She watches realization gloss over Jahin’s violet eyes, how it washes away his typical stoicism and paints the man in a blooming fury. Even his voice seems to quake in the midst of his demands and it draws Avdotya closer, only a step or two toward him so she can feel the cascading heat of his ire. ”Oh Jahin,” she chides, ”don’t tell me you are blind to the flaws of the crown.” Her own skin starts to prickle listening to the words that fall from her tongue. It is the failures of the court that drive the Davke closer to decimation - it is the failures of the court that stand as the reason why Solterra’s tribes of old are nothing but fable written in black ink upon dog-eared pages. She meets his gaze without hesitation. ”Makeda is dead because the capitol cannot leash its incapable leaders. She is not the first of us to go, nor will she be the last.”
She doesn’t mince her words. The tone in which she speaks is one that challenges Jahin to disagree with her, it begs of him to tell her otherwise if only to give her reason loose the eager edge of her spear. Her memory recalls the stallion’s support for Seraphina under her reign as queen, abandoned only on Raum’s unceremonious usurping of the silver woman; it never left her mind, that loyalty to the throne. There remains a lingering shred of mistrust in him since then - since his return - and Makeda’s death has only left the viper more alert than ever before.
Between the pair remains the girl’s chain, half-buried in wet sand yet still glittering in the limited sunlight that is able to reach it. Avdotya looks down at it, staring briefly until her telepathy reaches down to lift it up in front of him. ”What will you do, Jahin?” She takes a step back, the chain along with her, and waits for his response. Do not disappoint me, her sharp expression so clearly says. Do not fumble now, Jahin.
Whether or not the Khan has been driven mad in light of recent events is unknown, but her agenda is as straight as an arrow. To disagree with her now is to betray her, a crime not often forgiven by a viper... and yet here they were, dancing along the paper-thin blade of whatever destiny held in store for them.
@jahin figured this route may play well into current happenings. ;)
She doesn’t mince her words. The tone in which she speaks is one that challenges Jahin to disagree with her, it begs of him to tell her otherwise if only to give her reason loose the eager edge of her spear. Her memory recalls the stallion’s support for Seraphina under her reign as queen, abandoned only on Raum’s unceremonious usurping of the silver woman; it never left her mind, that loyalty to the throne. There remains a lingering shred of mistrust in him since then - since his return - and Makeda’s death has only left the viper more alert than ever before.
Between the pair remains the girl’s chain, half-buried in wet sand yet still glittering in the limited sunlight that is able to reach it. Avdotya looks down at it, staring briefly until her telepathy reaches down to lift it up in front of him. ”What will you do, Jahin?” She takes a step back, the chain along with her, and waits for his response. Do not disappoint me, her sharp expression so clearly says. Do not fumble now, Jahin.
Whether or not the Khan has been driven mad in light of recent events is unknown, but her agenda is as straight as an arrow. To disagree with her now is to betray her, a crime not often forgiven by a viper... and yet here they were, dancing along the paper-thin blade of whatever destiny held in store for them.
@jahin figured this route may play well into current happenings. ;)
