Teiran did not miss the sharpening of the other woman’s eyes upon her, did not miss the way she watched her nor the inflection in her voice that spoke to something else. Something akin to appreciation, which she did not understand. What she also could not understand, could not know, is the way her companion was reminded of someone else, someone important to her, someone who was not here in the desert sands, beneath the unforgiving sun. If there was a heart string pulling the medicine cap in another direction, Teiran did not see.
“Maybe,” she replied, though there was really little introspection to the word, “but it didn’t, did it?” Had the rose hued warrior ever thought that she would fail against the Davke? Honestly, no. When she fought, she thought of nothing but victory, of tearing down anyone who stood in the path to her people’s safety and wellbeing. She thought of nothing else, and she would do whatever it took to ensure such things were maintained. It was not a matter of choice.
Her sage green eyes slicked over the woman as she spoke, lifting her head and stretching. Was it diplomatic? Teiran had little knowledge of politics, other than what she has discerned over her time among the Court. What she had said simply seemed like the proper thing to say. Was it not courtesy to do do something other than demand? Perhaps then, she was allowing too much, over observing. Somehow she managed to keep finding herself in positions where she needed to socialize with very little knowledge on how to do such a thing properly.
Fortunately for her, it seemed she was going to fed an out like a dog a bone, and Teiran gladly snatched at it. “It is wise. The desert, she is a fickle thing.” Her statement was not ironic, or joking. More souls than she cared to count would have been swallowed up by the desert over the years. Some, perhaps, still lingered, forever wandering the sands as though trapped. Besides, the Davke may very well still be out there, while Day Court licked its wounds, planning to return.
“I need to get back to my patrol. If you are interested in a job, I can show you to where they are working to clear the streets,” an offer, of sorts, and the warrior stepped away from the fountain and made to head back to the maze of sand covered streets, empty doorways and dark alleys. Soon she would be prowling again, her shadow falling over every nook and cranny. She paused, only for a moment, to look back over her shoulder and say “Call me Teiran,” before setting off. Should Shrike decide to follow, Teiran could not say she would wholly dislike the company. If not, well, perhaps they would meet again in the future.
“Maybe,” she replied, though there was really little introspection to the word, “but it didn’t, did it?” Had the rose hued warrior ever thought that she would fail against the Davke? Honestly, no. When she fought, she thought of nothing but victory, of tearing down anyone who stood in the path to her people’s safety and wellbeing. She thought of nothing else, and she would do whatever it took to ensure such things were maintained. It was not a matter of choice.
Her sage green eyes slicked over the woman as she spoke, lifting her head and stretching. Was it diplomatic? Teiran had little knowledge of politics, other than what she has discerned over her time among the Court. What she had said simply seemed like the proper thing to say. Was it not courtesy to do do something other than demand? Perhaps then, she was allowing too much, over observing. Somehow she managed to keep finding herself in positions where she needed to socialize with very little knowledge on how to do such a thing properly.
Fortunately for her, it seemed she was going to fed an out like a dog a bone, and Teiran gladly snatched at it. “It is wise. The desert, she is a fickle thing.” Her statement was not ironic, or joking. More souls than she cared to count would have been swallowed up by the desert over the years. Some, perhaps, still lingered, forever wandering the sands as though trapped. Besides, the Davke may very well still be out there, while Day Court licked its wounds, planning to return.
“I need to get back to my patrol. If you are interested in a job, I can show you to where they are working to clear the streets,” an offer, of sorts, and the warrior stepped away from the fountain and made to head back to the maze of sand covered streets, empty doorways and dark alleys. Soon she would be prowling again, her shadow falling over every nook and cranny. She paused, only for a moment, to look back over her shoulder and say “Call me Teiran,” before setting off. Should Shrike decide to follow, Teiran could not say she would wholly dislike the company. If not, well, perhaps they would meet again in the future.
@Shrike Teiran out <3
