[PRP] Well, This Day Used to be Pleasant (Soren and Senga)

[keiifuu]

Senga blinked at the swear, his wings rustling to keep him steady. He'd expected Soren to leave; the other had shown little interest in sticking around, after all, and Senga wasn't exactly good company. Even if he'd been uninfected, the young executioner wasn't a conversation expert, and he certainly didn't show any interest in becoming one. His eyes narrowed at Soren. If the Death horseman had changed his mind and wanted to come back for a fight then so be it, but Senga wasn't in the mood for indecisiveness, and he was already on the edge. The skulls clicked hollowly together as Senga moved to stand straighter, angling his wings out to give him more balance.

The silence seemed to thicken before Soren broke it and -- Senga growled at the near order from the other, his metaphorical ears twisting back at the notion that the other could simply boss him around after making it obvious that he would extract his Fear if he were anymore human than a horseman might have been. His trance was broken by the sudden cuff, and his hands reached instinctively up to paw at the hand. "I am not wallowing," Despite his better judgement, Senga seemed to be making all the wrong choices today, and alongside that, his tongue had run away from his brain. Of course, Soren was already turning to walk away, and even if Senga wanted to disobey those not-quite-orders, he... well, how much more of a fool did he want to make himself today?

The voices murmured in his head, static and uncertain and still whistling soft, low tunes. They seemed to be at a ceasefire, allowing Senga a moment of clarity even as they jeered and sizzled in the back of his mind, just waiting for another perfect opportunity to take him down. "And you can't just boss me around like a child - hey!" Gods, when did he inherit his brethren's stubbornness? Usually Senga was the one with common sense and easy acceptance of things. Not today though, a snide part of his mind commented from above the dull roar, seems like you lost your cool! And almost your life too! The voices all sprang to sing the tune, but Senga shook them away, unfurled his wings, and took a giant, gusting leap after Soren, ducking into step beside the other with a frightfully practiced ease.

If what had just happened had been erased, it might have even been a somewhat more innocent approach.

The skulls all clicked together with his pace, and rolling his wings, Senga stared in mild uncertainty up at Soren. He could argue all day that the other was treating him like a kid, but even unstable, he still knew that his behavior had proved him little more than that. Uneasy mortification blossomed in his gut, below the stirring uncertainty and fear still lingering, still there. He didn't know why he was following Soren, or what he could possibly get out of it. His safer option was to run and hide and work away the embarrassment now curling in his gut, and quell the static voices now raging in his ear with newfound thrill, and then hope to god he never, ever saw Soren again in his life. Instead he was following him to god only knew where, for no reason at all.

At least not one that he would admit openly to himself. Instead he busied his hands by drawing patterns along the skin of his palms, a soothing gesture his father had taught him once while hunting and while the adrenaline was surging up and angry in his bones.

"What are you doing?"

It was a question hazed with uncertainty and just a bit of curiosity, and Senga ruffled his wings indignantly at the thought of being treated as a child again.

Gods, why was he still here?

ramenli

o - omg i just spent an ungodly amount of time watching cat videos ALSO LMAO /puts that as our flag yep & yes, cupcakes 5ever also pajamas >8C no fur pelts in da sleepover

 

[ramenli]

The boil was yelling, whining about being treated like a scareling, but that was what he was really. Or at least, he was small enough to be like. No, it was time to move on from this. It took every ounce of his self control not to turn to defend himself, anticipating the boil's attack as he leaped into place next to him. But there was no attack. Still, he did not relax, could not relax so long as those skulls clacked with each step next to him, so long as he could feel the gaze that was directed up at him. In his mind he called up an image of a wall, something he had used to do while working on his Fear, reminding himself to be strong, to stand firm.

But he was also surprised. Here he was, walking next to him. As if all he had needed was a bit of direction. Maybe that was it, he just needed a distraction to keep him going. If that was it he could help him with that. There were always things to do. He glanced down, noting the patterns being traced into the boil's palms, curious about the action. "Heading to get materials," he replied shortly.

Then curiosity got the better of him. "What are you doing to your hands...boil?" If he had given him his name, Soren did not remember it. Then again, much had occurred since they'd met, even if it'd only been a short time. And hopefully the question would distract him as well. That would be welcome, as Soren could not help but feel that he was walking next to a time bomb, just waiting for the next stunt that he would pull.

They were almost to the stack of lumber, uncured wood that would not be ideal for long term buildings, but they were doing what they could. And hopefully this place would not be where they housed themselves for too long.

