kayeecq-blog

[kayeecq-blog]

sorry about the blood in your mouth.

( cqyien ) ✍

“i couldn’t get the boy to kill me but i wore his jacket for the longest time.” - richard siken

the howling, blustering wind, as frigid as the frosty-rancid breath of a mighty beartic, cascades down the sides of the dragnese mountains which loom, stern and charcoal-colored, in the nearby distance. it’s the sort of wind that needles directly through a man and all his bones– through even the most lavish of thermal underclothing and the thickest layers of armor and plate– and it sends the gleaming black-and-gold fabric of their banners snapping fiercely against the posts that lash them to tent tops or the hard, compact permafrost that crunches beneath their boots. directly before the dragnese encampment stretches a length of thick, snowbound evergreens for as far as the eye can behold. the sap secreted by the ironwood pines carries a distinctively sweet, sticky scent, and the trees themselves, clustered together and with their sharp little fronds thickened by sleet, offer natural seclusion and privacy to the hunkered-down soldiers. beyond the obstruction of the forest lies the river itself, if one dare even call the border landmark a river in its unmoving, frozen-through state. to kayee, the river appears much more like a long, solid road of thick, uncrackable ice in these days of dead winter than any once-frothing vein of water.

he stands at the edge of the dragnese camp, staring out into the still-darkened depths of the forest. kayee awoke at a time still very early in the morn, and although dawn has yet to fully interrupt the starless, overcast expanse of nighttime sky, milky sunlight has just commenced its trickling down over the jagged, fang-like peaks of the mountaintops. a few lingering noivern still zip around and between the mountain’s high-altitude ‘teeth’, likely enjoying a final hunt and one last taste of the bitterly cold air currents before vanishing into their cave nests until evenfall. the young man leans, quiet and thoughtful, upon the  handle of his fearsome, onyx-tinted claymore. his slow and even breaths billow out before him in hazy, smoke-like clouds.

kayee wears a full assemblage of armor upon his tight, muscular form, all equipped himself to allow his still-slumbering retainer further rest and retreat in the realm of dreams, and with few pieces of additional thermal wear to dull the stinging of the cold. he was reared in these mountains– spent a happy childhood here– and then, an abundant adolescence– and was an annual participant in the renewing, thawing festivity of spring and the unrelenting, soul-strengthening hardship of the frozen seasons– so he’s simply assimilated the cold into himself over time, learning to live with a chill in his marrow rather than constantly trying– and failing– to fight winter’s icy kiss. all he wears over his well-oiled, gleaming mail and plate is a sweeping cloak of plush, insulating zweilous fur. it is as black as midnight and billows, surreally phantasmal, about the lieutenant’s shadowed figure.

“messere,” a hushed but pleasant voice disrupts the silence of the silver dawn like a stone skipped across the still, glassy surface of a pond. kayee stirs, glancing in the direction of the speaker. he flashes an easy, welcoming smile at the approaching figure– at his young, fresh-faced thane. “…is something amiss? certainly something must be amiss for our lieutenant to have risen before the crack of dawn. also, messere, might i add that i fear that you will freeze yourself solid one day? or lose your toes and fingers to frostbite, at the very least.”

“ah, would you listen to that whining of yours– what are you, a damned valoran?” kayee grins, but he does not laugh outright. the thane isn’t wrong in his suspicions that his lieutenant has sensed something amiss. nonetheless, kayee wishes to downplay his unease– for the time being, at least. while the camp of dragnese warriors– several platoons, all sent to reinforce the river’s border after aerial reports indicated valoran troops massing along the valora-sided riverbank– lies calm and still, the majority of souls still resting, kayee shall hold his tongue and merely listen to the songs of the  forest. “we are men of dragnor! our blood runs hot and ferrous through the heart and the vein alike… but a little spiced mead always helps to warm the insides when blood alone cannot. so, here you go– please, take it and drink until you are woken and warmed.”

the lieutenant procures a wineskin of spiced mead– an alcoholic brew made from fermented combee honey and water, seasoned with several hot and sweet varieties of imported berries– and tosses it lightly, dexterously, into the hands of his thane. kayee rather likes this servant assigned to him, who is but a youth of seventeen and still a fledgling warrior.

“much thanks, messere.” the retainer uncorks kayee’s wineskin and gulps down many consecutive swallows of the flavorful, fire-heated drink. a long while passes in stiff, hesitant silence, and kayee can taste the pungancy of looming trouble on the wind. this time, he does not try to hide his frown and furrowed brows

.“uh, e-excuse me again, messere– but may i ask for your thoughts on why we… well, why we are truly here?” asks the thane.

“to safeguard the river’s edge,” kayee responds, visibly distracted and obviously focused upon elsewhere thoughts. he tightens his hands around his two-handed blade and pulls its tip from the frost-burnt, hard-packed soil. “and to be there with knotched arrow and drawn blade when those valoran bastard inevitably show their palkia-forsaken faces.”

as if on cue, a scout comes bursting out from the dark, icy trees and into the light of camp. her slick black hair hangs in total disarray and her cheeks glow ruddy from fearsome wind-burn– two more obvious signs that her return upon the back of her pidgeotto was recklessly hurried. “ser, good ser!” she shouts, sliding down from her companion’s powerful feathered wings to land running. “ser, it’s the valorans! they have crossed the river and progress further into dragnor territory as we speak!”

“are you certain in your sight, warrior? if so, what exactly is the opposition we’re facing? perhaps you spotted scouts, medics–”

“yes, ser, i am certain. i know a bloody valoran when i see one. and they have sent infantryman– two to three platoons worth.”

‘so be it’. kayee has fought for this river before, and he shall do it again. he nods solemnly to the scout, then gestures to her and his thane both. the expression he now dons upon his steeled, commanding visage carries no hint or remnant of the smile he wore merely a few moments prior.

“alert the other commanding lieutenants immediately and rouse the camp. i suggest a flanking maneuver, with my platoon taking point. sound the war drums; let them hear us chanting our battle hymns with all of our breath and lungs. either they flee at the sound or heed the music and expect a frontal charge. then, we enclose, in a pincer movement, and bring the wrath of giratina himself raining down upon the poor bastards. relay this message to all commanding officers. now go,” kayee pauses to bring his fingers to his lips and whistles two high, clear notes, “and i shall ride ahead to inspect the situation for myself.”

at kayee’s whistle, deino seems to materialize from the long, black shadows of the deep forest. its powerful, scaly maw is still soaked in crimson and garnished with a few lingering feathers from a recent feeding. deino grins expectantly up at its master, showing off all of its razor-sharp, red-tinted fangs, and wags the point of its little blue tail. kayee secures his claymore to his broad back and focuses the stern obsidian discs of his irises upon the hesitant thane and scout. “go!” he reiterates forcefully, and this time the two green warriors murmur quick ser, yes ser’s before sprinting off into the heart of camp.

kayee realizes that the boy still possessed his wineskin. he can’t help but smirk a little at the realization. 'let him keep it. he shall treat me to a drink tonight, as we all celebrate another victory for the beloved homeland.’

with deino leading a few paces ahead– sensitive mouth and ears opened to scent and taste for valoran invaders– kayee disappears into the lines of the dark trees, silent and as swift as shadow in the forests of his childhood.

[kayeecq-blog]

4/ ∞ got7 colorings ;

↳ Jackson Wang x GQ 

[kayeecq-blog]

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

― G.K. Chesterton (via j-wolf-harding)