Rivoltante

Rivoltante (???) Frozen Beast - Discovered frozen in the ice - Protects the Baron at all cost, devouring all that enter his territory uninvited - Like many Ójafnaðr dragons, his heart is cold as ice, only showing kindness toward the Baron - Has begun to develop feelings for the Baron - Prefers to speak in an ancient tongue - Has a thick accent Clouddancer Familiar A playful species of raptor named for their hide-and-seek behavior among cloud banks. (KS-sponsored by Vahilor.) 2650   Black Capped Chickadee Meat This songbird has an excellent memory, so the survivors of its flock surely won't forget you. 15 2   Cracked Blackened Ribcage Organics The mostly-intact ribcage of a large rodent. Its dark coloring indicates that the animal may have been very physically active. 55   Ice Crystal Organics A perfectly formed ice crystal. Incredibly valuable, until it melts. 35 Oh, captain, let's make a deal Where we both say the things that we both really feel I feel scared and I'm starting to sink And I only sink deeper the deeper I think You're too real for me You should go to something better I'll give you to someone better I have friends that'll be on earth for longer I have friends that won't feel like monsters

1/3,700 Type Monster Birthplace Ójafnaðr Relations Master Friend? Creator Bio code by centipeetle|Edited by BirdWings| Divider by Delamire

The story came out in bits and pieces. From the small snippets that Crispin fed him as he was given a tour of the castle and told of all the many places that were off limits to monsters like him. From the biting comments the Baron casually dropped in their conversations, every syllable dripping with condescension and contempt even as Rivoltante was ordered to hunt down yet another rabid dog that had encroached upon their territory. From the droll remarks of Arcanum as she stood hautily at the Baron’s side, somehow looking both disgusted and intrigued whenever they crossed paths, as if he were a peculiar insect that had gotten stuck beneath the sole of her boot.

The world had changed since he had been frozen in ice. The land he once knew was gone, and in its place stood a fiefdom of crystalline spires reaching towards the heavens. It was deceptively beautiful and delicate, glittering like a diamond chandelier, until a closer look showed all the jagged cracks and shadowed secrets. The darkness better left untouched.

The places he’d once visited were long leveled to the ground, the people he’d known dead or buried or since traveled away from this frozen wasteland. And here Rivoltante was, alone in a household that ran red with blood and cruelty.

In the beginning, the Baron kept him at arms-length like a wild animal that hadn’t yet learned not to bite its handler. Extraneous and disposable when Arcanum filled the role of guard so readily already.

He was tasked with simple things that kept him away from the comforts of the brightly lit castle, patrolling the outer walls at odd hours of the night and defending the border against intruders. But as time passed, his orders became more nuanced, the leash around his neck falling slack as the Baron turned his attention to more interesting things than his tamed guard dog.

After all, ‘remove any threat’ left a lot of room for interpretation.

When Rivoltante took to wandering the halls under the guise of patrolling, the steward glanced in askance at him, but didn’t comment. When Rivoltante took to silently entering rooms uninvited, Crispin startled with a muffled curse while the Baron watched on amused. When Rivoltante took to following the Baron, always a step behind and never intrusive, the Baron only raised a brow and let it pass.

Sometimes Rivoltante could imagine something more. The world they lived in was loveless and stolid, like a still water-painting and glimmering reflections marred by faint imperfections. But during the quiet hours of the day, when all was done for the night and the few scant moments it was just the two of them, when the Baron was relaxing in front of the warm fireplace the very picture of sophisticated grace, there was something. A fissure in the air, an undeniable presence. Rivoltante was unnaturally aware of every movement the Baron made, the way his hands clasped delicately around the armrest of the chair, the way his eyes glowed with reflected firelight as he spoke.

It was simple, companionable. With no barriers between them and free to be themselves.

Sometimes the Baron talked about his day, recounting all the bits and pieces that Rivoltante hadn’t been around for, all the little things that the others weren’t aware of. Like the way the Baron knew Crispin was still absolutely terrified of him despite the steward’s stoic exterior. The way the Baron knew that Vodyanoy was growing antsy again from the way his claws scraped against the ground when he walked.

Sometimes Rivoltante talked instead, about his most recent escapades in defending their territory, about some particularly interesting tidbit that he’d come across that morning. Watching the subtle curve of the Baron’s lips when he mentioned something particularly amusing, that glint in his eyes that said he was pleased.

And sometimes, when the night came to a close and they parted for their individual lodgings, the Baron’s gaze lingered, a touch of a hand on his for a second too long.

It wasn’t open and easy. No warm and fuzzy feelings—there was no room in this glacial land to feel anything like that—yet Rivoltante knew something had changed. The distance between them was no longer a gulf, but a traversable stream. And while the Baron was as cold as ever, and while Rivoltante was still a monster that served as a glorified executioner, there was something there. A small spark so minuscule in the grand scheme of things.

It was just as well that a single spark could set the world ablaze.