Kupuritama

What if Soren sleeps in the nude fur? D: I guess he can get kitty pjs. Oh and they can stay up late sharing secrets about who they like and stuff *A*

 

[keiifuu]

Senga was trying rather desperately not to turn tail and run as they moved further and further along the path, his wings ruffling nervously and folding and unfolding in tandem with the flicker of guilt and discomfort now stirring in his gut. Was this where one was supposed to apologize? Sorry I almost tried to kill you, and almost got you to kill me. That didn't sound like something very pleasing to the ear, and the young executioner had never been an expert on apologizing; more so than that, he'd never been an expert in <******** up so badly. Sighing, the wolf tilted his head back, staring up at the tree line and the hazy orange twilight above. When his emotions had run high back home, he'd taken to the sky; but here the sky was wrong. Even if he wanted to, there was no real place to run.

And he'd already taken to following after the other like a lost pup.

Senga's metaphorical ears folded back at that idea. He was not a pup! "Yes," He said just as shortly back to Soren, staring at the other with a sharp, impatient flicker, "I know - I meant -" What was wrong with his tongue? Making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, Senga wrenched his head away to stare at the scenery, even though there wasn't much to see. "It doesn't take an expert to see that you think I'm going to try and rip your throat out sooner or later," He tried his best to steady his voice into the familiar cool, self-control he usually held onto, but today it seemed gone from his grasp, "so why are you making me help you?"

The question was surprising for him to hear, and his head tilted down at his hands, pausing in the middle of a counterclockwise spiral. How was he supposed to explain it? For all of his wordiness today, he seemed at a loss of words now, and his eyes flickered to Soren, contemplating, but first there was the issue of - "Senga," He rumbled quietly, "not boil." He glanced down at his palm again, and pulling his hands apart, he stretched his fingers, the skulls clicking hollowly together at the subtle gesture. "It's a method," He explained quietly, "a calming technique I was taught. Some beasts from the Isles sometimes got wound up, and it helped settle them down too." He made another low, frustrated noise at the explanation, as though it wasn't satisfactory to him, and held out a hand to Soren, as though expecting the other to place his own in between the outstretched fingers, scarred and lined with grey fissures.

"I don't expect you to trust me," He said flatly, almost apologetically, "but it's easier if I show you, if you want to know."

ramenli

WELL THEN senga will die quietly of embarrassment and offer his pelt to cover up... more of soren LOL and yes *A* and then they can build a pillow fort and it will be awesome

 

[ramenli]

Well, wasn't he? Soren really would not be surprised for him to attack him, not sure what to expect from him. But the boil seemed to think that he was forcing him along, despite the fact that he had followed along willingly enough. It was almost amusing how little sense it really made, but whatever was happening was certainly happening. And maybe if the War horseman lugged around several pieces of lumber it would wear him down a bit, and exhaustion might make him easier to manage.

Senga it was then. Though really, boil seemed to fit him better, and not just because it meant Soren wouldn't have had to remember another name. Some sort of calming technique? Exhaustion would help with that too. Still, if that was what was helping the boil calm down enough to not be at his throat he supposed he was grateful for the method.

The low noise set him on edge again, never letting him calm down, and his head involuntarily jerked so he could get a look at him, making sure nothing (ie Senga) was about to blind side him. What he saw instead was an oddly cracked and scarred hand outstretched, almost as if waiting for something. Soren stopped to simply stare at him, questioning and distrustfully.

"At least we're on the same page," he acknowledged. No, trust was not something he would be feeling toward him anytime soon. Still, curiosity could be a powerful thing, and he reached out with his left hand, palm up, placing it in the boil's outstretched hand. Not offering trust, simply a chance.

Kupuritama

I'll make a man, out of you~ Then they can tear down the fort and have a pillow fight *A*

 

[keiifuu]

Senga tried desperately to soothe his ruffled wings, curling them inward and giving them short, gentle flaps. He knew he wasn't exactly the prime example of perfect behavior, but then, none of the Horsemen were, really. And Soren wasn't either, for that matter. Senga's mind flared with indignant irritation, fluttering a bit even though it was mostly just a way to divert his thoughts from mortification, and worse yet, the voices. Today they just wouldn't shut up, not even now, as Soren and he took up the most mundane task of walking.

