honed skill is a weakness she can easily exploit...” “Why do you care what happens to me?” The blonde smirks. “You will be dead.” Kso’ppghiel steps back, concerned the Captain will attempt to replace the mask as he draws closer. “Do you mean to tell me you are actually wanting to help hone this skill of mine? While you are beating me or after? I can bide my time, I can retrieve my swords eventually and I do not have to suffer under your or her hand to do it. I will ask you again, Captain, why should I comply with those who injure me purposefully? Because of the potential it could grant me in the future? Are you as insane as she is?” “I might just be.” Bal’thial says with a shaking of his head just and as he steps past his bed, he tosses the mask to the side, white eyes following it as it lands on plush cloth but his gaze never wavering from the man to his front. “But that fact does not change the truth of my words.” Stopping directly in front of the other man, Kso’ppghiel’s pupiless gaze shifts away from the bed and back over to meet his mismatched own. “In all my years of soldiery I have yet to come across another with the potential that you have inside of you. I have seen all manner of men and women, from weak to strong and even those whose raw power surpasses all around them have had little in the way of actual… soul. I find it fascinating that despite the circumstances that has brought where you currently are, you have yet to be corrupted like any other would… that is all.” “Not corrupted?” Kso’ppghiel looks at him in confusion. “I would call going from a farming community where one was having a quiet life to slaughtering anyone who has the mind to step in front of me in battle corrupted in a sense. I am corrupted by circumstance, not by greed. I have no use for gold or possessions. I still do not understand your words when compared to your actions. If I am to become what that woman wants, then I will have no soul. The potential you think I have will be gone under chains and sex and I will be nothing but a puppet.” “Which is exactly why I have taken the risks that I have in order to give you time, Harbinger.” Bal’thial’s voice comes serious and low. “Do you think me one to risk everything I have worked for over the years for just anyone? Take in our Queen’s pets and allow them to roam free in inside of my home? In her hands you would be all of what you say and more; soulless, lifeless like her others, fit for nothing more than her bedthing while she keeps you chained at her feet. In my hands, I am giving you time, Kso’ppghiel, time and freedom to an extent and the price you will pay for it is relatively small. I am not looking for your undying devotion anymore than I would have you kowtow to my will. But I would have you understand who your real enemies are here and who are not.” A smirk forms on the tall Captain’s lips. “I am not one of them and the sooner you understand this, the better off we both will be.” “And the price is? My hide, my sanity? I do not know what you do for others so how can I know this is any different? I do not know you, Captain, and what you show me is confusing. How am I to know you do not take in her pets for whatever this is? How am I to know anything other than what I have been shown? How am I to know this is not a ploy to gain my obedience to that woman?” Kso’ppghiel’s eyes narrow. “Everyone seems to want something from me that I am not capable of giving nor have I any interest in doing. You ask for trust that has no basis and there has been no creature to gain my trust in over a decade.” “You are here now, standing without collar or mask in the confines of one of the few places within these walls that is safe. If this does not speak in spades, then what does Harbinger? As for the price…” Bal’thial says quietly. “The only price you will pay is tolerance. Her orders will be carried out regardless, if not by my hand, then as I have said, it will be another’s… mine at least will be spared enough-” slipping the clawed fingers up of his damaged hand, the tall Captain reaches forward as if to touch white blonde hair, his wrist caught immediately and held in place even as both men’s gazes remain locked together. “-so as not to cause permanent damage…” Long moments pass as they stand in silence, unmoving and Kso’ppghiel contemplating the Captain’s words. Part of him wants to trust Bal’thial, which surprises him greatly. Perhaps he is so worn down it’s confusing his judgment. He does not trust anyone, the last creatures to have that were his family and that died with them. How can he even begin to trust another again let alone the right hand of the woman causing his misery. It would be absurd to think he’d break loyalty for any reason. He still doesn’t even quite know what the Captain wants from him. To train him and hone his so-called skills? Wouldn’t that make him even more a threat to the Captain and those around him? “If you deviate even once from your word, I will shut down. I will not move, eat or comply with anything. I still do not trust you.” The Harbinger brings the back of Bal’thial’s damaged hand to his lips, eyes never wavering from his locked gaze as a small stream of words leaves him, healing the Captain’s knuckles near instantly before throwing his wrist back at its owner and turning away. “You will misjudge the damage you cause if you are injured.” Mismatched eyes stare ahead at the back of Kso’ppghiel’s head for a moment long before traveling down to his now healed hand and the smallest of smiles forms on his lips that he, himself doesn’t even catch. The Captain’s gaze slides back up as his hand drops to his side and he turns around, metal adornments capping winding horns chiming softly as he moves to retrieve the earlier discarded collar. “We have a bargain, Kso’ppghiel… and an understanding…”
