Essetia & Romul

I needed to calm down, you’re way too bold to love

There is a slight pause or a single moment in which the Diviner does not know what to make of me and that in itself makes me chuckle. It is a soft sound that trills like a songbird fluttering just above the heated sands. One might call it a moment of weakness while another might peg me a nervous intruder, but I knew in my heart of hearts that it was because she feared what I might do. The Priestess certainly didn’t look the warrior part, what with her soft charisma and slightly guarded nature, and it became apparent to me that if I were to pass into the Throat I would have to put her mind at ease. However, her satin gowns shift marginally when I admit my purpose for approaching her borders and there is a sudden glow in the way she regards me, a more proper understanding that gives her comfort. I stare openly at her as the pale wings behind her ears relax, going limp at the base, and reach down to brush the white of her cheeks. She laughs at this –a most lovely crescendo- and the trace of a smile follows shortly thereafter.

I nod slightly, an indication that I somehow understand, before she proffers explanation for her strange behavior. However, her response is neither one I expect nor one I rightly admire… The invasion of the Hidden Falls has little to do with the Dragon’s Throat- and then I wonder what she knows. What information can she supply me about the loss of my home and the death of Midas? What does this Diviner hold privy that I do not?

My eyes seem to wax over and soon I am seeing the world in a hazy fog of confusion. With news of the war still so fresh on my mind, I have to know how its devastation has travelled so fast. “That is understandable,” I reply vaguely. “I guess one can’t be certain who they can trust,” I add bitterly on a short breath. While the Priestess turns to acknowledge Romul, I attempt to rein in the heat of my anger at her mention of the Falls. It’s not her fault that I have lost so much and that I bear so much weight… but I am still glad to see that she misses the subtle clenching of my jaw and the tightness in my shoulders. I do not want to make a bad first impression by any means.

When the winged girl arrived I had thought very little about her introduction, or lack thereof, but the Diviner seems to think differently of the mare. She studies her injured appendage as if it might just offend her and the bite of her tongue makes me believe that she is just as judgmental as she is kind. I cannot read her face as she responds to the other’s inquiry, but at least her answer is truthful. Nothing is going on here… at least not to my knowledge. Whatever opinion she harbored of the situation was moot anyways. I had but two things on my mind, none of which involving the wounded Pegasus.

I allow the Priestess to introduce Romul and I to the flaxen mare, as if we are incapable of doing it ourselves, and I smile as politely as my concentration will allow. However, I bring my gaze again to the Diviner (of whom I assume has no name) when she relays my intentions of “joining their family”. It’s not a lie, I tell myself, but it’s not exactly the truth either. I feel it is more of a half-thought that came from a desire to seek out security… I didn’t need another family or another set of faces to forget. I had lost the last one; I wouldn’t do it again. For a time I am content to listen distractedly to their banter, if only to plan how I might entreat the fine Priestess to tell me what she knows about the invasion.