Private Snap Back to Reality

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner

Something between a groan and a snarl resonated through Oleander's chest as he slumped backwards, eyes closed as another wave of oppressive ringing washed over him. Yep, definitely a concussion. His limbs felt heavier than usual, his brain swirled with plans of attack yet nothing solid came to mind.

"You claim to want to renegotiate yet deprive the starved of sustenance? That's rich." The words were hissed through grit teeth, eyes opening to glare at the Wolf before promptly wincing at the beam of sun that'd landed directly on his face. He wanted to tear the other limb from limb, to take in all the soup he had to offer and then be set loose against the waking world once more. In his state, however, that would hardly go well.

"Fine, then, say your words."

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Oleander Webb

“I haven’t denied you anything,” he said with a small smile. “I simply pulled you out of a feeding frenzy before anyone else could find you and put you down.”

Was the Wolf justifying himself, yes. Much of what he said was true, even if the motivation had been to reconnect with the Anzat and resume their professional relationship. In his own way the Beast cared for the monster. They had formed a friendship or bond of some kind which Gerwald could not put into words. It was not close, but it was important, or had been at least. With his desire to ascend to greater heights among the Sith, he needed Oleander.

The Wolf was not ignorant. He knew his power base was only as strong as those he kept around him. His pull and weight among the Sith had never been strong, not in the way others had it. His outlook was modern, new, one which did not stew in the old ways of doing things, but it was not progressive either. He was much like his mistress, the Echani, who had nursed him back to health.

“Had I not gotten to you first, you would not have survived the encounter. This is not a downplay on your strength, it is simply a statement of fact. Now, what I am proposing is simple. As before I will ensure you have the sustenance you need, but this time there will be no leash. This loft will be yours, and you will receive a percentage of compensation for each job.”

He looked at the Anzat.

“You want to be out of the shadows, and I can make that happen. If you want to navigate the world of the living, then I will assist. I will help you through any frenzies you may have. I don’t want you to simply work for me without benefit to you. Be my apprentice.”

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner

A brow rose in a brief return to an Oleander of a past life - the sort that almost enjoyed poking holes into Gerwald's words. "You quite literally just said you're not going to let me feed while I'm still angry at you." Oleander barked a laugh - if one could even call it a laugh - as the Wolf continued. There was no warmth behind the noise, only cold and bitter. "They could certainly try. They - you - have no idea what all I'm capable of."

His people had always been solitary creatures, secretive in their skills until it was the best moment to strike. While Oleander had never felt the need to hide his abilities from Gerwald, he had never felt the inclination to truly showcase them. Confidence had been in his nature, not bragging. The mantle of death hadn't changed that per se, merely added another perspective into his already long-lived existence, culminating in almost a sense of cosmic importance. Finality given form.

The mantle had come with skills to cultivate, as well. Skills he had to develop on his lonesome once the Confederacy fell. It had been a long road of trial and error, the experimental nature taking its toll via his hunger in a vicious cycle.

"Why should I want that?" He questioned, hazy eyes staring the Wolf down, narrowed though not quite the glare they were previously. "To navigate the world of the living, as you put it? To repeat the cycle again and again? And for what - an inkling of warmth before it's back to the shadows to scramble to hold on to what scraps I can once more?"

The mention of warmth surprised him as it came out of his mouth - was that really an item of consequence to him? Surely not for that would be foolish, against any training he'd received so long ago. And yet even in his bouts of frenzy, there had been moments of clarity, times where the faces of those he'd worked with in the past, the echoes of conversations that bordered friendly, nearly convinced him to ditch his current prey in the name of reflection.

The sentiment had confused him, maybe even scared he who would be Death, even if for a moment. And just as quick a moment, a part of him wondered if perhaps a return to such arrangements wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Oleander Webb

“That’s a delay, not a denial.”

Gerwald was rarely one to twist words, but in this case it was in his best interest to do so. He hated politics, but the Wolf had learned to play them out of necessity. Srina had taught him well, and Lunara had been of particular assistance in refining some of his more boisterous mannerisms. Naedira had been the one to temper him. How she managed to do it, he did not know, but she had.

