Naesala ground his jaw in frustration. He deserved the backlash and the insults, but Reyson’s anger made it so every lovingly difficult to uphold even the briefest of conversations. Even when it was not a discussion of personal beliefs or well being, but of tactics. Of staying alive in a world now frozen by a Goddess’s divine wrath.
“I agree. As easy as it is to forget, Reyson, I grew up with you and your family, I’m quite aware of what you all are capable of, and I have never discounted that.” Naesala had, in fact, gotten in trouble as a child, for being ‘too rowdy’ with the heron royal family.
“But training takes time. Teaching her to fight takes time. We don’t have that. Leanne has never been in battle before, not really. She’s been near it, but never in it, and I don’t want her to die because she’s as stubborn as you are, but without years spent amongst the hawks to be physically prepared.”
“Obviously she will do what she likes, you’re both alike in that respect. But I’d like to assign Nealuchi to guard her in the field. He’s sharp-eyed and sharper-taloned. If one of those… golden-clad things sneaks up on her, I trust Nealuchi to make sure she’ll get out alive.”
"Oh, did you?? It really is difficult to remember exactly how long you’ve been around in my life. Typically people who keep so close tend to behave accordingly, so forgive me for forgetting you weren’t always so openly terrible.”
Perhaps Reyson was overcompensating. He couldn’t lash out at Naesala in the ways he so dearly wanted to --- the White Prince wanted to sink his nails and teeth into the raven’s skin, to use what the Goddess gave him and drive his spear-like beak deep into his torso so that the corvid could feel as adequately stabbed in the back as he had, but that meant violence, and the very thought of it left his head spinning and his stomach bubbling uncomfortably with a quiet threat of nausea. Any throttling would have to be kept to the confines of his imagination --- but he could verbally beat him down as much as he wanted to. Some part of him almost hoped Naesala would lose his temper and strike him, if only so he could have the satisfaction of watching Tibarn or one of the other hawks beat his face into the dirt. Maybe worst of all was the fact that Reyson still wasn’t convinced he wholly hated Naesala so much as that the reason he was so angry and so infuriated by him was because he’d knowingly taken advantage of his trust and his affections for him and turned them against him, and that none of what he felt would burn at quite the same heat if he genuinely didn’t care about him.
For once he was thankful that it was only herons and not ravens or hawks that dealt with reading others’ emotions. He turned back away from Naesala with a huff, this time with his arms crossed; it was a clear show of not wanting to engage him.
"It sounds to me like you already have your plans in order, and that you don’t really need to consult with me for anything. You already know what you’re doing with my sister. Are we done here, Crow King??”
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