• Closed • [Mature] Fellow Jeger

[Varthakh]

He held the human in his arms, pressing their bodies together beneath the sheets. Two trials were far too long apart, Fridgar had needed this... recharge session... and he'd needed it for some time. He'd been stuck as a Trachadon for... quite a while, and before that he was a bear. This was his first full trial as Fridgar in quite a few days, perhaps half a dozen? He failed to recall.

Fridgar's lungs would inflate and deflate rhythmically, lifting and lowering his beloved slightly as he laid atop the giant. Fridgar's paw straddled the bare skin of his beloved as they basked in the afterglow of their intense... reuniting... It had been worth the wait, that much was known. Fridgar moaned through closed lips while exploring the body of his lover "My rose..." he spoke softly, his voice reverberating through his chest, filling the chest of the human that laid atop him.

"What do we do now?" he sighed, running a single digit in circles on Alistair's lower back. "...About the jeger, I mean. I think we've both joined them now?" Fridgar paused, considering his words while running one of his paws through Alistair's short hair. "I don't think I told you that I've also joined the jeger... did I?" He explained with a kiss to his beloved's forehead. Through his open maw, he sighed. It sucked to talk about work at a time like this, but it had to be done.

Holding his beloved tightly, he turned onto his side and plopped the smaller man beside him, looking deeply into his eyes. Grinning, he planted his lips upon his beloved's, tasting the human a little before proceeding into the conversation. "This guy, I think he was like... leader of the Jeger or something... He said I could get cured faster if I agreed to join, otherwise, I would have to wait fourty trials or some bullshit length of time," Fridgar rolled his eyes. "They did cure me in the end, I'm one of their pups now..." he grit his teeth, the title made him sick.

"He also told me that you wanted to join the Jeger, he said you wouldn’t be harmed. He fucking lied to me, Alistair," Already he could feel his rage building. The leader of the Jeger had lied to him in a dirty trick to get him to join. He should have expected something was up when he was more-or-less refused healing until he joined. Fridgar would run his paw down the bandage of his beloved, stroking his chest with the surface of his thumb as he did so. "My poor rose... What did they do to you?" he kissed Alistair on the lips again, as though he hadn't already done it enough in the past break.

[Alistair]

My rose... the man called him, causing for Alistair to smile energetically, kissing the pectorals of his mate as he nakedly lay atop him, light blankets covering them from view. "My Thorn," Alistair whispered, lovingly caressing the sides of his havendal as he snuggled into his warmth.

What do we do now? the man asked. Alistair looked up at him and tilted his head, before he clarified - about the Jeger. Oh. In truth, Alistair didn't really know. He only really joined them to hasten Fridgar's recovery, and to be able to see him as quickly as possible. Now? Did he even want to be a part of this group? Could someone just change their mind and leave? No... that wasn't possible. Someone had to have a Path, once they joined a Path. They couldn't become Pathless -- it was against the society, the rules, the culture. Leaving this place would mean leaving Uthaldria, and he'd come here for many reasons. He wanted to be on good terms with this place, these people. The only other option was war, in the future.

"We do whatever is necessary," the man stated, crawling upwards to meet his lover's upper neck with his lips. "And whatever we want. Honestly, I don't think the Jegers are a bad group for you. You love hunting, love killing, love the thrill of combat. And you're good at it - amazing, even. Why not stay with them? I'll gladly stick by your side, whenever I can," he stated, looking into his lover's eyes. Perhaps Alistair wouldn't be the most valued member of their community, only being here sporadically once he settled into his role as Kaernhad's Margrave... but...

Fridgar, again, brought up that Alistair had been harmed - bandaged, stitched. The mage bit his lip, and sighed, being plopped next to Fridgar. He looked at the wall, and laid his head back into his mate's shoulder.

"Love, they didn't lie to you," he mumbled as he relaxed amidst his lover's embrace. "I chose... to do the trial. I chose to do so even knowing I could be hurt - I accepted it, because I wanted to join them and stay here, waiting for you. I was hurt, and because of my own foolishness," he stated, frowning.

"And that's okay," he added. "Fridgar, I'm a man, and I'm an independent one at that. I've always made my own choices, lived with their consequences. I've nearly died before, many times... I've experienced my medical expertise firsthand, and I've been lucky. Lately, I've become a lot more careful, so you haven't seen me hurt. But I've been hurt, and I'll be hurt again. And... one day, I'll probably die on the field, not on my bed. This is my life -- our life. We're warriors, Frid. Even me," he whispered. Somehow, Fridgar had forgotten somewhere that Alistair had been fighting for a very long time... and he was really, really good at it. Better than nearly every man in this hall.

