There is a mighty grip that ensnared her as Moira addressed the people, letting them all know why the meeting had been called and why the very air around them seemed to crackle and pulse with an explainable desperation. Every so slowly did Runaveig’s golden eyes widen, realization dawning on her. Oh. Acton was dead. Isra was stolen away. The one responsible, Raum, had committed incorrigible crimes against Denocte and needed to be punished accordingly. Looking to the left, then the right, Runa watched the multitude of reactions that sent ripples of emotion through the gathered citizens. First, shock. Who in the world could do such a thing? Why? What had caused it? Then, grief. Not a member of their own, betrayal stinging quick and close like a sharp, hot knife burning beneath flesh. Finally, anger. Justice was demanded just as swiftly as Moira’s words had come, and Runaveig, well… She quivered. Far more noble of equines stepped forward to pledge their efforts to Moira in bringing Isra, the Queen that Runa had not been lucky enough to meet yet, home. Soldiers and medics alike swore their abilities to return Isra from the clutches of a madman, and every effort was commendable and respectable… But what could she do? Runa shook, her dusk colored body quivering with every shiver and shake. She was just a singer, a performer, an entertainer. What efforts did she have to help? Darkness and anxiety pooled within her gut, and unbidden, the young woman took a step back as though to make a hasty exit. She didn’t, however, somehow managing to hold her ground… But only for a moment. Watching her carefully, Umbra frowned. The dragon knew of a time where Runaveig would have brazenly pledged her militaristic prowess to Moira and Denocte’s Queen, but this was not the same woman. This Runaveig was not touched by the cruelty of war, the desperation and need to protect others. This Runaveig did not have Kratos. She was just a gypsy girl raised in the mountains, thrust into a sudden uprising that could hold disastrous results. ’We’ll be alright, Runa,’ he said to her gently through their mental bond, ’There’s no need to fret. We can help in our way, hm? You know medicines, darling, and your voice is a medicine in itself.’ Golden eyes flicked gratefully towards the opalescent black dragon roosting upon her shoulders, and Runaveig let out a deep, heavy breath. Her shoulders were raised with tension and fear, and slowly she took a few steps closer to speak out over the other proclamations of fealty. “I, um. I know some healing remedies. It isn’t much, but… It’s there.” A pause as anxiety grasped her heart in a merciless grip, squeezing tight, and Runaveig swallowed. “Um. Yeah.” Ducking her head, she stepped back once more, shame and embarrassment coloring her cheeks. |
