He stared at him, trying to figure out how to explain it. it was like trying to explain how his heart beat, or how he had become demon dead. How do you explain your own breath?
Yet he had to try.
"Warlord Princes are born to be warriors, protectors, predators..." he said. Was that the best place to start? He had no clue. Certainly someone else could have explained this better, the High Lord, perhaps. But no one else was here, and somehow he doubted Aiylshia's description would be terribly flattering. If she were playing attention.
Which she was... what had caught her her focus had long since resolved, but she was giving the males some time to talk, while she pursued other inward tasks, wove other webs. She was aware of most of the conversation, but kept herself out of it. It was rare for males to speak so freely when females that were not close as family were present. Perhaps even then. Her experiences, close experiences, with males were few, and far from all of them were pleasant. None were close.
"Aggression," Theiorn said, still considering his words carefully, "that cold violence... it is what we are." That wasn't a bad way to put it, he supposed. "We are temper given flesh, the protective urges inherent in all the Blood, amplified and cast as human."
Or Kindred, she thought with an internal sniff, insulted at the slight on behalf of the Kindred.
"Without females to hold our leash, without Protocol to show them how, that would be all we were ever capable of," he said, still thinking. "They are what give us the ability to think and reason, to see things in real time, rather than at the pace of heart beats... that we can love, that we can cherish, that we can find joys in things other than the killing, that we can look to a woman's softness and find welcome... that is why Warlord Princes are so drawn to protect, I suppose." That wasn't all of it, he knew, but he had no clue how to explain that primal pull. "We need them, we need their softness, their steel under silk, their..." he simply could not find words to encompass all that a woman meant, to a Warlord Prince. And a Queen... a good Queen....
"We protect women, but Queens... We hand to them out lives, our very wills. Queens spend their whole lives from birth until they establish a court of their own, and often beyond, to the study of protocol, to learning how to handle male aggression, Warlord Princes especially. To channel our anger into service, to pull us back from the killing edge. To tell you a secret," he said softly, and would not have said at all if he knew she were listening, else he'd have sent spear to spear. "For all we say we serve them, we need them far more than they need us."
no subject
Yet he had to try.
"Warlord Princes are born to be warriors, protectors, predators..." he said. Was that the best place to start? He had no clue. Certainly someone else could have explained this better, the High Lord, perhaps. But no one else was here, and somehow he doubted Aiylshia's description would be terribly flattering. If she were playing attention.
Which she was... what had caught her her focus had long since resolved, but she was giving the males some time to talk, while she pursued other inward tasks, wove other webs. She was aware of most of the conversation, but kept herself out of it. It was rare for males to speak so freely when females that were not close as family were present. Perhaps even then. Her experiences, close experiences, with males were few, and far from all of them were pleasant. None were close.
"Aggression," Theiorn said, still considering his words carefully, "that cold violence... it is what we are." That wasn't a bad way to put it, he supposed. "We are temper given flesh, the protective urges inherent in all the Blood, amplified and cast as human."
Or Kindred, she thought with an internal sniff, insulted at the slight on behalf of the Kindred.
"Without females to hold our leash, without Protocol to show them how, that would be all we were ever capable of," he said, still thinking. "They are what give us the ability to think and reason, to see things in real time, rather than at the pace of heart beats... that we can love, that we can cherish, that we can find joys in things other than the killing, that we can look to a woman's softness and find welcome... that is why Warlord Princes are so drawn to protect, I suppose." That wasn't all of it, he knew, but he had no clue how to explain that primal pull. "We need them, we need their softness, their steel under silk, their..." he simply could not find words to encompass all that a woman meant, to a Warlord Prince. And a Queen... a good Queen....
"We protect women, but Queens... We hand to them out lives, our very wills. Queens spend their whole lives from birth until they establish a court of their own, and often beyond, to the study of protocol, to learning how to handle male aggression, Warlord Princes especially. To channel our anger into service, to pull us back from the killing edge. To tell you a secret," he said softly, and would not have said at all if he knew she were listening, else he'd have sent spear to spear. "For all we say we serve them, we need them far more than they need us."