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Zog was a busy uruk. He had things to do, places to be, creatures to resurrect. He didn’t have time to worry about inconsequential things like “eating” or “sleeping”, damn it! Not only was he a well respected necromancer, but as an uruk, he could go for long strides of time neglecting himself without many repercussions. Zog might be up there in years, now, but he’s no less sharp than he was when he was a young pup. …he was much older, wasn’t he..?
Leaning back in his chair, Zog haphazardly rubs his eyes with the back of his knuckles. His back was incredibly stiff as were his legs. Joints popping as he stretched, Zog sighed heavily. What time was it..? He couldn’t see out the window, so it must be late. Late… Was he hungry..? Or thirst, for that matter? When’s the last time he’s had a meal? Zog frowns and releases a frustrated groan. He really didn’t want to stop working, but he supposed it was about time he at least stretched his legs for a while…
As he opened the door to his study, there was a ruckus clatter of a great many plates and dishes colliding all at once. What the hell-?! Zog had to practically jump backwards to avoid the avalanche of dishes that came crashing down near his shins. The smell of days old meat hit his senses, causing his stomach to revolt against him. Caught between salivating and wanting to gag, he takes a step back and tries to regain his composure lest any of his dear acolytes see him dry heaving.
Why in the hell are there so many plates of food out here?! Surely he wasn’t locked up in his study for that long! …was he..? W-Well, even if he was , that doesn’t explain why there’s so damn much out there! He was extraordinarily annoyed. Something inside of him balked at letting all that good meat go to waste, but another cringed at the thought of a certain someone seeing him in such a poor state. Zog would never hear the end of it, and he would be damned if he would allow such a thing to happen when he still had a say in it.
Sneakily, he stuck his head out of the doorway, eyes darting too and fro to make sure no uruk, or pesky human, was around. No, nothing. Quiet, too… Before he realized his actions, Zog had already shoved a thick cut of raw meat into his maw, greedily chomping and tearing away at the tough piece with his razor sharp teeth. Really, he should be ashamed. He was ashamed, but even he struggles with his baser instincts, at times. But only a fraction of the time! Swallowing a hefty chunk, Zog picks up three more strips of meat before shuffling backwards and shutting the door quietly. Just as he thinks he’s in the clear, a throat is cleared behind him.
It was sheer panic as he nearly choked to death on both food and saliva. The moment he regained control of his body, Zog glared daggers into that bastard tark. Swatting away the hand Talion was using to steady him while shrugging off the other at his back, Zog huffed in annoyance, thankful that Talion’s eye sight wasn’t nearly as keen as an uruk’s, otherwise he’d be able to see how clearly he’s flustered him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” The ranger has the gall to laugh like he’s not the one trespassing into unfamiliar territory!
“Easy there, no need to be so hostile. I only wanted to make sure you’ve eaten recently, and judging by how ferociously you are tearing into that meal of yours, well…” If he so desired, Zog could pick him up and throw him out of the room. If he chose to do so. He won’t, only because it would be unbecoming of him and would further sully his reputation with the tark. N-Not that he cares, though! Why would he care if Talion sees him eating his food raw and bloody, or sees him get a little angry and start throwing furniture around, o-or if he-
The hand that was once on his back is replaced, trailing up to his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. A warmth rises from deep within his gut, settling somewhere in his chest. Disgusting. He hates how his damn human makes him feel, but he wouldn’t dare voice that. Not when it risked that grounding touch of his possibly retreating from his side. After a brief moment of quiet, Zog was gently nudged back towards the door. “What say we go to bed, hmm? It’s been days since you’ve had any rest.” He started to protest. Rest? Rest?! Who does he think he’s talking to?! Zog the Eternal isn’t some pup that needs to be reminded to care for himself! Though… damn, he is rather exhausted… Narrowing his eyes, he crudely shoves more meat into his mouth, observing the ranger’s reaction. He didn’t react in the slightest. Not even a quirked brow. Damn… A petty part of him was hoping to see him cringe in disgust, but no. Talion’s been completely desensitized to uruk behavior, and it truly takes something despicable to get him to even emote, anymore.
“Well..?” Zog snorts, rolling his eyes as he noisy chews his food.
“Well what?!” He snaps in between bites. Talion gives him a look. The look. The “I’m about to drag you off and make you embarrassed to ever meet me” look. Zog puffs up, not unlike a threatened caragor. Standing tall with his shoulders squared, he’s a good few inches taller than Talion, but he certainly is no normal man, and that was something Zog knew all too well. Unperturbed, Talion doesn’t bother to remove his hand, and instead loops his arm around Zog’s shoulders. Pulling him down to his height, Talion does one of the things Zog despises the most.
He places a kiss on his sharp cheekbone.
Really, he should be furious that he’s done that. He is furious that he’s done that! But somehow, just like it always does, it subdues the uruk long enough for Talion to take his clawed hand in his own smaller one, and lead him back to their shared bed chambers. Zog silently scarfed down the remainder of his meal on the way, and no sooner than they entered the room and he flopped gracelessly down onto the fur bed did he pass out from exhaustion. It’s not the first time that he’s worked himself to exhaustion, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Even if he would never say it aloud, he didn’t know what he would do without his acolytes and Talion.