Thread: A Pillar of Serpents [ft. xanaphia & november]

He felt his lips twisting at that little reminder. They were sleeping together, of course they were sleeping together, Persia and Cirren, whatever their problems were, they were married and had a child together. Darius supposed it was too much to ask for her to swear off other men once she'd felt his touch. Doing this, having this, and keeping his head attached to his shoulders meant keeping things quiet. Or to be more exact, it meant being silent, about things you weren't silent about with other women. And what did that mean, was he going to skulk in the shadows and distract himself with prostitutes for as long as she had an interest in him? Damn. He shouldn't have felt disappointment by that situation. Bull's March was a farming city, filled with conservative salt of the earth types, but it was a city nonetheless, and there was entertainment in every city for people who had coin and patience. It wasn't like he'd never been able to find a woman he could tolerate - the world, honestly, was full of women who were pliant or interesting enough to pass a night or even a few nights. Still, he felt his teeth clenching as she spoke, even though he couldn't really deny the wisdom of what she was saying. You want me out in the gutters while you've got your nose in one book or another? You're so generous. He wasn't used to having to sneak around the corners like someone's mistress. Didn't want that. Fine. His body and his memories and his desires wouldn't let him speak much more of a concession than that, and he still wasn't sure if he'd actually listen to her. The first thing was that he didn't want to get caught in the middle of all this. And no matter what Cirren's trust of them was, they couldn't let the rumors spread enough that he would be forced to act on it. We can talk about it later. They were closing in on the city, and plodding through the ruins of the older, larger city on the outskirts. It had been burned to the ground years ago, and the last stretch into town felt like going through an abandoned fort. He gave some tired, brusque nods to the waiting guards on the way to the gate, but felt his attention drifting to the gate proper. There was a crowd, gathered and pooled around the narrow gate - they never got around to building proper outer walls here because everyone insisted that the city would be rebuilt to its previous dimensions. It was a point of pride. He looked at Persia and sighed. Pride was fucking taking its toll on everyone lately. He worried about what would be out there - a mob? A brewing riot over this thing or that? But there wasn't enough noise for it. There was more talking than listening. Darius leaned forward on his horse, vaguely recognizing the man as he spoke - an older looking one with short white and black braids and a heavy chain around his neck. Is this a king who spends a great deal of time, or money, or energy on celebrating miracles? He held his hands out, like the answer was self evident. When someone in power comes bearing gifts it is never - NEVER - to share that power with you. There is something they want from the March. They've taken gold, they've taken food, now they want their share of blood. They locked eyes. Darius kept his face still and let the man make his own judgements. And then he smiled, dipping into a theatrical bow. And these must be our honored guests. Darius felt his eyes narrowing. The fucking talkers, they always felt like they had no enemies as long as they talked with that syrupy tone of voice. Who the fuck are you?