Men who play games of war and soldiers born from circumstance...
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Scroll 03 : 07
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A soft sigh slips free of the Captain’s lips as he closes his doors behind him, taking a moment to lean his body back against them and allow his eyes to fall closed, long white plaited hair spilling over broad shoulders as his head bows soon after. Sav’real might have been right as it seems his interest in the other man is deeper than he’d thought… how deep though and on what level he isn’t sure, but the risks he’s taking are something… new. Perhaps it’s simply a case of him feeling he’s found a kindred spirit when it comes to battle. The passion and drive the Harbinger has is something he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Most men would have broken days into a situation such as this, and yet he’s still fighting with everything he has just as he’d been since day one. Bal’thial is finding it rather refreshing and it would be a shame to watch that same spirit broken. This… is most likely why he’s doing this, he’s sure. Reopening his mismatched gaze and shifting it over towards the blood splattering the marble of his floor, he narrows his eyes and spends a few moments simply staring at the stains. Pushing himself free of his doors, he heads to his terrace for some air. He’ll have one of his men clean this later. A knock pulls his attention away, the door opening a crack once he’s given the ok and soon, the sounds of skittering interrupts the silence of his room. Sav’real takes a moment to look around at the blood spattered in slight horror as Bal’thial steps in from his terrace. “Daaamn…” he closes the door behind him, moving in further for a closer look before serpentine blue eyes look up to meet Bal’thial’s mismatched gaze. “What’d you kill in here?” “He has not died yet…” the white haired Captain smirks as he moves to his bed and slips himself onto its plush surface, sliding his leg up to drape his arm across his knee a moment later. “By order of our Queen.” Leaning forward, he nods towards the stains before pulling his hand up to his hair and raking clawed fingers back with a sigh. “It looks worse than it is…” pulling his hand free of his arm without removing his entire arm away from the place across his knee, mismatched eyes travel to the blood soaking his fingers and he narrows his gaze at them soon after. “What she hopes to gain from having me do this, I am unsure…” Sav’real smirks. “He musta really pissed her off if she’s doing this. But I have to say, he’s lasted a long time, much longer than I expected. Which I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised considering he is Mithghiiel’s blood.” The small creature walks around to get a closer look at all the spatters. “There’s no way he’d let you do this much damage…” His gaze returns to the Captain “And I don’t see a scratch on you. Is the mask really subduing him that much? In which case then why would you even need to do it in the first place?” He pauses for a moment, wondering if he should continue his thoughts. “Bal’thial… you’re really upset over this, aren’t you? That’s dangerous.” The white haired Captain’s eyes narrow and he turns his head away to stare out past his terrace windows to the fading red orange light in the sky beyond. “My being upset is only dangerous if another sees…” quirking an eyebrow without turning his head away from his windows, Bal’thial’s mismatched gaze slides over to meet serpentine blue when he catches a smirk from the corner of his eye. “You do not count.” Smirking to himself, he leans forward to rest his chin on his arm. “With the new enchantments in place, the mask does keep him sedated, but he has a counter and with it in place, he is able to retain coherency to a point. This-” he pulls his free hand up and waves back towards the blood spattered area without lifting his head. “-was done because she ordered it, just as she has ordered me to continue until she decides otherwise. He did not fight it.” Bal’thial sighs and pulls his hand back down, his voice falling low and a little distant. “…He is something else… her newest…” “Ok, but why didn’t he fight it? That seems a bit… He’s not finally giving in is he? Continue? Man, that’s kinda harsh for her with his position, of course, they don’t normally fight it this long either. Normally one good beatdown and they’re pussy whipped. Then once she opens her robes, they’re done and she’s got them.” Sav’real shakes his head. “She wouldn’t allow a counter, which means you got it for him, which means you’re circumventing her orders. That’s unlike you Bal’thial.” Talon covered feet click on the marble as he walks over to where the Captain sits, getting a good look at his face as the tall man stares out into nothing. He’s actually almost… emotional, distraught even. Not good. “You care about him, don’t you? You don’t care about anyone here enough to get upset. What’s going on?” The tall Captain spends only a moment longer staring out beyond his terrace windows before he turns and reaches for the small winged creature, Sav’real squeaking when Bal’thial pulls him close to ruffle his feathers a bit playfully and rough. “What I care about is you not coming to wild conclusions based in nothing substantial, especially when those conclusions could get us both killed.” Letting Sav’real go a moment later and dropping him back onto the bed, the white haired man slides himself free and moves towards his wardrobe doors. The smell of the blood is beginning to bother him and he needs to wash it free… “I have not circumvented her orders-” though he didn’t argue when they were done either. “-and there is nothing going on. My interest in him has not changed since the first day I brought him in.” mismatched eyes slide back to slitted blue. “I simply want him living long enough for a rematch.” “This is beyond a rematch, Bal’thial. Whether you want to accept it or not.” Sav’real puts his ruffled feathers back in place as he talks. “You don’t get like this. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it and I’ve seen you fight a lot of people. I am basing it on something substantial, the fact that you’re acting weird and you’re distraught. You’ve done this a million times and not one has affected you. You can have your rematch, give the guy a weapon and have at it, you know this. I’m sure if you suggested it to our Queen she’d think it was a great idea for entertainment as long as she didn’t have to give him back his swords.” He smirks. “Though I bet you even if that happens, the rematch won’t fix any of the issues you’re having.” Slipping a clean set of embroidered linens free, the white haired Captain laughs softly with a slight shaking of his head. “Perhaps I will take you up on that bet then.” Turning towards his bathe, Bal’thial continues speaking as he goes, the soft clicking of taloned feet resonating behind him. “Though what I would like is a fair fight. One without mask and collar or any other chains binding him and until she has had her fill of seeing him beaten by my hand, then I suppose neither of our purses will become richer. He is in no state to fight now…” Blue, serpentine eyes roll. “I’m not sure she’ll ever get her fill of that. She’s got a thing for seeing guys beat, especially ones that won’t do what she says. She’s also still got a chip on her shoulder from Mithghiiel and I’m betting she’s trying to get Kso’ppghiel to fill his place. They have the same will, but they’re not the same person and it’s going to piss her off when he doesn’t just suddenly become Mithghiiel.” He thinks on it a minute. “I’m also thinking she has an alternative purpose for having you beat him when she could simply do it herself. Other than the fact that she might get so pissed she accidentally kills him like’s she’s already almost done.” Tossing the new clothing onto the marbled floor before stripping himself of the blood stained tunic he wears, Bal’thial shakes his head. “I have never known Mithghiiel, or that he existed before I was sent to retrieve his son…” stepping down into the heated pool of his bath, long braided plaits float across the water’s surface as he submerges himself and sits back against the edge, blue and green eyes meeting the Sav’real’s once again. “Despite this, I know it is impossible for one person, even relations if my own brother is proof, to be like another. I suppose if he looks like the Harbinger she most likely loved, then her thoughts towards Kso’ppghiel would not be far from what you say. But he will not bend to her will… this much I am sure of.” Pulling muscular arms free of the water he slides them back against the marbled tile and allows his gaze to slip close, his head to falling partially back as well. “She must have an ulterior motive for this punishment she has instructed me to give… but beyond incapacitating him to the point of uselessness, I am not sure what it could be…” Sav’real smirks. “If she wanted him simply useless, the charms are more than enough for that. My guess is, if you beat him, she doesn’t have to. That leaves her to take care of the aftermath. He starts to see her as someone good, someone he would prefer to be around because she is kind to him, cares for him. Oldest trick in the book. She wants him to dread leaving her side and if all that ever happens away from her is you beating on him, it’s not that hard to wear someone down to that point. Pretty soon he’ll become fiercely protective of her, devoted, obsessed. She doesn’t need you and him to get along, in fact, she probably prefers he have a jealous rivalry with you.” Mismatched eyes open to stare up towards the ceiling high above and he laughs softly. “Much like with Tir’snin, hm? Her personal attentions have always been there in one form or another since she chose me to head her guard, but it became especially so not long after he was chosen as her next. And it did work, as he was very… jealous. I found that rather pathetic considering his position - to be threatened by a simple Captain of the Guard.” shaking his head and allowing it to fall back down, he meets Sav’real’s gaze and smirks. “The hatred Kso’ppghiel has in his eyes is strong, for us all but for her foremost above us… if this is her ploy and it works, I will have misjudged him greatly…” Blue feathers fluff out as Sav’real sits himself down on the marble floor, tending to a few misplaced plumes. “Every man has a limit. He claims to hate you but he let you beat him to a bloody pulp? Why? Because he would never have let that happen when you first met. Things can change. Take a man, beat him down day after day for weeks or even months on end, giving him up to someone who is kind to him and cares for his wounds every night only to have the same thing repeated the next day, who do you think he’s going to want to be around? The person who causes him pain? She’s manufacturing a situation that plays on his base instincts, she knows what she’s doing. Then after he’s devoted, to see her put her hands on you and have you touching her back, that’s going to trigger something. It may take months, but she’s patient and I hope you’re up for not doing much of anything else than harming someone you seem to care about daily. Just think about it.” “I have my friend…” Bal’thial says quietly as his gaze once against shifts past the small creature to his front and into his bloodstained room beyond. “And… while I am prepared to carry out our Mistress’s orders as always, I am not happy. There is no sport in beating a man who does not fight back, and even less honor.”
 Kso’ppghiel groans as he turns over. Io’fayl had apparently had removed the collar at some point during the night because the world is under water again. Everything hurts and he’s beginning to wonder why he ever agreed to it in the first place. Though in the end, he know there was little choice because the Captain is right, it would have been done regardless. Movement catches his attention and he struggles to move his head in its direction, frowning as Io’fayl returns to his side with another bowl of warm water, soaking the cloth and running it over his chest. When did she remove his clothing? He tries to move away from her touch, disgusted by her presence but he’s easily pushed down because of the enchantments and in it, he finds he has no energy to fight. “Shhh…” Her voice comes out quiet and soothing. “I will care for your wounds.” “You caused them…” A quirk of a smile forms on her lips. “No, my hand did not cause as single one of these marks. That was Bal’thial.” “You ordered him to do it…” “Minor detail. It will stop once you begin to understand your place, Kincaid.” “My place… is standing over your dead body.” Io’fayl hides the flash of anger that surges though her, putting the cloth down and turning back to her ward to run her fingers lightly over his skin followed shortly after by her lips as they barely begin to touch angry red marks.
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