Senga's eyes flickered to Soren when he jerked his head, rumbling again at the strange reaction. "If I was going to attack you, I wouldn't give you a warning like that." He told him quietly, frowning. That was one of the things he'd been taught while learning how to hunt and how to navigate the forest. His wings fluttered at the thought, eyes vacant for a moment before Senga eased himself into a tense calm, pressing away the nostalgia that tasted bitter in the back of his throat. Senga glanced back at Soren, thinking for a moment about whether or not the other would be a good fight. He wondered briefly how deep those gauntleted fingers could cut, and what Soren favored as far as fighting style. Did Death even favor any certain technique? Senga shook his head to ward away the thoughts, because they scratched and aggravated the voices in the back of his head, urging him to a result he didn't want.

The wolf smiled bitterly at the words. "So we are." He rumbled quietly. It was sad, almost, that he'd gotten off on such a wrong foot with this Death horseman. Where had his self-control been today, when he'd actually needed it? His eyes half-lidded, head tilting to the warm hand now resting between his palms. Like putting yourself between the jaws of a wolf, his father would have said. It was amusing that Soren didn't trust him, yet complied with a physical touch that could easily end in blood. But that wasn't where he was heading, and that wasn't what he wanted at all. His eyes flickered briefly to the lumber they would be moving, and he felt a strange sense of ease at the sight. Physical labor was something he could do at least. The War clan was always active, after all. Turning his attention back to Soren for the moment though, he stared for a long moment before lowering his eyes.

"Here." He said quietly, raising his other palm, dark skin nearly untouched as opposed to the one beneath Soren's own. It was the pulse of the horseman that he found first, a steady, ghosting pressure as he drew a straight line along the vein of Soren's forearm. The patterns spiraled out from there, small at first, clockwise and then counterclockwise. It was a habit to Senga now, easy to draw along the other man's arm, but still his eyes didn't leave his own hand until he let it still, resting again at the pulse, feeling its steady beat beneath his thumb. "There is... more variations than that but." He shrugged helplessly, the voices all muttering inside his mind. "It works better on beasts, I think." He rumbled quietly. "But it - helps."

He sighed, bad at explanations, and even worse at waiting for impending judgment.

ramenli

LMAO <3 yes C8< pillow fight and then they can sleep under the explosion of feathers lmao /equips them with toy swords too/

 

[ramenli]

If that was meant to calm him, that he would not give warning, it was having a rather opposite effect. It simply mean that Soren could never drop his guard, could not risk it. He knew better than to judge someone by their size. Their youth? Perhaps. Though normally that was more of a lack of wisdom than of power. Adding someone who might not have experience to a situation that was already on edge shifted the balance more toward the edge than back toward safety.

Perhaps it was because of that that he stayed so tense as the other found his pulse. There was something about that, seeking out that sign of life, that was unsettling when a stranger, a potential enemy, performed the search. But he was determined to stay strong, to stand tall. He was not going to back down.

The fingertips tracing over his arm made his flesh crawl, the sensation not familiar and not exactly predictable. It was slightly mesmerizing though, watching the patterns emerge, concentrating to feel the ghostly movements. As it went on he found it harder to focus on keeping his guard up, but though it wavered slightly it did not fall. The boil stopping was what made him realize that, and he tried to regain his alertness. Worked on beasts...right...it had no affect on him. At least, none that he would admit to, to Senga or himself.

"Its good to know varying techniques," he said briskly, because it was plain to see that there could be a use for it. "Time to move lumber. We need to get this to the main camp." He was already moving on, both in speech and headed toward the lumber. He glanced at the piles and then back at the boil. "If you're helping you might as well help with the biggest ones." He gestured toward a massive piece of timber, fairly tall though not extreme, but incredibly thick. It was impossible for one man, even a horseman, to move alone. Wearing the horseboil out so he wouldn't have the energy to attack? Let that commence! "You can take the front end." He went over to the log, squatting down and ready to lift it as soon as Senga got into position.

If he got into position. Soren still was not sure that he could trust him.

Kupuritama

Passed out together at 5 in the morning after trying to pull an all-nighter. Wake up cuddled next to each other because there weren't any blankets around~

 

[keiifuu]

Senga's fingers lingered for a moment on the skin, feeling the pulse beneath the fragile flesh. It was calming to him, even though he knew that for Soren, it might as well have been like having his hand in a wolf's mouth. He knew how to break wrists. Just pressure in the right spots, just a quick, neat twist... You're so good at violence, the voices murmured, do you want to harm him? The young executioner shook for a moment as though a chill had suddenly clawed its way across his shoulders. No, He thought grimly in return, and shook his head to ward away the sounds of voices all jeering an calling him a liar. The wolf had never had a needy taste for violence like his brethren before the destruction of the Isles, but now... now it was an insatiable, guilty knot in the bottom of his gut, misdirected at anything, everything - anyone at all.

