♚ Fanaticus ♔

   “One more word and I shall make you apart of the sands you hate so,”

“...My dear wife, you won’t be needing that second item to begin with,”

     The sorcerer stomps along with Grima’s Truth in tow, an absolutely murderous look in his red, snake-like eyes as he growls, appearing ready to cast off another powerful spell as he scans the area, looking for his next target. 

   “I shall eradicate all of you nay sayers from existence! I shall bring upon the wrath of Grima himself to snuff out such liars! I shall make all of you regret the day you dared to speak to my wife, period!

   “You dare to look when in the presence of my wife, let alone utter such insults towards her?! She is not something to be gazed upon by the common cur, such as yourself! She is my wife--a queen, the very image of nobility--, and you shall pay for not respecting her as such!”

     The sorcerer furrows his brow, his features wrinkling as thing lips pull back to bare his teeth in a snarl, glaring murderous, wine red daggers at the blue-haired lancer. What an utter arrogant piece of garbage to think he has a right to speak of the sage period! Let alone in the manner in which the lancer did. He will make this nay sayer pay for what he has done and said. Validar’s threats are never empty, and this is of no exception.

     Enraged, the dark-haired man pulls out a well-used tome with a dark cover from his robes, a six-eyed design clearly visible on the cover as he opens it, holding it along its spine.

Cur:

Immediately, Lon’qu realizes that he isn’t helping the situation. What made him realize it was that he found his hand drifting towards his left hip, where his sword usually rested. It was purely out of defensive habit, but he’s reminded that it isn’t there. This isn’t a place to fight, he doesn’t have a weapon, and he’s supposed to meet Lissa in a few hours. Getting into a brawl over a few insults likely isn’t worth it, though it’s hard for him to swallow his own pride and accept that. He doesn’t attack, but he doesn’t back off yet, either. The stubborn side of him can’t just walk away and let this man think he’d one the altercation.

  Lon’qu grunts in response, lip twitching up into an irritated scowl as he glares at the other.Did? He did no such thing. He’d barely even looked at the room number by the door to see if his own was coming up. And here this man thinks he’s snooping on his room? It’s irritating to say the least, but he’s about to shrug it off and move on. It’s not worth it.

  But he freezes at the man’s next words. Suddenly ice fills his blood at what the man is implying. This isn’t an accusation of him snooping on the room like he’d first thought….What the sorcerer is accusing him is far, far worse. The worst accusation he could throw at him. Not only to imply that Regna Ferox was run by barbaric savages…But that Lon’qu himself was no better than a deranged, wild brigand bent on primal desire….The very kinds of brigands he’s seen first hand, that still haunt his memories and plague his worst nightmares. He stops thinking, red flashes in his mind, and he hears nothing for a moment. Not a word leaves him.

   Then he snaps. Without even realizing what he’s doing or taking the time to consider it, that trigger is set off and he whirls around, face twisted into a deathly glare as his fist flies forward at incredible speed, right towards the sorcerer’s face…

     Wine red eyes widen as soon as he realizes what the boy is doing--that he twisting his body around at a rate that the sorcerer should be cautious of, for there is an overwhelming huge possibility of this other planning to initiate some sort of attack. Yet, as the man focuses on the boy’s fist heading straight for his face, Validar is unable to move away in time to dodge it, and so takes the Feroxi’s strike in full force. A yelp of a sharp pain in his face and nose leaves the older male’s lips as he takes a step or so back, holding a clawed hand to his nose just long enough to feel a warm, red liquid stain his hand before removing said appendage, allowing it fall to his side as he balls his fist. It hardly takes a few seconds for the man to wrap his head around what had happened, and, to be frank, the older male felt thoroughly enraged. How dare this boy--this Feroxi street rat--, throw his fist at someone such as himself? A man who used to hold the very throne of Plegia for so many years, and who was bred and trained for years to father the vessel of Grima. How dare this insolent brat not only try to violate his privacy and his wife, but also strike someone who used to be in such a position of power than he could order this boy dead with a mere snap of his fingers. The man may not have the means to that now, but there is no way in hell that he’s going to take this. He even offered this maggot--this lowly cur--, some mercy by ordering him to leave. Oh, how he wasted his time on showing such kindness to this rodent. He wishes he killed this bastard when he had the chance.

