Brecken
For an instant, Brecken wanted nothing more than to punch the man-beast in the face. Half his mind was there already, shrugging off his pack and setting aside his weapon, lunging forward and smashing the stupid fucking grin off its face before it returned to being a lion again and disemboweled him. Gods, he deserved some kind of reward for resisting the urge, it was so powerful and the anticipation tasted so satisfying. If only it were not here, not now, not the culmination of these circumstances. Brecken grated his teeth instead, the muscles in his jaw standing out. He could picture the aftermath, too, of course — Here lies Brecken Michaelis, who accomplished no great deeds, and was crushed too early under the weight of his own ego. Truly his father would be proud. And Saffrin, too. This was what truly gave him pause — the presence of the goddess in his mind, the knowledge that he had come to offer homage and was now so thoroughly off the rails he was thinking about fighting with a stranger. The disrespect.
Another roll of the shoulders, like a boxer squaring up for a match, only Brecken was trying to wind down. "Games," he said, his grin sudden and jagged. "I'm sure you do." He was certain now the stranger was taunting him, playing the fool only to elicit a reaction. Still, he could not in good faith act on this knowledge, and that alone made him all the more furious. If only he were slightly more reckless, or slightly less....
"I'm not going to break one of the gods' favorite toys in sight of a shrine, though," he said, twisting the mangled situation as best he could to make himself the victor, even if it were only in his own mind. "You want to meet me where there's a little more open space, I'd be happy to play." His eyes remained on the stranger, the lengthening teeth and the return of the claws duly noted as they occurred. This way, at least, whatever happened wasn't entirely Brecken's fault. He could enjoy the violence, if it happened. And if no violence unfolded, if he had actually managed to diffuse a situation rather than make it worse, then — surely that made him some kind of saint.
Another roll of the shoulders, like a boxer squaring up for a match, only Brecken was trying to wind down. "Games," he said, his grin sudden and jagged. "I'm sure you do." He was certain now the stranger was taunting him, playing the fool only to elicit a reaction. Still, he could not in good faith act on this knowledge, and that alone made him all the more furious. If only he were slightly more reckless, or slightly less....
"I'm not going to break one of the gods' favorite toys in sight of a shrine, though," he said, twisting the mangled situation as best he could to make himself the victor, even if it were only in his own mind. "You want to meet me where there's a little more open space, I'd be happy to play." His eyes remained on the stranger, the lengthening teeth and the return of the claws duly noted as they occurred. This way, at least, whatever happened wasn't entirely Brecken's fault. He could enjoy the violence, if it happened. And if no violence unfolded, if he had actually managed to diffuse a situation rather than make it worse, then — surely that made him some kind of saint.
Real gods require blood.
