[META-SRP] The Strength of Pacifism (Ram x Metis)

[Epine de Rose]

 

[Epine de Rose]

[Bahari'mtoto pride members and Vikings may have seen the result of this in the distance... but they won't know the significance until the dust has settled.]

They weren't winning...

Ram had not been with his pride as they had evacuated to shore, and from his vantage point upon the cliffs he had watched what had clearly become a massacre, though at this point he wasn't entirely sure who was winning. With each passing moments the tides of war changed and one made gains while the other fell back. Ram would have been hard pressed to deny that the Vikings were not putting everything they had into this battle, but in the same vein, progress was slow and at some point they were going to grow weary.

The Vikings were undeniably strong, he had no doubt of that, and the guards of his very own pride persevered through sheer force of will, but unless something was to give this would be a battle in which he could see no true winner; and loathe as he was to admit it, he could see from here that this 'Scourge' was still the better of the sides. The precision they displayed was worthy of respect; the fluidity of their movements and the seeming hive like qualities of their tactics gave him every reason to fear them but he had seen them lose...They had lost ground more than once, and it had always been at particular points, when they were at particular spots within his pridal lands.

He was beginning to suspect they were watching something.

He'd remained low and he assumed, reasonably unseen where he was, quietly assessing the dire situation his beloved home now found itself in and after a considerable amount of time he had managed to triangulate where he thought their method of communication was. It wasn't an exact science, but he knew these lands far better than this Scourge did, far better than any Viking did, and he fully intended to use it to his advantage. Thus, he slipped down from the cliff tops silently and in a manner that would most likely have impressed the very thing that sought to end them... having only one destination in mind.

It was a risk of course, and he hadn't had the opportunity to bid his family the farewell they deserved if this all went so terribly wrong. However the Bahari'mtoto was his homeland and while he had not been born here, he had made a life here, and he'd be damned if he saw that crumble beneath his paws. As the Captain had said himself, this was perhaps the greatest collaborative effort the Vikings might have seen, but in a way it was also the largest that the Bahari'mtoto had ever seen and they deserved to see the positive fruits of their labour.

Everything they had done would not be rendered moot.

His plan was simple of course and he noted that as he moved away from the shores designated to be the most 'safe' place for his kin, there was very little life around him. Just as Tethys had predicted, it seemed that the Scourge had swarmed upon their prize and had been met with the heavy resistance that they no doubt expected. The lion had to give credit where it was due and he wouldn't underestimate these creatures; the manner in which they functioned was truly unique to him. Only a fool would believe that this 'Scourge' had not planned for an assault, that they hadn't known that Tethys had been on their tails on this time.

...But until now, it seemed that no one in this land had ever seen them fight, at least not properly.

Their attacks had always been under cover of darkness, executed to absolute perfection, and nothing had been left in their wake. The dead that they had found within the caves had been an example of this, no one had heard or seen anything until they were found and by then, it was too late. Nevertheless something guided them, a conductor for this orchestra existed and he suspected he knew where it was. As with all 'hive minds', if one shut off the dominant voice, it would send the hive into disarray and they would either scatter... or they would be culled while vulnerable. Either would prove advantageous to the King of the Bahari, he would take either at this stage in his plan, but as of yet he didn't know what he would find.

As he rounded the corner, he detected an unusual smell, the faint smell of sulphur and, was that flowers? He shook his head, dismissing the scent for the time being until a voice rippled through the air. Soft, but at this distance audible, despite the cries from beyond.

"Well, well," The black lion turned from where he had been seated, peering out over the scene in much the same fashion that Ram had been observing it himself. Whoever he was, he didn't seem to be surprised by Ram's appearance, merely impressed, if one were to read his expression. "Your pride is due more credit," he remarked. "Or perhaps just yourself..." he added, noting that the King was the only one who had come to this spot. Not the wisest of decisions given that the black lion was not alone, Adrastea was off to the side watching and waiting as always... but he had been the lion to find the 'source'.

The question was what, if anything, would happen next.

"I am not the only one with the capacity to observe a scene, and draw logical conclusions," Ram dismissed the 'compliment', unaware that the black lion was in fact, genuine. The mannerisms of phantoms were lost on him, including their nuanced recognition of skill.

"Yet the only one to do so, ammong all those who have 'studied' us for so 'long'," Metis replied smoothly.

"I merely had the better view."

"Clearly," Metis remarked and lifted a paw in warning, for the King was already in the process of stepping forward. "I would not do that, making a martyr of yourself will prove nothing," he motioned towards the pair of white eyes hidden within the bushes nearby. It was with a flick of his gaze, albeit briefly towards these bushes, that confirmed Ram had acknowledged the companion's presence.

"Presumptious, that I would martyr myself," Ram continued for a few more steps, and when it became clear that Metis wasn't about to assault him yet he came to a halt. Ram had seen lions like this one before, and there was more to this game than the blue lion could see. To continue forward would be inviting death and he had no doubt that would prove nothing, his death in such circumstances would only serve as a warning.

"Most do," Metis remarked. He'd been in this game too long, knew all of the steps, but those who met his challenges and exceeded his expectations were to be rewarded regardless of whether they were worthy of ascension or not.

"And it never works out well for them, I assume."

"It does not," Metis confirmed.

However it was in those moments he narrowed his eyes, for the blue lion had begun to walk towards him again and then passed him to look out towards his home and the apparent destruction that lay beyond. Metis had only seen these responses in a select few individuals, an expression that seemed thoughtful...methodical. This demeanour had only existed in those who had found ways in which to match the Scourge, those who had gone toe-to-toe and almost won; yet this lion was no Justicar...merely an Outlander from a pride with no taste for war, and filled with pacifists.

It was a moment in which Metis was distracted and while it was only the briefest of instances, it was that flicker within his eyes that had been enough. Ram, the King of the Bahari had taken the opening, and it was in his 'warm' embrace that Metis now found himself as both plunged from the cliff face that had towered above the shoreline, graced by the sharpest rocks... and where only those of Royal blood had gone before. This was the very spot in which Bahari kings were chosen, or the place in which those deemed unworthy by the sea met their untimely end.

With nothing to grasp hold of, with nothing to save his fall, and with his black fur firmly within the grasp of the Bahari royal; the General had only one place in which to go.

With the jagged edges within sight, and a yawning abyss below him... The General would plunge into the depths with only a haunting whisper of the King within his ear, as the blue lion finally released his grasp.

"Never mistake pacifism, for weakness..."

Word Count: 1,458