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+---- Thread: [AW] HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - (/showthread.php?tid=692)
HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Bexley - 08-23-2017
![[Image: 500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png]](http://orig02.deviantart.net/75f6/f/2017/192/d/5/500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png)
" BEXLEY BRIAR "
How long has she wandered Solterra like a shut-in, lazy in the heat, sun-blind and proud? The summer has made her complacent, overly happy, overly pleased. Bexley is ashamed of herself for being so easily gratified; it is as if she’s lost her edge, her bitterness, her bloodlust, and without that she is nothing more than a puppet, gluttonous and overconfident. It turns her back into the girl of her childhood, and Solis help anyone who has to deal with that, especially Bexley herself. The only way to remedy this is a reality check. A dip in cold water. And so Herculean effort she’s left the dreamy desert to visit her old friend Reichenbach, and this is how she finds herself at the Night Court’s border with her legs aching and brain turned to mush, startled and electrified by the world that now surrounds her.
It smells of jasmine and smoke, leftover bonfires, dew still bristling over the grass on cold mornings; Bexley enters with a timid step, awed by the strangeness of the walls that touch the sky just ahead of her, time-worn walls cut in some places by windows and dull torchlight, with flickering shadows and silhouettes visible through doorways and arches. Her hooves click-click-click on the floor as she moves, a leisurely exploration of the oppressive hallways and many empty rooms. It’s so dark. She should have expected that, and she did, kind of, but no thought could have prepared her for the absolute lack of light, windows blacked out, ceilings double-shut, only the weak wash of fire in sconces lighting her steps.
No one comments on the smell of rose and sunlight that follows her, the fact that her skin practically glows in this darkness; the unfamiliar faces merely pass in a whoosh of motion and are gone again, leaving strange scents behind them, the clinking of jewelry, whorls of hair that are the last thing to disappear around the corners. They must notice her, yet they pass suspicious looks and deign to say nothing.Mystified by her new anonymity, Bexley comes to a slow stop in one of the bigger rooms and calls out, Reich?, hoping the court is small enough that he’ll somehow find her.
Hello, your Majesty, there’s a girl here, different from the rest of us, stranger and sunnier, and she has a golden necklace… Yeah, he’ll find her.
@reichenbach & interested others!
RE: HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Raglan - 08-23-2017
His fellow Crows had descended upon the Silvertongue the moment the girl gilded in gold had placed her pretty blonde hooves within the walls of Denocte's Keep. They whispered of her beauty, of the sand scent that clung to her skin, of the confidence that laced her steps and the grins brimming with untapped potential. From the way the youths spoke of this stranger from Solis' Court, he wouldn't doubt that a few of his older Crows had fallen in love with her on site. As the winged page slipped silently through the shadows, his destination the large and generally forgotten receiving chamber that the maid had found herself in, Raglan considered her reason for traipsing so brazenly into the stronghold of Night.
Their borders were open, yes, but the shadowed Night Court had long since held a less than savory reputation - one that he and the rest of the citizenry hoped would change beneath the rule of their beloved Orphan King. Could the girl be an envoy? An emissary? The Crows had not whispered any details that could point toward the mare being of a royal rank, but Raglan knew better than to operate off of assumptions of station. After all, the First Crow the crown and the Silvertongue found himself living in a palace.
With the only sound of his approach being the whisper of his feathered wings over heated flesh, the horned lad stepped through the arched doorway of the chamber. For a moment, he considered the woman before him; her sun kissed skin and the scent of heat that rolled from her frame. She was a beauty, his messengers had not been wrong, but beauty rarely meant anything when it came to mannerisms. If anything, a gorgeous face either hid a nimble mind or an empty one.
Raglan was curious to find out what this stranger hid behind her pretty little mask.
"The Orphan King is on his way, I'm sure. I dispatched a few Crows to fetch him," the Silvertongue's velvety voice still held the height of youth, but the flirtatious tone couldn't be mistaken. With a dramatic bow flourished with a sweep of burnished wings, Raglan moved closer to the silver haired mare, opal eyes glimmering with wry mirth and a mischievous smirk dancing about his lips. "My name is Raglan, but you may call me whatever you wish... 'Beloved' or 'Dreamy' perhaps. Who might you be?"
