It's getting hard to bear, watching you all alone

[forakingdom]

They set up camp in the shadow of the place so that Griffith could watch it.

Though the walls were sound and the castle looked whole, even luxurious, no one suggested that they camp inside. There was something about it, a coldness, and the local villagers spoke of ghosts and demons and monsters in the haunted castle. Conflicting stories too outrageous to be real.
Griffith wanted to explore. But even he hesitated at the sight of the dark gate. Perhaps in the morning. Once they were rested.

In the morning, he took the lead with Guts. They left their horses down in camp with most of the band, and took only a small raiding party to investigate.

The castle’s gates were wide open, as if for a festival, and there were even garlands of wilted white flowers and scraps of fluttering white silk festooned around the courtyard. Griffith entered warily, hand on his sword. He kept Guts by his side, though they went a few paces ahead of the others. If they faced down anything supernatural, Griffith wanted to meet it first.

Somehow it wasn’t a surprise when the gates slammed shut behind them. Griffith glanced back, expression tight as they were cut off from the rest of their party, and drew his sword.

“Welcome, my love.”

A figure seemed to melt up out of the rocks, solidifying as if from wax and drawing itself up to a height of more than seven feet, not including the curving horns that grew from its brow. It had dark brown skin with gray and mossy hues distinctly reminiscent of grave pallor and loam. Both the face and the figure had a striking sort of beauty, as if they had been carved from wax and cast in bronze by a master sculptor, though there was something unnatural and unnerving about it. The body was perfect and bare, with no clothing to conceal the heavy phallus that hung between its legs.

It had eyes only for Griffith, who stared at it in stunned shock as it approached, not even lifting his sword to stop it as it reached for him as if to draw him into a lover’s embrace.

Comments

[forakingdom]

It wasn't about Gale and Raulyn. Griffith understands that now, as he watches Guts tremble.

He drops his hand away, giving him space. This isn't the sort of thing Griffith knows how to address. These kinds of weaknesses are such that Griffith prefers to handle by pretending they don't exist. Though he can do his best to lessen such threats and discomforts, like he does for Casca, Griffith doesn't know how to talk about such things, and he doesn't particularly want any confessions. He doesn't want to know what haunts Guts enough to cause today's scene.

So he closes off. He blinks once, and he's the leader of the Hawks again, untouchable and unknowable, barely human. Beautiful and merciful, but not gentle.

"Try not to kill any of my men," Griffith says, and turns away, heading back toward the camp.

[swordbiter]

"I won't."

Guts' voice comes solidly this time, managing to get a grip on himself. The space made the trembling stop, but somehow felt incredibly lonely at the same time. Damn it, was he just about to bawl his eyes out back there? He wasn't even the one nearly killed.

"I'll make up for it in the next battle."

He swears this, eyes resolute. Nothing has changed. It was just him and his sword, and nothing else. That is what he must focus on. Same as always.