Ideas and drabbles

It's Peaceful P.2

I don't knowwwwww lol

"I told you not to go near the Debili Walls." He growled, kicking open the door and storming into the throne room. His green eyes blaze with a darkened anger, practically lighting up the room. Black hair tied up as usual, it still falls near his shoulders as the strands push to the side of his face from the force of his movements.

His steps are loud and brisk, echoing against the tiled floor as he tries to contain his irritation. His sword is still attached to his hip, clicking with every step in its sheath as he moves forward. Normally he wouldn't waste time walking over to the man, but he wanted to watch the King currently surrounded by his advisers tremble this time.

"I made it crystal clear to you that Debilis Arma was not to be touched or contacted in any way whatsoever." A guard manages to move his foot in his direction, as if to stop him. His scowl and raging eyes are directed towards the male, and the guard froze.

It was like a crushing weight on his back and shoulders. A terrible pressure comes down on him, making his body unable to move in the gaze of the viridian-eyed male. He couldn't tell if there was a physical force attacking him or if the sheer power he saw within those eyes coupled with the increasing terror was enough to completely stop him.

Scoffing, he turns his gaze away, continuing in his steps towards the King that was now shaking in his throne. The people next to him are stiff, quivering eyes following his movements as they are shoved out of the way—even though no physical contact from them happened.

He sneers, stopping at the decorated seat, glowering down at the man with graying hairs.

"So why did I find four of your ships trying to take down the walls?" He wants to yank his head so badly. To grab the old man and lift him up to his height and let him dangle as he quivers. He would ram it into that golden chair he loved so much, smash it in over and over again. His blood would run down the pale skin of his face as he stuttered over apologies that would mean nothing. He would toss him aside, to the ground, into the people near them.

...

Maybe he would. If this guy wouldn't give him a damn answer soon, he just might. He was still furious, and if he didn't get an explanation—a good one, at that—soon, there would be red staining the shiny floor.

"Answer my question." It's a low growl, a promise of danger if somebody didn't speak soon. When nobody does, he raises a brow in annoyance, "Speak now or I will remind you of why you do not want me as an enemy."

"I-I am sorry, I didn't realize–"

"You didn't realize?" He snarled, voice sharp and immediately cutting through the air. Blood starts to drip down the King's face, his nose bleeding. He doesn't react, too busy fearfully staring at the man glaring at him. "How could you not realize? Did your men decide to go rogue? Because I know for certain that the canon-ball that was fired was not an accident. Are you so dumb to forget what I clearly marked to be avoided? With the walls? Are you firshing blind?"

A movement to the side, and his head turns to glare at a middle-aged male with brown, slightly wavy hair that swept over part of his forehead. It looked ridiculous. And it didn't match his blue eyes. At all. His mouth is turned down in a set line that trembled slightly.

Impressive. He could move through the pressure he was emitting. And could speak.

"I do not s-see how Debilis Arma is important," And suddenly he's not impressed, "I-I directed the fleet there because it's weak and I saw no point in not taking it when we co–"

The sound of tearing flesh is barely processed before blood splatters on the floor. Bright red contrasts with the beige coloring of the floor, some also spraying on the surrounding people and chair next to them. A head falls next to someone's feet, the body quickly collapsing.

Silence reigns, but the terror is palpable in the air as his green eyes survey the room of horrified people. What once was a snarl is now a thin line, barely downturned in what one could simplify down to annoyance.

He'd barely moved. Just the sharpening of the eyes when the man was talking and a twitch of the finger, and the neck had been cut through at the speed that nobody could process. He hadn't even used his sword.

None of them dared scream. Not even the lady with dilated eyes staring at the lifeless head right next to her boots. Not the person that had been standing right next to the male that dared speak, blood now sprayed across the left half of his face, body trembling. Not the King, with cracks beginning to appear in his skin as red seeped through them. Nobody dared to move or make a sound.

"Anybody else want to question my words?" Not a sound. His green eyes scan the room as if expecting an answer, "Or perhaps fess up to sending danger to Debilis Arma?"

No one moves. They can't. They can't and they don't because they know what will happen. They know, they know that they'll become like the headless body on the ground, blood pooling under it. They'll be gone before they would be able to process it.

He gives a satisfied sound, stepping back from the King's throne-chair. His sheathed sword remains unopened, hanging by him as he moves backwards. His eyes focus on the man that was taking small and slow breaths as blood dripped down his face.

"Think again about even touching Debili soil," His glare intensifies, practically stealing the light and life from the room as the pressure doubles over, "And you will wish you were that fool."

That fool as in the body that he kicks aside as he walks away, even though it's not in his way. The room is silent as he strides out, not glancing back. He doesn't need to see everyone collapse in the room, limbs trembling and eyes watering as they recover their breath and let themselves show emotion. The doors are still open from when he kicked them, and he doesn't bother to close them.

That was such a minor punishment for what they deserved. He scowls, walking through the halls and past the unconscious guards he'd incapacitated earlier. Going against his words, against his threats and promises, was something that dug into his skin and made his anger even worse.

And attacking the one place he had said was to be left alone?

Hopefully now they remembered why they did not want to break their words.

They did not want him as an enemy.