Burdens Doublefold

Eyeing her as she sauntered towards him, he could see the hesitancy in her gait. Calculating the distance between them, testing it, trying to decide if he was going to behave or not. Placing herself beside him, but leaving enough space to break away if he lunged. He couldn’t help but laugh- blame it on the alcohol, over his usual grandiosity. But he found her hesitancy funny, and was mocking it. “We’re beyond the shy phase,” As she nudged him, he clumsily left the sanctuary of the wall. Stumbling a few feet until he felt the moss beneath his paws. “Aren’t we?” Flashing her a smirk, and sinking down onto his belly. He practically sprawled out on the ground in front of her.

As she gathered her supplies, Sephiran was replaying his fight with Aresenn inside of his mind. How he had torn up his face, unsheathed his knife, and was ready to slice into him. He could still taste his blood in his maw. A heavy sign escaped through his nostrils, pain radiating throughout his shoulder. He couldn’t sense the tension in the air. Probably, because he was the one causing it. “Strength. Power…” Shifting his eyes towards her, as she was grinding a pile of herbs up. “…The King. It’s what we call the alpha’s in our packs.” And by our, he was referring to his lineage. “A Sultan asserts dominance. Enforces the law,” Waiting for her to approach him, watching her movement. “And punishes those who break it.” Emphasis accompanied his last sentence. “Especially when someone meddles in my affairs.” Surely she could put the pieces together. He had attained these wounds over her.