Their return wasn't heralded with the keen of victorious trumpets. The only clarion calls had been the screams of those who neared the wagon at their end. Those that had watched their grim parade with baited breath, hopeful eyes searching the faces and helms atop horses and marching by foot. When they were not greeted, their hands wrung at smocks and aprons and dress fronts as they instead anxiously waited the toll of the dead.

He'd have a drink for them tonight. He'd spoken with some of the others while they had quickly worked and on the way back. Some had put on faces of apathy, their brows drawn darkly and the cavern of their frown carved imperviously deep into the ridges of their face. A canyon a smile couldn't hope to cross or bridge. Not only had they failed to regain the farmland, but they had also witnessed first hand its complete and utter destruction. The feeling of unease ran just beneath his skin like the very lightening he had seen rain down from the smog of the burdensome cover of clouds. Was it sorcery? He knew those of the undead able of mystic feats beyond what many would see as possible. They were even able to summon great shades to blot out the illumination of the sun.

This had felt like.... something else however. Maybe it was the damning mar upon his own flesh that told him so, but it was another sense he had inherited. The arcane was something he could nearly taste upon his very tongue. But this was... something different. Something primordial. Savage.

He was jarred back to his current surroundings and the present itself when a heavy gauntlet clapped upon his shoulder, metal on metal ringing obscenely loud within his ears in his lack of awareness. Stiff back would relax faintly as his sights swung around to face Myrt, a man he'd been serving with for quite some years by now. "Welcome home, boy." He said on a heavy breath and Lif would mirror it with a sigh, though a smile would hang from his mouth like it dwindled by the gallows. "You too. Catch up with you lads later."  The leather underside of his gloves would sweep along the curve of Destriar's throat.

The procession continued, a long march by the Erangora estate that he made his way into. Passing his reigns to the stable hand. He wasn't expecting his father to greet him, so it was of no surprise when only his faithful maid had gleefully met him at the door. Her palms were soothingly cool against the tawny curve of his cheeks, but it wasn't a company long kept.

No, after getting cleaned up, he simply made his way to a local tavern. One that wasn't in the heart of the city, not one that would be bogged down by the homecoming. "Can I get the usual?" He inquired, taking a seat at the bar. The tender gave him a surprised smile, but obliged without word. The humdrum of the atmosphere was already becoming a more welcome warmth with the heat of the whiskey.

!

Rosen gaze could not help but to linger upon the far too silent procession haunting the streets. One more akin to a funeral march than anything joyous for subdued were those within it. The sullen air clouding them infectious as it drifted over onlookers alike and bid their own tears to flow. A suffocating fog hanging over the troops could hardly foretell any good news and yet it only bid the hound’s curiosity to burn ever brighter. Surely there would be an announcement. A woven proclamation to give way to all which had transpired in the king’s words.

However, that did not mean Augustus himself could not attempt to get an insider’s scoop. The truth. Phrases not laced with the plagued lies of royalty for the tales so oft spun were always painted in a favorable light. Glazing over sordid details in hopes of shoving it all under the rug where it would lay forgotten despite the combative voices of those beneath. Even thinking of it now brought a tongue to click in unrestrained distaste over the matter. And while a prime target for such interrogation quickly came to mind, he would hardly ambush Ajax the very moment he stepped across the threshold.

While he knew the vampiric would not spare any detail, his retainer would be given some space. A chance to rest before being assailed with a fool’s questioning and to prevent such temptation from taking hold, he would leave before Ajax even had the chance to arrive. Though it was not without instructing Jafar to stand vigil at Juliet’s door. An added bit of security to ease the mind should anything untoward happen in his absence. He did not plan to be long, this particular venture shouldn’t take any time at all… and yet such a thing always had a way of slipping away from him so to speak.

Tonight he would try to be mindful of it. It shouldn’t take long to find someone willing to speak with him. After all, he was familiar enough to a number of those fighters. And there was an unwavering confidence that most would not turn his company away especially when they held no other to tend to this evening. So with a final glance toward the saber toothed feline he set out into the low lantern light that illuminated the streets.

Eyes passing over those who drifted from the ranks and toward their waiting abodes, only to linger upon a towering figure with ebony hair streaked in silver. Haitham. A man who found recognition in the noble before Augustus had even called out. In the moment their conversation was brief. Plans made to ‘catch up’ over dinner, however, the destination suggested lay a bit further than the goat had intended to wander… yet it was hardly one refused. Not if it would get him what he craved, however, the idea of going ahead was not a desirable outcome.

