“Lord Hajakha.”
A sticky wave of unpleasantness never failed to course through Senna’s body whenever his daughter bowed to him. It did not happen often, which meant that whenever it did happen both parties suffered an undisclosed amount, and neither ever chose to disclose it.
It took the nobleman an uncharacteristic moment to gather his bearings.
But gather them he did, and after easing the hood of his traveling cloak off his head, he returned her bow with brevity. Aghavni would not rise until he did, and the longer she remained prone before him, the more the unpleasantness sank its black-tipped claws into his neck.
He supposed she knew this.
“Aghavni. You rushed ahead and I lost you in the crowd.” Though Senna’s lips smiled harmlessly enough, the narrowing of his eyes suggested that his statement was really meant to be interpreted as a question. Miniscule signals like these were designed to test if the one he was addressing deserved any more of his time, and he should’ve left the habit behind when he left the confines of the court.
But as he had taught to his daughter many years ago, you never really left the confines of the court.
And he had taught her well, for her answer was given in an elegant tilt of the head to the little girl — who he hadn't thought to notice — standing besides her. The courtly signal for “you should know her.”
“And who is —” Senna paused when his eyes traveled far enough down to see the little one’s face. Because he did know her.
“Lieve’tel.” Vikander’s resurrected daughter. The nobleman sank into yet another uncharacteristic gathering-his-bearings silence. The last time he had seen the child had been almost exactly two years ago, resting upon the silk of a coffin. He supposed Vikander had told him about his success when he’d spoken to him last, but to see her for himself…
His momentary silence was, he hoped, understandable.
You feel as if you’ve seen a ghost, came Nestor’s prickly, yet relentlessly curious, voice. Have you? If you have, don’t keep me in suspense. This island looks disappointingly normal, which is to say, a ghost sighting would give me the excitement I am lacking.
You’ll see her later, was Senna’s exasperated reply.
He did not miss Aghavni’s inquisitive gaze on him when he lowered his head to the bright eyed, wondrously living Lieve’tel.
“Your father is a good friend of mine. I am pleased to meet you at last.”
A sticky wave of unpleasantness never failed to course through Senna’s body whenever his daughter bowed to him. It did not happen often, which meant that whenever it did happen both parties suffered an undisclosed amount, and neither ever chose to disclose it.
It took the nobleman an uncharacteristic moment to gather his bearings.
But gather them he did, and after easing the hood of his traveling cloak off his head, he returned her bow with brevity. Aghavni would not rise until he did, and the longer she remained prone before him, the more the unpleasantness sank its black-tipped claws into his neck.
He supposed she knew this.
“Aghavni. You rushed ahead and I lost you in the crowd.” Though Senna’s lips smiled harmlessly enough, the narrowing of his eyes suggested that his statement was really meant to be interpreted as a question. Miniscule signals like these were designed to test if the one he was addressing deserved any more of his time, and he should’ve left the habit behind when he left the confines of the court.
But as he had taught to his daughter many years ago, you never really left the confines of the court.
And he had taught her well, for her answer was given in an elegant tilt of the head to the little girl — who he hadn't thought to notice — standing besides her. The courtly signal for “you should know her.”
“And who is —” Senna paused when his eyes traveled far enough down to see the little one’s face. Because he did know her.
“Lieve’tel.” Vikander’s resurrected daughter. The nobleman sank into yet another uncharacteristic gathering-his-bearings silence. The last time he had seen the child had been almost exactly two years ago, resting upon the silk of a coffin. He supposed Vikander had told him about his success when he’d spoken to him last, but to see her for himself…
His momentary silence was, he hoped, understandable.
You feel as if you’ve seen a ghost, came Nestor’s prickly, yet relentlessly curious, voice. Have you? If you have, don’t keep me in suspense. This island looks disappointingly normal, which is to say, a ghost sighting would give me the excitement I am lacking.
You’ll see her later, was Senna’s exasperated reply.
He did not miss Aghavni’s inquisitive gaze on him when he lowered his head to the bright eyed, wondrously living Lieve’tel.
“Your father is a good friend of mine. I am pleased to meet you at last.”
@Lieve'tel | "senna" nestor | notes: lieve has accomplished a most impressive thing: catching senna off guard
STAFF EDIT***
@Sennahas rolled a 3! He has been awarded +100 signos.
