And just like that, I shit myself.
Damaris growled quietly, hackles raised at the rip in the space-time continuum (though I wouldn’t know enough to call it that). I step to the side as inconspicuously as I can, away from the steaming pile of oh-shit! My eyelids are peeled back as I try to understand what I’m looking at. A rip in the air, though I wasn’t aware that air could rip. Before I have a chance to begin comprehending or coming to terms with such an anomaly, a beautiful cream mare steps through. Flowers decorate her mane and accentuate her beauty and curves. The knife that cut through the air finishes and returns to her, its owner.
It takes considerable effort for me to keep my jaw off the ground, and I’m thankful that the exchange of gazes between her and my still-unsettled hellhound gives me a chance to recover. When she turns her eyes upon me, I find nothing soft or lovely in the amethyst cores. She’s polite enough to greet me with a modicum of respect, simply in how she says my name. Though they may be like steel, I can see the pain and anger in her eyes.
“If you have come with a message from Reichenbach, you can leave.”
Damaris returns to my side, no longer growling at the Queen, but neither has the tension left her maned body. Not that I blame her. Still, the movement has broken my own stillness enough that I can breathe again, even manage a laugh. “I am his Warden, not his Emissary, moy suverennyy.” I dip my head slightly, but courteously. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Florentine. I did not expect such an entrance, however.”
I raise my head and feel much of the tension leaving my body. She may have cause to be upset and on edge, but I don’t. “Reichenbach does not know I’ve come, actually. I am here both as an ear to listen, to your side of the story, so to speak, and for my own benefit. I suppose I’d like to know more about how the hell you just appeared out of thin air, too. Let me be up front, before I hear your tale: have you seen Weir?” I try to keep the ache from my words. A weakness, to care about someone who is not your family. Someone you have no ties to. The words “I miss her terribly” sit in the edge of my lips, but concentrated will keeps them from being vocalized. The feeling is probably clear enough on my face, though I try to mask it.
Rosti thoughts | "Rosti speech" | Damaris mindspeak
Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
