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12-12-2015, 12:51 PM
Nymeria wanted to tilt her head but resisted the impulse. She hadn’t expected a shrug from Isopia—and she wanted to know why she cared so little. You’d think, after all, that accepting a stranger into your herd was a big deal—they might be planning to slaughter you, or steal as much as they could, or hold hostage your children. Except apparently not.
Were all the herds like this? So… uncaring? What did it mean their leaders were like? Isopia, for all her grandeur, was undoubtedly young—and a Storyteller, a mouthpiece for the fucking gods, to boot. Nym thought she should be old and wizened to have such power at her beck and call—but apparently not.
She supposed it would make her plans easier—naive fools were easier to manipulate than experienced generals. Still… it was… disappointing. Don’t judge, Nymeria scolded herself; you'll get a swift kick in the ass if it turns out Isopia is an anomaly. Others might care more about who resided in their newfound haven. In all honesty, however, Nymeria rather thought taking the Hidden Falls as opposed to staying in the World’s Edge was cowardice more than bravery. Mortals were much easier to deal with than gods.
Their problem, Nym decided. It was an interesting train of thought to dissect the personal decisions behind the invasion, but it would not greatly affect her pursuits.
“Volterra,” the grullo answered, “he’s a hand or so taller than me and quite a bit more muscular. Black, with a white face and red eyes. He’s…” Nymeria didn’t bother finishing with that sentence. Saying he was argumentative and sexist and didn’t think Nym was good enough to hold her own was not necessary; the physical descriptor should be more than enough.
Besides, even if she sometimes hated him, he was still her brother and she loved him more dearly than almost anything else in this world.
She shook away her thoughts like a dog ridding itself of water. “A spy, if possible."
Were all the herds like this? So… uncaring? What did it mean their leaders were like? Isopia, for all her grandeur, was undoubtedly young—and a Storyteller, a mouthpiece for the fucking gods, to boot. Nym thought she should be old and wizened to have such power at her beck and call—but apparently not.
She supposed it would make her plans easier—naive fools were easier to manipulate than experienced generals. Still… it was… disappointing. Don’t judge, Nymeria scolded herself; you'll get a swift kick in the ass if it turns out Isopia is an anomaly. Others might care more about who resided in their newfound haven. In all honesty, however, Nymeria rather thought taking the Hidden Falls as opposed to staying in the World’s Edge was cowardice more than bravery. Mortals were much easier to deal with than gods.
Their problem, Nym decided. It was an interesting train of thought to dissect the personal decisions behind the invasion, but it would not greatly affect her pursuits.
“Volterra,” the grullo answered, “he’s a hand or so taller than me and quite a bit more muscular. Black, with a white face and red eyes. He’s…” Nymeria didn’t bother finishing with that sentence. Saying he was argumentative and sexist and didn’t think Nym was good enough to hold her own was not necessary; the physical descriptor should be more than enough.
Besides, even if she sometimes hated him, he was still her brother and she loved him more dearly than almost anything else in this world.
She shook away her thoughts like a dog ridding itself of water. “A spy, if possible."
@Isopia
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
