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BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY
She was surprised to hear the bitterness of his tongue, the sharp edge of his gaze. She did not know, but she could throw a stray guess that there was something going on. Even Mr.Teatime seemed to have noticed it as his feline tail swept the dust of the dunes. He angry? — Was he?
Was he angry at her?
Although that sort of thing was somehow more likely to happen to the diviner, more than anyone else; this time it was different. I didn’t do anything I swear — I think, did I? she thought, after Mr.Teatime shot her a questionable purr. But she knew all too well that she was an arrogant, old, bitter soul. There could easily have been something within her arsenal capable of upsetting the Golden Prince.
Even then... Still. Did he truly not see the importance of their stance within their ranks, within the herd? After all the years that they had both held their positions, was their ability, knowledge and experience nothing to him? Of all people, she had thought him as one of the few that would understand her point of view when it came to this, even when nobody else would. And now she was arrogant enough to jump to the assumption that, right now he, too must be caught inside the bubble of confusion along with the rest of them, if he could not see this truth. So her voice was calm, patient. Something she didn't per se feel.
"Leaders come and go, but they are nothing without the stability of the fundamental ranks below them," she said, biting her tongue and asking their God forgiveness for the raw honestly of her words and the bluntness of her ruthless opinion that may or not may stand on the fragile toes wanting the alpha-position. Don't you see that you and I are more important right now, Cera? She glared at him behind a silent gaze of burgundy shades, but couldn't predict whether he understood or not. Perhaps that was asking for too much from anyone, anyway. "You do not have to share my opinion" (—although I might not think of you that highly if you do) She scraped her throat, her gaze turning from Cera to quickly scan the rest of the herd in case she had fueled some emotions, before she returned her silent eyes back to the stallion. "— none of you — but I admit, I did not realize you wanted it that much, being Sultan." There was a honest confusion to her voice, mixed with, perhaps something like a string (though thin as a spider's web) of annoyance weaved through it, and doubt; from herself. She had believed before that Cera would make a good Sultan, had always somehow expected him to not wanting to be one. Had perhaps expected him to be more like her than he was. Perhaps, within her broadened view of the world, she had become ignorant and had now missed what was right in front of her al this time. I guess I was never a good friend. And she was a coward, a disciple of stability all the same. For things to stay as they were — for him to remain in the comfort of their own ranks together with her.
After that she watched him turn his winged frame of gold and white, the one she had started to care about as a friend. She clenched her teeth, feeling the irritation rise and huffed it out with a puff of fog, curling around her nose. She did not want him to go like this. It wasn't right. For some reason she needed to stop him, but didn't know how except by showing off her point. "You walking away shows as much," she whispered in a disappointed hiss as she watched him finish his turn.
Maren is an arrogant poop I couldn't help it q ^ q
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