#also im not entirelly happy with it but i dont entirely hate it either so guess whose gonna live with what he wrote

[impetuoustrolls-blog]

He was back again.

Of course he was back again—this fucker never learned his lesson, no matter how many times she thought she’d finally beaten it into him. Leave it to the planet’s most egotistical sea-dweller to never let her have peace in her forest simply because they happened to live close to one other. 

Cantus had relocated her hive this close to the ocean, in a solitary forest inhabited solely by a more poisonous breed of lusi, for peace—not to be bombarded with a harpoon wielding asshole. Yet, because she beat him up a couple of times, his ego wouldn’t let him live it down and he continued to come back, demanding a rematch.

And now Faldur was yelling ( louder than usual ).

Her ears were already weeping for the lost peace that her home previously held before he started scaring the birds that nested within the trees. They could digest him in seconds with their saliva—he really should be the one afraid of them, but no. 

The shouting continued, and his lisp made it rather hard for her to take him seriously ( she never took him seriously anyway ), but when the first shot was fired, her eyebrow raised. Her hive was nowhere in that direction—why had he let one loose?

-- and then the birds screamed.

Her already low patience for the troll plummeted further as she grit her teeth, moving from one branch to the other as she examined the damage. Two birds down on the ground, their purple blood staining the leaves and their wings twitching helplessly. One of them had only been young, a couple of sweeps old, the other its guardian. Neither of them were her lusus, but still her responsibility. This was her forest, and these were the inhabitants of it. 

Moving her gaze further to the right, she finally caught sight of the asshole who murdered the poor birds—standing there grinning, harpoon at the ready, proud of his work. He still couldn’t see her but he likely getting ready to shoot another one of her charges—then the leaves rustled because of the wind. He thought it was her moving. 

Like she’d be that obvious.

‘So you finally came to fight? I was thinking you lost your nerve, bitch,’ he yelled, as if he had any other tone of voice. She wondered absentmindedly how his throat could withstand the abuse he put it through. ‘See, I heard that you’d gone soft from someone I know, that you’ve taken on a moirail whose pathetically weak—just asking to get himself culled!’

Okay, so maybe that form of provocation was working ever so slightly more than his usual garbage. Her eyebrows furrowed, her lips instinctively turned to a snarl, but she kept herself quiet, held it in. Shit talking about her was one thing, but now this fucker knew about Latens? Who could have told him about—

Oh my god, that stupid fucking fur ball.’  

Cantus hadn’t bothered to remember what the troll had called himself since she wasn’t interested in learning the name of one so idiotic that he got stuck in a tree—but the only reason he left the forest alive despite pissing her off so much was because he claimed to be Latens’ friend, and that had been proven to be genuine. He was off limits but that didn’t mean she disliked him any less as clearly he was still a huge idiot—case in point, he had told the worst possible person about the existence of her weak moirail, still getting used to the lack of a limb.

‘Maybe I should pay him a visit and slice off his other arm—and maybe a leg too!’ this guy was still talking, and Cantus was getting more and more irritated. Usually she could control her anger to a degree, but Faldur was testing her patience. Again. Every protective instinct inside of her was screaming, telling her to tear him to pieces. 

‘I’m being so generous, don’t you think? Willing to sacrifice my precious time to waste on killing such a disgusting peasant,  and even going so far as allowing my wardrobe to get smeared in that horrible green. I can have his limbs delivered here too, so you can hang on to them and—‘ he didn’t get to finish the sentence, the last of her nerves were shot to oblivion and back.

So she did what any protective moirail would do—she drop-kicked him from her place on the tree, boot-clad foot connecting perfectly against his mouth.

The crunch was exactly what she wanted to hear too, obvious from the rare grin spreading across her face as she could feel him trying to resist her. His already fucked up mouth was now filled with shattered dentures—in her mind, she had done him a favor. 

Maybe now he could speak properly instead of spitting at her and every other poor soul who had to encounter his sorry ass.

Once she had firmly landed against his face, now on flat terrain below the trees, she could easily hear his hissing, his claws digging into her boots as he tried to pull her off his bloody face. With a smile, she complied, lifting her leg only to ( gracefully ) shove it right back in his gut, forcing him against the base of one of the bigger trees and leaving him coughing up the fuchsia cusp he was so proud of. This was so much fun. 

Snarling now, the troll shakily stood up, harpoon in one hand and—wait, was that a fucking hatchet? Where the fuck had he gotten one of those? It looked cheaper than the harpoon, which was obviously worth a lot in his eyes, his prized weapon.

Better to get rid of that first then.

He made the first move, shakily stomping towards her, harpoon aimed directly at her forehead. It was clear that he was too angry to think rationally, that she was an agile target who wouldn’t exactly let herself sit still. But, being the generous soul that she was, she let him continue to aim—before moving closer to him and grabbing to front of the weapon with her bare hand, fingers tightly clenched just off the arrow head. It was obvious what she was going to do then, and anyone could see Faldur inwardly cursing his rashness as Cantus proceeded to pull the harpoon from his hand with both of hers.

