#ravindra ⟡ threads

[metianfolklores]

* for 🡪 castherian nobles/royal family * location 🡪 casther, royal grounds

ravindra toyne was a knife—sharp edges, ready to carve and flay. (and though he would never admit it, easily wielded by someone skilled.)

third in line but first in resentment, envy, and wrath, there had been various stories about his belligerent nature that he knew were all true. his rage bordered on treason, anger towards a brother-king that proves incompetent by all accounts. still, ram sits on that damn throne. “should be me,” he seethed low under a breath as he struck out at the mannequin with his khanjar, affectionately called tiger’s tooth. sweat beaded on the prince’s forehead. his muscles burned.

but again, ravindra lashed out at the figurine, imagining it to be ram as he slashed at it. a perfectly acceptable way of harnessing his anger. once he heard footsteps behind him, he turned his whetted mood onto the approacher in an instant. “yes?”