As Reichenbach turned his attention to the winged lad lingering against the wall, Raglan's curiosity transformed into concern at the pain that lurked within the Old Crow's gunmetal eyes. Brow creasing, the horned youth narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and jerked his chin to the side in such a way that practically screamed What's wrong? You can't fool me. Fess up. Shifting his slight weight from his left side and into the center, the young stag felt his pulse speed up slightly, his body interpreting the sudden shift in mood as a threat. Nostrils flaring, Raglan blew a sigh and swished his silken tail against his hocks - movements that, to the untrained eye, may seem like general fidgeting from a rogueish boy who was tired of being left out.
But to Reichenbach, to his commander and his brother, Raglan knew that his movements would be interpreted correctly -- As a demand to let his second shoulder some of that crushing weight that shone so clearly in those smoke and moonlight eyes.
Pale eyes flicking to the golden rose at his sovereign's side, Raglan noted the way her observant, almost predatory gaze flicked over her surroundings. What was she to the Night Court King? Careful to keep his face neutral and his posture relaxed, the Silvertongue made a mental note to get in contact with whichever Crow was stationed in the Day Court and find out what they could about this Bexley Briar and her interesting mannerisms.
Almost immediately after that thought was filed away, however, Raglan was struck with a massive wave of guilt. Who was he to judge the Old Crow's friends? Did he not think that the very man who had trained him could take care of himself? What kind of Second was he if he didn't trust Reich to make good choices? The lad tried not to shake his skull, to cast away the conflict clanging away within his skull.
No. That's what a Second does. He checks the destructive impulses of his Commander. He remains suspicious even when his First is relaxed.
Setting his jaw and twisting his lips into a smirk, Raglan fluttered his lashes sweetly at Reichenbach's praise before fixing his attention upon the Day Court mare, quirking a brow at the way her curls brushed his legs and her scandalously close proximity. Warning bells rang in his skull - she could strike she could strike she could strike and I would never get there in time - but the lass began to stroll his way before he could react, a flirtatious grin plastered upon her face where a wolf had been only moments before.
"Oh, you probably know the generic ones, Miss Briar," he drawled, wings flexing at his sides before relaxing to the point where the tips nearly brushed the stone floor, "But I think my favorite is Protector of the Sovereign." And though his words were light, even playful, it would be impossible for someone as clever as Bexley to misunderstand the warning that plashed in his opal eyes. Tilting his horned head to the side, relishing in the fact that he held her attention for the time being, the Silvertongue continued, "What about you? Any envy-inducing monikers?"
But to Reichenbach, to his commander and his brother, Raglan knew that his movements would be interpreted correctly -- As a demand to let his second shoulder some of that crushing weight that shone so clearly in those smoke and moonlight eyes.
Pale eyes flicking to the golden rose at his sovereign's side, Raglan noted the way her observant, almost predatory gaze flicked over her surroundings. What was she to the Night Court King? Careful to keep his face neutral and his posture relaxed, the Silvertongue made a mental note to get in contact with whichever Crow was stationed in the Day Court and find out what they could about this Bexley Briar and her interesting mannerisms.
Almost immediately after that thought was filed away, however, Raglan was struck with a massive wave of guilt. Who was he to judge the Old Crow's friends? Did he not think that the very man who had trained him could take care of himself? What kind of Second was he if he didn't trust Reich to make good choices? The lad tried not to shake his skull, to cast away the conflict clanging away within his skull.
No. That's what a Second does. He checks the destructive impulses of his Commander. He remains suspicious even when his First is relaxed.
Setting his jaw and twisting his lips into a smirk, Raglan fluttered his lashes sweetly at Reichenbach's praise before fixing his attention upon the Day Court mare, quirking a brow at the way her curls brushed his legs and her scandalously close proximity. Warning bells rang in his skull - she could strike she could strike she could strike and I would never get there in time - but the lass began to stroll his way before he could react, a flirtatious grin plastered upon her face where a wolf had been only moments before.
"Oh, you probably know the generic ones, Miss Briar," he drawled, wings flexing at his sides before relaxing to the point where the tips nearly brushed the stone floor, "But I think my favorite is Protector of the Sovereign." And though his words were light, even playful, it would be impossible for someone as clever as Bexley to misunderstand the warning that plashed in his opal eyes. Tilting his horned head to the side, relishing in the fact that he held her attention for the time being, the Silvertongue continued, "What about you? Any envy-inducing monikers?"
@Reichenbach @
