Kerosene and a Fistful of Matches
The voice of the unheard
The moment the other male began speaking Ganta knew that this wasn’t going to be pleasant. So the man before him wasn’t just huge, but apparently delusional in the fact that he believed, as they all seemed to, that they were the Children of some Fallen God. Ganta didn’t believe Gods walked the Earth… but he’d seen wolves as big as them without those delusions. His son and daughter were on their way to that size… He kept his gaze focused on the man, his white orbs flashing with anger.
Dragoste… was in real trouble. It was surrounded by these wolves… if he made the wrong move… Ganta felt his claws bite into the soil, feeling the fur on his neck rising. He didn’t believe the bullshit the man was spouting… rightful inheritance? No. Wolves were free. No wolf had the right above any other. Packs came and went… and to claim a world… an empire… was a stupid dream of grandeur. He was offered simply one ultimatum :: Surrender and live, or fight and die. Could he really trust these so called Gods to protect his friends and family? To treat his members as equals?
No.
Ganta bristled further, but he wasn’t stupid enough to lunge at the man. Not here. He closed his eyes, breathing in slowly. He was indirectly threatening Roza… threatening Ulric. ‘Are you just going to sit there?’ He asked himself. Ganta flared his nostrils, finally opening his gaze. When those ghostly orbs fell on Amon there was fire within them, lips peeling back in a snarl.
“You come here, claiming so relation to a God… and yet you’ve no real proof. If it is your size? I’ve seen wolves your size before. Or are you tell me all of them are children of your Fallen God as well?” Spittle flew from his jaws, claws biting into the soil just a bit more. “...and then you dare try to hold those I care about over my head as a bargaining chip? My wife and ch--son… I doubt they’d be kept safe under your command. You claim to offer them protection, but I’ve seen firsthand the sort of work a striving empire will do. No, you’ll go after some other pack and let them lay THEIR lives on the lines while you sit back and watch with amusement… because you feel oh so entitled.”
His gaze shot to another being that spoke, snorting softly. “You’ll be able to take whatever you like… once I’m dead!” Ganta’s voice was rising with anger and determination, gaze shooting back to the one that was their leader.
These were the exact sort of wolves that Ganta had promised his pack to protect them from. He threw back his head, letting out a booming howl for his members that there was a threat present. If they chose to stay or run wasn’t his choice… he could only hope that what they chose would be the right one.
“If you want this land, then we do this the old fashioned way.” Ganta motioned towards the rest of the Abraxas gathered. “Unless you are such a coward that you must do your dirty work in a pack, bullying others into listening to you?” Ganta straightened, feeling something surge through him. Was this what his father felt when he challenged Arian…?
“But this time… only one man will walk away. For Dragoste, my home, I will fight to the death. If you want this pack, you should be willing to do the same.” Ganta knew what he was doing was risky… Gods he’d probably be massacred… but if he was fighting for what he believed in… then could there be any regrets after the fact? His mind swam with thoughts of his family, both old and current. “...So are we going to the battlefield,” Ganta said cooly. “...or are you going to leave this place?”
(Who's gonna break these chains and lies?)
Love is the answer
I'm here without you...