In the brief reprieve of the quiet night, the winter world so far outside the little bubble of warmth that was Denocte, the Wolf was content to soak up the peace. She did wonder how long it would last- she was a creature of war, born in chaos and forged from battle, could she truly forsake her own nature and live a comfortable life. Once she might have said yes, when she had Skender at her side and her Kingdom stretched out below. She could have run away with him, escaped the danger of Alanaris and find somewhere safe to raise a family. But he was gone, along with any chance she had at starting a family and enjoying peace. The Tyrant King had seen to that.
But tonight was not a night to dwell on the misfortune of her past. Tonight, as the stars gleamed proudly amidst the midnight expanse and lanterns flickered merrily with a dozen little flames, it was time to simply enjoy the calm that bestowed itself upon Denocte.
Stopping at the well-lit storefront, the princess admires the beautifully crafted jewellery that gleams within. A voice permeates the quiet and the Wolf turns, a little swiftly, to find a winged woman of galaxy red. The voice is husky and polite, a golden gaze fixed upon Castalla’s pale form. Gently a smile traces its way across the scarred woman’s lips, her sapphire eyes gleaming in the lowlight.
“Hello,” she responds, dipping her head. The assassin cannot say she knows every face in Denocte (though she hopes to one day soon) she does know each of the Court’s important figures. “Moira isn’t it?”
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