     Furrowing his brow as his anger towards this boy sets in, Validar’s thin lips pull back in the form of an angered snarl, a low growl leaving his throat as he glares murderously at his target. Pupils dilate, and his fists ball so tightly that his talons begin to dig into the palms of his hands, and, without warning, he lunges forward, his dominant hand in a tight fist, aiming straight for the boy’s disgusting maw. 

   “How dare you strike me! How dare filth as such as yourself strike a King of Plegia! I own clothes more valuable than your pitiful excuse of an existence and country, vermin!”

     Enraged, the male then attempts to throw an uppercut the boy’s way before viciously grasping unto his throat with a single hand, digging his sharp nails into the youth’s flesh before summoning all of his strength and rage to slam the brunette against the wall repeatedly, aiming to get a few good blows to back of his head in before eventually pinning him against the hall way wall. He then harshly brings his knee up to attempt to jab the boy in either his stomach or groin--the sorcerer cares not, so long as he hits something--, before adding pressure to the young man’s throat, with the idea being to choke him. But he did not intend on killing the lad right now, oh no--strangling the boy would be too good for him. Validar had other means in mind. 

Naeva:

       “Validar Nukrumah Forneus! How could you…?! There is nothing unnatural about it! So long our grandson loves his partner, and is happy with him, then that is all that matters. If the fates have willed them together, then they belong together, no matter the individuals involved. How dare you say such a thing…?! Are you doubting fate?”

    Hurt is the very first thing that dares to set onto the sage’s pale features, for while she knows the sorcerer is quite the callous and cold individual, never did she think that her husband would say something so sensitive to her face– to usher words so cruel about their family; a topic he should know would harm her so. Perhaps, for their generation, a union between two people of the same gender was not common– or, at the very least, were kept hidden out of fear of being ostracised by others–, however, that does not mean that the mother feels the slightest bit adverse to it. No– the sage has always believed that so long as a couple loves one another genuinely, then nothing else matters, and thus, she will not budge on her stance. She could not be happier for her beloved grandson or his partner.

         “I am perfectly fine with attending his wedding, and I shall stand by Inigo’s side with pride… and though I love you dearly, and want nothing more than for you to join me in doing so, if you are going to act like this, then… then perhaps you best not come at all. Or perhaps you should cast a hex upon yourself so that you remain silent.”

     Wine red eyes can only widen upon hearing his wife’s response, his mouth threatening to hang open as he observes the woman, for once, opposing his stance on something in such broad manner. Him, doubting fate? Of course not--just because he believes the marriage of that boy to another to be revolting does not mean he doesn’t believe in fate. But he also cannot deny that what his wife--his soul mate, his second half--, has to say has some merit, and never would Validar simply refuse to hear her out, for he sees the woman as an equal. And that would prove to be both a blessing and a curse for the sorcerer. He truly does not want to doubt or argue with his wife, but he also not like being questioned on whether or not he truly believes in fate, for was it not fate that brought himself and the woman together? And all of this simply because he called out his grandson’s union with that boy. He knew Naeva cared for their family with a passion he honestly could never understand, but to go as far as putting her foot down with such vigor to defend that boy? If the man didn’t have so much respect for his wife, it would have only angered him. Instead, he feels surprised and somewhat irritated by it, but also oddly proud of the woman.

     Dark, aged features contort his shocked expression to more a somewhat irritated one, although he dare not shoot a harsh glare with red eyes his wife’s way. Instead, a scoff leaves his lips, his snake-like eyes not leaving his wife’s.