Their borders were open, yes, but the shadowed Night Court had long since held a less than savory reputation - one that he and the rest of the citizenry hoped would change beneath the rule of their beloved Orphan King. Could the girl be an envoy? An emissary? The Crows had not whispered any details that could point toward the mare being of a royal rank, but Raglan knew better than to operate off of assumptions of station. After all, the First Crow the crown and the Silvertongue found himself living in a palace.
With the only sound of his approach being the whisper of his feathered wings over heated flesh, the horned lad stepped through the arched doorway of the chamber. For a moment, he considered the woman before him; her sun kissed skin and the scent of heat that rolled from her frame. She was a beauty, his messengers had not been wrong, but beauty rarely meant anything when it came to mannerisms. If anything, a gorgeous face either hid a nimble mind or an empty one.
Raglan was curious to find out what this stranger hid behind her pretty little mask.
"The Orphan King is on his way, I'm sure. I dispatched a few Crows to fetch him," the Silvertongue's velvety voice still held the height of youth, but the flirtatious tone couldn't be mistaken. With a dramatic bow flourished with a sweep of burnished wings, Raglan moved closer to the silver haired mare, opal eyes glimmering with wry mirth and a mischievous smirk dancing about his lips. "My name is Raglan, but you may call me whatever you wish... 'Beloved' or 'Dreamy' perhaps. Who might you be?"
@
RE: HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Reichenbach - 08-28-2017
KING OF THIEVES
"Bexley Briar... what are you doing here?"
His voice sounded wryly from down the hall, his steps near-silent despite the cool marble floors they walked upon. Reichenbach eyed Raglan as he entered the room, noting his fluffed up wings and gleaming eyes with no small amount of amusement - Bexley had this effect on almost everyone, it seemed. He couldn't blame the lad, Bexley was pure mischief, pure thrill and excitement, not to mention she was as pretty as the sun on water. Denocte girls were all smoke and flame, stars and mystery - Solterran girls were not often found within the halls of Night, not ones as pretty as Bexley.
"... and Silvertongue, here to charm Solterra into an alliance?"
He grinned, as if it were that easy. So far he had met all three other Sovereigns - though only two officially, Maxence he had faced and beaten upon the sparring grounds, something it seemed the commander had not forgotten. Perhaps Day and Night would always find a reason to dislike one another, their courts too fiercely different. Yet... Reichenbach adored Bexley, found great satisfaction in her sharp tongue and sharper mind - Rhoswen, too, he could not un-love simply for living in Solterra. So he dismissed caution, dismissed relations between Denocte and Solterra and focused purely on the happiness he had found at her arrival.
Now he could truly show Bexley why Denocte was a place to be adored, no matter how sun-soaked her skin was.
@
RE: HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Bexley - 08-30-2017
BEXLEY BRIAR
Perhaps Bexley’s entrance was not so subtle as she thought.
It seems only a moment passes before she senses a presence somewhere behind her, though Solis knows how long it has been there, unnoticed while Bexley is preoccupied with the gleaming rafters and the smoky silver air; she startles at the sound of hooves clicking behind her, but by the time she whips around the boy is already there, his feathers ruffled, his eyes opalescent in the darkness. Her heart jumps in her chest. Holy-Una-What-The-Hell, Bexley snarls in surprise, turning totally to face the stranger with a wild flick of her burnished gold ears. The azure eyes narrow, sharp with suspicion. She looks him over - the wings, ugh, Bexley can’t contain the disbelieving shake of her head - when was the last time she met someone without wings?
Oh, sweet Solis, comes her grimace at his flirtation, one side of her lip curling upward in might be amusement, or disgust. She takes a brief step back as he moves toward her, an instinct to flinch that she does not bother suppressing - he’s much too young to pique her interest. You’re a kid. Pretty, sure, but probably half her age. With a brief glance she stashes him away for later, noting the fact that he’s in charge of something called the “Crows”, apparently in a position of power, calls Reich the “Orphan King” instead of, well, anything else - interesting. She pauses for a moment, starts to introduce herself, and then stops short at the sound of Reich’s voice floating through the air.
