Euthalia was sitting on her bed, her feet crossed before her, and her hands behind her, propping her up. The position was one that was oddly casual, which was odd for the small woman. Her hair was unbound, falling about her shoulders as she looked to the half-finished letter she was composing. A small wooden slate was under the papers as evidence of her actually working on it. Now, however, it was time for a temporary reprieve. Euthalia wiggled her unclothed toes.

There was a look of contemplation on her face, as her eyes turned out towards the room. It had the faintest edge of something else entirely, and it caused a slight frown and a serious quirk of the mouth. “This isn’t what I expected,” she said suddenly. Her eyes drifted back towards the papers. Quieter: “Not quite.”

Sliding off the lacy sheets, she grasped her chin in a gesture of great thought and looked at Cheveyo a moment before walking back and forth. “I am not saying that I do not enjoy my position as Tarepha leader, that I do not think that I am doing a far better job than my predecessor, but… I’m not sure. I suppose I expected that I would have implemented the changes that were the motivating factor in me wanting this position in the first place. As that has yet to happen, I wonder at my own abilities and the wishes of those around me. Perhaps they do not want the future I have envisioned.”

Her face contorted into frustration. “They could be so great, if only they could curb their predatory instincts but a smidge, and see the benefits that intellect can bring. But they were too leaderless too long. I believe they are anarchic.”

Walking over, she wrapped her arms around Cheveyo. They didn’t reach the entire way, but it didn’t matter. “You’re Tarepha too, Cheveyo. Tell me what you think.”

Cheveyo watched Euthalia’s pacing with the rapport of a loyal and well-trained dog, seated perfectly still on the floor of her room with only his dark eyes tracking her movements. Though he roughly understood what she was speaking of, it took an effort on his part to hold his attention to her words, as his mind had never taken a liking to politics outside of those involved in warfare. It therefore came as a delayed shock when the small woman asked his opinion on the matters she was mulling over, and there was a silence of several seconds following her request.

His thoughts on the issues did pass into reckoning, but he easily dismissed them; this was not his time, and these were not his people. His solutions were outdated; their practises long extinct. Euthalia kept with the times. She always seemed to know best.

“I think your methods are best. Give them more time to see this also,” he replied at last, lightly enclosing one of her small hands in his much larger one, his gaze cast toward it with an absent tenderness.

Euthalia was still frowning, and, had she really been the child she appeared to be, Cheveyo might have had to worry about the possibility of her breaking into tears. As it was, there was little chance of that, and she contented herself with laying her head on his chest. She closed her eyes, breathing deep breaths to calm herself.

There was a delay in his words that did nothing to make her feel better about her current conflict of opinions, and which caused her to frown even harder. When he spoke, she drew back slightly still looking frustrated. Searching his face for signs of anything else, she sighed, and returned his gentle gaze with a touch of sadness.

"I don't know, Cheveyo," was her reply, touching his cheek with the back of her hand. "For all my knowledge, I don't seem to know much. I'm not sure that they will come around. I'm not even sure that that's what you really think. Would you tell me if it wasn't?"

Her eyes were downcast. Then, slowly, she said, "Await no further word or sign from me: your will is free, erect, and whole—to act against that will would be to err: therefore I crown and miter you over yourself." Looking up, she met his gaze rather determinedly, placing her hand on his cheek.

Cheveyo’s eyes drifted from their hands and back to her face at her gentle touch, and for a moment his brow furrowed at the unaccustomed sadness he found there. He listened to her words and followed her minute movements attentively as ever, but the general buzzing in his mind that overrode most of his higher thought was falling back to allow additional sense and emotion to have input on his reactions.

His reply came after an even longer delay than the first, but his voice had lost its casually monotonous quality, to be replaced by a hesitant softness. “Yes, I’d tell you, and I’ll tell you now, that it wasn’t all of what I think.” He cast his eyes down again, as if a bit perturbed by admitting his opinions while looking her in the eye. Fact was, that was the exact truth.

“Many of them are not sane enough to have any appreciation of intellect. Those Tarepha need to be offered something else in exchange for following your ways. Something they understand. Any predator will follow a leader if there is a clear benefit to them. I do not know what thing you could offer them that you haven’t already though. In my eyes, you have provided them all with what they should want. Other than total chaos.” He shrugged a little, realizing again why he didn’t offer his opinion; the train of thought rarely went anywhere of value.

Leaning forward, she placed the softest of kisses on his forehead, smoothing away some of his long dark hair. Euthalia then leaned her head against his, holding it to her as she continued to stroke his hair in a way that seemed almost maternal. She wasn't his mother though, or his daughter, or his lover. There was no word to describe their relationship.

"Hm. Yes, I feared as much," she murmured into his hair. "I have to find something they'd want. Some way they'd find me as appealing, as good a leader as they found..." Here she trailed off, not wanting to dwell on that particular tanget. "I've offered them power. I've offered them blood. What else could they desire?"

She sighed again, and brought his face up to hers. "Thank you for being honest with me."

It had value to Euthalia, though she would probably never say that out loud. It was implied by simply asking him what it was.

Cheveyo closed his eyes as her small lips brushed his skin, an expression that was part reverence and part utter peace momentarily softening the hard lines of his face. As she toyed with his hair, he did the same with hers, twining several strands around his fingertip while she spoke.

“I wouldn’t be anything else,” he stated, a steady seriousness to his gaze as he once again met hers.

The wheels of his somewhat unstable mind hadn’t finished turning yet however, and he brought the course of conversation back around with a decisive remark; “Violence and carnage,” then added quickly after, “though they do get that from you now too. Perhaps...structured violence and carnage?”

Getting a little excited now, he chastely kissed her cheek before continuing. “What if you begin allowing the coven deal out punishment for certain crimes? A member that goes against you is ordered to be hunted down by his or her peers. It would satisfy an amount of bloodlust not normally permitted. Of course special cases that require your personal touch would still be left to you.” He watched her intently, waiting for her reply.

"Good."

Euthalia seemed to be trying to tell him something with her gaze, something that hung heavy upon the air, but even she couldn't put words to it. She simply knew that she would not want him to change for anyone, not even her. He was what she needed simply as he was.

Brow furrowed into thought , she sat down on his leg, pressing her cheek against his silent chest. Her eyes moved back and forth, as if she were reading some invisible manuscript. It was a possibility that she had not considered previously, and one that had all the right edges to fit into the puzzle she had already completed. It was, she supposed, a bit like her life in general. It worked fine without a missing piece - you could still tell what it was supposed to be - but with that piece, everything was a bit clearer.

"I think that that is a brilliant idea," she said, rubbing her cheek against his chest. Looking up at him, she kissed him gently just this side of his lips. "Thank you."

Her words were tinged with a gratitude not often heard.