Beggars can't be choosers

Saracyn saw the moment that something he said flipped a switch in Scylla's mind. That wry smile on her face drifted away and the mirth in her gaze gave way to something more like genuine sympathy. Before he knew what was happening, Scylla was reaching out to caress his face with both dainty little dexterous paws, stroking over his cheeks and through his fur in a soothing way that seemed to abate the aggression that Saracyn usually put up as his daily front. The brute's expression softened and for a moment the facade cracked, and he just looked tired and frustrated. She urged his head to lift from the rock and he would acquiesce, raising his chin an inch or two while she pet him. Hey, he was a simple brute. He liked the physical affection and touch of the fairer sex, and Scylla's nimble fingers felt lovely on his skin.

Scylla spoke to him with words far too kind for him. She didn't see him as extra baggage, and in her culture he would have been fit to be a king. That earned her a short scoff from the crimson man when she used his pet name, though he'd loathe to admit that he liked it. He had never felt like a king in all his life. He'd had to work twice as hard to feel useful and get a fraction of the recognition his sisters got. In fact, the only reason he had risen to be the Commander of Elysium was solely by virtue of romancing Avacyn. He was the Matriarch's mate, and that would forever be his greatest achievement, the only thing he could attain. Scylla noted how funny it was how cultures worked, how they were all the same save for the words they were given and allowed themselves to take. Sara's lips tightened into a fine line, but he didn't say anything. His eyes dipped from hers for a moment as he considered her words. He understood what she was saying, but she also didn't understand just how deep this all ran. It wasn't just his parents or his family, it was the very core of their beliefs that female souls were stronger and more valuable than male souls. This was his family's tenets; almost a religion of sorts. It was easier for her to see him as something more than he could see himself as. An outsider's perspective far clearer than his own.

The petite stripy fae broke the dark brute out of his mental sulking with the sudden kiss placed on his lips, earning a few startled and surprised blinks from Saracyn. He had come back to his senses as Scylla was declaring her loyalty to him. He did not miss her intentions in her words. She would be loyal to him. Scylla Klein to Saracyn Mendacium. That was about as good as Avacyn could hope for, so he would take it as a win for her cause. He was still reeling from this emotional whiplash within himself when Scylla dismissed him and turned to lie away from him. Saracyn lingered for a moment, hovering at the edge of Scylla's rock, mouth open as if to say something, but each time he opened his lips nothing came out. After a third failed attempt to speak, the dire brute exhaled slowly and gave up trying to voice his thoughts. He lifted his head from the rock and turned to leave, making it a couple steps away before he stopped in his tracks. A beat passed in silence, then he turned his head to look back at Scylla, watching her for a moment while things inside him tumbled over themselves.

"I'm sorry for the way I've treated you and your brother," he said back to Scylla, knowing she'd be listening even if she wasn't facing him. It was the first time he'd ever apologized to anyone besides his family. "You're the only one who's ever seen me as anything outside my family's beliefs." Another long pause as he grappled with his emotions before adding in a soft, "...Thank you." Then Saracyn turned to head back to the island and deliver the good news to Avacyn, though he had a lot more on his mind now.

- exit -

"Saracyn Mendacium"