There you go, Bex smirks at the page, raising her eyebrows, gaze feline, Bexley Briar, that’s me - and with a tumble of those wild blonde curls she turns to face the King as he enters, mischief glimmering in her eyes like an opal underwater. Sovereign, comes that unserious voice, and quickly Bexley dips into a half-bow, only a moment for reverence before she springs back into that body humming with energy, with playfulness. Solis help anyone who threatens what is now a fragile joy, strained and tested by thoughts of Florentine, and only barely keeping Bexley as high as she is now. With a quick glance over her shoulder that says to Raglan, stay where you are, she twirls closer to Reich and leans in so he can hear her next words, so soft, so curious: I’ve met Florentine.
Her gaze meets the Night King’s with an impish interest. From the look on her face, it would be impossible to tell that this meeting with Florentine had gone as far as it did, or left her as upset as it had: now there is only the thrill of uncertainty in her chest, and she looks up at Reichenbach surely, patiently.
And who’s your Silvertongue? Bexley asks, changing the subject abruptly. Over her shoulder she meets Raglan’s gaze and bats her lashes at him once, twice, a flurry of sunlight.
@reichenbach @
RE: HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Raglan - 09-12-2017
Oh, she was a doll.
Raglan's grin could only grow at the whiplash of her surprise-turned-irritation and he wondered at what it would take to quell the storm that wore the mare's skin. It was an effort not to preen beneath her razored gaze despite the increasing understanding that the lass would skin him if alive if she could - if anything, it made her even more alluring. Of course Raglan, like most living creatures upon the earth, had been born with an innate sense of self-preservation, and as he gazed into the aquamarine eyes of the golden beauty that stood smirking before him, and the growing surety that she was a lass with both claws and fangs, he decided to ignore that sense. Taking a single step closer to match her retreating one - a small distance, but enough to pop that bubble of personal space she surrounded herself with - the Crow gave a nod and his most rogueish smirk to accompany his reply, "Sweet Solis, indeed, it was mighty sweet of him to give the world someone as dazzling as yourse--" "You're a kid."
He broke off as his laughter, genuine and full of surprise burst from his lips. The facade of seducer fell away as he appraised the mare with eyes unclouded by the haze of adolescence, leaving in its place Raglan Silvertongue, Street Crow and Quickfinger, all Cobble Trash and mischief. "Well, yeah," came his chuckling reply, silvery tail swishing at his hind and opalescent eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth, "A pretty cool one, at that." He would have said more, would have cracked a joke or ten and set about regaling the maiden with stories of his and his King's street adventures (if she would have them, that is) but was robbed the joy of such an encounter by the warm greeting of Reichenbach. Another laugh bubbled up from the bloodied lad's belly as he moved aside to make room for his sovereign, horned head bobbing slightly in a semblance of a bow, a wry flicker still embedded in his every move, "Well, Reich, if I can't, then who can?"
As he backed toward one of the tapestry-decorated walls, the tips of his folded wings brushing against the plush surface of the hanging before his curved horns had a chance to, Raglan watched the girl - Bexley Briar - and his First Crow interact; dropped pretenses of rank or Court, relaxed muscles and comfortable smiles, coy titles and hushed words - the pair knew one another rather well. Interesting, that, thought the Crow, a brow quirking playfully as he took a joking step forward in response to the warning glance that their guest tossed over her shoulder. Raglan ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned his weight to his left, cocking his back right hoof as he settled in to wait out the "secret" words between the pair.
While the lad couldn't hear the mare's words with clarity, he did pick up two sharp "t" sounds and a hissing "f" that preceded the second "t." Along with that, it was hard to mask the humming of syllables echoed along the stone walls - buh..buh.. BUhbuhbuh. After waiting a few moments, his mind aflurry with the bits of information he had been given, along with wondering whether dissecting the secrets of his own sovereign was even allowed, morally speaking, Raglan got the chance to offer a wink to Bexley's fluttering lashes and blow her a kiss.
A huff of laughter was followed by a teasing "Awh, there's my doll," flung in Miss Briar's direction before Raglan shifted his weight to the other side - patience, while necessary in his world, had never been a virtue of the Silvertongue.