The mage looked up to his lover again, and smiled lightly. "Don't fear for me. They call me the Sunless, here. A grand, terrifying title. They know I'm strong. You do too," he murmured, leaning back into him. "They told me about these things... called packs. Six members, five followers and one leader. A Dire, or Packmaster. When one becomes a Hound, they can join a Pack. I was thinking -- why don't we join one together? I heard of one called the Vindikar, led by someone I can't remember the name of. They're a Pack looking for elite members, people with skill, new to the region. People like us," he stated.

"After three tests, we can join. I tried one - I failed, but I can redo it. I think we should do them. Prove our worth."

[Varthakh]

We do whatever is necessary his mate said, Fridgar rolled his eyes, though only one could be seen rolling. The other was a black sphere that sort of... stood still... It wasn't until His beloved said and whatever we want that Fridgar smiled again. Damn right they would. Neither of the two mages had been particularly good at taking orders, Fridgar more so. They would continue to be free, just under the supervision of a path?

Fridgar's eyes shut as his body relaxed, relishing in the love and comfort that the presence of his beloved mate brought him. That was at least until he spoke about how Fridgar loved killing, at which point his smile dropped. Distress visible in his eyes as he opened them, as though he were unsure. Did he love killing? Was he still that Fridgar? In honesty, all they had experienced recently had given him a change of perspective. First Kaiserion, Fridgar would have killed him like any other man for stupid trivial things, because he could and because it felt good.

But just trials after, Kaiserion had proven to be a loyal friend to both him and Alistair, killing him would have been a huge mistake. Sometime after that was the event with the paw thieves where he saw an innocent animal, the Redbear, hurt for something as little as fun by a pair of evil swordsmen. He hated them, took joy in seeing their deaths, even as brutal as they were. Perhaps... They reminded him of Andaris? Or at least who he'd become in Andaris. It was true, he'd though he was just fighting back against people that tried to walk over him, but in truth, he liked the power he had over them. To be the one who decided who lived and who died, to have that power. Absolute power had corrupted absolutely.

Maybe now he was only reflecting on his alignment with because of the exercise in humility he'd been delivered by the Jeger? Maybe once he grew strong by Gauthrel's standards, he'd lose himself again? That thought in his mind, who even was he? The mindless beast that butchered dozens of innocents for the sake of asserting himself, or the loving husband to be that changed everything, gave it all up for the promise of a family. Fridgar shut his eyes, pressing his head against his beloved's and inhaling deeply. "Thank you, Alistair," he spoke almost saddened to his mate.

Despite wallowing in self-pity, he couldn't help but be rattled by what Alistair spoke of his bandages. He'd operated on himself in the past? What the fuck? "Alistair, that's crazy!" Fridgar had the image of his poor wounded Alistair, laying on a bed with his stomach skin cut open while Alistair himself fished out whatever was lodged inside him. Notably, his hug got even tighter around the noble. God no, never. Fridgar had to hone his skills in medicine and surgery, so that his beloved would never have to do it himself. He would become a doctor as good as Alistair, maybe even better! Probably not, but he could try.

"They told me nothing about packs," Fridgar explained, running his hands down the bare stomach of his beloved, taking pleasure in thinking of what the noble carried within him after their reuniting celebration. "Vindikar..." Fridgar rolled his tongue as he straddled the bare skin of his beloved. "Three trials would sound easy, but I don't know how I'm gonna manage if you couldn't do it..." Fridgar stopped, thinking for a trill. "You don't mean a trial as in twenty-four breaks, do you?"

Once that was clarified, Fridgar's evident ever-burning desire would make itself known in the physical, not just the constant caressing or groping either. "That sounds like a good idea," he spoke with a nod of his head, kissing his beloved on the neck as he laid into Fridgar. "I really don't want to carry the title 'pup' forever."

[Alistair]

Fridgar seemed... concerned, at the statement that he'd loved killing. Noticing his drop in demeanor, Alistair's eyes looked up to him, and he turned his jaw over so that the two could make clear eye contact. His mate was dejected, perhaps saddened that Alistair still saw him that way. But correctly, Alistair did not see him that way. Not at all. The Venora didn't mean people, even -- he meant beasts, animals. Fridgar was proud of his accomplishment in defeating that... Kerad Reyn, whatever it was that they fought -- he enjoyed the victory.

