August 08, 2002
my truest [kaj'sha]

[northwest national laboratories, nj]

Some hours later...

Kaj'sha is in one of the well-lit offices aboveground in the NNL compound. They all had their little offices, their little empty titles. They didn't use them much, but it was good to know the Father looked out for his own.

Finishing a phone call, he hits the button on the speakerphone and clicks the line off. One Bentley, black, property of Northwest National Laboratories, reported stolen as of 12:34am tonight. The police will make a cursory effort to find it, and then they will forget. Another button: the intercom to the office secretary. "Clarice, show Mr. Phelps in, will you? Thanks."

The frosted glass sliding door slips open. Standing, he circles around to sit at the corner of his desk, nodding Asher into a seat.

The doors slip closed. "So," begins the blond youth, "tell me what happened."

a part of him resists the indulgence (Hello, Clarice) now is not the time or place for games, rather a polite smile settles on the secretary, his dress not as casual as it is belowground, his countenance crisp and clean

the smooth sink into the leather chair almost begets he knows what he's doing in an office environment - and the tension that riddle his form seems less, now, although the shoulder is still favored (the damage to bone and joint still aches - still visable to Kaj'sha - perhaps from something far deeper than physical)

"Sickboy taught Sian that perhaps it isn't such a good idea to turn her talents against family...."

it's common knowledge between them all he never reprimanded her for what she did

"..... and while it disobeyed your order to put aside our sibling squabbles.... he did make a point, even if it may have been his ire at you which spawned it."

A small smile plays on his mouth; he simply watches Asher, watches and watches until the weight of his eyes begins to become unsettling, unnerving.

"What did she do?" he asks, finally. "And what did he do to provoke it? Tell me everything."

unsettling
perhaps to all but he, that gaze is a weight the galliard easily holds as Atlas the world, only where there is anger within it will that demeanor change

"I was on the other side when it happened......" and that (disturbingly beautiful) voice carries steadily through the tale, the hostility at the mention of the Gaian 'Lord even covered in its smooth tones, his memory clear (sharp as a blade) to recount everything which is asked

there is nothing he will not tell his Alpha - no matter the consequences

And when it is done, he speaks almost immediately, though without haste.

"It seems a touch is such a small thing, to provoke such a response. You speak of his ire at me. What, I wonder, spawned such ire?"

"That he was blamed infront of the others for the Gaian's death...... that he wants your kinfolk toy..... the banehunt did not go well, tonight, he entered the car hostile"

"Banehunt. Blame." Derisive, "Kinfolk."

No more spoken of this subject. His attention focuses on Asher now, again. "We will speak of this tomorrow. All of us. Is there anything else?"


"Not about tonight..... anything else I feel of him will take time before it comes to pass."

he's good idea, of his brother's plans, and the skull Kaj'sha sees slowly rocks back and forth

"Only if you wish it...."

riddles, once again, so many meanings found in the layers of his words


Arms folded, leaning on the edge of the table, the fallen Silver Fang considers the Galliard, smiles, then chuckles. He extends a hand, rests it briefly on Asher's shoulder, and then stands.

"What I wish," he murmurs. "What I wish of you, Asher... an end to dissent. Punishment and justice is the place of the Alpha, the Philodox. We have greater enemies than one another, and we will need one another when we face them.

"Try to remember that, my truest."


a breath fills him, perhaps for an excuse (perhaps to fill himself with Kaj'sha's scent), as to why what happened did, but whatever it was, it does not escape the jail of straight teeth - there is no mor e room for excuses to why he and Sian fought, only the shift of weight beneath gentle touch (the ache momentarily forgotten)

"Of what you ask.... you know I will remember and give anything"
[everything]

words silken slide across shaping tongue

"It will not happen again"


Another beat and then, satisfied, Kaj'sha nods.

"I believe you." A gentle squeeze of Asher's shoulder, his eyes on the imperfect way the bones still grind together. "Still wounded. Take care of this, Asher, and count all scores settled."

Forgiveness. And thus he moves past him, and away.


breath catches, beneath the approving words, beneath the squeezing touch

"Yes, Kaj'sha"

whispered, more of a moan than voice, several moments passing before he, too, exits the office and finds his ways to the tunnels below

Posted by asher at August 08, 2002 12:00 AM
Comments
Post a comment
Name:


Email Address:


URL:


Comments:


Remember info?