This idiot continued to forget that in terms of sheer physical strength, she was far more powerful than he was. His upper body was pathetic, he barely did anything to maintain his strength, and he boosted his ego by shooting things with a harpoon. What a big guy. As if to make a point on the matter ( which it most certainly was ), she pulled his arm and twisted it backwards before letting go, and as it made that wonderful snapping noise, she threw him back to the ground, purple eyes moving to inspect the newfound tool in her hands.

Cantus had always hated the harpoon. Weapons like them, ones that fired anything, were never her favorite. Fist fights were genuine tests of strength in her eyes, and while she adored her scythe and how smoothly it cut her targets, she never got the same feeling of pleasure from it as she did from punching a troll square in the nose and feeling it shatter beneath her fist. Guns were loud, for the weak to protect themselves with—and Faldur was among their ranks, practically nothing without his favored weapon.

And nothing he would remain. She looked at his bleeding face with her lip turning up on one side, eyes meeting his directly, and snapped the harpoon in two by bending it over her knee. 

‘You fucking bitch—’ eyes hazed over in fury, he lunged for her again despite his place on the ground, still acting purely out of anger and not thinking rationally in any sense. Sure, Cantus was pissed too, but she still could maintain some decorum. After all, once she was done with him, he wouldn’t be able to approach Latens. He’d be far too dead. So, to make the task of killing him off much simpler, her foot once again met his stomach ( she could get used to this ), and he was pressed against the firm oak.

‘I’m taking that as a compliment,’ she said in return, softly, quietly, in a way he would never speak to another for he was too loud, far too loud to be allowed live any longer. 

Humming in agreement with her own conclusion, her own verdict, she twirled one piece of the shattered harpoon around, holding it firmly, and quickly thrust it forward, lodging it into his stomach. His groan of pain was a sound she could actually tolerate, so she decided to do it again with the other half, except this time she dug it firmly into his kneecap. She had already broken his arm, might as well get a leg too.

But maybe she was having too much fun with torturing the sea-dweller, with serving him the justice he deserved for threatening her moirail, because as she was admiring her handiwork on his limbs, she had ( stupidly ) forgotten about the fucking hatchet which was now lodged in her side, Faldur cackling despite the pain as he watched her wince and draw back.

‘Son of a--’ Cantus could tolerate pain, she had been taught to from the moment she emerged from those accursed caverns and was brought into the Carnival, but the fact that this pathetic son of a bitch had landed a clean hit on her—and it was her own damn fault for being too confident in herself, it didn’t sit in her stomach well, it made her physically ill. 

This could not motherfucking stand.

Spitting out the purple bile that had risen in her throat, and tugging the hatchet out of her stomach with a curse muttered under her breath, she gripped the handle tightly in her bloody hand, fuchsia and purple mixing together to form something hideous in her eyes. 

Common sense would dictate that she tend to the open wound on her side, abandon the already defeated royal and make sure she didn’t pass out from blood loss. But no, she was past rational, she was past being generous and killing him in a way that would stop hurting once he died. No, today wasn’t the day he’d die, but he’d sure as hell face hell for touching her like that, for injuring her like that. 

He wasn’t a worthy opponent in any sense; he didn’t deserve to scar her.

‘What the fu—where are we fucking going?’ he couldn’t move anymore, he wasn’t skilled enough to walk on only one leg, so she had decided to grab him by the hair and drag him along the grass, hatchet still in the other hand. 

It only took a few minutes to throw him outside the boundaries of her forest, his body landing with a thud that couldn’t have felt pleasant. The ocean scent hit her, and while she would usually retreat the minute she could hear it, she stood firm. Without a word, she threw the hatchet until it hit a tree right in the trunk, embedding itself into the wood and firmly rooting itself in place until someone would come to claim it. Then, bending down ( and ignoring the ever present ooze in her side, the numbness that was spreading to her arm ), she simply looked him the eye—that was all it took. He didn’t seem to understand at first—but then he did. Recognition sparked briefly in his eyes when they met her own glowing ones. 

Then he screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

And she walked away. 

She left him there, stuck in a nightmare, eyes still flickering purple and pink. Maybe he’d bleed out, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe someone would find him, maybe they wouldn’t. She didn’t care. Not anymore. By the time she reached her hive, the bleeding had reached a point where her vision was hazy and black spots were cropping up everywhere she looked.

It was once she was stitched up, and was content that she wouldn’t bleed out, the sickness settled into her gut and her face was placed in her hands. Her skin was clammy, legs shaky.

Sweeps ago, she said she wouldn’t use those voodoos again—why should she, if she was no longer a member of the Church? She had left that life behind her for a reason. Yet that fucker—that thorn in her side, he had pushed and pushed and pushed until she just couldn’t tolerate him any other way but trapped in one of the worst dreams she could conjure up. 

Sure, he might not be a bother anymore now that he was surely stricken with mental images that would continue to haunt him for days to come, and yes that would be better for her and all those she tended to—

but the sickness in her stomach remained. 

‘Shit.’ 

#my stuff #wynn writes shit #cantus #this got REAL FUCKIN LONG #also im not entirelly happy with it but i dont entirely hate it either so guess whose gonna live with what he wrote #cantus hates faldur but not in a #<3- sort of way #she just straight up hates his fucking guts and wants him dead #fun insight using her chucklevoodoos makes her sick #1. because she hasnt used them in sweeps so shes out of practice and strains herself to use them #2. she hates remembering the church