Whether or not Fridgar enjoyed winning against beasts, or killing men, Alistair didn't care. He'd grown, and he'd learned to control himself. The aggression against the Jegers was not due to his belligerency, but their impulsive attack. To see someone else as the arbiter of a violent situation, instead of Fridgar, was proof to Alistair that he'd begun to change.

"Love, you know I don't see you that way," the Baron whispered. "You've changed a lot -- I see it. You've become more patient, calmer. You're good, Fridgar. If you're going to condemn yourself for the things you did before, then condemn me too. I've done a lot worse," the mage whispered solemnly, leaning in before Fridgar pressed their faces together and inhaled.

As for operating on himself -- well, Alistair could only smirk to that. He was quite good at it, and if he hadn't tried, he probably wouldn't be here today. Crazy was only crazy when it was a pointless risk. Some of the mage's "crazy" actions had been of utter necessity for his own survival. He did not feel wrong in attempting them.

Cryptically, he said, "You'll see one day," before moving on. If he recalled correctly, Fridgar had already been forced to bandage himself before. There would come a time where he had to do a lot worse, more extreme. Alistair... he knew he wouldn't always be able to be there. Maybe he would be there, but as a head lain against the grass, separate from anything else. Men needed to do what they needed to do, to survive. Even sticking a metal instrument in their own chests, relying on the feeling and the pain alone to guide them.

"The Packs are a cool system," he admitted, sort of enticed by the thought. "A group of six, natural roamers, rarely peaking into civilized settlements. Forming their own communities -- there are even forested villages, with treehouses and all, run by Packs alone. Shops, services, everything. There's one named Rahn Muinne not far from where we encountered Kerad Reyn. I'm interested in seeing them," he whispered, nodding his head as he surrounded himself with thought. Perhaps now wasn't the opportune moment in his life to become a nature savage, but -- it would've been interesting as a clandestine, boreal fling.

His thoughts were only broken by Fridgar's clarification of trials versus trials, which invoked a bit of laughter from the mage.

"Trials as in... trials! You know, like -- trials." He scratched his head, sighing. The noble hated that word. "Trial of might, for example. Not a... twenty four break period," he stated, nodding his head, eager to move on from that awkward complexity. He'd never expected it to be such a challenge to differentiate the two, and decided that whoever had made the words operate on the same name and smelling needed to be reanimated, and then butchered.

Leaning back into Fridgar after that whole debacle, the mage giggled lightly at his statement. Of course he didn't want to be called a Pup. Fridgar was a fucking Alpha, after all. He felt it, he lived it, he was it. They must've called people Pups to motivate them to get out of that position. No one wanted to be called that, except for maybe the most flagrant bitchboy in all of Gauthrel.

"Me neither. I like the sound of Dire," he said, nodding. "Or Packmaster. You'd probably rather my rank have the sub-title of Bitch, though. At least in your presence," he grinned, teasing his mate, before pinning him to the bed and licking at his jaw.

Before long, their eyes met, and Alistair spoke between kisses and strokes along his lover's side.

"Vindikar, then? You'll do the trials? Promise?"

[Varthakh]

Fridgar stayed quiet through the result of Alistair's mind reading capabilities. The smaller man had the unique talent of reading his husband like a book, or maybe the Lothar wore his heart on his sleeve? Who knew. Maybe once, he'd enjoyed killing, maybe he didn't anymore? In truth, Fridgar didn't know what he wanted, only that he needed to be with his beloved right now. Fridgar kept his eyes on the man's eyes as he laid atop him, explaining himself. He didn't need to, of course, but he comforted Fridgar with his kind words all the same.

By the time Alistair finished, Fridgar was smiling, light in his eyes. He closed them and lifted his head, making contact with Alistair's lips before opening his mouth and guiding his tongue into Fridgar's waiting maw, where he suckled tenderly at his lover’s tongue. An impassioned moan rumbled through his chest as he tasted Alistair's oral organ.

Following their passionate mouth hugging came the discussion of self surgery, which would have usually killed the mood among other couples, but neither of them saw much wrong with a little bit of blood every once in a while. Fridgar would scoff, feigning offence "Umm, no. I won't," he kissed his mate again. "If you operate on yourself in front of me, you can say goodbye to sex for at least..." Fridgar paused, looking to his forehead as he pondered what sort of punishment to threaten his beloved with, "...Three trials." He was joking of course, doing such a thing would have a much more negative reaction than that.

