Tears of the Sun [Cane/O]

[Nero!]

It was well into the evening, and the sun was slowly being choked out from the sky. It fought to stay alight, shining ever brighter the closer it came to its quiet death. Streaks of crimson stained the horizon, the distant clouds ablaze with the fury of the falling star. The next day, it would rise from the ashes once more, the bathe the world in its glory, only to face the same fate the next evening. It was a constant cycle of death and rebirth; something that Thyme admired. Sitting atop a small mound of refuse, her vivid blue eyes stared at the diminishing light, not wavering so much as a hairs width. The colder months were more difficult for the sun. The days were shorter, the moon and its legion of stars taking control of time that had once been reserved for the day dwelling creatures. She silently pitied the great star, but would never openly say so. She favored the moon, the deep shadows it cast providing more cover for an otherwise easy target. Ruffling out her fur and grooming her whiskers, the small doe moved off from her perch, the battle of the evening having ended and a time for foraging having begun.

Her delicate paws picked their way through the rubbish, guiding her body down with ease. A stop here and a scratch there, she picked up small pieces of food where she could. There was enough to go around for the time being, and she could afford to be picky. Being a rat of lab heritage, she hadn't fully adjusted to the wild rat's tastes. She would eat just about anything if she had to, but in better times, she chose fresher fruits and vegetables, avoiding those that had rotten fully through. She knew that, come winter, things would be starkly different. But while she had the time to be choosy, she took advantage of it. It was one of the few sins she took delight in.

Snuffling about, she thought back passively to the days when she lived in the care of the humans. Vague emotions of fear and panic passed through her mind, only to vanish moments later. She picked up a small strawberry stub, resting on her haunches and munching quietly at it. Thyme didn't feel much for the humans. She didn't hate them, nor did she love them. Fear was always present when in close proximity to them, but more so over the thought that they might step on her rather than go out of their way to harm her. She never understood what they were doing to herself or her siblings, or why they did it. But she did understand that they were being fed and cared for, given warm living quarters and a safe place to sleep in turn for freedom. Licking her lips and paws of the sticky pink juice, she sighed gently. No matter how much they gave the lab rats in turn for their being captive, it was never worth it. Only after having escaped did she realize that.

Yet, now that she was free, she didn't quite know what to do with herself. She was alone, and that frightened her. None of the wild rats seemed keen on taking her in; she was small, weak, and skittish. Whatever they were working for had no use for a rat like Thyme. She was seen as nothing more than dead weight, and thus left behind or driven off if she proved to be persistent. She had roamed with some of the other lab rats for a small time, but that too had ended badly for her. Knowing her history back within the labs, the other lab rats had grown jealous of her, and turned their frustrations into blind violence against her. Thyme didn't blame them. She would have been angry if she were one of them too.

Finishing up her strawberry, the small doe continued her way down, her path illuminated by the growing moon's silvery light.

[Makarov]

It was strange that his paranoia would let him stray so far, but with the assistance of his Pawrats and Pages the Great King himself found he could move with quite a bit of ease at the paws of his litter-bearers. Their slight straining grunts went unheard to the ears of a creature as fantastic as he, as Cane had long since learned to tune the bellyachings of the lower class rats out almost completely. Those who were there were there to serve beneath him and that was assurance enough to him that he was not doing a speckle of a wrong doing in this world. His whiskers twitched as the King lifted a chalice to his lips, peeking out from the four-post litter surrounded by coverings of satin which whipped playfully in the cool autumn air. The sun was dwindling in the distance, casting a warm mellow light across the edging form of the company of rats which were taking King Cane Dantzig the Third out on a less then routine walk.

Usually he never chose to go so far as the dump, but this was his Kingdom and why should he fear to survey it. The Rebellion was growing strong but they could not be everywhere at all times. Even still he had a heavily armed guard surround the slowly moving litter as it bobbed it's way through the mountains of trash. Surprisingly enough the life was either dead or hidden here, but it did not stop the King from looking about himself tensely, all the while expecting an attack out of the blue. His Battle claws, sheaths of burnished and pounded metals made to fit his pawclaws perfectly, sat by his side. He stroked them idly as his tail twitched to the general swinging motion of the gate of his litter-bearers.

It was not long before his convoy was pulled to a complete halt, coming along the path of a lone doe sitting amongst the brick-a-brack rubbish and staring off into the diminishing light. The darkening sky had already started to form a bruised color on the further horizons away from the sun. Cane, oblivious to the reason for the change of pace called out tempestuously. "What seems to be the hold up?!"

He poked his muzzle out and it soon became obvious. The guards nearest to her, large rats adorned in home-pressed armors and with an array of deadly weapons began to close in on the lone female when the massive male suddenly called a halt to the advances. "Hold on boys, your King wishes to address this rat." And with that they stood down immediately, saluting their weapons, spears and swords alike as their leader made a less then graceful decent from the height of his litter. His bearers, relieved, placed the chariot down and silently awaited their master's word. Cane strolled out towards the bottom of the pile and spoke in tones both articulate and sly, masking themselves as a kind of concern.