Senga's hands fell back to his sides, nails twisting upwards to put pressure on his own palms and steady himself. He blinked up at Soren, watching as the others alertness slowly seemed to return to his face. His lips curled upwards into a slight look of amusement; it was nothing close to a smile, just a vague look of pleasure that he'd at least had some affect on the other apart from making him think he might get eaten at any given moment. The sound of his voice was both welcome and unwelcome, and Senga took a step forward, turning his eyes to the lumber and bobbing his head in soundless knowledge. He didn't feel the need to bring up anymore displeasure at the man's instructions, his wings ruffling.

"If you insist," he sighed quietly, and unfurling his wings, gave one simple leap over to the lumber. The voices grunted and fumed in the back of his head; you could still fight him, still tear him apart. He shook them off, shook away the misdirected urges with a soft keening sound that wouldn't do a thing. The lumber wasn't anything new to him, and his fingers hooked under it with ease; he'd helped build new residences once in the War Isle, repair corals and the training courses too. His wings gave an indignant flap, and he lifted when Soren did with ease. For now he would deal with this mundane labor - the voices started giggling in his head. Fornowfornowfornow, They jeered.

Senga distracted himself with Soren, staring at him from the other side of the log with wide gold eyes.

I dont understand you.

He really didn't. Sighing quietly, Senga fluffed his wings, giving him a little extra strength. "What were you?" He asked instead; he wanted to ward away the silence for some reason, even though silence was his best friend on any other day. "Back in the Death Isle, I mean."

Because Soren didn't seem like just another soldier, and Senga wanted to know more before the voices decided to beg him to drop this log and do something more interesting.

ramenli

LOL YES approved forever *U* buried beneath their pelts together <3 senga would apologize, but he'd be way too content to move lmao - soren is a very good pillow/blanket combo after all > u>

 

[ramenli]

After seeing a few glimpses at what was possibly going on under the surface flitter across Senga's face it was a relief that he was going to actually help out after all. Not a relief that Soren would actively acknowledge, but it was still present. It was interesting to watch the boil. Some of the Death clan sported wings, but it was always interesting to watch someone truly at ease with them. Using them as casually as he might make use of his gauntlet or his sword.

They lifted the log together, the unwieldy piece of lumber submitting to their strength. But the boil made no motion to move. Soren was about to speak up when the War boil beat him to it, bringing up something entirely different instead. He frowned at the question, though the clarification helped.

"Walk this way," he instructed with a nod of his head, fairly certain that he could talk just as well walking or standing there, if only the boil would get a move on. He then paused for a moment before answering his actual question. "Guardian. The personal guardian for a priestess." That was really as much as he wanted to share with anyone, stranger or not. And by the way his voice seemed to catch at the words, and that it seemed as if that was all he could manage to say even if he had wanted to say more, probably gave Senga a decent idea as to the reason of that. Emotions. Soren was not opposed to showing them, he had before, but he needed to move on while he could. Horsemen could no longer afford to live in the past.

"You?" he questioned in return. Less out of politeness and more out of curiosity. What could this boil have done, what tasks could he possibly have been trusted with? He seemed strong and fast, but if you weren't sure if he would do something or destroy his work partner it'd be hard to manage him. But something about him must have made him worth keeping around.

Kupuritama

Sorry I went to a friend's house and then meta was all I could keep up with QQ And sorry Senga, Soren probably kicks in his sleep (or curls around smaller forms instinctively because of Astridr...does anyone else sense blackmail photos?)

 

[keiifuu]

The lumber was easy, though somewhat exhausting to carry, and the boil's wings gave flaps every once in awhile as though to help propel him along. It reminded him vaguely of War, and his shoulders hunched a little bit at the thought, the voices all sighing and sneering and whispering thickly poisoned words in his head. Why you, was the only question that came out of the static nonsense. Whyyouwhyouwhywhywhy. Senga glanced at Soren, and blankly he wondered if the older horseman had these thoughts; ever wondered why it had been him, and not someone else.