Even as a wolf offered reassurance. He would meet him there after the older man ‘put himself together’ for the night ahead. A notion which brought a near silent huff from August’s lips, polite laughter before the teasing remark slipped free, “Make it quick.” Wherever the night went, whatever happened, mattered not; so long as he gained the information he was after. For now he would go ahead and await Haitham’s eventual arrival.

---

Nestled at a corner table, sights lingered upon the all too familiar frame of a lion. Watchful of the man for a but a moment as the keeper fetched a well deserved drink. Though the cacophony of scents assailing the senses blotted out just what his poison of choice may be yet if it was anything like those shared in the past, he held a fair assumption. Light spirits swirled in his own glass, while he had not come here to meet up with this particular soldier Lif’s company was one he far preferred over awaiting the arrival of a near stranger. Casting another glance toward the door - to ensure a once prospective distraction had not decided to waltz in - his own perch shifted. A drink abandoned

Nails clicked lightly to the counter top as he slid into the open seat alongside the muscular red head, refraining from immediately laying a hand on him as instead Lif was fixed with a stare filled in silent question. Those unasked as attentions redirected and far different tones rose in place of desired query, “Oh come now, get the man something stronger. He deserves it.” And August hardly figured Lif to be one to deny a free drink when it was offered. Nothing more than a smile offered to the keeper until their back was turned, only then did sights return to one known.

Attentions dancing over Lif’s frame as if in silent appraisal, a passing examination for further injury no matter how so much of him lay veiled beneath fabrics. Slow breath escaped a lamb before that focus settled, hoping to capture the lion’s own gaze. A teasing grin pulling over his lips, enough to mask the worry which festered. All while feigning ignorance to the other’s identity for this was not a face seen for some time, “Good to see you stranger. Alone for the evening?”

The older man lingered, obvious curiosity pulling his expression with gentle threads - not entirely forthcoming, but a poor mask for such a strong reaction. He was courteous, however, allowing Lif the time and quiet to finish his drink before a single word even departed his lips. "Glad to see you back in one piece." He finally managed, his vocals remaining low, private, no doubt to spare him the attention of the rest of those settled upon the stools. He knew that couriers must have been sent ahead of the main force's return. Though he was not high enough in standing to be privy to what messages they may carry, let alone to who. It was a dawning inclination that had him lift a brow softly.

What had they heard?

Was the truth written in correspondences? Was it veiled in secrecy, code, dishonesty? It was a hard and bewildering truth to swallow, however, and if he hadn't been witness to it himself he had to ponder if he would believe it. The heavens belching lava and spitting lightening all over the land? Even after having experienced it first hand, it still felt like something out of a fever dream. A nightmare. A twisted fable to keep children away. But it truly was a hard divide drawn in the dust of the destruction left behind. Even trying to recover those who had lost their lives had become impossible after what may have just been an hour or so. The numbers of the deceased merely increased once they left the cover of the tree line.

It was a disheartening thing to consider that those in Lavalles were possibly behind this. That they could sit at a pretty distance and rain hell down upon them without even being able to be touched. It was a bitter reality, but there had to be something that could be done. He only hoped they wouldn't be forced to accept the inaction of the king again while he toiled his hours and days away ploughing his wife.

A soft frown pulled at his mouth at that thought, idly swirling the honey amber of the glass's contents, oblivious to the approach. It wasn't until the familiar voice spoke that he would start faintly, dull, listless gaze abandoning the whiskey to fix onto the countenance he'd found very lacking in recent times. “Oh come now, get the man something stronger. He deserves it.” A soft bout of laughter left him, genuine. "I'm afraid I can't have much of the strong stuff tonight." He reminded, perhaps a needless one considering the goat would know just as well the amount of work he might be staring at in the morning. Reports. First hand accounts. Accounting for the dead. In this case, he didn't know exactly what formalities he would be staring down at on daybreak.

