”Whatever you’re doing” She wasn’t really doing anything. It was more that her island was her safe haven where she could get away from the bullshit of court life. She didn’t have to see anyone, speak to anyone, or even think of anyone. Her island was relatively peaceful, unless you count the squirrels that were contained on the next island over. Those little bastards lit bonfires all night. It was a surprise the island still had trees to burn.
She studies him, the way his mouth curls into a toothy grin. It’s ugly as hell and she can’t help the disgust that paints itself on her face just as plain as day. Sloane had never really been good at hiding what she was thinking. She’d been told her eyes were expressive, whatever the hell that meant. Her eyes were simply eyes, genetic created for her to see the world around her so she didn’t have to stumble her way through. They held no emotion because they were just eyes. The people in this land seemed to personify everything and quite frankly, it was annoying as hell. "I’m not doing anything. I just don’t have to deal with obnoxious, curious people. Unlike the place you have here crawling with people and packed like a sardine can, I’m quite happy with my deserted island, population: One." She didn’t have to deal with people looking at her, touching her, or god forbid trying to talk to her when she didn’t want to be talked to. If she were a religious person, which she isn’t, then her island might be described as heavenly.
With her business settled, Sloane was just about ready to turn and leave. She never was one to entertain or have idle chit chat. Such things were fucking boring. She honestly didn’t care who he was or the kind of person he hoped to be. As long as he didn’t fuck with her island, he could be Hitler and she wouldn’t care.
But then he asks who she is and Sloane cannot help the way her eyes roll back into their sockets. The dramatic action meant to show her disdain for the turn of events that lead to an extended conversation. Honestly, she didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone for that matter. But, she supposed it was better he had a name to put to a face, in case anything came up. "Sloane." She wasn’t champion of anything, entertainer, healer, nor soldier. She was just a leech that wasted Delumine’s resources and offered nothing of substance in return. Yes, that was who Sloane was: a leech, or perhaps even a diseased tick.
@Andras
