Wife Me, Knife Me

[Kadarus]

Nearly imperceptible, Kadarus shifted his weight in the bar stool as the zith leaned towards him, eyes closed, sniffing, a faint smile on her lips. Instead of shifting towards her, to allow her an easier time, the hunter shifted away, feeling the hairs raise on the back of his neck. His logical, rational mind called out that it was merely Astoiredea, the one who was so eager to call him mate, who had kept him from the dinner tables of her kind. But his heart, that raw, tumultuous, thoughtless animalistic core saw the flesh rending claws, the predatory teeth, and called strongly for caution.

Try as he might, he would probably never truly get over that reaction. It was something ingrained into his being, like the direction a river blows, or the song that a bird sings. Through torture, through slave labor, through murder, the zith had very well enough created one of the most dangerous weapons to their own kind. Kadarus' breath froze in his chest as she draw near his throat; it was curiuous that he had not reacted like this the night before when she had broken into his room. He attributed it to the beer and the blissful numb haze it had drawn across his senses.

She darted back suddenly, and fresh air flowed into his lungs as though someone had twisted a key, disengaging a lock in his throat. He relaxed for that moment, watching Astoiredea's eyes with an interest that was barely broadcasted in his own stare. It didn't take much effort to recall her talk from earlier in the afternoon, of her odd view of their relationship; from that, he had merely assumed that she would follow him...but it was better manners to ask. He owed her that, at least.

A frown darkened his face at her answer. A quiet, vengeful part of himself bristled at the mention of stones and armed men chasing her, and it easily transferred into an old, familiar light in his eyes. "Hmm. Astoiredea, you have not been in the civilized world for long. I've only spent two years of my life here, and the other four in the colony. When it comes down to it, I am not the fringe, I am the unrestrained ugliness lurking in man that is often buried. There are some kelvic who can balance their worlds, but time among the zith has assured that I am, at the end of the day, more animal than man. I am fortunate, in the fact that I am capable of walking amidst the sheep in sheep's clothing, but under it, I am a wolf, and when people see that, it's very unsettling.

"When I escaped the colony, I was wounded so many times and at such a severity, that I should have died from fever, infection, bloodloss. I couldn't think right, and when I found a town, I couldn't calm myself enough to let them help me. I acted as a beast, so they gathered and waited to watch me die. I've had men try to capture me for pit fights, slavery, forced breeding. And I've been told I am a rude man," he added with black humor, forcing a smile.

"So...I know your worries, Render. But, it will be us against them."

"Yeah, us! Me too. The great, the magnificent, the beautiful, the intelligent, the buxom, the sultry Finneus Basil Agincourt Degravias, mutt...thing, and Jiggles! I am going to make so muich money." The pycon had climbed onto the lip of Astoiredea's water cup, and Kadarus glanced at her, scowling. Faster than Finn could ever hope to react with her clay body, the hunter's hand shot up and knocked her into the water. It splashed up onto the counter, and the thing's squawking and fake choking nopises managed to bring a rare smile to his face.

[Render]

It was such a strange feeling of understanding that made her want to keep him. It was a selfish want, as much as she wanted him safe, to steal away his pain, she wanted him, as he was. It was not beyond Astoirdea’s capability to imagine. It was not beyond her to wish. Yet she did not long for things to change, she did not feel for the man who was hers before her enough to set him free of her, of her kind, of her, heart. The pains she suffered, the fights, the battles, the lost of her sky, were prices she paid with no bitter thought but to have him. To keep him.

It was a single-mindedness that was damning as well as confounding. She desired, not just his scent, his laugh, his touch, it left her wounded when he rejected her, fled her. Created an endless cavern within, and filled it with a directionless rage, that did not feel right.

She warred with herself to end him, to protect him, to fight, to mate. AS futile as all attempts seemed to be.

Render took her eyes from the kelvic, them and their unreadable expression to look to the little muck creature that spoke like a peddler upon the street. Her head canted to the side as Kadarus knocked the pycon into her glass of water, a pondering expression upon her face before she looked to Kade once more.

“Did it, call me ‘Jiggles’?”