Raglan's grin could only grow at the whiplash of her surprise-turned-irritation and he wondered at what it would take to quell the storm that wore the mare's skin. It was an effort not to preen beneath her razored gaze despite the increasing understanding that the lass would skin him if alive if she could - if anything, it made her even more alluring. Of course Raglan, like most living creatures upon the earth, had been born with an innate sense of self-preservation, and as he gazed into the aquamarine eyes of the golden beauty that stood smirking before him, and the growing surety that she was a lass with both claws and fangs, he decided to ignore that sense. Taking a single step closer to match her retreating one - a small distance, but enough to pop that bubble of personal space she surrounded herself with - the Crow gave a nod and his most rogueish smirk to accompany his reply, "Sweet Solis, indeed, it was mighty sweet of him to give the world someone as dazzling as yourse--" "You're a kid."
He broke off as his laughter, genuine and full of surprise burst from his lips. The facade of seducer fell away as he appraised the mare with eyes unclouded by the haze of adolescence, leaving in its place Raglan Silvertongue, Street Crow and Quickfinger, all Cobble Trash and mischief. "Well, yeah," came his chuckling reply, silvery tail swishing at his hind and opalescent eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth, "A pretty cool one, at that." He would have said more, would have cracked a joke or ten and set about regaling the maiden with stories of his and his King's street adventures (if she would have them, that is) but was robbed the joy of such an encounter by the warm greeting of Reichenbach. Another laugh bubbled up from the bloodied lad's belly as he moved aside to make room for his sovereign, horned head bobbing slightly in a semblance of a bow, a wry flicker still embedded in his every move, "Well, Reich, if I can't, then who can?"
As he backed toward one of the tapestry-decorated walls, the tips of his folded wings brushing against the plush surface of the hanging before his curved horns had a chance to, Raglan watched the girl - Bexley Briar - and his First Crow interact; dropped pretenses of rank or Court, relaxed muscles and comfortable smiles, coy titles and hushed words - the pair knew one another rather well. Interesting, that, thought the Crow, a brow quirking playfully as he took a joking step forward in response to the warning glance that their guest tossed over her shoulder. Raglan ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned his weight to his left, cocking his back right hoof as he settled in to wait out the "secret" words between the pair.
While the lad couldn't hear the mare's words with clarity, he did pick up two sharp "t" sounds and a hissing "f" that preceded the second "t." Along with that, it was hard to mask the humming of syllables echoed along the stone walls - buh..buh.. BUhbuhbuh. After waiting a few moments, his mind aflurry with the bits of information he had been given, along with wondering whether dissecting the secrets of his own sovereign was even allowed, morally speaking, Raglan got the chance to offer a wink to Bexley's fluttering lashes and blow her a kiss.
A huff of laughter was followed by a teasing "Awh, there's my doll," flung in Miss Briar's direction before Raglan shifted his weight to the other side - patience, while necessary in his world, had never been a virtue of the Silvertongue.
@
RE: HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Reichenbach - 09-14-2017
KING OF THIEVES
Her bow feels somewhat wrong in the cavernous room - in fact, the whole scene came across as a little strange. Neither he nor Bexley were made to live in rooms of grandeur like this, though Reichenbach was certain the blonde haired devil would enjoy the luxuries nonetheless. He, on the other hand, found the vast room as constricting as chains - unnecessary and wasteful. Denocte had beauty aplenty outside of these richly decorated halls - halls that acted now as a memory of what, who, The Night Court had been in the past.
Reichenbach grinned at her resplendence, a golden beacon shining with warm sunlight, beautiful as the first day he had set eyes upon her. She was just as volatile too, just as chaotic and mischievous. She, like him, inspired smiles wherever she trod. Though smiles toward Bexley no doubt were inspired by lust - a thought that darkened his mind for a moment. Should anyone touch Bexley Briar without her permission, they would soon be finding a group of particularly bloodthirsty Crows at their door, with very particular instructions.
I’ve met Florentine.
He doesn't even register the name before his body reacts, heart thundering dangerously in a strange mix of elation, excitement and dread. What did that mean? What did it mean that Bexley, dangerous and flirtatious as she was, was bringing up Florentine to him. All mirth left Reichenbach's long lashed eyes as he studied the impish face before him, each heavy emotion displayed upon his handsome face. Heartbreak. Fear. Longing.
"And?"