Oleander seemed to be suddenly transparent for a moment. It almost made the Sith smile, but Gerwald listened and pondered what he was hearing. Clearly he did not know what he wanted, or at least he was in conflict with himself. A bastion of death mentioning a taste of warmth, it was odd, but als telling. Oleander did not want to slink back into the shadows, nor did he want to retreat from them because of the expectation he would end up there once more.

“You don’t have to.”

Gerwald motioned about the room, but he indicated the entire planet.

“Have you ever stopped to think that this Order is not a place where you have to hide who or what you are?”

It was a question Gerwald wondered if Oleander had ever pondered ever in his life. Had he assumed the shadows meant he had to hide who he was and what he was for his entire existence. The Wolf had been forced to think about it for himself. His mother had convinced him he could never let anyone know his true nature because that would mean danger. Yet there were many who knew what he was, who he was, and Gerwald had gained power from them.

His hand fell and a door to the left of Oleander opened.

“Feed, but then come back to me. Tell me what it is you want. What can I give you that would let me have you at my side once again?”

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner

A dark brow rose in response as if to say 'Really? You're going to argue technicalities here?' He wanted to be mad. Oleander wanted little more than to wipe whatever expression the wolf maintained off his face, to render his being to that of a mindless husk.

Yet above all, he was tired. All the adrenaline of the fight, the energy put into his frenzied state was met by an unceremonious end. More than that, expressing what grievances he had, the issue he took with seemingly being abandoned with the fall of the Confederacy was treading into uncomfortable territory.

It shouldn't have bothered him. Just as he shouldn't have been rendered near-speechless with Gerwald's offer of an order he didn't have to hide. Even before he became Death, stealth and the ability to hide in plain sight were paramount to his survival. "Believe it or not, most people don't take kindly to being hunted for soup. Blending in is our way," he offered instead, voice drier than the saltiest of rations, opting not to consider the heavy hitting questions in the moment.

The opening door provided a sweet relief from introspection. His nostrils flared at the newfound freedom, the promise of soup. His brow furrowed, however, at the instructions that came with. Ones he didn't want to obey and, perhaps even now troubling, ones he didn't know how. But that was a problem for future Oleander, one who could think clearer.

Rising to his feet much slower than before, grumbling as the sun reached his eyes, he reached a hand out to his weapons. Only his lightsaber flew to his hands, the dagger once gifted by Gerwald remaining in it's resting place in a move that could either mean a terrible slight or a silent indication of his assent to return.

Feeding returned his strength, made the world a little less hazy, but it did little in finding an answer to the Wolf's questions. Not with an answer he felt inclined to share, anyway, the word 'warmth' still clinging to his mind like a web accidentally walked through in the early morning. That should've been a prime reason not to return to the loft and yet he found himself returning, still a shadow even in light.

"This 'off leash' you mentioned, how would that be different than before?"

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Oleander Webb

He waited for the feeding to finish. There was something about this which felt different. Oleander wanted more autonomy than they had agreed to last time. It was evident in the question itself. The nature of being Sith did not lend itself to trust, and yet, it almost required it. If pressed, the Wolf would be forced to admit the nature of their past relationship was one where Gerwald used the Anzat more like a tool rather than an equal.

That would not suffice this time.

They were not equal by measure of their power by any stretch of the imagination. Oleander had certain skills which Gerwald did not. The Wolf was a force of nature the Anzat would never be. It was more likely unfair to try and compare them. They needed each other, whether they recognized it or not. Gerwald could for his part, but it remained to be seen if Oleander did. The Dread Wolf had a long way to go before earning the Anzat’s loyalty once more. It was not going to be as simple as saying follow me.

He smiled when the monster returned from the room.

“I will have the body disposed of, discreetly of course.”

Oleander had not used the feeding as an excuse to run. To that point, the Wolf seemed to have reeled the Anzat in just enough. It was time for some honesty, and revelation of self reflection.

How would this off-leash be different than last time?

“I suppose this time… we will simply need to trust each other.”