A V D O T Y A SHE WAITS; SEETHING, BLOOMING.
It was not often that Avdotya walked the stone halls of the great keep. There was no fondness for it in her heart, only a deep-seated sense of ire that still lingered from many years past... and yet here she walked, her hooves clattering against the cold floor as she strode through. She recalled her last visit being very different, her spear coated in king's-blood and her heart ablaze with a fury it had never felt before. The woman almost cracked a smile at the thought of Zolin dying at her feet; the satisfaction she felt while opening his throat was nothing she had ever felt before, nor had she felt it again since. It was almost a shame that so few knew it was her who had assassinated the boy king- in fact, only one other knew of her deeds, and his scent seemed to float among the halls this very moment.
The mare's attention averted itself from her thoughts and suddenly focused on the familiar, sweet smell of the man. He was not one she expected to see here, but then again, she had never anticipated ever coming back again herself, either. What motives did he have, she wondered.
When she found him, he was already in the company of two men, one being Maxence himself. She stopped a fair distance away from the trio and looked at Velorca with a suspicious eye. It seemed he had a knack for drawing kings in. "That one is no flower child." She interrupted firmly while she gestured at the darker stallion. Avdotya had no intention of clarifying who he was, that was his prerogative, but she could not help voicing their familiarity with each other if only to catch Velorca's attention. Of course, she suspected all she had to do was arrive to achieve that.
The woman remained where she stood, away from them and at the crook of the foyer. She examined the stallion she did not know for a fleeting moment, but did not concern herself with him for now; her interest held steady on Velorca, curious to watch him with the newly minted sovereign. Perhaps he would take a liking to him, too.
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