Thread: The Wolf, the Forge, and Love Forbidden - Raivh & Abovetheroses

It took everything in him to not chuckle at the ideas this woman had. For an educated Lady, she certainly knew nothing of the ways of men. Her attempts seemed almost like those of a child to him, actions done purely out of disobedience in an effort to gain her way. Nonetheless, he found her sensitivity amusing. Burying a sword, burning down an armory, all were as she said futile. There would always be the forge to build more weapons, better than any that might be lost. Setting fire to the forge, while it would stall production for a week or so at best, would also not stop the ever persistent butchery. His solemn eyes trailed her as she wandered over to take a seat on a carved stone bench. Acute eyes could see the subtle quake of her pale flesh against the chill of the stone and air. His gaze locked with hers as she continued to speak while he remained silent, listening vigilantly to her dilemma. It wasn't a dilemma like his. Hers wasn't a lapse of morals. This woman's dilemma lie with breeding. He looked back to the ground. From just this short conversation already, he could tell that she would do anything within her power to protect those around her. Being a woman of nobility, her options were few. With any luck, she might marry the son of a neighboring Lord, and then perhaps she would be granted children. At least she'd have a way to spend her time, to pour her emotions over and care for her offspring. Ahren's lips parted in a subtle laugh as she went on to explain how her father would blame the wolves, hire men like him to forge weapons and fight to kill his kin. He licked his lips and quirked his one brow as he lifted his chin to look at her giving him a sideways glance. No, he replied, getting to his feet and carefully unfurling his large frame before her. There was a slight, crooked smile that pulled up at one corner of his lips, revealing a few teeth. His stare stayed with her, ever present in matching the deep blue of her irises against the pale icy blue-gray of his own. I do not find you unstable, Milady. Before he could say anymore, she was walking away from him. He found his eyes following her for a moment before he bent to pluck the sword from the ground. His voice was firm, stern, and deep as he pursued her. Milady, he said, his lumbering form coming to a standstill in front of her. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stood before her, the sword resting lightly over the pauldron that protected his shoulder. If you could save her, would you? His breath appeared before him against the frigid air, and he looked past her then, hearing Elise's howl now just outside of the keep. They were on their way, taking her outside of the walls to release her and begin their hunt. With a quick downward glance at Alice, he tipped his head to her in a nod and then doubled back, running in the opposite direction, deeper into the garden as she'd been heading. As he ran, he dropped the sword and it fell with a loud clang against what he could only assume was a stone. His brothers' words were echoing in his mind, but Elise's were at the forefront. Her pained, desperate plea to him as he'd stood in that great hall and watched her stand bare before man and beast. His legs had never carried him so fast as they did until he reached a wall. It was sturdy, standing approximately 30' at a reach toward the cloudy sky above. His jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to experience the change. He reached up, touching the emblem that dangled by his beard. The charm wasn't something he'd crafted. It had been a gift from his mother to her son the day before his father ripped him from her breast as she wailed. Determination was etched on his countenance as his fingers grappled with whatever grip he could find against the wall, climbing steadily upward. What the people of this keep found odd about the small trinket that resembled a wolf was that it was so taboo, and yet their blacksmith wore it. Everyone he'd spoken with had just assumed it was a token he'd received from a traveler to their keep. Something to remind him of why he crafted such strong swords, shields, maces, axes, and other items to keep the soldiers and hunters safe from harm. The bottoms of his feet landed heavily against the soil on the other side of the wall, hands bracing his stance as he faced the line of forest before him.