He murmured gently. Not an argumentative question, but one designed to show that he knew she must know there was something between them, something more than Dusk chasing Night. The question lingers, Reichenbach also glancing to Raglan. Raglan, his second within the Crows. The boy was too smart for his own good sometimes, but no better man could be found at his back.
"You can call him Raglan" he said with amusement, glancing wryly at the winged page "Anything else you'll have to discover from him. Give him a few years and he'll be a match for your razor lips"
The words were jovial, even the tone, but his eyes remained pained, questioning. Why would Bexley Briar, beauty of Solterra, be talking to him about... about the girl he was so desperately, hopelessly in love with.
@
RE: HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Bexley - 09-16-2017
BEXLEY BRIAR
Although Bexley’s experience in the Night Court is limited at best, and although she often feels pent up by rooms like this, dark, cold, no sun or sand to touch - here she is somehow still in her element, not overwhelmed or unconfident. Exhilaration is a live thing moving in her blood. Though she watches Reich calmly, clearly, she shifts as she looks, narrow hips swaying imperceptibly, curls jumping as she attempts to contain her cheerfulness. Reichenbach - her friend!
And Raglan. Whoever he is.
Sweet Solis, indeed, it was mighty sweet of him to give the world someone as dazzling as yourse-- Bexley smirks and tilts her head at him with an innocent blink, as though she’s listening intently, though it’s obvious her mind is already made up: he’s amusing, but not impressive. If he knew anything about her, he would be pleased at that. With easy grace she watches him take that single step forward and raises a brow but says nothing, a look of amusement cool across her face, having never been a girl to back down, to lose any ground. Besides that, she is sure he will do nothing but attempt to charm her, surely won’t try anything stupid in front of Reich. Let them play this game. It’s been long enough since she’s had any fun.
Within a moment, though, she is distracted by her conversation with the sovereign. They lean toward each other, the exchange of whispers calm and quiet; Bexley’s blue eyes watch with intensity for a reaction when Florentine’s name escapes her lips, and she is not disappointed. From a distance it would be imperceptible, but swaying mere inches from Reich’s handsome face it is evident that something within him startles, bucks and awakens. Like lightning in the desert - that obvious. A sick thud echoes in Bexley’s chest. Jealousy? Pity? Regret? Most likely a mix of all three; though her heart is pounding too loud against her ribs, she does not flinch, does not waver, does not look away.
This is all so unfair. Love - so stupid and so irrepressible. She cannot blame them for wanting each other, just as she cannot blame herself for falling into the middle of it. But seeing the war that crosses Reichenbach’s face makes her, for a moment, feel so incomprehensibly guilty that the world clouds and goes quiet and black, for it is impossible to understand what would possess the gods to punish them like this.
And?
And I’m sorry, she responds instantly. It’s too loud - loud enough for Raglan to hear - and as she says it shame fills those azure eyes, flushes heat to her cheeks, yet her voice is sure, is genuine, reverent. Breath heavy, she sways slightly on her feet. Guilt-guilt-guilt pulses through her body. Softer: I left, and she blinks at him, hoping that this will make sense, that she won’t have to explain it all over again, the tryst, the sheer idiocy, the regret that has been germinating in her brain for days on days, knowing this was something she should have thought about more, should have been more careful about. It’s hard enough to think about - harder to say. Gently she touches her lips to his cheek, then withdraws.
With immense effort, Bex plasters on another grin and turns to face Raglan, blonde curls brushing on accident against Reich’s legs with the sudden movement. Silvertongue, echoes the Solterran with no small amount of mirth. Gold teeth, too? She bares her own teeth in a smile, swaying toward hm in one, two long strides, utterly too bright to belong her, and not caring at all. Any other hotshot titles?
Despite the smile, the energy, the happiness that comes off her like sunlight in the summer, her brain still buzzes with a subtle horror: Reich does not deserve the hurt she has just gifted him. An anxious glance is flicked over her shoulder back at the Sovereign, but in the dim light it’s impossible to be certain what he’s thinking.
