The Songbird had been a mere witness in the chasm of furtive movements, in the breech of specious moments, in the slicing scabbards, in the twisting, gnarled words and the blunt, pointed fingers. Immersed in their wanton, coveting splendor, transfixed by their brooding anomalies, by their bitter predilections, by every word contained and split from their mouths, she’d been still, unnoticed, grasping at their nuances, at their phrases, at their rancorous edges. Had that been the display of their diplomacy? She’d been a consul once, had been a soaring emissary, searching and seeking out the fringes, the borders of other worlds to aid her brethren – and never had she uttered so many insults, thrown so many combative gestures, wandered and partook in a nasty, boiling dispute. Had the laws of the land changed and altered so much in her stead within the Basin? While she lain, stolen, on a bed of ferns? Were these the expectations of a great leader, puffing chests and slinging mud? Her face may have said it all, the disappointed remnants of her brow drifting into sullen musing, the arch of her eyes as they widened at another transgression tossed into the mire, the barest, grimmest line to her lips drawn as one more blast of fire was harpooned into the fray. But she was a shadow in the silver lining, in the grasping, clenching limelight, unnoticed, unseen, with too many beasts clawing for their chance, for their opportunity. The Mender had watched Mauja give her a nod of recognition (as if they’d been two ships passing, he never her leader, she never a healer of his brethren, and that stung too, to be so readily forgotten), then blast and hurl his way through each and every being. She’d watched those clinging to birthright hope they could pass into the slot by simple heir-dom (and she’d wanted to ask about those who’d lived there prior to their invasion, the first children of the Edge, what were they to receive?). She’d watched a mare of the Falls yearn to spit upon them for their actions. She’d watched the Dragonheart, still fearsome, still overwhelming, growl and sneer at the once King, and Arah step into place, try her best to find her voice in the enormous crowd. Her mind had burned with desired whispers, with fleeting attempts, with a hushed begging, pleading, for it all to end (please, stop it) – and it only did with a series of announcements, with the culmination of one moment, spilling over into the next. And still, she was silent.

She followed, over the wavering plains, along the sinking sun, under the lights and beams of high-rising heat, of summer sovereign even when Orangemoon rattled their bones. Fox and nymph traversed closer and closer with the gathering, beckoning towards the Dragon’s Throat, lingering near threads of conversation or passing beasts along the edges. A hum of disappointment flickered around her, and Imogen sensed its upheaval, brushed the tips of her tails against her forelegs, caused a meager smile to grace the Mender’s mouth. The displeasure could have been lanced towards either herself, the candidates, or both, because she felt no grace, finesse, or poise at being a soundless object in the background, granting nothing towards her role but being one more pair of eyes and ears twisting in the direction of heresy, in the direction of virtue. She was tired of hearing their bloodthirsty requiems and their bludgeoned pride, why someone deserved it or why they didn’t – and perhaps, along the end of these tasks, someone would emerge with grander ideas and fiercer notions, could rise past the choking, strangling, suffocating whims of resentful, mercurial interludes, and become the leader they longed to be.

So, she maneuvered through the fire, across the bridge, dazzled again by its powers, and emerged on the other side, ready to assist Kahlua all over again, brushing behind her like the waiting soldier, the protective armor, waiting for the others to wax poetical on their current undertaking. Perhaps this time, these moments, would be different, and they could cease casting stones, and decide what discretion, relations, and statecraft truly was.

[Permission to post with Kahlua because Sevin forgot me and Lena's supposed to be helping. XDD <3]