Fridgar's expression grew more and more... excited, as Alistair gave his thoughts on the pack system. he, of course, loved the thought of spending all his time in the woods or in some sort of camp with his beloved. He would be all his, nothing to get between them but the occasional monster and a bunch of people they'd be working with... They would make do. "It sounds awesome, my rose," Fridgar gave the noble a tight squeeze as he laid atop him, groping him in a particularly sensitive area that he had made his territory, all the while smirking a cocky smile.

The giant would laugh at the predicament he'd caused with the mixing of trials and trials. Common was a stupid language in that sense, using the same word for two different things. What was that called? A synonym? Fridgar felt smart thinking of that word and its definition. "You're so cute, Ali," Fridgar stroked the cheek of his beloved with the edge of his index finger as they lay with one another, he followed it up with another kiss, biting the noble's lip softly and tugging.

"I like the sound of hound. It's so edgy, I love it," Fridgar grinned, baring his fangs. "I like that..." Fridgar moaned, gripping his love tightly from behind "I can be the hound..." he spun, dropping Alistair onto his side and shifting his weight atop his beloved, "And you can be my bitch..." His mouth dropped into the crease of his neck and nibbled at his bare skin, licking and kissing plentifully at the exposed sensitive flesh. "Alright, fine. I'll do the trials," Fridgar agreed, exploring the body of his lover. He'd had enough of playing it subtle, now he'd make his needs known despite having just finished not but a few bits ago. "...How hard can they be anyway?"

[Alistair]

"Three trials?!" he scoffed, feigning offense. Pouting and playfully whimpering, the mage began to roll about as if he'd just heard the most tragic tale of ten lifetimes. "How will I last without my Hound's monster slaying rod for a whole three trials? I may need to retire to a cloister to seek restraint for my immoral thoughts," he cried, looking up to Fridgar before lightly and playfully slapping him on the cheek. Snuggling back into his mate after the farce ended, he waited for his thoughts on the Jegers.

And - apparently Fridgar was a fan. It sounded awesome, which was a good sign. Alistair liked things that Fridgar liked, and quite honestly, he didn't mind the idea of laying about in the woods for many trials... in some make-shift teepee with Fridgar, celebrating one another's company and the death of a slew of monsters. They'd be doing good, and they'd be with one another, free from outside influences. And, there was nothing better to prepare him for his eventual conflict with Ellasin than a life of perpetually battling incredibly powerful beasts. Gauthrel would be his training ground, a place to harden, grow, empower himself.

...But apparently still stay cute. The mage blushed profusely at being called such, pursing his lips and curling up as Fridgar stroked at his cheeks and brought them closer together. Sighing, he nodded his head, glad that Fridgar was so keen on the Hound title. Edgy or not, he was keen, and that was what mattered.

"Let's not ventilate my sub-title in public, though," the mage said, poking at his havendal's chest. "The Lotharro are pretty fond of making jokes, and I wouldn't be surprised if my actual rank ended up being Bitch if that one got out..." Alistair whispered, laughing lightly. That would be a mixture of funny and incredibly embarrassing.

When Fridgar promised to do the trials, Alistair's eyes lit up, but he was quickly silenced by the ministrations of his beloved. Deciding he could no longer play cool and continue chatting about, the mage wrapped his leg around Fridgar's waist, his head rolling back as the man explored his skin. "Okay," he whispered, heavy of breath, "one more time tonight. Then, we need to sleep."

[Pegasus]

Alistair

Points! 15

Knowledge:
Jegers: Packs
Jegers: Fridgar and I are joining
Jegers: Vindikar Pack
Jegers: Three Trials to Become a Hound
Trial vs Trial
Fridgar: Is triggered by the title Pup
Fridgar: Your Hound
Fridgar: God of virility

Loot: N/A
Injuries/Overstepping: None
Fame: N/A
Devotion: N/A
Collaboration: Yes
Magic EXP: No

Fridgar

Points! 15

Knowledge:
Path of the Jeger: Packs
Path of the Jeger: Fridgar and I are joining
Path of the Jeger: Vindikar Pack
Path of the Jeger: Three Trials to Become a Hound
Trial vs Trial
Alistair: Your bitch

Loot: N/A
Injuries/Overstepping: None
Fame: N/A
Devotion: No
Collaboration: Yes
Magic EXP: No

Comment
Well, that's one way to negotiate decision making in a partnership! Enjoy the rewards!