[Yael] Great, Small, Fluffy, and Mean (Malta and Zekiel)

[DraconicFeline]

The Only Black Uke

"Good! I'll set it up." she said, smiling brilliantly.

"Det - other wall! Go!" she made the appropriate gestures with her hand. After a moments hesitation and glare (at Zekiel, not at Malta, she got an slight huff) Detraeus jogged to the other end of the enclosure, watching her intently as she pulled out one of the training dummies into the pen, then another, and then another, setting them up more or less at random.

They were... well used, to put it politely. To put it impolitely, they were very rough and clearly clawed. A few had once had faces drawn on them. Most didn't, either because it had been destroyed, or because no one had bothered. Weighted by blocks of stone, they wavered uncertainly under the open sky.

That done, Malta walked up to the beast, who had watched her with burning interest. "All right, Detty..." she whispered to him as she gave him a treat for being so good. Such a good boy. "I, ah... I want to show off a little. So lets really do this well today, all right?" Detraeus snorted.

"Haha, of course. You do well every day." she reassured herself, moving a ways away. "Detraeus!" she called out, "Attention!" He sat straight up, watching her with a predatory intent that would have made those old orphanage bullies melt away into puddles of fear. To his credit, his eyes never drifted towards the bucket, the main motivator, or to the dummies - which he did love to destroy.

"Keen!" she pointed at the dummies in turn, "One, two, three." Detraeus' intent attention was focused on her hand as she pointed, and also at the targets she pointed to. Counting done, he turned back to her, waiting, his body tense and quivering with held-back intent. The air between them felt tense, crackling with energy. Malta moved back a pace. "Strike!" she commanded, giving him a wide berth as all of that energy was unleashed. He roared, twisting around to charge at the dummies. He struck in a muscular black blur, knocking over each dummy with a full frontal attack of raw force. One with his head... the next with his paw... the third, with a twist of his tail... in the order she had requested, a controlled machine in the form of a monster.

But he could only be controlled so far. Excited, he headed for a fourth dummy to attack...

"Halt!" she commanded. Detraeus stopped, giving the dummy a look of death before turning to her. "Good." she said, heart pounding as she fed him his treat. "Good boy." She was very aware of Zekiel's gaze now. Was he impressed? Was he delighted? She hoped he wasn't afraid.

"Detraus." she called the beast's attention again, "Race." Detraeus gave her a sound that was part grunt and part huff and began to run around the enclosure - laps. He would do three and return, eager for his treat. In that time, though, she stole a glance at Zekiel... Not noticing that someone else was also watching, a lithe woman whose intense stare rivaled the beast's and whose smirk was as menacing as any one of his growls...  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

DraconicFeline

At Malta’s initial, beaming smile, Zekiel smiled, too, though it was a softer, curious look as he watched.

It was impressive just to see the beast obey the first command, evidently taking in the woman’s word, sparing him a look, and then trotting off to the far end of the enclosure. When Malta began dragging out — something — Zekiel couldn’t have said at first what they were, other than that they looked well-used—or mauled. He concluded that must be their purpose, though, as he looked from the ragged claw and tear marks to the predator sharing their space, and as he thought it, he considered that perhaps it ought to have been intuitive before, given the beast’s type. But even if he should have, he had never actually imagined Malta training a creature for violence.

Detraeus! Attention!

Like a commander.

Keen!

Zekiel felt especially conscious of his pulse as the animal responded with the ready might of a soldier, attentive, eager despite having no words to say so—it could be seen, and felt in the air. If those targets had been people, or animals…

Strike!

Like a shot out of a cannon, and surely just as dangerous as any war machine, Malta’s animal—Detraeus—bolted forward with a vocal roar that made Zekiel’s skin prickle to attention, though he personally did not budge. Or blink. It seemed impossible to look away, and he had come to watch, after all.

There was no chance for them. Though perhaps odd to couch in such terms, even mentally to himself, the targets felt ‘dead’ to a fated certainty even before Detraeus’ weight hit, and in systematic fashion he dealt with each of them, tearing them down like nothing. They were, Zekiel reminded himself, just targets. Still, he felt a peculiar flush creep for his ears at the display, likely still there when he looked to Malta, and then-

He couldn’t have said why he looked other than that he felt — watched? A presence? Some unspoken instinct that plucked his attention sideways.

And as it happened, they did have company.  

