Private The Death of Virtue

[Roki]

Illia's words carried the weight of worlds. Those found about the branches, beneath the soil, betwixt each shrub, and nestled beneath their burrows. The worlds of the Wylds. Myriad and innumerable.

And he knew that the pale mare spoke true.

How was he, any more trustworthy than those hunters? Had his hands not hunted down game? Set fire to the very wilderness he meant to protect?

Or was that just another one of his fantasies? The tall tales he told himself to keep his mind from buzzing too loudly when all was dark and quiet. That he would take the oaths. That he would be worthy.

"So, Ser Knightly escort..." The lilt of her voice pulled him out of whatever dark cloud had came over him, eyes wide upon her long profile. A snort of laughter at what came from her next. "...a lady in season,"

"I ain't so formal as all that," he assured her, a hand fanning down the thought of himself wearing a bright gown, sat side saddle atop the gallant mare. He huffed and turned away again. His face couldn't stop from running ruddy. Splotches of warm blush burning like sunlit clouds just beneath his eyes.

She went on. Their knight. Protect them from the hungry Orc. Stew!

"They wouldn't be my first choice," he said with a smirk.

"... please tell me these stables you mentioned are stocked..."

Roki's eyes flit up, hand rubbed at his chin. "Not that I remember," he said after a moment. "Been a long while since the outpost was manned with a proper garrison, its more, well," he ducked under a branch as they pushed through a clearing. "A safehouse these days," he nod. Looked to the horizon, and could see the dark shape of the lookout tower poking its head over the distant canopy. Eyes lit up some, as he pointed it out.

"See that?" he hop skipped forward. "That's it right there!" looked behind, and how the critters had scattered to their hideyholes at his sudden movement. Only some of them poking back out at him as he stilled. He cleared his throat, and settled on his heels. "It, well, it probably isn't too well provisioned," he said with a guilty little titter as he scratched the back of his head. "We can forage though!" he said bright. "I know where Syr Rondal grows his secret vegetable patch, and," he looked around. "Shouldn't be too far from this here clearing, actually," he said, having just the tiniest bit of trouble seeing in the dark.

He paced about. Clearly on the lookout for goodies to eat. "Oh!" he called out, and scooped down. "Snow ear mushrooms," he said, and wasted no time in digging up the bouquet of white frills from the earth.

 

[Illia]

Her ears flicked when he pointed, pale head lifting to catch sight of the distant tower-- a dark shape riding the crest of a lonely hill, reaching up towards the heavens. The ‘safe-place’ was not the towers from foal-tales, and they certainly couldn't compare to the bastion beneath the tree that made up a now sizeable chunk of the nights sky, but she could not help but think of stories where knights rode out on steel-covered horses to war. Long steel pikes with colourful banners, metal things that made a ruckus when blown into, a single file riding out into the unknown-- oh. Oh… her pale eyes turned to Roki for but a brief moment, cyan eyes pinning him, and a thought blossomed in her mind.

Ohhh.

But before the sporadic idea was revealed (and, speaking of foal-tales…), the moment he had taken up the mushrooms into his hands, a velvety, warm muzzle had stolen them from his grasp in an instant in a childish manner; a quick whinny and a playful gallop as Illia rounded the orc in a flurry,

“I dosh lo’e foragin’.” She regarded him with squinted, playful eyes and a full mouth chewing contentedly, choosing not to highlight the fact that she never ate mushrooms she herself chose, because the mare could only pick out three kinds that weren’t poisonous and marked the rest as ‘suspicious’. Devouring the fluffy white shrooms in but a moment, little flecks of it sparkled at her whiskers about her mouth, “I shall give you thanks to give to Syr Ronal in advance! After I rest,”

Illia did not know why she kept raising her legs high to do horsie-flourishes, because it sent waves of dull, painful ripples about her body, and she hadn’t the energy to do so, it was simply the flair was so important,

“... For a bit, and I am fully healed and fed, we will ride out together from this tower and meet the hunters before they meet us. I limp and bleed no longer. Though I could admittedly fall asleep now where I stand, I know that by the time the sun has dragged itself to its zenith, all will be well, and then things will be made right.”

The prospect of a garden to steal from filled her with --what looked like from the outside-- feverish, greedy desire; but honestly, it was a mixture of absolute hunger and the willingness to get to a level of strength that the hunters had not known since the chase’s beginning. Now that the flaying of white flesh had long since closed and the pains of the spearheads had began to roll into nothing but an ignorable twang, her excitement for revenge had quickened. But it was not just that. Like stars aligning, if it was not for Roki then this recovery would not have been possible, for though laying in the open glen quietly and waiting for the moon to pass into the far mountains would have been acceptable, there was now a garden and a bed and time and power. And, Unicorn’s always paid back what had been given in turn to them.

A mental image, a knight, this knight, riding towards a dark tower…

The sudden beat of excitement that overcame her caused the mare to stumble down into a laying position-- it only hurt a little-- the beasts head turning to press a snout gently against her own flank.

“Come, then. Let us make haste.”

And before the Orc had a single moment to bark out a worried comment,

“And do not insult my pride; I was injured, and time has stolen away those wounds. So, get on, or I shall put you on.”

 

[Roki]

It was there at once, and gone the next. Green calloused fingers left slick with wet traces. A blink. Eyes on his empty palms. A blink. His golden stare back onto the pale mare.

"I dosh l'e foragin'." ​

"Squinting like an imp!" he said with a laugh. Fingers rubbing together the warm-cold feeling that bled off knuckle and finger length. A step, two step after her as she flourished and pranced.

"I shall give you thanks to give to Syr Ronal in advance! After I rest... I could admittedly fall asleep now where I stand...then things will be made right." ​

Roki nod. "And I'll be glad to pass them along, on your behalf, noble knight of the woods," smile warm as he hinged at the hip and bowed. Wrist rolling, fingers fanning to cup over his heart. "Your thanks," he said, tusks flared as he squint. Popped back up, and bent back down. Snagged up a mushroom, yellow and orange in color, grey in the blue moons' light. Tucked in a couple of dandelions there beside.

Gaze slid to meet hers. Widened at what they were met by. Hunger. A like of which he knew too well. For more. To be full. To be sated.

He gulped. Let a chuckle bounce from his lips. "What, you want to try the dandelion?" he teased.

A fall of all her mass. Down to the ground. His eyes went double wide with a worry that gasped out from his throat.

...do not insult my pride... So, get on, or I shall put you on.
​

Mouth pursed tight. Lips pouted. He nod. "I would never dream of such a thing," he said. Realized something. "Insult your pride I mean," he said, softer. Stepped to her. Cradled what little bounty he had collected in one hand, as he set the other out. Touched her. Gentle and unsure. "I'm no good at riding," he said with a hint of nerves, smirk still cut into the corner of his lips. Slung a leg over and set his weight down.

Warmth and power breathed beneath him. Made his own breath grow thin. His heart quicken. Thighs squeezed a tad too tight. Ankles dug, a touch too thin.

"Oh!" he remembered.

She was hurt.

Loosened up with the fall of breath. Let his hand lay flat along her neck. "Sorry," he said nervous. "I'm ready though," let his fingers spread across the shimmering velvet of her coat.