His stare turned hard and brooding, and perhaps a bit scrutinizing as he stared at Soren without really staring at him, his mouth parting to reveal fangs and a soft noise of confusion. Why was this one so complicated? It was annoying. Annoying because he didn't get Soren; there were too many layers and all he'd gotten out of their first encounter was a loaded gun in both of their hands, ready to fire at any sign of the other tipping the scales unfavorably, and off the side of a cliff. His wings fluttered as well, and Senga's gaze tilted towards the lumber they were carrying instead, if only so that Soren didn't peg him for even crazier than he probably already was.

The words were foreign to him, but he understood the tone underneath. He'd heard far-off tales of the Priestesses, less of their guardians, and nothing of the bonds that might have been shared. He imagined they were close, but the intimate feeling of the bond was foreign to him; he'd never known it, how could he even begin to try and understand? His head tilted into a nod, slow and thoughtful, eyes tracing Soren's expression in wonder and then, as he replayed in the words over and over again in his head, guilt. "I'm sorry." He said, but he wasn't sure how many things his tone was conveying in it. Sorry for asking you these things, sorry for bringing it up. Sorry for everything.

The returned question was a surprise, and Senga blinked owlishly at him before his wings wavered, and he felt the ghost of pride and the hollow ache of shame overwhelm him. But Soren didn't have to speak out loud for him to assume the other judging; after all, his earlier words echoed in his head, calling him out as useless, calling him out for the truth. Why are useless things born? But he hadn't been useless, not back then. Soren didn't know that though. Soren didn't know anything. And he wasn't wrong to assume such things now. He nearly let the lumber tilt to one side and swore under his breath. "Executioner," He said, catching himself, and stared at Soren. He didn't feel like the other needed excessive information, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what and what not he should give. The voices jeered in the hollow of his ear, and the scar over his weaker eye began to ache. Nausea spun in his throat, and Senga's wings clipped tightly against his sides. He didn't know what to say, but if he didn't say something to this man, anything, the words would drown him again.

"It was - I was different back before this." He said quietly, not quite so defensively as he was trying to explain why he had been what he had been. "You must think me a useless wreck, and right now I am. But back then I was useful, and I was trusted." He said ruefully in a moment of clarity, without any impression that Soren would believe him. He'd been level headed. Self controlled. When others had gotten out of hand, he had subdued them, because that had been his nature. Where War was naturally wild, he was the black sheep with the unyielding calm. Now he was cracked, and today, Soren had been rudely and unknowingly introduced to the monsters inside his skin, the ones calling all of the shots.

Monsters? They all cried in his head like vultures picking at scabs, and Senga's wings jerked as though he'd been physically burned, and only by sheer will power did he not drop the lumber on Soren and leave. You are the devil's child, the black sheep.

"Shh." He hummed quietly to them, and bowed his head, his voice picking up enough for Soren to hear as they neared what he could only imagine was where the lumber was headed. "I'm sorry." He said again, vaguely.

This time though, he knew the reason why.

ramenli

no problem! OvO <333 rul trumps internet T U T <333 & LOL ITS OK senga has probably lived through worse... like jay and iyari smothering him and then kicking him out of bed/out of the tree LOL (he would appreciate being curled around, he likes being warm and surrounded ... but he is also tsundere so he will never ever ever admit that out loud unless forced LMAO /punches him) BUT LOL YES so much blackmailing material. so. much.

 

[ramenli]

Soren could carry lumber like this all day. It was not too heavy for him, and while it did take its toll it was not utterly exhausting. What was far more tiresome was keeping track of the little pup helping him. It was impossible to miss the glances, and then the stares. The open signs of aggression with the baring of his teeth but then noises that did not support those signs. There was something not right with this one. He could be a danger not only to Soren but to other clan members as well. Animals could have their uses, but if they could not be managed it was better to cull them before they turned.

But it was those little moments when he did not seem dangerous, when he seemed confused and young that held Soren back. That made him want to give him a chance. It was annoying. The boil was even apologizing for infringing...no, wait. Something was wrong about that. Boil...such a Halloween term. Senga was a horseman, he was a colt...was he really letting this place affect even how he though about things? He did not spare the apology a second thought, it was not necessary. It would not help what had happened.

