|
|
|
|
|
|
|
High-functioning Hellraiser
|
 Posted: Tue Sep 18, 2012 1:11 pm
He never expected to be put in to the position he currently found himself in. He wasn’t the eldest, nor the most competent of his family, which caused problems at certain points. Be proud of who he was, hold his head high, because as a member of the royal family he was an extension of everything his family stood for. Ali didn’t tried his best to be everything his father wanted, he really did, but all he wanted was some sense of freedom. To mingle with the common folk, run along the desert stealing anything that caught his eye, and lounge around the oasis, yes, it was so much better than getting lesson in manners and political nonsense.
Sighing, the brown male turned his gaze to the setting sun. Night would soon fall, which meant some of the thieves would be heading out to find hidden treasures and hidden “guests”. He could not leave with them though. It was no longer an option since he was given the title of King, something he did not expect or want. His brother was supposed to be King. His brother was the one that was trained to take the title, not him. Ali was no King. He did not have the teachings or personality to be one.
“By the Gods if that fool didn’t get in to that accident…”
Shaking his head, Ali made himself comfortable upon the rock he was perched on and waited for the shadows to move with life.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 28, 2012 7:09 pm
There was a time when Ardavan would move through the shadows, silent as a desert whisper and dangerous as a coiled cobra. He had been trained alongside his father in the art of thievery, just as his brother had. Before they could lead a band of thieves, they had to understand them. They had to live the life, know the challenges that they faced and the art that they mastered. This made them approachable and credible to their men. They not only had to know the art, but to master it as well. The thieves held high respect for their rulers because they knew that even their own spoils weren't safe. To stay on the right side of the king was to have a healthy stash. To anger them would lead to an empty trove.
Now... the lion couldn't sneak up on a deaf dormouse. He carried himself with a heavy limp, his other limbs bracing against the weight that was once evenly divided up into four powerful limbs. His front paw barely touched the ground, his toes brushing the sand as his front paw trudged heavily to take the full upper body weight of its master. The once proud prince was reduced to the pride's equivalent of a beggar. Such was the way of a thief. If they lacked the strength to defend their stash and they lacked the stealth to obtain it, they had no right to keep it. His remaining wealth lingered only in the trove of wisdom that he alone held. Their father had been taken from the world before his time, leaving behind a crippled heir with all his knowledge and experience and an able-bodied prince with a wild soul and little patience for instruction.
Grudgingly, Ardavan had sworn over the body of their fallen father that he would pass along the knowlege that had been entrusted to him. It was for the good of their line and for the good of their pride.
At times... that promise was one that left him wishing that he had been swept away into the forever lands too. It took him half the afternoon to locate his brother and by that point he was panting hard.
"How kind of you to seek out the border for tonight's lesson. I quite enjoyed my little walk."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
