Walk | Talk | Think
The sound of his captor's voice rising above the quiet din of the forest to call the express that he served to them was startling enough to cause Requiem to jump a little in place, his head swinging around to stare at the grey-eyed man with a new wariness. This was it. There was no escape now. He had missed his chance. He should have been looking for a way to get to safety while they had walked, should have paid more attention to the directions they traveled rather than letting the spookiness of the locale to unsettle him so. However was he going to get back home now? However might he convince these wolves to release him and give him his freedom back? He might have never been much of a dominant, independent wolf during his one year of life, but that did not mean he was incapable of thinking for himself enough to know that the predicament he found himself in was wrong.
The brown youth?s ears were still turned back against his head as his captor reclined in such a relaxed fashion to sit and wait for the one who would greet them, his gaze staring at him with a mixture of loathing and envy. It was unfair that the man could sit so comfortably while handing the life of someone else over to the demands of their ruler, whatever those demands might have been. For the first time he began to wonder what his treatment would be like here, what would be expected of him. Would he be ordered about to fetch things, ordered to protect someone or watch over them? What sort of things did a servant do anyway? Not that he was very keen on sticking around long enough to learn of all the details, but since he could hardly envision himself getting away just yet, it felt like a decent enough worry.
The order was given that he not speak or talk out of turn unless given the appropriate permission, and Requiem?s brow furrowed in an almost defiant manner. And what if he refused and continued to speak out of turn? Despite wishing to put on a brave front, he thought he already knew, and his jaws still stung from the last bite he had received when he had been captured. Reluctantly, grudgingly, he did as he was told and remained silent while they waited for the empress of Apollyon to appear, which hardly took any time at all.
It was the sudden shot of red within the darkness around them that first captured and held the yearling?s attention, causing his heart to constrict within his chest and his breath to catch in his throat. It can?t be, he thought desperately, never taking his gaze from the figure as he continued to stare openly. It grew nearer, purpose within those dainty paws it possessed, and only stopped when it stood before the both of them with the air and authority of someone with great importance. Like an empress. Like a messenger from the divine.
Requiem was dumbstruck, disbelieving. It was her! All this time he had been looking for her, and she had used someone to fetch him to her instead. Was it part of the plan? Was he meant to be here after all? His jaw remained slackened as he stared, his teal-green eyes wide. Her voice of silk addressed the one who had brought him here but the words she spoke were hardly registered, amazement dulling his senses. Only when she turned her vibrant, burning gaze on him - a look that seemed to burn all the way through him and send a shiver down his spine - with an impish smile did he finally hear her, and it took him a moment to find his voice. "It...it's you. You?re an empress?" His tone was breathless, awestruck, and belatedly he wondered if he had managed to break the single rule that had been given to him. Was he allowed to speak? Unsure, he closed his gaping jaws and fell silent, never taking his stunned gaze off of the mesmerizing red woman who he had been claimed for.
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