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With a snarl, he shoved hard, delighting in shock in the younger male’s eyes as he was thrown back, his bulk crashing into some small table or something of the like hidden in the darkness behind him. The bitter curse that rose from the male as he staggered brought a hard smile to Raskyuil’s lips as he stepped into the dark interior, looming over the troll scrambling to his feet. Bringing up a foot, he pushed the male over again when he attempted to rise, and Cathol fell with an outraged snarl that made Raskyuil chuckle darkly.
“Basic diplomacy and courtesy. It seems that the younger generation, especially those who have exiled themselves to this world, have forgotten them,” he observed casually, his eyes tracking the male’s movements as he scurried back in an attempt to gain enough distance to mount an offensive, his tail flicking angrily.
It seemed that only the old way of conquering by might and establishing dominance would be recognized among the most headstrong that apparently made up the younger broods.
“What reason do I have to honor the customs of the old world?” Cathol snarled. “This is my home, and this outpost is under my protection—even against trolls who might seek to cause trouble here. You have no rights here to call upon as I do not owe anything to you, especially not when you dwell within a carnival from which terrible sounds come at night,” he spat as Raskyuil reached over and dragged the male fully to his feet, his fingers curled tightly in his tunic. “I cannot dissuade my people from attending that foolishness, but I owe you and yours nothing.”
They stood there, glowering at each other, their tails twitching angrily as they faced off. Although he hated to admit it and did not like that it was being used against him, there was logic to the male’s words. It was only right that Cathol’s allegiance be foremost to the outpost. But still, to reject a supplicant who offered their hands peacefully harmed none to be heard out.
“And for what reason do you refuse a supplicant who offers no harm and seeks only conversation? I am traveling with the carnival right now because it suits my immediate purposes, but I am not with them in any sense and my purpose here has nothing to do with them. I need your assistance.”
Cathol’s brows dipped in a puzzled expression. “I addressed exactly where to seek help when it comes to any issues within the outpost.”
Raskyuil swallowed back a frustrated groan. “I need assistance, but not of that sort,” he explained through gritted teeth, embarrassed for his current state.
The other male’s frown deepened, and he swatted at Raskyuil’s hands until he yielded and let him go. Taking several steps back, Cathol straightened to his full height and carefully straightened his clothes.
“Perhaps you should speak plainly then. What kind of problem are you having exactly?”
A weary grunt escaped Raskyuil, and he ran a hand through his hair, brushing the dark mass back behind the ears that swept back from his head. “It pertains to mating.”
Cathol had to have a death wish from the way he laughed, earning a sharp look from Raskyuil.
“My apologies. Did you really say you are having a problem mating? Or is there something that you are not clear on in regard to mating? And a male of your age too!”
Raskyuil cut him a scathing look. “It’s not that. I’m thoroughly educated on the matter, but I have spent a great many centuries in service in the high court of Silvas, or Selvans rather, and much time has lapsed since I’ve been among our people or have had the opportunity to refresh my knowledge. And now something unexpected has happened. Something I fear will threaten my sanity.”
The overseer sobered, his head cocking slightly as he regarded him. “I see. This sounds ominous. The last thing I want around here is a troll, especially one of your size and obvious capabilities, going mad and bringing further chaos here. Come with me,” he sighed, gesturing for Raskyuil to follow him as he moved darker into his abode. “I fear that this will not be a short conversation, and I would much rather enjoy the night bloom tea I’ve brewed than continue this discussion in the entry.”
Rumbling in agreement, Raskyuil followed him through a short hall into a large sitting room furnished in a way that seemed a strange mishmash of troll scale and taste and human design. Even in the soft lighting of the very few candles set around the room, his sensitive eyes could make out the splashes of color amid the soothing hues of greens and browns and soft blues blended together throughout the room.
“What do you think?” Cathol asked, as he lowered himself onto a large plush chair, his attention turning nearly entirely to the tea as he proceeded to pour.
“It’s dark,” Raskyuil pointed out.
The other male chuckled softly as he stirred honey into his cup. “Ithasbeen a while since you’ve been home. Did you become so accustomed to the brilliance of fae courts that you’ve so easily forgotten that trolls find comfort in the darker places? But that aside, do you like it?”
A reluctant grunt rose from Raskyuil’s chest. He had not realized that time had dimmed so much of his memory of home, but now that he thought on it… Cathol was right. “The colors are very pleasing,” he added gruffly. “They remind me of the cool ponds and the woodlands of the Eternal Forest.”
Cathol smiled and pushed a teacup in Raskyuil’s direction. “Have some while we talk.” Raskyuil stared down at the cup warily and was greeted by a dry chuckle from the overseer. “It won’t bite. I swear it is not tainted and will not harm you. I’m curious as to your situation now despite myself. Especially now that you’ve demonstrated some good taste. My mate will be pleased to hear it, which pleases me in turn.”
Raskyuil inclined his head and wordlessly slid the teacup closer to add some honey to the dark liquid before picking up the cup and bringing it up to his nose. The scents of home flooded through, bringing pleasant memories of his youth with it. The first taste, however, was like being in his mother’s kitchen once more. He eagerly drank it, relishing it until not a drop was left.
Lowering the cup, he stared down at its empty bottom, and Cathol sighed across from him.
“Ithasbeen a long a time,” he reiterated. “You poor male. Cut from your own roots for so long and now you are wandering alone here. I must say that I pity you.”
Raskyuil scoffed quietly as he ignored a faint pang in the region of his heart. “Do not pity me. This is what I wanted. What of you,” he challenged as he lifted his eyes and met the overseer’s knowing gaze. “Why are you here, so far from home?”
Settling back into his chair, Cathol sighed. “It is a long and unpleasant tale which I do not wish to speak of other than to say that my clan is no more. My kin are all gone, and I couldn’t bear to remain.”
Raskyuil’s head lowered sympathetically. “We have a shared grief then.”
Cathol grimaced. “Not an unusual tale.” He gave him a long look. “Which of the Elvish Wars obliterated your clan?”
“The third.”
The male’s brows rose. “And you’ve spent all that time since at the Eternal Court? Well, no wonder your memory is so poor. I wouldn’t have guessed,” he murmured with a shake of his head.
