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She is exquisite in a way no one but me sees, and it’s unfortunate that I may be the only one to witness this beauty in such a lense.
I would not consider her beauty to be that of the common standpoint on the matter– she is dirty, rough, unkempt, filthy. But she is not ugly, not by a longshot. I can sense something in her that I have never felt with another, an immediate surge of passion that I cannot describe. The texture of the patches of her fur, the scales where the fur is not, as if a sewist had created an amazing, horrifying masterpiece. Muscles I can see underneath her bandages, strong-looking despite their limpness. She’s chained up in a cage and she is a mercenary, the guard stammers before I rip his heart out with my claws. They sink through his flesh immediately. It is lucky that I did not come across a bear guard, but a mere young and clumsy fox lad. He had dropped his weapon dumbly when I first sauntered in to look around in the fortress we had conquered, as well as kill any guards we might have missed. Zarkt is never particularly thorough, despite his ruthlessness in battle. The man doesn’t actually seem to care for violence other than for getting the job done. No satisfaction from it, like I and Nokt feel from the pleads of our enemies. My cousin only does it because it is merely a fact of the world. His cruelty does not come from desire. He is truly no fun at all.
How dare this guard allow such an astounding creature to be imprisoned. I remove my mask and clip it to my belt. I lick the blood on my fingers, my tongue circling around the fur. She grunts and my eyes dart back up from my fingers, knocked out of my trance.
“Help me or get it over with,” she growls hoarsely, attempting to look as intimidating as she could. Even without her invoking her desired effect, I do not think twice before looking at the belt of the fox and swiping the keys. I march directly up to the cage and jam the key into the lock, twisting it forcefully. I pull open the door and free her from her chains, offering a hand. She stares at me with scrutiny before speaking once again in that grainy but somehow alluring voice, like sand.
“What is your goal?,” she asks, tilting her head and her eyes flicking down to my outstretched hand. After a few seconds, I remember that she is speaking to me, so I speak with a rare and shaky voice.
“... I am the leader of a small clan,” I begin, somewhat self conscious of the hand I lay before her, but it remains unmoving. “We are outcasts and looking for new brothers and sisters in arms. I am… selective, but I feel you could be a valuable asset. We can provide you with food, companionship, and the confirmation of conquering.”
She looks at me curiously but still with much suspicion.
“You walked in here so calmly. How are you so confident in a place so overcrawling with guards?”
I smirk at the question, licking my lips.
“We killed everyone,” I reply with satisfaction. “I was merely securing the perimeter to see if we had missed any rooms and guards. I was fortunate to find you.”
She must sense the flirtation at the end of my tone and chuckles. I almost snap back, but sense the warmth in her tone just in time. Instead, my tail swishes once, and I hope it goes unnoticed.
“You think you are smooth,” she laughs shakily, finally lifting her own arm and gripping onto my hand. I pull her up with hardly any effort; she is lighter than I expected. I look at her robes, slightly loose. I can imagine a starved stomach and ribs easily, and the thought makes me grimace. She speaks again, soon enough.
“What does your clan call you?”
“I am Rox of the Forbidden Three– now four, I hope.” I look up into her eyes, a reddish amber shade I so very enjoy. I can only describe her visage as something akin to spiced honey. She leans down just a bit, taking in my form and grinning.
“I am Kur, a mercenary from the land of Shai. A client had sent me on a mission here to kill a captain stationed in this fortress. A child saw me asking around in the market and ran to here. They were expecting me before I had the chance to sneak in myself.”
My heart tightens at the thought like some disgustingly possessive, lovesick force. How dare this insolent child– SHE SAID HER NAME! And a wonderful name it is, for it sounds aggressive and blunt in correspondence with one another. Short and practical, but so unique. I have never heard such a name, but I have never been to the desert land that she hails from. I yet again have to remind myself to speak– I’ve been turned into some pathetic mess by a pretty face already. It is normally a disgusting feeling and I am immediately reminded of Zarkt and how he had confessed to a girl when we were young. She had diverted the topic to her making fun of him being adopted, then to the fact that he is a stupid panther and not a wolf, and finally calling him a stupid looking oaf with ugly teeth. I was too young to remember it, but Nokt brings it up whenever Zarkt snaps at him. I’ve heard the story so much that I was basically present during the actual event, sitting in the audience and waiting to see my cousin get humiliated.
But this is different. This time, I am the one in love, and while Kur seems hard, she is not unnecessarily cruel to me, merely rough around the edges, but not cruel at all. Perhaps she is to her wretched enemies, but I am not one of those unlucky bastards. Hold, I am in love already? She steps forth, this time even closer to me. I can smell the dried blood, which is likely on her back. She notices me sniff the air.
“A whipping,” she says curtly, limping past me now until she reaches the wall near the doorway and leans against it. She curses in a tongue I am unfamiliar with. I match her in suit with my string of curses at myself for not torturing the soldiers more before killing all of them. I can only hope that Nokt was brutal and Zarkt was harsher than his usual. She looks back at me, tilting her head in confusion. I shrugged awkwardly.
“It seemed like the moment for frustration to be released.”
“....”
“Let me help you,” I say abruptly, immediately, because my ears are burning in embarrassment and my tail is inching towards the middle of my legs. She does not notice, as she is hunched over in pain and clearly distracted as she holds onto my shoulders for support as we walk. I lead her to where Nokt and Zarkt had agreed to meet me later, the large banquet hall for the now deceased soldiers that worked here. She is still as light as she was when I helped her up, obviously. I am about to change that unfortunate situation. We make no small talk on the way, for she is clearly exhausted and my rush of adrenaline is beginning to sink, bringing me into a sleepy state, as I always am after a good battle. After a few minutes of walking, I push open the door to the hall.
Lo and behold, my kin are lounging like lazy idiots. I look up to my soon-to-be lover apologetically, and she just chortles in laughter at their ridiculousness. Nokt is sprawled in a chair that he certainly dragged from the common room, devouring a cooked turkey leg lathered in gravy. He looks up at me and raises his brow in question at Kur. I smile at him, and he just scrutinizes us further, before finally nodding without a word, continuing to eat to his heart’s content. Zarkt is… glaring at Kur, but neither of us can really take it seriously as he is wearing stolen emerald robes he clearly robbed off of a corpse and struggling to pull on leather boots do not fit his paws well. Soon enough, he gives up, growling at the pair of shoes and tossing them across the room, hitting the wall. He is sitting on one of the two large, rectangular tables that the soldiers used to eat at, with a half empty wine bottle at his side and an empty one rolling off the table, causing a loud, echoing crash of glass in a few seconds. We all just stay silent, unflinching and uncaring. Finally, Kur and I walk to the other table, sitting down and settling in. Nokt takes another look at Kur and then stands up, presumably to get supplies and put some food in us. I turn my head back to look at Zarkt. He is currently staring daggers into Kur’s back, and I look at her face to see if she might know. Her pupils flick to mine, and she looks at me smugly, a lazy but mischievous grin overcoming her face.
Glorious.