Weapons of Mass Destruction

Metas had instructed his entire inner-circle to come and disturb him the moment Cassandra woke up, and not a second after.

Veltar had failed that, obviously - but the health of his charges came before Metas' orders. Any healer or doctor would feel the same. Had Cassandra gotten up, she could have really hurt herself, and made his work that much more difficult.

He wished he had waited longer, as when he came upon the place where he and Myranda were, his eyes grew large and filled with worry.

Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or was Metas pinning her bloodied form down underneath him with hostile body language? What had happened?

Without thinking he rushed forth and let out a howl as if to distract him.

Metas removed his large teeth from the back of Myranda's neck and looked towards the brown wolf charging at them.

'Oh fucking - seriously!?' Myranda screamed out in her head as she saw Veltar coming towards them.

At this rate, she was never going to be able to give her maidenhead to Metas with how often they got interrupted.

She had JUST finished 'talking' him into it as a reward for her fighting skills having been so improved, and he was just getting to the best part... and then Veltar ruined it all.

"Wha--ooah.." Veltar went from an accusatory face to one of embarrassment and shock.

"I am, so sorry..." the male said with wavering words and bowed down to his Alpha and Luna. He couldn't help but think to himself how interesting it was that they were about to copulate as their beastial selves. It made him blush under his coat.

"This had better be really, really, really worth it" Myranda whined out from underneath her mate's warmth. She could feel his one warm and hard erection reseeding back from her entrance as the moment was broken entirely.

"Only following orders, my Luna. I apologize. My Alpha, Cassandra has awoken and while she wasn't up for long, her words were disturbing. She said they gained access to a human vault, and they have lots of silver weapons. I wasn't able to gather what kind, but her expression was dire, sire." Veltar answered and bowed as low as he could to avoid the deep glare of hatred that Myranda was sending towards him.

He knew what he had interrupted now - he just didn't know to what extent. This must have been important to her if she was giving the healer the death stare as intensely as she was.

"A vault? A human vault?" Metas asked, even though really he was just turning the words out loud in shock.

"No..." he muttered out and completely stood on all fours once he felt he wasn't going to show off his well endowed wedding tackle. "Take me to her immediately," Metas added.

Myranda wanted to say something, but she knew that above all - their colony and kingdom came first, as they should. While she was disappointed beyond words, it was at least good to hear that they had some valuable information for once.

"Sire, before we do - she has fallen back asleep. I can wake her, but she will need to be put back under again once you interrogate her. She's still healing, and being that she has denied Silas, her healing is all on her own abilities," Veltar explained, but again - he was just following orders.

The way Myranda's face twisted into that of a deep, silent inferno made his stomach drop. Sure, she probably wasn't going to actually harm or punish him - but if looks could kill, he'd be obliterated into nothing but stardust. His soul wouldn't even have a chance of making it out of the rage that expression screamed.

"I am so sorry, my Luna. I am merely following orders," Veltar tacked on as though it would somehow spare him from her wrathful gaze.

"It's. Fine." Myranda insisted shortly, and also stood up begrudgingly.

"Will you need healing paultrice?" Veltar offered with a meekness in his eyes that begged 'don't stab me in my sleep, please'.

"No. Thank you, Veltar." The Luna stated with as much tolerance as she could for one being interrupted during something so very, very important to her.

*******

Veltar put some sort of mixture that smelled strongly of something acrid under Cassandra's nose and watched her awaken with a gasp and a cough.

"Spirit of hartshorn. Works every time," Veltar said with a little bit of a pleasant tone to his words.

"Aghk- augh- what is that?" Cassandra asked with a gag in her throat between words.

"....spirit of hartshorn...." Veltar repeated as though she had been awake enough to hear it in the first place.

"It's disgusting-" the lady of the mountain complained.

"Yes, that's the point." Veltar replied 'academically'.

"Cassandra, tell me everything you saw from that vault," Metas ordered warmly, but his eyes were fierce when they met hers.

"I didn't see anything. I heard about it from the servants. My father taught me how to gain intelligence and trust for his behalf - but I don't think he ever expected me to use it against him," she answered with a few sniffles as her sinuses started to drip from the smelling salts agitating her nostrils.

"Did you happen to get any descriptions?" Metas asked in earnest.

"Yes...and.. Silas mentioned something about your pendant being useful again. He was telling me that he was able to get it ignited enough to get into a giant metal vault. Something about a big set of green doors that opened to a circular room filled with human weapons. Uhm.. they looked like...do you have a piece of paper?" Cassandra asked after her explanation and looked to the three wolves staring at her with interest.

"No - but here..." Veltar replied as he moved towards the desk to grab a tray of poppy seeds he had not yet began to soak and mash. "--use these," he finished when he handed her the small 'tray' that had been hand-carved from stone.

"Thank you," Cassandra said out of reflex and took the board from him with wobbling hands.

"The pictures looked like this..." she went on and used her finger to separate the seeds and show lines that made up what to us would be a large amass of weapons of destruction.

Rocket launchers, machine guns, some really messed up drawings of hand guns that looked like sideways L's with a little C tacked on to the short line of the L.

It didn't need to be professional grade art for Metas to understand exactly what she was referring to.

"Son of a bitch," he growled out and twisted his face into that of dark contemplation and anger.