𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐀

...Moj Våvåda, Moja Våvičå...

"Well aren't ya just a pile o' sugar." The voice, all too familiar to the worn-down sergeant, mused.

"Alles thee shalt recieve from me is this telling stare of yours truly each time that sentence graces thine lips. Thine informality to a man of stature is appalling. Whom dareth..." The respectable warrior mumbled in exhaustion.

"Facade of thee, which thee hath raiseth has to eventually crumble down... right, Sir Sergeant?" She carefully inquired with her brow raised.

"..."

"Well, as thine prized wife, I vow that I shan't know rest until graced with thine true nature." The priestess declared, seeing no response from her soulmate.

"On to 'true' nature." The sergeant scoffed. "No other than this thee art witness of now."

"We both know that isn't quite accurate, moj våvåda."

"..."

"Known it is to this Knez; thee dost not feel much fond when recalling that, however, if may I-"

"Nature thee speak of is long, long gone. Not after what my glazes saw thee dost to my children may remain that in place, even in memory." The man grumbled with venom, taking the priestess aback.

"I-It's their fault they were weak, thee know that Sir Sergeant..." The woman mused with a hint of worry, striking at her reserve confidence stock to keep going... Something was biting her saying that she may be going in the wrong direction.

"Each of them was worth a hundred of your savages, go to hell..." Dared the sergeant, with an angered look on his face.

"S-Sure, ha... Whatever you say, moj våvåda..." The feminine voice agreed sarcastically, eyes squinting, the affection in her tone wavering for a moment. "Sure hath were valuable when hath been chopped apart by the axes of my retinue." She jokingly stated. The Sergeant's eye twitched ever so slightly.

"I hath TRAINED those heroes PERSONALLY. They were SONS of mine. And thine mocking of their effort isn't making me adore thee any more than right now, pagan forest Satan!" The man lashed out, nearly foaming at the mouth.

"Oh, dost not worry - thee will grow ever so fond of yours truly and sincerely forever and ever -mwa-, over time." Mused the woman with a confident smirk on her face, sending a flying kiss his way. "And we've been over this, let's not go down that route again..." The priestess stated, a bored look soon taking hold on her visage.

"Does not mean the memory is in any route insignificant, goddamn it!"

"My Lord is even more adorable when fuming mad."

"Go to hell. Thee won't have to go far."

"Navya isn't so bad with thee around..."

A tense silence took hold in the holiest of halls. The priestess watching her freshly-caught husband with a particularily blunt fascination, a earnest smile gracing her facade as she sat in her engraved chair. In order to stray from her gaze, the Sergeant started glancing around the room he was sat in. Armed guards just outside the door... Just in case he tried something, supposedly.

The whole room beamed with riches, gold and jewels scattered and discarded as if worthless items at the feet of a mighty statue. A totem with detailed engravings, lines and strokes representing a woman much like the priestess herself - muscular, scarred all over, with one long scar running down her snout. In one hand; a horn, and in the other a mighty sword, half the size of the behemoth of a statue. A golden ring on each of her hands, silver streaks as if from a brush all over her body. A mighty engraved bow with gold accents was strapped across her chest.