Breaths leave Kso’ppghiel in heavy pants as he kneels down on the floor, small spatters of his own blood dotting the marble below him. He doesn’t like this arrangement already, not fighting back took everything he had and he’s almost unable to withstand simply taking the abuse that had just been dished out to him by the other. He must be absolutely insane. Fighting hard not to heal himself or lash out at the one before him, the Harbinger slowly stands to face Bal’thial, panting equally as hard, with white eyes narrowed in hate. Blood splattered fingers slide up to his face, the white haired man taking a moment to allow his breathing to slow as he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand. He didn’t like doing that anymore than he knows the Harbinger liked having it done. He’s never had the problem of caring whether honor was involved or not in the past, but he’s finding even his own actions a bit distasteful and he’d much rather it have been on fairer terms… perhaps eventually they will be allowed it like he wants. “It is time.” He says quietly when his calm mismatched gaze lock with the hatred practically burning a hole through him from pupiless white. Kso’ppghiel bares his fangs and he chooses to ignore the gesture as he leans down to sweep up the collar resting on his bed before stepping up to the one at his front and raising it up. The Harbinger takes a quick step back, wavering momentarily when the room spins around him and Bal’thial reaches suddenly out to grasp onto the tunic draping him to keep him from falling back. “She will be expecting you returned soon.” He pushes the Captain off and stumbles over to the side of the bed to steady himself, fighting the urge to heal. The actions will only have to be repeated if he does and he knows it. Kso’ppghiel barely notices as the collar is closed around his neck, the only reason he allows it because of the nullifying effects it has against the mask. He’s too tired and in too much pain to argue. It puts him in a vulnerable position he hates, literally at the mercy of this man, whom he essentially allowed to place him in. Bal’thial pulls him up to standing position, bringing himself in flush to the Harbinger’s back to keep him steady as he reaches around to place the mask up over his mouth. Kso’ppghiel struggles against him but it is a battle easily lost as the enchantments take hold and he pacifies in the other’s grip out of sheer exhaustion. Bal’thial stands in place as the blonde slumps a little in his grip, fingers still held near the secured mask and bodies flush. Tilting his head down just a little and sliding his head over a broad shoulder, the tall Captain’s words are spoken directly into the Harbinger’s ear. “The night will pass quicker than you think…” Sliding his hands away, the white haired man trails them down to wrap around the chain secured to the ring of the collar before he pulls his body away, his free hand sliding to Kso’ppghiel’s battered arm and in one fluid movement he turns him around. With one quick bending of his knees and his hand secured to the Harbinger’s waist, he lifts the other man up and slides him over his shoulder before turning to take the injured figure back to his Queen.
Io’fayl barely bothers to hold back her excitement at the state her Harbinger is brought back to her in; broken and bloodied and in need of her care. She has plans well beyond the simple discipline her Captain will provide, this is only part of the equation. She will make him need her, yearn for her care and her touch and trust only his Queen to be gentle. “Deposit him on the bed.” She demands, her need growing to a staggering level as her eyes travel over his body. Soon, he will allow himself to be taken. “As you wish, Mistress” Bal’thial’s words are quiet and distanced as he steps past her to carry his charge over to the large bed. Slipping the Harbinger carefully down, metal enchantments clink against one another as his head falls back against the plush mattress, slightly glazed white eyes meeting his mismatched gaze for the briefest of moments before he turns himself away and once again faces the one behind him. “There is no permanent damage… as requested.” “Perfect.” The word rolls off her lips. Io’fayl’s fingertips glide over her Captain’s linen-covered chest as she walks past, her attention focused solely on her Harbinger. “This shall be repeated daily until I say otherwise. Leave us.” She barely notices Bal’thial’s bow as he turns to exit her chambers. Rust colored eyes meet tired white and she practically purrs. “I will care for your wounds, Kincaid, just relax.” Kso’ppghiel’s gaze narrows. “That is not my name… do not touch me.” He would strike at her if he actually had the energy to do so. She simply smiles in response, sliding herself away from his side only long enough to gather a wet cloth and begins removing bloody clothing, gently tending to his wounds.
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