@reichenbach @
RE: HEY LITTLE HOLLYWOOD - - Raglan - 10-19-2017
As Reichenbach turned his attention to the winged lad lingering against the wall, Raglan's curiosity transformed into concern at the pain that lurked within the Old Crow's gunmetal eyes. Brow creasing, the horned youth narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and jerked his chin to the side in such a way that practically screamed What's wrong? You can't fool me. Fess up. Shifting his slight weight from his left side and into the center, the young stag felt his pulse speed up slightly, his body interpreting the sudden shift in mood as a threat. Nostrils flaring, Raglan blew a sigh and swished his silken tail against his hocks - movements that, to the untrained eye, may seem like general fidgeting from a rogueish boy who was tired of being left out.
But to Reichenbach, to his commander and his brother, Raglan knew that his movements would be interpreted correctly -- As a demand to let his second shoulder some of that crushing weight that shone so clearly in those smoke and moonlight eyes.
Pale eyes flicking to the golden rose at his sovereign's side, Raglan noted the way her observant, almost predatory gaze flicked over her surroundings. What was she to the Night Court King? Careful to keep his face neutral and his posture relaxed, the Silvertongue made a mental note to get in contact with whichever Crow was stationed in the Day Court and find out what they could about this Bexley Briar and her interesting mannerisms.
Almost immediately after that thought was filed away, however, Raglan was struck with a massive wave of guilt. Who was he to judge the Old Crow's friends? Did he not think that the very man who had trained him could take care of himself? What kind of Second was he if he didn't trust Reich to make good choices? The lad tried not to shake his skull, to cast away the conflict clanging away within his skull.
No. That's what a Second does. He checks the destructive impulses of his Commander. He remains suspicious even when his First is relaxed.
Setting his jaw and twisting his lips into a smirk, Raglan fluttered his lashes sweetly at Reichenbach's praise before fixing his attention upon the Day Court mare, quirking a brow at the way her curls brushed his legs and her scandalously close proximity. Warning bells rang in his skull - she could strike she could strike she could strike and I would never get there in time - but the lass began to stroll his way before he could react, a flirtatious grin plastered upon her face where a wolf had been only moments before.
"Oh, you probably know the generic ones, Miss Briar," he drawled, wings flexing at his sides before relaxing to the point where the tips nearly brushed the stone floor, "But I think my favorite is Protector of the Sovereign." And though his words were light, even playful, it would be impossible for someone as clever as Bexley to misunderstand the warning that plashed in his opal eyes. Tilting his horned head to the side, relishing in the fact that he held her attention for the time being, the Silvertongue continued, "What about you? Any envy-inducing monikers?"
But to Reichenbach, to his commander and his brother, Raglan knew that his movements would be interpreted correctly -- As a demand to let his second shoulder some of that crushing weight that shone so clearly in those smoke and moonlight eyes.
Pale eyes flicking to the golden rose at his sovereign's side, Raglan noted the way her observant, almost predatory gaze flicked over her surroundings. What was she to the Night Court King? Careful to keep his face neutral and his posture relaxed, the Silvertongue made a mental note to get in contact with whichever Crow was stationed in the Day Court and find out what they could about this Bexley Briar and her interesting mannerisms.
Almost immediately after that thought was filed away, however, Raglan was struck with a massive wave of guilt. Who was he to judge the Old Crow's friends? Did he not think that the very man who had trained him could take care of himself? What kind of Second was he if he didn't trust Reich to make good choices? The lad tried not to shake his skull, to cast away the conflict clanging away within his skull.
No. That's what a Second does. He checks the destructive impulses of his Commander. He remains suspicious even when his First is relaxed.
Setting his jaw and twisting his lips into a smirk, Raglan fluttered his lashes sweetly at Reichenbach's praise before fixing his attention upon the Day Court mare, quirking a brow at the way her curls brushed his legs and her scandalously close proximity. Warning bells rang in his skull - she could strike she could strike she could strike and I would never get there in time - but the lass began to stroll his way before he could react, a flirtatious grin plastered upon her face where a wolf had been only moments before.
"Oh, you probably know the generic ones, Miss Briar," he drawled, wings flexing at his sides before relaxing to the point where the tips nearly brushed the stone floor, "But I think my favorite is Protector of the Sovereign." And though his words were light, even playful, it would be impossible for someone as clever as Bexley to misunderstand the warning that plashed in his opal eyes. Tilting his horned head to the side, relishing in the fact that he held her attention for the time being, the Silvertongue continued, "What about you? Any envy-inducing monikers?"
@Reichenbach @