   “Of course I am not doubting fate, woman. I am merely saying the course that fate has chosen to take for that...boy, is unprecedented. Never in my lifetime have I ever heard of such a union--it makes no sense, and I do not believe it would be productive. Naeva, you know just as well as I how frowned upon that would have been when we were their age,”

     Although the last bit of his words of are said in a matter-of-fact manner, the man’s scowl is instead replaced with a genuine frown at hearing the suggestion that he not go at all from his wife’s own mouth. Yes, he just made it clear he would rather not attend that wedding, but to hear it from his partner strikes an odd...sadness in the man’s heart. He does not want to go, but he also does not wish to be without his wife’s company, especially after hearing her say she would love for him to attend the event with her. Part of the sorcerer almost wishes he had not said his stance on the boy’s wedding, or at least not within earshot of his wife.

   “Assuming a dog is all bark and no bite will only get you maimed, boy,”

     The words leave Validar’s lips like venom, his brow furrowing in annoyance at the brunette’s rather bold choice of words. The nerve this younger male has irritates the sorcerer almost as much as his perceived action of attempting to enter the man’s and his wife’s room, and that, along with the fact that the brunette appears to not know who he is talking to, makes the older man’s blood boil. Who does he think he is? Thinking he can shuck insults the dark-haired Plegian’s way, and with no consequences? And after attempting to either enter or peer into a room he has no business in? No, the man will not be standing for it, even if he’d rather avoid every other person other than his wife on this vacation. After all, if there is one thing the sorcerer does not tolerate, than it disrespect. Especially by some boy who clearly does not understand who he is crossing.

     Truth be told, Validar didn’t care why or why not the brunette would even want to peer into his and his partner’s chamber, as the reasoning to him didn’t matter. The other could have done it either out of curiosity, or for some sick perverted reason--the sorcerer’s reaction and punishment for such behavior will be the same. So, unaffected by the Feroxi’s glare or tone of voice, he takes a few confident steps forward, perhaps partly to see if the other would continue to hold his ground, or back off.

   “I could care less why you would bother--I only care about the fact that you did. But I suppose that is typical for your Feroxi type, hm? Disregarding all basic sense in the name of satisfying your urges,”

     His insults are practically spat at the boy, his dark features wrinkling to form a snarl as wine red eyes glare dangerously at the other. Validar didn’t particularly have anything against Feroxi, but if this boy wishes to usher words with a sharp tongue, than the former king will only follow suit.

   “Why in the seven hells would I want to attend that boy’s wedding ceremony?”

     Validar’s lips curled back into a snarl, aggravated at the very idea of having to be surrounded by so many people he could care less about. And for what? To watch his miserable whelp of a son’s child wed? And wed another male at that? The very idea disgusts the sorcerer.

   “I would sooner chew my own arm off before having to be subjected to such a disgusting and unnatural display.”

Naeva:

“I know, my fated one… and it means so very much to me that you would restrain yourself for my sake, and also keep me safe all the same,”

    The moment that the sage feels the sorcerer take hold of her hand, and in a manner so gentle that perhaps the man believes that such an appendage might be made from the finest porcelain, Naeva cannot help but to feel her heart race, and for pale cheeks to begin burning akin to how they had done so many years ago. How easily he can sweep the mother off of her feet, and though the woman knows that this whole week will be quite hard for him to endure, Validar is trying, and that is all that the queen regnant could ever hope to ask for– to be himself, but show a large amount of restraint so that others might not end up hurt.     Long fingers wrap around the side of her her husband’s hand, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze, and pushing a warm smile onto red lips before she dares to speak up once more.

         “I am merely glad that, for but a single week, you are here– in the flesh, and not just in spirit. To have my hand held by your own once more… why, it brings me so much joy. I have missed your touch more than I could ever hope to describe, Validar.”

