Ruthlessness Is Mercy Upon Ourselves

⸻ "some  bold  words  from  one  yet  to  put  an  arrow  to  flight,  least  of  all  in  the  direction  of  the  target."  belisarius  remarked  dryly  as  he  approached,  his  voice  drawing  the  eyes  and  murmurs  of  the  other  contestants  as  he  cut  a  passage  through  their  midst.  his  cheek  twitched  with  barely  concealed  irritation  their  attention  brought.  though  he  outwardly  spared  them  little  mind,  he  knew  all  too  well  what  half-truths  and  exaggerations  their  whispers  carried,  finding  them  just  as  familiar  as  the  lingering  looks  of  fear,  admiration  and  more  beside  that  were  being  cast  in  his  wake. ravenfeeder.  he  fought  the  urge  to  snap  and  snarl,  to  bear  his  teeth  at  those  that  thought  they  knew  him. knew how such a name had been earned. what it had cost him.  such  a  reaction  would  have  been  normal  in  vadronia,  where violence was a language in of itself, but  these  softer  climes  were  made  for  softer  souls.  souls  that  sought  to  bind  their  guests  with  the  very  same  chains  of  civility  and  decorum  that  had  ensnared  them. propriety.  'why  should  wolves,'  his  father  would  remark  after  every  visit  to  these  summer  lands,  'concern  themselves  with  the  bleating  of  sheep?'   his  mother  would  always  know  what  to  say in return.  soothing  his  ire  before  it  could  fester  further, or redirecting it entirely to more pressing matters lest he spark yet another diplomatic incident.  but  she  was  not  here,  and  nor  was  he. all belisarius had was an old man's grousing and his sister to keep him company. clearly the gods, if they existed, had a terrible sense of humour. "certainly took your time, sister of mine. i have been waiting for days now,"  he  muttered  as  he  leant  on  the  barricade  that  divided  spectator  from  participant,  the  words  biting  yet  she  would  know  the  tone  was  not  for  her.  well,  perhaps  it  was  a  little. she would think he was going soft on her if it wasn't. "i take it you stopped off to commission that witty rejoinder?"

The Houses of @ilthoriafm

Lord Helios 28, Lord Belisarius 33, Lady Athena 35