Soren had to shift to help keep the lumber level, but his eyebrow rose just a hair at the boi--colt's answer. Executioner? This one? Senga seemed ready to explain that though. The picture that he was painting was quite different, but it was a different that Soren could somewhat understand. He had not changed, not much, but his status had. Before others knew what he was if not who. Knew he would be about on a Priestess' business. Would help him and obey for the most part, whereas now people expected him to grovel for their help. So things being different before he could empathize with.

Things mostly fell to a slightly easier silence as they neared, until finally Senga broke the silence with two quiet words. Another apology. "Over there," was Soren's only reply, nodding to where the lumber needed to be left. He didn't really need an apology, despite what the colt had put him through. His main concern was what the horseman might do next, possibly to others who could not defend themselves. He thought about it for a moment, not really enough time to fully think things through before speaking up.

"When you need to work off energy find me. I'll find something for you to do or I can take a hit." He was not positive why he was offering this, but it was there, and he would not take it back.

Kupuritama

Wat no it isn't. Rofl poor Senga. And then they can get up in the morning and make pancakes shaped like cute little animals OuO

 

[keiifuu]

Senga's eyes continued to shift, watching the guardian without really watching him at all. It was muddling, this whole idea of understanding Soren. Senga wanted to sigh, wanted to sit down and mull over each and every detail for hours and hours. Perhaps it was that he was not used to other Clans. Perhaps it was just that Soren himself was a giant question mark to him; something that didn't make sense.

That would certainly have to be remedied some day.

He nodded simply when the other directed him to where the lumber needed to be left, and once they'd managed to place the large, heavy wood in its place, he stretched his wings and gave them a tentative flap. Peering back at Soren, his eyes couldn't help but half-lid. The other could just leave him now if he wanted; it wasn't as though much was keeping them glued together. In fact, he was pretty sure there was just some duty-driven instinct in Soren keeping him here. And there was no telling on Senga's part when the voices would deliver another unexpected blow, chasing him away, or worse yet, chasing him somewhere he didn't want to go.

The next comment was taken completely in stride physically, while mentally the young executioner reeled. His eyes flicked up to Soren after a long moment, minor disbelief evident in the amber gold. "Are you sure?" He asked without wanting to, cursing the fact that his brain and his tongue seemed on completely different pages today. "Thank you, I'll remember that." He tried afterwards, but feeling almost like a liar, he gave a strong flap of his wings, and in one bounding leap was near to Soren again, perching on the edge of the lumber and peering at the other with curious, unstable eyes.

"You'll have to help me work off more than energy though." He sighed, the skulls rattling. "It's not excessive energy that made me attack you, after all." His fingers ghosted over Soren's pelt in contemplation for a moment, but then he passed him, padding back towards where they'd come. "There's more to move, isn't there?" He called back, the feathers of his tawny wings trailing the ground, stretched out and low enough that they stirred soft puffs of dirt in their wake. He would preen and clean them later, but for now it was simply to give them a break from being curled so tight to his body like a defense mechanism. He paused in his steps and glanced back at Soren, lingering there like a ghost and waiting for the others move before allowing himself one at all.

ramenli

jgnlskmf SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG Q___Q sfjlkam and LMAO yes pancakesss / o / and then they can crawl back into bed and munch on food *v* /punched

 

[ramenli]

((Maybe Soren doesn't make sense because his rper plays him so bad))

Senga was giving him a look, half lidded eyes, probably trying to get him to drop his guard by pretending to show desire. If he did desire him at all, it was probably to desire his fur or to desire to rip out hunks of his flesh. Soren was not dropping his guard around the colt. That side of him was also part of what was keeping him around, stubbornness and the refusal to give in.

The questioning was well warranted. Soren was not positive he liked the offer, but he had made it, and really, he could not take it back. It was evident in his unease around him, the way he did not trust him when he moved quickly like that to stare at him. Unnerving with those golden eyes. His every movement something that Soren wanted to keep track of. The stroking of the fur, a reminder of the one thing that seemed to connect them.

He followed him, knowing there was more to be done, watching as Senga's feathers kicked up dirt and he strode through it. When he finally spoke it was quietly, his words carefully considered. "I would find no joy in fighting you if that's what it comes to. Like I said, I can take a hit. We're too few to risk others, and if it was between myself or a priestess...or some of the others I've met I'd rather you try to break my guard first." It did make sense to him that way. And there was always the possibility that it would just be something like hauling lumber again. He moved to pick up another piece, waiting on Senga and ready to take it back with them.