Regardless, he certainly didn't shun the bottle and duo of cups that were placed upon the counter. He poured himself one, the action repeating as he slid the shot towards August. The time was filled with the sensation of eyes upon him, a quick, silent, apprehensive scathing. Despite the slight tightening of his jaw, the friendly simper didn't dull under the scrutiny, if anything it grew. "Don't' worry, I'm well enough off." He assured, wasting no time in throwing back the stronger burn. "Just a few bruises and scratches here and there." His elbow found the rough hew of the table top, coiled fingers a comfortable rest for his cheek.

“Good to see you stranger. Alone for the evening?” Stranger, he would chuff at the word, though he supposed he deserved it. He'd been largely absent from their haunts for some time now with the desperate preparations for the coming war. "Well, not at the moment. 'Less you got other plans?" He would inquire. While it was nice to catch up, he could always find something else as well, knowing the goat was close with several of those he'd kept company with as well. Who knew.

Maybe he could play king for the night.
!

The lightness of a smile never faded as attentions hovered over the man, in fact it threatened to grow as that light laughter graced his ears and bid a brief titter of his own. Though whatever wisdom Lif may have imparted upon a gentle warning would not be fully heeded by at least one present tonight. At least that was the plan for unlike the lion, Augustus held no pressing duties when the light came. Not until Ajax saw fit to once again insist he see someone about the plagues which sunk their talons into both body and mind. It was nothing that couldn’t be handled on his own, a lie he’d come to tell.

Besides seeing his old friend always brought a shred of light to pierce an encircling shroud. Especially now as that sensation trickled in to make all which festered beneath with the flash of fangs, “All the more reason to indulge. At least a little.” Long ears swiveled to capture the clink of a bottle, a sound chased by the slow release of pressure before liquid filled each glass. Though that rose tinted stare refrained from drifting toward it. No, it remained fixated upon the figure perched at his side, unable to miss the way a jaw tightened beneath roving appraisal.

Still his own grin was offered in turn. Wandering eyes finally finding pause when brilliant blues captured his gaze, bidding them to still upon a face never forgotten. Yet despite the claims which slipped from the other’s lips August’s own reasonings sounded in silent murmur under his breath, “Just have to check. Can’t have you fading out on me.” Though such claims seemingly held true for there lingered no overtly obvious scent of blood nor that of an apothecary’s touch in hopes of soothing such maladies. So for now he would heed the others word, Lif would be believed in the moment… and without hesitation the drink he’d poured lay tossed back.

Expression momentarily twisting after an emptied glass sounded against the table, the goat’s crown shook lightly before attentions rested wholly upon the other again. Even more so when it appeared Lif stared back. Features softened as a short huff fled his lungs, “And leave a handsome man like you?” Leaning upon the counter that usual tease heavily laced such lyrics, the temptation to reach for the other hardly ignored as fingers faintly brushed over his friend’s skin. Grin widening enough to show the glint of fangs before digits drew back, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Though should Haithan actually decide to make his grand appearance a choice would have to be made, lest of course the wolf could be coaxed into joining them. Then again there lingered uncertainty on what Lif thought of the silvered man. Of his nature beyond what had been glimpsed through conversation and passing encounters. A burning question he refrained from asking right away though he would at least give a hint toward reasons of being here, “I'm supposed to be meeting someone but, as of yet, he’s a no show.” Whatever could possible take him August cared not to think over nor reflect on how he himself sometimes took ages to be ‘put together’ for a day. 

“Which gives me more time with you,” and it would not be wasted, “And I can never complain about that.” Absentmindedly he reached for the bottle still resting closer to Lif, refilling his own glass before offering to do the same for another. Whether the man drank this one back or not wouldn’t matter as all a goat really cared for was his company, “You don’t have to tell me but, other than war and its preparations, what’s kept you?” Or had he truly been encompassed entirely under the guidance of a supposed king. A man August himself could not find trust in with how he’d been ruling as of late.

“All the more reason to indulge. At least a little.” A thought that was both promising just as it was amusing. Perhaps the goat forgot that only one of them was largely immune to hangovers and the blights that came with them. The last thing he wanted to suffer through in the morning along with any manner of paper work would be a headache and the words blurring together in eyes that refused to focus upon them and their meanings. After he returned home, if it wasn't too late, he would at least begin scribbling down a brief first hand summary of what had happened near the end of things. The disbelieving tale that had struck down a large majority of those wounded or slowed by any means. A great many supplies had been lost in the chaos as well, and if for nothing else, it would be for his father's own records and family accounts to explain away any funds they had personally lost.