[DraconicFeline]

The Only Black Uke

Malta's vision was not the best, and Zekiel was a fair distance off by now, but being the hypersensitive and insecure dear that she was... well...

Is he all right? His body language was tense, or was it loose? Was he scared? Was he excited? Did he like the demonstration?

Or was it too much? It suddenly occurred to her that young ladies generally didn't train beasts to kill. And - she gave the still racing Detraeus a fond look (good he was doing his run so well!) Most people didn't find it cute. But it is cute. Or, at least delightful... I love it when Det does what I trained him to do, and he does it so well... what a good boy he is... she shook herself out of it.

She thought it was wonderous... But would Zekiel find it as wonderous? Had he? Wasn't everything wonderous to him? Had she messed up? Did I mess it up?

"Okay, Det! Det -- That's enough!" Det raced a little longer, just for the sake of it. Sometimes he was rebellious like that. "Halt!"

He stopped and trotted over, a growl demanding a treat - his fee. "Good boy." she said, admiring him for a moment (and trying to ignore the deepening feeling of having messed up the lovely day with Zekiel).

Detraeus accepted her complements, appreciation, and attention -- As deserved.

She gave him more -- "Good boy, Det..." And with that, she walked back to the fence.

"Zekiel?" she asked tentatively as she approached, "Um, did you... did you enjoy the demonstration?" She tried to be more confident and she was actually managing a little -- working with Detraeus had that effect on her. "Was it nice?"

And then all of the predatory energy that had rubbed off on her melted away into a pit at her stomach, lost and inaccessible, as she finally noticed the other person with them.

"Y-yisette, I..." Malta cringed away, ducking back under the fence to face her mistress and tormentor.

"You gonna leave the pen a mess, girl?" Yisette said, sauntering over with a somehow assessing and dangerous gait.

"Oh, I... no, I'll! Get it tidied up! Right now!" Oh gods... Of all the times for her mistress to appear out of nowhere, it had to be now...

"Hang on a moment." Yisette snapped her fingers, too much like the crack of a whip to ignore, "Aren't you gonna introduce us to..." she looked Zekiel over assessingly, "Yer very interesting friend, here?"

"Uh..." Malta really didn't want to. She really didn't want to, not one bit. "He's... he's a friend." she said evasively.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

DraconicFeline

Malta’s — and Detraeus’ — display had been—impressive.

Zekiel was not sure what other word would suffice, nor did he know exactly how to pin down or articulate the prickling feeling under his skin. He was not afraid, he felt certain, for it was not his time to die, and Malta had clear command of this feral soldier. He trusted absolutely that Malta wouldn’t set him against him. Yet, there was still that power in the air, the promise that if there was anything else that could have been seen as a foe, Detraeus would have been up against it—no matter how human, live, and personal. He held a sheathed ferocity, currently pitted only against empty targets.

But that might not always be the case.

And no matter how much time in the in between that he had to consider it, Zekiel still felt unclear as to how that registered with him. On the one hand, it was very natural — completely within Detraeus’ predatory instinct.

But on the other, it wasn’t.

In the wild, this janarim would have been pitted against beasts for food, and now—he was at the command of one of their own, much physically smaller and weaker in all practical aspects. Simply with a mind enough to influence. Surely, that all fit into the way of things, though. He had come into Malta’s possession — or at least under her tutelage — and now, this was what had come of it. He trusted that much. Knew it was Malta’s gift, besides, to speak with beasts and communicate her will therefrom.

Still, when Malta approached, he felt his expression visibly relaxing on instinct. “It was perfect,” he assured, in the moments before the other woman butted in. Since he had seen her previously, she was no surprise, but he managed to spare her another glance as she barked at Malta. And Zekiel expected to be left alone with her—until he wasn’t, and instead, Malta was put on the spot.

The woman’s eyes ran down him in a calculative manner that Zekiel recognized, and in a moment, he decided in spite of himself that — while surely the gods had created this woman with as much positive intent as everyone else — this was not the most pleasant of characters. At Malta’s faltering, Zekiel smiled just the same, and took a step forward, offering a hand.

“I am Zekiel, of the Sanctum of Pajore, and to be the priest of Ilidan. It is a pleasure to meet you. Malta has been such a wondrous friend in introducing me to your facility and the beasts she trains here marvelously. Detraeus is doing so well, I am most impressed. And you are…?”