Alt. Wolfskin Peak/Kitsune Lair Convo

Kitsune Lair

"Come to think of it," Kamui had began, attempting conversation over the long hike up the mountain, turning to the monochrome wolfskin next to them, "Do you know anyone from there, Flannel? A kitsune?"

The man blinked idly at their leader and hummed in thought, "Hm, I guess? Maybe once or twice but those were coincidences. Never really asked anything about their kind. Never really cared since we hardly cross paths, anyway. Why?"

"Well, I don't know. It would have been nice to know someone from there beforehand. You think they'll let us through?" the Nohrian noble inquired, a little worried now.

Flannel looked on into the distance, either in wonder or just skipping the question. However, he eventually shrugged and quickened his pace slightly, walking a little behind the front lines. Their leader only just missed the grimace that had made its way onto his usually nonchalant expression.

Aqua simply stared at the wolfskin's back as he pulled a hooded cloak over his monochrome mane, remaining eerily silent.
---

"It's nice to meet you, Nishiki. I'm happy to see kitsune are friendlier than expected. We've heard all kinds of crazy rumors about people losing their lives to your kind...," Kamui had sighed in relief, not noticing how Flannel had his head bowed in attempt to shade his face, "But it seems all that is just one big misunderstanding--"

"No, I'm afraid that's not so," the dancer stated immediately, her face still unreadable as ever but a stern edge in her voice when Kamui questioned her in shock, replying, "Take a look around."

Low growls sounded from every angle. Hooded kitsune were swishing their tails and crouched in an offensive stance, ready to pounce forward with bared fangs. Eyes illuminated into a bright crimson under the shade, and it was evident that no one was ready to spare any lives.

Gasps filled the air, most of the group taken by surprise as Nishiki let out a playful chuckle, "Keehee, not bad, eh? It really was nice to meet you. I wish we could have met elsewhere. I really loathe violence, but since you stepped into our territory... Sorry, but you humans have to die now."

Flannel watched on, a dread sinking in his gut as everyone took their positions.
---

"As chief, I will protect my own! This is for peace! It really is!" Nishiki had declared as he faced off with Kamui, having advanced ahead in hope to settle things peacefully before every kitsune was wiped out.

It was wishful thinking, Flannel knew. However, knowing their leader, they would push for that route regardless of the odds. Perhaps, it was possible. Perhaps if it was them, they could actually do without a massacre. Perhaps, but now was hardly the time to think of that.

Flannel stood guard, ready to block off incoming attacks for the Nohrian noble. Before anything, though, the Chief kitsune glanced over at him, eyes seeming to brim with an emotion he could not quite place a finger on. Eventually averting his gaze back to his main target, Kamui, he transformed and pounced forward.

The albino barely dodged, still treading on with the option of mercy. They swung their sword halfheartedly to make distance but no damage, pushing the wolfskin increasingly on edge. Did they not see? There was no point! Neither they nor the chief himself had a choice in this.

Flannel knew for a fact, after their little conversation before, Nishiki was obliged to kill intruders or die trying. It was stupid tradition but a necessary precaution in itself nonetheless. Whether the kitsune wanted to, or not, it was his duty...and duty always came first.

Being chief really sucked like that.
---

The rest had gathered up behind the duo, indicating that all kitsune were down. Dead as a doornail.

Without much of an option nor ounce of energy left, Kamui knocked the weakened kitsune to the ground with a kick to the torso. The chief tumbled backwards, laying faced up but made no attempt to recover. He breathed heavily, aware of his own and his people's state. Darkened red eyes that gazed up at clear amber sky were brimming with tears at this point, but refusing to spill.

The kitsune's chest heaved once before the Nohrian noble placed a firm foot on it, their blade placed above his throat. They were hesitant, they did not want to be the one to kill the Hoshidan but the army had done their damage and there was no backing out now. Flannel stood to the side, hood torn now and unable to hide the discomfort on his face.

Seconds, that felt like hours, ticked by in silence, only the breathing of tired soldiers and lone kitsune was heard.

"Flan...nel," a frail voice suddenly called out, causing all attention to fall between the source of the voice and the addressed wolfskin, "Th-that's your name...isn't it?"

The monochrome wolfskin took a hesitant step forward, close enough to see that same look in the man's eyes again as he affirmed himself, "Yeah. I'm surprised you remember me."

Nishiki let out a shaky laugh, trying his best to smile without coughing up blood, "I...wouldn't forget someone...like you. We used to...go to Cyrkensia...together. You're an interesting guy...though...not quite as...sociable."

"It was a coincidence," Flannel stated, trying not to sound affected by the defeated form of the chief kitsune, "But, yeah. You were pretty weird yourself."

The wolfskin took another step forward, then another and one more. He stopped right next to the kitsune's body, kneeling near as he gestured Kamui to move aside. They complied, knowing full well his intention when Flannel pulled out a dagger he never ever used and held it at Nishiki's throat in place of the Yato or his claws.

"I'm envious, y'now, " the kitsune sighed, gazing into the wolfskin's dulled eyes, emotions cut off just for this moment, "I guess being...Chief Kitsune just...isn't for me. Would've been nice to have been on your...s-side."

After a few more seconds of eye contact and lack of reaction, the kitsune finally decided to close his eyes, whispering feebly, "I'm sorry...everyone..."

"...Goodbye, Flannel."

With a swift and silent motion, the wolfskin slashed Nishiki's throat, wasting no time as he stood back up and shoved the bloodied blade back into its sheath. No one spoke to him as he walked on ahead and down the hill where they had originally been headed. Flannel grazes the handle of the weapon with gloved hands, lips pressed into a thin line with eyes squeezed shut.

"Goodbye, Nishiki," he whispered to no one.