November 16, 2009

In Which Deian Gains a New Insight

November 24, 1163

"So it's settled, then?" cooed Ylwa as she rested her head against Deian's shoulder. "We head west next month?"

A hungry smile emerging on his lips, Deian nodded; he could almost taste the savory flesh now. "Indeed, my love. These Dovians are not exactly of a pleasing flavor, and the supply we brought back with us last time is nearing the end."

"Perhaps we should simply stay in Castile; after all, all creatures do live where they can feed, do they not?"

"Ah, but you know we cannot leave this place for long," he muttered, placing a quick kiss on her cheek.

She seemed to be growing restless, he could tell from her sudden shudder. "If They haven't come for us now, I think we can assume They never will."

Deian sighed, running his fingers along the curve of her side in an attempt to open her to reason. "Love, They will come--"

"Shut up. And do stop that--we are being watched."

Hastily, Deian looked up; indeed, their older son stood at their feet, staring down at them with as unfathomable an expression as ever. "Your senses must be failing you in your old age, Father."

"Oh, get lost!" Deian snapped.

Barely repressing his impatience, Veor sniffed. "Believe me, there is nothing I would rather do; however, Vron desires a word."

Humans, Deian had noticed over the years, were fools for their sons; he himself, however, was not about to be bossed around by a product of his own bodily fluids. "And you may give him this one--no."

Veor sighed. "It's about the Dovians."

Was it? Well, if that was the case, he knew what the problem was. "How many times must I tell you and your brother both to keep your little mongrel bastards in check? Especially your nephew--next time we run out of food, I say we eat him."

"This has nothing to do with any of those children," his son insisted. "Vron didn't give me any details. He just said to bring you to him."

Nodding, Deian glanced back toward Ylwa. "We'll continue when I return," he assured her with a wink.

She shrugged. "If I'm still in the mood, that is."

"You're always in the mood."

If she replied, he did not hear it; as soon as he had said his piece, he had stood and proceeded to follow his son further toward the heart of the forest. "This had better be worth my time."

"I'm just the messenger, Father; if you want to kill anyone in the end, start with Vron."

"I shall. I imagine he would make a better meal than you would anyway."

"I should hope so."

Deian snorted, though more out of indulgence than true amusement. "Fortunately, I won't have to taste either of your disgusting hides; how do you feel about heading west to hunt next month?"

"As long as Vron stays with the kids this time," agreed Veor.

Catching sight of a flash of magenta hair in the distance, Deian nodded. "After this, rest assured that he will."

They continued along their path for another minute or so until they were just behind Vron. His younger son did not react to their approach, but at the same time, Deian knew that Vron was well aware of their presence.

"All right, Brother," Veor addressed the other. "I've brought Father."

Vron turned around, glancing at his brother through narrowed, unimpressed eyes. "So I gathered from the scent of you both. Don't tell me what I already know."

The older of the two scowled. "You're welcome."

Deian didn't have time for this. If he cared to see some brotherly rivalry, he might have subtly suggested something more interesting for them to argue about. "Look, I don't have all day--what do you want?"

Vron's crimson eyes locked with Deian's own. "Father, I will be blunt. This morning, I had a vision."

"A vision?" he repeated. Now he was interested; never yet had any of them had a vision that had failed to come true. "A vision of what?"

His son tilted his eyes toward the leafy canopy above them, as though looking to the heavens for further confirmation--as if he needed it. "The Dovians. They are what is holding us back; our Ancestors will not come for us until the Dovians have left this place."

Deian's gaze flickered to and fro as splashes of red human blood conquered his sight. Even in all his wisdom, he could not help but believe that it was truly there; he could even smell it. "...I see."



Dinuriel said...

Once again, family trees and other extras will be out-of-date for a few more hours. Sorry about the inconvenience *rushes off for rehearsal*

Also, yes, I know it's supposed to be IFV in the rotation, but Chapter Twenty-One is from the point of view of a character I haven't written about yet, and she's proving to be somewhat difficult. I hope to have it up tomorrow, though *runs off for real this time*

Dinuriel said...

Aaaaaand, we're good now.

By the way, next post will be the last of 1163. I'll be experimenting with some slower time progression around April/May of 1164, so we'll see how that goes. I'll probably get impatient and go back to the whole "One post per Naroni month" model, but we'll see.

In any case, plot-wise, it's not going to be a very happy year :(

Verity said...

Oh crud. This is so not good.

Dinuriel said...

Nope, not at all :(

Penelope said...

Well, at least I know that Florian is safe. He probably tastes like stale prunes.

Dinuriel said...

Florian is the saltiest Dovan there is :)

Gayl said...

This is not good, not good at all! Well the writing is better than good but I am talking about the threat to the Dovians! I'm all for the moving on to more savory feeding grounds for those guys!

*wonders who will become snack food*

Dinuriel said...

1164 and 1165 are definitely not going to be good years for Naroni. 1167 is also looking to be quite grim, so I have high hopes for 1166.

Phoenix said...

Ohhh....yeah, no! Not good! Not good at all! But they're all so very pretty!!:P

Oh no! Not another bad year!!:( So sad! Can't wait to read it though! LOL!

Dinuriel said...

Pretty much the whole rest of the decade will be a load of suck :( Except maybe 1166.