"Of course it'd be better if you'd just n** whatever urges you're having in the bud. Flashbacks, energy...whatever it is." He ended with a scowl, not really sure what he was talking about, not able to figure out what was wrong with the boil. Or perhaps it was just because his throat hurt, that had been a rather lengthy monologue for him followed rather quickly by a few more things to say.

Kupuritama

Yes Senga, think about Soren all of the time. Worry and fret over him constantly until he fills your mind. And stop half-lidding your eyes in Soren to try to make yourself more appealing. You guys are bros. Okay? Bros. Furry bros.

ER I MEAN. Yes, pancakes *A* of course breakfast will be at lunch time...and then...shopping trip? owo

 

[keiifuu]

(( LMAO OR BECAUSE I AM A TOTAL DERP and senga is a socially awkward turtle forever ))

Senga flicked his wings at the other with a look of bemusement. His tawny wings gathered against his sides, a gusting breeze rattling his skulls. He made a personal note to find Jay sooner or later that day and curl up next to her and maybe get her to clean his wings if she was in a less babbling mood than normal. Or he could just hide in the dark recesses of the reserve forever. Sighing, he shook his head. "Does Death show no interest in sparring?" He questioned, beginning to walk again, this time without the use of wings. "War pleasures in battle though, I suppose." He rumbled quietly. "Your kin is foreign to me."

Pausing as they went to move another piece of lumber, now used to the path they had to take to shuffle more materials back and forth, Senga tilted his head back, wings ruffling quietly. "I could break your guard," He retorted quietly, not prideful, simply an empty, amused challenge. Simmering slightly, the young executioner hefted another piece of lumber, waiting on Soren before beginning to move it back to where it was needed more. It was rather pitiful work, and his patience was beginning to ebb at the idea that harvesting Fear had been stripped from them in favor of rebuilding what should never have been lost.

"You make that sound easy." He returned quietly, flicking his eyes to Soren with a low rumble caught between a growl and a hum. His eyes lowered to the lumber. "If I knew what it was, I could easily remedy it. That is the problem though; the not knowing." Senga grimaced, and when they were finished moving the next piece of lumber, stretched his wings and gave a low growl. "But this conversation is useless, and I wouldn't expect it to make any sense at all if I were to indulge in more details." There was a sudden tinge of lingering irritation in his tone, palpable on his throat and tongue only because of the surge of voices now all coiling and whispering in his head.

His wings tipped, and he wondered how many logs there were left, and just how much more of this he could take. The lull in static sound in his head was now breaking under another wave of chilling calls, and Senga's wings gave a tense jerk, restless and waiting to spring into action. Surely he was getting slightly worn from the log carrying, but not nearly worn enough that the voices had tamed.

Damn.

ramenli

L M A O SENGA SAYS NTY HE HAS BETTER THINGS TO THINK ABOUT but not really he's just super tsun-tsun 8C /pulls on his cheeks/ ALSO HE SAYS ITS HABIT AND THAT SOREN NEEDS TO STOP MISTAKING HIS INTENTIONS

LMAO ofc *A* shopping trip lmao. they'd like... go buy more furry pelts 8U --- /PUNCHED

 

[ramenli]

Sparring...well, training had its time and place. He was never one that was very infatuated with it. He did what was necessary, staying late only when there was something he particularly failed at. With his defensive emphasis he could somewhat rely on his brute, physical attributes rather than difficult techniques. He certainly did not feel the same way toward sparring as most of those that came from War. "Interest, but not pleasure."

Maybe the other boil could break his guard. But more than likely he would have to do a good bit to do so. But then when he moved on to the next person he would be weakened, easy for someone else to defeat. Well, another horseman. The lumber was a menial task, and possibly would not work. But so far it had...seemed to make a difference. The colt was talking to him, sharing bits and pieces.

Not attacking.

So...the not knowing was the problem. And he did consider it a problem. The angry growl and the way he lashed out only furthered the idea that he was telling the truth. The confusion that he was probably feeling, for one that felt younger than him...what. No. He was not just going to devote his time and energy to some charity case.

Something about him was changing. There seemed to be agitation in his movements now, something that had seemed to have faded. "That's enough for one day." he said as they finished with their latest bit of lumber. Senga could...probably figure out what to do now on his own, Soren had no intention to nursemaid him. "I live with the others from Death." There, a location. The boil could find him if necessary.

Kupuritama

Its his habit to go around seducing people? I believe that...

ALL DA FURRY PELTS. And maybe Senga can talk Soren into some PJs