Reap the Earth at Which you Stand [boyxboy]

Prologue

He was careful with the movement of his fingers, not wanting the lengthened claws to tear into his skin, knowing that any injuries would easily contrast against the grey of his flesh. Even the appearance of a stoney finish would not hide the scars and wounds that Vasile had endured over his lifetime. It mattered not, his King preferred it that way, scars were a form of beauty in their culture. Vasile ran his index finger over the clean cut of his left ear, where his King had severed the pointed tip down by at least three inches, back to almost the length of a human's. A punishment, a reminder of his place in the world.

"Sir?" The boy's gentle voice, once again, roused Vasile from his thoughts, just as the creaking sound of the doors to his right spurred him into a leisurely pace through into the open space. He kept his eyes cast down, staring at his boots as he counted his steps, dropping gracefully to his knees when he reached fourteen. Opening his hands, he rested them, palms facing upward, upon the dark leather coating his thighs, a sign of submission to his royal.

Although he had yet to see, Vasile was aware of his King's presence within the room. How could he not be? His King exuded elegance, filling the room with his attendance, making all who were blessed with his company aware of his entrance. Vasile was familiar enough with his King to pick his heartbeat out in a room of a thousand. It was slightly irregular, and stuttered every so often, signifying the slight murmur, the only longlasting wound the royal had attained.

"You may," the deep voice of Vasile's King resonated through the grand hall, sending a shiver down the man's spine. He might have heard his King's voice a thousand times, but it still remained just as immense with each word spoken. Vasile dared to lift his head, meeting the electrifying gaze of his King. Ysmael Bayreson.

"You wished to be in my presence, Vasile, in front of my court, what is it you require?" Ysmael was already aware of Vasile's intent; he merely had to follow the laws set by his forefathers. Ysmael was regal by nature, with sharp features and a piercing glower that could set even those of the strongest will on edge. His eyes seemed darker than those of the other gargoyles that Vasile was familiar with, a deeper tone of red than that of the others in their kind.

Ysmael was as old as time, and it was beginning to show through in his physical appearance. His ebony hair, cut far shorter than Vasile's, was beginning to dull, grey streaks cutting through the sea of darkness. It did nothing to impair the man's beauty, but Vasile knew that meant his reign as King may be drawing to an end within the next few millennia. He only hoped that Ysmael would find his Kept before then, and bear the heir that he knew the man so desperately desired.

"My sister..." Vasile began, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he paused, "was slaughtered... Three days ago," Vasile spoke through gritted teeth, fearing that if he allowed his mouth any more movement that it might run without consulting his better judgement first. Ysmael shifted in his throne, crossing his legs with his left ankle resting on his right knee, thrumming his claw-tipped fingers upon his thigh.

The King wore no shirt, leaving his torso out to be viewed by all present. Not that any would dare to gaze upon the royal without expressed permission. Vasile, however, was allowed to roam the expanse of Ysmael's flesh as much as he so desired. Had his eyes not been locked with his King's, he would have allowed them to flitter over the seven charred rings that spanned the circumference of Ysmael's right bicep, or maybe even the four brands on the man's chest instead. Two above his right pectoral, vertical, in an ancient language that not even Vasile could read. Another two horizontal, more central, as though they were settled right over Ysmael's heart, all four no bigger than a few inches. All with their own meaning, similar to those that Vasile bore himself.

"By the Arizona's, no doubt?" Ysmael's tone was dry, teetering on the edge of boredom, but Vasile knew that he took the man's claim with the utmost of sincerity.