stomach it [Saul]

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To call her father, or even her mother, a monster - perhaps would have been a stretch. But the sardonic girl had to come across a real life monster to match the ones that dwelled in her head at some point, and it seemed, today was the designated day. The emotionless missmatched eyes of Wenhaver locked onto the approaching brute, who like her, held scars upon his family - but plenty more. Nothing shook her, not often, and before him she did not cower either, even if it was clear from the get go that his intentions against her would not be pure.

If she knew what the sound was that was whispering in her head, the girl would have identified them as the distinct sound of war drums. The wolf did not know what it was, so she settled for feeling the buzz thrumming up and down her spine. He is wrong, Wenhaver thought, I am no bird, and no cage ensares me. Monsters lurked, they lurked in the shadows and they lurked in the darkness of her mind and they clawed at heart, and one stood before her now, she was sure of it.

But she had never bowed before.

A King - a King he proclaimed and all Wenhaver could see was a monster. Perhaps he dubbed himself King of the Monsters, or perhaps, he was no King at all. To her, he was no King. Not hers, and not anyones.  Wenhaver knew that if he wanted to kill her, he would and could, in this close proximity she did not hold none of her fortes. Regardless, this King, or God, or whatever the fuck he called himself, would not get a cry out of her.

"I am no one," Wenhaver's vocals were scratchy, raspy and dull, but she did not care - she did not often speak and had gone since leaving her family up until now without speaking. She owed nothing to this King and she would not go out of her way to force her vocals into submission to appease this wolf. She sat upon her haunches still, back straight and eyes boring into the blue eyes of the beast.

He did not need her name, and she didn't need his. Whether she lived or she died, he would not get what he wanted. Wenhaver did not bow to her parents, and she did not intend to bow to no one else. "And neither are you," it was blunt and uneven, but Wenhaver lifted her chin and fell silent once more. He wished for fear and he wished for her to cower, because a Monster lived off of fears of it's victims, and she could see it in his eyes, the dead, cold eyes that bore down at her from where he stood above her.

His very being was laced with lies and manipulation, it was clear, he held himself with authority and self superiority. He practically oozed it, so much that even a blind wolf could and would see it. Her armor was worn in her mind, whereas his was worn on his body and his physical strength. Above them, where the trees covered them in shade, a bird flew abruptly through the air - as if it sensed the change in the atmosphere, and Wenhaver thought it fitting.

Wenhaver thought then that it was ironic - he had circled her like a vulture in the air following death, waiting for whatever fucking animal it was to keel over, and yet, he had called her the bird. You are the bird, perhaps I will make you sing like one, Wenhaver thought to herself, though she knew she could not - though she longed to make him sing with pain, if only she had the herbs to do so.  She heard of all kinds of herbs from others that did not know she listened in, but never had seen some of them in actual form.

If she got out of this alive, the girl would seek more knowledge. She did not have the body of this brute, but one did not need one to kill. A dangerous mind equipped with herbs, Wenhaver knew could be equally as dangerous. She would be that, if she lived.

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She had hit a nerve by referring to the beast as no one.

He wore his reaction so easily, that Wenhaver had to fight quite hard in holding back the sneer. How disgusting, to be so weak of ones emotions that they ruled them so fucking easily. Though the Iranion knew that the beast was not sane - he couldn't be, not with the look in his eyes and the genuine way he truly thought himself a god, or a King.

The creature was hissing his words at her like a snake, but she did not flinch, instead, her miss matched eyes looked at him in continuous boredom. Wolves like him lived for a reaction, they wanted to see that they could cause something in someone, and they wanted to feel powerful, and strong, but the girl would not give him what he desired. She would not be another to feed into his web of lies.

The distance that he crossed to tower over her was not a stretch, a couple steps at most - but Wenhaver lifted her chin and stared at him as best as she could. His demand sounded like a beg, but to him, it would simply sound strong. "No," it was short, simple, and incredibly blunt. It lacked a hitch and it lacked fear, which the she wolf was sure to send him over the edge he was barely balancing on.

His eyes though light, carried darkness in them that Wenhaver was sure he embraced so easily and early on. Monsters were not born, but made, even from the day that they slipped into the world. This one was clearly not overly old, judging by his appearance, but he was no pup either. He had to have walked with his darkness before the darkness began to walk him.

Wenhaver did not bow to her parents, and she would not bow to no self proclaimed King, or God. There were no Gods, and he was no King. She was ruled by no one, and he would see that, and she would suffer for it, the girl was sure. The brute seemed ready to rip his teeth through her flesh and paint the ground red with her blood. It did not cause her to cower, because she was embrace the punishment she would get given for defying a fucking God King.

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*dangerous woman  plays in the background*

tags; @saul
words; 425
notes; let the throwing of the toys of the pram commence in 3...2...1