interview with the vampire

@Miriam

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Jericho hisses that Nicabar's flippant nature is a bad idea. They are small creatures, and they can die so easily. And Nicabar has not dictated an heir to Imperial Thracia yet. It could be a bloodbath; his wife, his sons, his daughter all splitting the rule of the Empire as they wish. And then it will all come crashing down. But Nicabar doesn't think it will end in death. He is quick, smart, and clever. He never speaks to a wolf without an escape route. Right now it's a downy patch of brambles that would certainly injure a wolf that would dive into them. Despite the snow, the thorny branches still remain, and he is willing to watch a creature impale itself if it comes to that.

Jericho watches him from the safety of the brambles, likely cursing his name, but Nicabar is only a few paces away. And the gray she-wolf is not far. He thinks, in such ways, he could perhaps reason with these beasts. Convince them to only take their sick and lowly and elderly. Of course Jericho wouldn't approve; he's one of the oldest rabbits in the warren, and if he weren't Magistra, he'd be one of the first to be sent to the outer patrols. But he's not going to open with that. He's simply going to prove to other rabbits that his power, his intelligence, his majesty, is acknowledged even by the monsters that kill their children.

He doesn't grow close to the she-wolf. He's not foolish enough to do that. There's no fear in his eyes, though, but a tacit acknowledgement of their difference in power. But speed? He's faster, smaller, and the brambles are nearby. Victory is assured. "Greetings, hunter," he calls. "You have the look of one who ranges far. I am curious of your kind, hunter. Would you care for a dialogue? To bridge the gaps of our people, perhaps?"

Let the Centurions see that their Emperor is no weakling runt. He is the man who will bring unity to the rabbits of this world. And he will destroy all who stand in his way. For he will command the might of wolves.
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Miriam was not expecting a rabbit to approach her and desire such a conversation. She had met others, that were not her own species speak to her in a familiar tongue. She wasn't sure whether a universal language came to be, or somehow they spoke wolf, or whether it was vice versa. It had opened a new world she felt, where she interacted with felines alike, although scared her, and even danced with a deer. She had not seen the other for quite some time unfortunately, and it pained her heart to think if he had been hunted in this wolf-infested region. She naturally though the worst, as time went on and realizing how simply.. Populated, the land was with her kind.

There was no fear as he stood back, but his words gave her thought of whether he was fearful of her kind, and wouldn't bat an eye twice on the reasoning. They were a prime source of food, she admitted and would even say has dined on how kind more then a few times. So was the cycle of nature that continued to roll and roll, and it wouldn't be a surprise if one day the dial had casted upon herself.

She bent down, body leveling to their own and a relaxed tone setting, as she smiled kindly at the other. An attempted re-assurance she would not approach further or bare such teeth at him, hoping at the very least it'd provide some comfort to the other, "although i'm afraid I cannot speak for all wolf kind.. I would still enjoy a conversation."

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Ah, but what sort of fool would blame the hunter for eating? If the grass could speak, would Nicabar stop eating it? Were not the slaves all creatures capable of thought? This is simply the way of life. Rules of nature: the weak die, the strong survive. But there are loopholes around it. Not every battle for dominance and life is built on the strength of battle. Sometimes, the strength of mind and personality can make one strong enough to live. And so when the wolf decides to speak for him, Nicabar chuckles.

"I cannot speak for all rabbit-kind, either," he says. "In fact, few of my kind wish to speak to yours. They feel as if everything is bound by strict rules, that all wolves will kill all rabbits. But I am discovering that is not the case. There are those, such as yourself, that have no problem speaking to the small. To that, I think it is worth coming to an accord." He leans back on his haunches, front paws slightly raised, as his nose wiggles just a bit to take in the smells of the area around him. No, there don't seem to be other predators approaching.

"I don't have many questions. But I'll start with your name, hunter, so that we may speak as equals." He'll be polite about it. It might help him from ending up as a meal later on. Or perhaps it won't; ah, well, wouldn't that be a way for the Empire to end?
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"There is a circle of life, rabbits may fall, but so will wolves. Fates guided to us, but there is always different paths." Her tail curled around with an endless smile, much interested to hear a life of a rabbit. He understood the way he was placed in life, but so Miriam believed was nature itself. Predator and prey, but it was not always so, she knew some who been injured by the ferocity of a rabbit kick ; fate was like that sometimes, where many who believe they are power are fated for something else. Many roads laid ahead, and the Goddess was introducing the endless possibilities of what fate bestows upon them. She wondered if this was another one, if the nature of the world ; the Summerlands to the Goddess, was letting such a meeting to occur.

"I am Miriam, Miriam Iris Willows," they were quite a commanding one, standing in front of another with fangs. Her's concealed as she remained in a steady-voice and level near his own.

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