"Fair doe, what are you doing on a pile of rubble when you could be indulging in a life devoid of worry and hunger?" He said aloud, trying to make his tones sound credible and caring.

[Nero!]

Her being alone didn't last long. Coming down from her stunted perch, Thyme was met by a group of massive rats. Metal plates decorated their bodies, sharp objects that reeked of man clutched tight in their paws. She froze, her eyes growing wide with terror. What had she done? Were they going to hurt her? She shivered lightly at the thought. They towered over her, advancing slowly and carefully, as if waiting for her to bolt. Her instincts screamed for her to run, yet her body seemed to disobey, locking her joints and muscles in place. Blood rushed through her low set ears, becoming the only thing she could hear. The steady thump of her heart became fast and erratic, skipping beats and kicked off its gentle rhythm. Standing there like a deer caught in headlights, Thyme found herself at a loss as to what to do.

That is, until he spoke. With a simple command and flick of his wrist, the mysterious and decidedly regal looking rat called off the brutish monsters that so threatened her. Perking up slightly, Thyme struggled to see past the guards, a spark of curiosity alight in her eyes. But as they parted, in a way one would have expected Moses to have parted the great sea, a large figure strolled forth. He wasn't like anything Thyme had ever seen before. He was large; a thick frame and a rather portly waist. He was dressed in magnificent robes, of materials she had known others to kill for. A handsomely decorated crown sat atop his head, glimmering in the moonlight like a collection of stars for him to call his own. Thyme didn't know who this rat was, but she knew he was of great importance and standing.

Her mind slowly kicking into gear, she dropped to the ground in order to bow more respectfully. She said not a word to him; instead waiting for him to speak. It was the least she could do for one so well kept and of such great influence. To have so many large armed guards around him at one time! Her mind flitted over the many possibilities of what she had just stumbled upon. Was he royalty? A member of the royal court? A descendant of pure blood? He looked to have not an ounce of lab blood to taint his image; though he was in better condition than any wild rat she had ever come across. His round midsection should have been signal enough. Whoever he was, he lived a life of luxury.

As he spoke again, her mind buzzed with activity. His words were so strong, coming from the voice of a true leader. They were smooth and rich, elegant and well placed. His speech was almost too perfect to be natural, but in the manner with which he spoke, it seemed fluid and effortless. Thyme found herself awestruck, and for a small moment, speechless. What was she to say to a creature of such magnificence? I-I did not think myself worthy, my lord. She stumbled, her delicate voice light and dazed. She hoped her presence didn't offend him. It was strange to see such royalty speaking to the likes of her, and she wondered why he had stopped his brigade from simply pushing her aside.

[Makarov]

Eyes filled with pure awe and appreciation reigned down upon the matriarchal figure, who stood in his most royal posture, his spine rigid and his ample gut springing forward. The belt that ran around it, secured by a gold buckle in the front seemed to strain against the tough leather, as if so very lucky to be staying there at all. A slight breeze caused his cloak to tousle about playfully. There was still a small degree of fear there though, it remained pinned to the armed creatures that stood close behind their king, javalins menacing and royal banners fluttering. Their thrown together armor gleamed in the pale light of the moon, as did King Cane's dark but fading to gray fur. The moonlight was captured in his whiskers and the deep, crimson pitch of his almost beetle-black eyes.

The King held one rather small hand towards the female still gazing tentatively at him, keeping just away, but still in a state of disbelief. A kindly smile spread wide across his jovially large jowls as he attempted to coerce her down. "My dear doe, I am the revered King Cane Dantzig the Second, and I offer you a place in my court, away from all of this. Come with me and you will never have to worry about your next meal ever again."

It was now he hunkered down a bit, leaning his forearms against the fronts of his hindlegs as he gazed up at the she-rat. Oh what an actor he was, so saccharine and sweet, so royally wholesome. There was a distinct stony gaze that seemed to pass between the guard company at Cane's back, something a little more knowing then what this Kingly figure was letting off. Yet it was a fleeting thing. "Now what is the name of the maiden to which I have become acquainted? I would quite adore to know. Please, come down, kneel if you will." It seemed so very little a command. If there was one thing that the King was notorious for doing, it was masking his needs to be worshiped with a covering of strangely exhilarating kindness. Often time it simply shocked the average public of his court.

And though he seemed casual all the same, Cane was well on guard himself, keeping an eye out any moment he could genuinely spare it. For who knew when some sort of raiding party was going to seek their chance to enact a sneak attack on the king they so very loathed? Now was a good a chance as any, but Cane knew he could not show he was afraid. This was still his kingdom afterall, dammit.