   “As have I, my dear,”

     Despite the sorcerer’s irritated disposition, the tone in which he uses to speak to his wife is so gentle--so warm and loving, contrasting drastically with practically everything else about the man. It is true--the dark-haired man has missed the touch and warmth of his partner, missed the feeling of holding her, and the feeling of being held by her. Sure, he could be around her still in spirit, but he could merely speak with and see her in that state. Right now, he can feel her, and be felt in return, and after going so long without being able to feel her touch, it is something the man thoroughly enjoys, even if he does not always outwardly show it, as per his personality. He just hates that this week has be spent at this resort for some vacation, as Validar would much rather be at his palace in Plegia with his wife, rather than some cliff with more fools than the man can recall ever knowing in his lifetime. Still, all he need do is look at the woman, and he is reminded that this change in environment is all but a minor inconvenience, should it mean that he gets to spend anytime with her in a physical form.

     Wine red eyes soften the longer he gazes as his wife’s flawless, although slight flushed, he notes, features, a genuine and perhaps rare smile forming on his lips. In a way, holding hands with the woman is almost nostalgic to the man--it reminds him of their childhood days, and how Naeva was the only thing good about them. With his fated partner at his side, this damned resort doesn’t seem so terrible after all. At least, for now, it doesn’t.

   “It has too long since I’ve felt anything. Hearing your voice and speaking with you pail in comparison to feeling your touch, my queen. Hmm...Perhaps I could feel more of you tonight?”

     A smirk then takes to the man’s lips, almost as rare as the half-jest he had shot the woman. He mostly just wanted to see how the sage would react, but he’s never been a man to deny his wife of whatever it is her heart desires--if she does or does not wish to do such things, he will respond accordingly to her desires. So, he then kills any space between the couple, releasing his wife’s hand to instead pull her figure close to his own,

((ooc. Hi hi! As the title says, please like this post for me to drop Validaddy into your inbox for the summer scramble event! Please note these will vary in length and detail, but expect at least 2 sentences.

((ooc. so this is what Validar’s wearing for the summer event

Minus the head dress and the heavy collar 

   “Unless I am out with my wife, I am going to be staying in our room. Should any of you heathens disturb us, then you shall meet Grima’s Truth yourselves.”

   “Gods, I hate it here. I hate the smell of the ocean, the salt on my skin and clothes. I hate all the people here--especially the young people,”

    Not to mention his miserable whelp of a child is here too, and with their family to boot. Perhaps he is still stuck in the afterlife, and just hasn’t realized it yet. But, just as the man is about to lose his temper further, do wine red eyes lock unto the brown ones of his wife’s, immediately causing for the man’s disposition to calm and relax. He then lets out a heavy, annoyed sigh, taking the sage’s hand with perhaps surprising gentleness.

     “Your child immediately comes to mind when I think of an utter disappointment. Naeva, my darling, they had one goal in their lifetime--one purpose to fill. They were selectively bred for years by the Grimleal to fulfill their destiny, and all they had to do was submit to it. All they had to do was willingly allow Lord Grima to take over his vessel’s body, and rightfully so. That is all they had to do, Naeva. There was no thought, no effort required. They were born with one birthright, they were born to be a god. And what did they do? What they do after their life’s purpose was so simple to accomplish? They threw it into the trash. They discarded it as if it did not matter to them--they did not understand the highest honor any mortal could only wish to have. And now, they have slain Grima--the Fell Dragon is dead because of them. They should have stayed dead with that dragon--they are more useless alive to me now than they would be dead. Just looking at them, and seeing what should have been...What was fated to be...Oh, how it boils my blood! How can a child with a mind as sharp as their mother’s act so foolishly?! How can they be so blind to the fate what was paved before them?! And for what purpose? To help that damn princeling? To help the nation that slaughtered ours?!”

     “I love you, Naeva, however I cannot look at that child without extreme disdain. If I knew they would squander their birthright like they so foolishly have, I would have suggested you take a dagger to their throat the moment you held them in your arms. They are a disappointment. An utter embarrassment, a failure, and a living reminder of our dead god and your escape to ‘save’ them.”