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The pair of them are mere shadows, and perhaps in more than one sense of the word. They blend into their surroundings, and yet as they shift, so too does the darkness, forming new voids and filling new spaces, ever changing under their unintended guidance. The jackal finds herself calm, an oddity in the stress-riddled days of the present, so unlike the calm, collected pillaging of her past. Perhaps she senses that the fae is vulnerable, weak, in a fashion, and is unconsciously seeking her help; or perhaps it is simpler than that, and she only finds solace in the obvious power than she holds over the situation.
"Chernobyl," comes the femme's quiet reply. "Newly appointed Scholar." It is a noble position, the Empress supposes, though she herself finds very little use for information as the scholars do. She prefers action, but then, her preferences mean very little these days. There is more: "Though I find it seemingly difficult to rise above the name in effort to seek new heights." The shadow-mare frowns; is it Myrddin of whom she complains? Had the Lady made a mistake in posting one so old in such a position of power, a position of teaching?
But then, she considers: is the mare even talking about her position? Perhaps she, as so many others did, seeks only redemption, a way to prove herself beyond the day-to-day efforts. What she holds in her past may drive her to her actions now, but it is of no consequence; and yet, if it gains her another follower, the jackal will gladly use what she is given. "I do hope that Myrddin is providing the lessons you require, as is custom for his rank," she said slowly, pondering her words as she spoke them. Ever so careful, she was, these days.
"But if it is more that you desire... there is more that I can give you."
[W/C | xxx]
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