you become what you hate

In the ever-changing world of diplomacy, one could never grow too comfortable perched atop their throne, as it would certainly lead to their downfall. There would always be the younger adversary, the underdogs, and the satanical tyrants who thirsted for the carnage of war and bloodshed. Rhazien knew it was only a matter of time until these kingdoms fell and foreigns rose, making way for newer generations with different ideals. In truth, he had been anticipating this moment- a call from the war-torn battlefield - a challenge from a wolf seeking to dethrone a king and take his kingdom. It was so exciting.

Drawn to the challenge like a moth to a flame - or rather, a vulture to a carcass - Rhazien arrives just as the battle comes to a climax. His gaze settles on the fighting pair- analyzing them, tracing their movements, savoring the scent of blood lingering in the heavy air. Ah, the air- there was an intensity lingering in it, as it crackled with unnerving energy. And Rhazien drank it up. The fur along his shoulders bristled out of pure, carnal delight. He fucking loved war and politics.

His gaze trailed across the clearing then, looking for any familiar faces and grouping the foreigners. Surely, other kings and queens were in attendance- and ah, what’s this? Absinth had even dared to show her face. Lingering at the side of stranger, whose expression was morphed into something akin to concern. And hell, there was even a huge fucking cat here. What a crowd. Standing off to the side, and serving as an extra set of eyes for his dearest nephew Sephiran. Rhazien waited with bated breath, excited to see who would reign victorious.  

"Rhazien Saxe"