Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Nineteen | Fourth World

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Finch looked tiny as he sat, bundled up in many furs. Initially, he had only taken one, but after seeing a lack of a reaction from Falcon, he kept on snatching more. The other was a completely stubborn man, who obviously had things to say and yet he seemingly minded his own business as he sat near the fire, preparing his own dinner.

As their surroundings gradually grew darker within the space of time that they both refused to speak, the glow of the fire became the only source of light. And given how distant they both opted to sit from one another, Finch could only just slightly make out the details of Falcon's body, other than his face which was lit up by the flames he sat close to.

There was a specially made hide that lay around Falcon's broad shoulders, fur lining the neck and keeping his muscular body warm. The man was tall, with an eye-catching posture as he previously stood with his back completely straight, looking down at everyone around him. But as he sat in the confines of his own hut, with his back slightly bent, the man looked like a relaxed predator.

When they had previously spoke, Falcon was confident about his opinion of Zephyr. He spoke of the immortal being whom was untouched by the pressures of time and due to that, had plenty of experience when it came to perfecting the art of pulling wool over people's eyes. Though Finch couldn't wholeheartedly deny that the man was right, he was still willing to give the deity the benefit of the doubt given everything he had experienced.

Continuously looking across the room at the man, Finch licked his lips instinctively before opening his mouth. "Why did you step in?"

Falcon kept his gaze in front of him, skinning an animal and using some string equivalent to hang it above the fire. He barely acknowledged Finch's words, as if no one had spoken. But eventually, when Finch thought he just wouldn't respond, he did. "Would that little trick with your weapon have saved your life?"

Though he was still being fairly sarcastic, Finch bit his tongue and refused to rise to it. "It's not that I'm not grateful, I'm just curious why. You said you didn't care about the ceremony and their god."

Falcon just scoffed. He got up from his seat and walked a few steps into the shadows where Finch heard the sloshing of water. Only after his hands were clean, did he return and spare a glance towards Finch, who was all but invisible when taking into account the mountain of blankets.

"I don't care about them, but at the same time I do. I'd be a fool to turn my head and avoid the mention of those barbaric things. Their god is someone I consider a threat, so it's only wise that i'm invested in finding out what makes him tick. More specifically, why he would choose to reside over our clan instead of any other."

Falcon raised the question that Finch had already put to Zephyr. One which the man had refused to elaborate on and told him specifically that he could trust him. But it made the situation even more complex, given that Falcon possessed the features of what his father believed was Zephyr's sign of leniency. But other than the Chieftain and perhaps Hawk, Falcon cared very little for allegations.

Seeing Finch lost in thought, Falcon's frown deepened an inch before looking away. "And for whatever reason, you were chosen by him. For that, I felt sorry for you. You lost your family and then were forced to undergo a ceremony people neglected to tell you would likely end in your death. None of it was your decision, and even now that Zephyr has given you something of his, my father has twisted it to make it seem like you have misled both them and the god himself."

That left the one being pitied feeling more confused than thankful. He looked over at Falcon, who had all but been mumbling his response, as if speaking nicely was a struggle. But there was no element of mockery in his words. He didn't hesitate when mentioning Finch's family, one which Falcon himself had apparently aided in the destruction of.