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Her assurances are met with a half-hearted smile. As she turns her head away, you fall into acceptance, pretending not to notice as you inch ahead of your prince, trying your best to swallow your grin, all of your childish amusement. She speaks more, and though you want to correct her for the terms of masters and servant you refrain, assuming that perhaps where she had come from—wherever that may be—it is normal to speak in such ways. Instead, you focus on her questions, shifting as you begin to speak. “The Edge is a forest that looms above the sea, the Throat a desert, the Falls grasslands. I have never been to the Throat or the Falls myself, but I’m sure they have their own merits, beauty, things to be discovered. Erebos and I are both from the Basin, a snowy valley nestled within the North. It is well-protected from its open border, caves which provide us with shelter from the worst of the weather, a lake that never freezes…” You pause, playing back into the easiness of a smile, into the pride, the love you hold for (some of) your kin (you look to your little lion again, the ends of your smile growing wider, wilder), riddled within your heart. It all but vanishes within moments as the thought of dragging her, the woman who not moments before was threatening Erebos, home, where everything, everyone (except a man crafted of sand that sleeps to the sound of waves, too, too far away) you cherish waits, slips back into your mind. Would she even dare act so brash as to be openly hostile in the presence of wolves? The doubt that finds you then remains well hidden, and instead of laughing, turning her away without so much as a chance, you shrug a shallow little shrug, looking back up to the strange girl. “You may come see for yourself if you would like.” |
ew.
but its 5 am and i wanted to get this up before bed. tadah. ;-;
@Erebos
please tag enna in every post
violence permitted barring permanent injury / death
