#interactions: lasher.

[liminalempires]

— closed starter for saylee págos ( @ofstarsfalls ) / 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢 — scene: training ring, late morning

training in the cold is a brutal thing. the biting air ravages the lungs, the skin becomes dry & brittle — bleeds easily — and the muscles grow weary and ache more quickly due to dehydration. most surprisingly, to those who aren't accustomed to the conditions, a pretty nasty sunburn is a real possibility even when that great tyrant star is hidden behind a veil of thick clouds.

since these events began, he's seen a great number of arrogant soldiers from other courts getting their ass whooped. and he's won a few too many (unfair) bets.

"let's go, saylee! pick up the pace." his voice booms, filling up the space. "you've got one more set, and i'll release you. let's go!"

speaking to a high lady like this — well, it took a great deal of time to get to this point. at first, it was a delicate balance. was she truly looking to become strong, or did she simply want others to think she could hold her own? lasher figured out quickly that his high lady had a lot more depth, cunning, and complexity than she liked others to think. it was a strategic approach to keep one's true nature safely guarded, and it was one lasher had come to respect and understand.

when she finishes her set, the commander walks in a wide arc around her, stopping when he's at her back.

"all right. strong work. you're free to go. [...] but the offer still stands. you pin me, and i'll give you a week off." he crossed his arms over his chest and tries to hide a blooming grin.

[liminalempires]

— closed starter for aliviana spencer ( @icewitch21 ) / 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 — scene: dimly lit tavern, nearing midnight.

the commander is impressed to find the bar empty of his restless soldiers. as his boots roll across the scarred, wooden floor, he takes it as a personal victory that he worked them hard enough that, by midnight, they've fucked off to bed, eager for a good night's sleep before another grueling day of drills. he's exhausted himself — muscles burning, mind overclocked, energy tapped — but the uncertainties unfolding in his beloved home have him desperate for familiar companionship.

one scan of the room, and lasher realizes liv hasn't arrived yet. part of him wonders if she'll show.

he bypasses the bar for now — throwing up two fingers to hector, the barman — and makes for the ratty wingback near the hearth. the one he's spent so many hours in, it feels like leaning into mother's arms when he sits down. the fire's warm, and the din of the room seems to dampen the rising dread in his chest. soon after, hector delivers a bottle of bourbon and two chipped glasses.

"you're a good man," lasher proclaims.

hector rolls his eyes and shoots back: "and you're a monster, if your soldiers are to be trusted. it looked like you put them through hell today." lasher grins. "if the world's ending, winter court's army is going to meet the devils at the gate."