“Just have to check. Can’t have you fading out on me.” Still, his eyes didn't leave, disbelief not bleeding into his words. He would huff out a slight laugh, the crooked simper only growing over his mouth. "Folk couldn't get that lucky. You lot won't get rid of me that easily." He vowed, his brows rising slightly in exaggeration of the matter. He would skirt and omit the fact that one crimson bolt had been particularly close to proving that statement wrong, setting the air around him ablaze with the malady of magic so thick and pungent it rolled across his tongue like sludge. His skin had felt electric, but its target had merely been another, one he hadn't been able to recover as the ravaging storm had increased its fever to a dangerous climax.

Even the sure certainty of Destriar's footfalls had become uneasy with the sensation. The steed was not one of faint heart, nor had Lif ever known him to shy away from any dangers, more than content to threaten even wolves in the wilds with the trample of his hooves. Perhaps that had been the worst of it, sensing his companion's discomfort and ill ease when it was normally vastly non existent. The fine hairs along the back of his neck had arisen, gooseflesh marking his arms. Then his mount had carried them away, a race that was rampant and desperate to escape the bedlam that surrounded them. He knew not if the steed would have halted should he have wished it, but he had learned to trust in the instincts of animals when they knew danger lurked. Death was not far behind, nipping their heels. Lava had plumed as if the very heavens had birthed a volcano and they were within the heart of the malicious geyser. Ravenous, insatiable in its destruction. The smell of burning hair and flesh, the mixture of smog and dirt burning and blinding better than any man made diversion. Screams. Pleas. Drowned and halted with sudden finality.

“And leave a handsome man like you?” His eyes flickered to the familiar visage before him, anchoring him within the present with his playful intonation. A stark reminder that the storm had been content not to spread, that somehow, he had managed to escape that madness. His breath would suck in sharply, held momentarily before slowly released on a drawn exhale. Calming. Soothing. Quieting the tumultuous tempest within that threatened its freedom from his every fiber. He would restrain it, the soft, easy simper never leaving his boyish façade as shackles for the dark waters that yawned like an abyss just beyond. The goat would brush warm fingertips along his skin, and he was minutely surprised to find that his forearms didn't scorch the caress of the concerned hand. It aided to help further settle the anxious chaos that burned within his veins, to coax just a little more calm to bleed into them instead. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” The right edge of his mouth twisted a bit more upwards, playful wink leaving him. "That's what I like to hear. After all, I really shouldn't be left alone with this whole bottle. I'd have to find someone to walk me home then." The last tease would be spoken on a wistfully dejected sigh, as if the notion were truly so terrible.

Then came his easy admittance that he had originally come to see another's company. Lucky that he just happened to be here then, he surmised. He would give a nod, a low hum leaving him. His eyes would linger over those gathered, seeing some familiar faces beginning to drift in - should they have not been present already. Exhausted husks. Horror lingering within their stares in place of the predatory gleam that light should leave upon them. As if the warped golems had not been enough to witness and deal with, devouring fallen comrades and making them yet another piece of their amalgamations. He didn't think August would ever quite understand just how grateful that he was that the goat had not been witness to such abhorrence as they had seen. To provide just this simple shade of normalcy upon his return. Perhaps he'd been a fool not to seek him out or send word to meet him immediately upon his return. “Which gives me more time with you, and I can never complain about that.” Regardless, he would huff, his vocals still holding their teasing edge. "Well who could possibly stand you up?"

His next inquiry would have the red head staring at his cup as it was refilled. He was measured as he took it closer to himself, trying not to appear as desperate for the hazing cloud of inebriation as he truly felt. His mask was carefully crafted, expertly executed after the multitude of years that he had donned it. However, Augusts' eyes were often sharp enough to pry below its surface. That was the trouble of knowing someone for most of your life, let alone being as close as they were. His head tilted upon its axis, azure drifting back to the lycan as he tipped the cup back once again. His tongue swept his lips, gathering every last drop that lingered. "Well. Family business. You know." Once more, his cheek rested against his palm. "Lord Mikeal," he would allow a roll of his eyes as he referenced his father, "had Ulys committed somewhere." There, his smile would falter, falling into a frown. "I was trying to find out where. Then... all of this."

!