[P] I want your money but your money ain't right;

[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends   She was as unmovable and cold as the walls that rose around them, and he wondered if the sun ever touched her, warmed her into something more pliable. It did occur to him that he might be the cause for her impassiveness (he was certainly no stranger to rousing any number of emotions), but that only raised the question of whether he should keep pushing, or back off. Normally the answer would be an easy one. But his meeting with Raum – and Maxence’s with Reich – were still fresh on his mind. He might have a careless tongue, but he didn’t intend to injure anyone else with it. Today. He rolled a shrug at her comment on Rhoswen, utterly unaware that she didn’t know of the woman’s past with the Night Court sovereign. The two were as good as siblings, and to Acton it was common knowledge. She might have defected only recently – a year or so – to the Day Court, but there was no question that her loyalty was to the sun-god. “I suspect you’re right,” he said, and might have commented further when the gunmetal-colored mare continued. The idea of walking with her to Solterra’s capital was not without its appeal. But Acton had never intended to go so far, particularly under constant scrutiny, and his invention of a needed conversation with Rhos now seemed foolish. “Hmm,” was his only response at first, as though weighing her offer. He didn’t move as she circled him, putting him in mind of a lioness or a vulture; he only flicked his tail, followed her genially with his burnished gaze. He did not let his disappointment show when Seraphina failed to rise to his bait; it seemed a specific skill of Solterran women. “So I’ve learned,” he answered as she continued back to the fore, but his mind was distracted, still weighing his predicament. “They don’t go well with Denocte’s long memories. Sometimes I’m glad I’m a foreigner. Are you native to Solterra?” As if Reichenbach and his Crows hadn’t won Acton’s loyalty more thoroughly that any nationality could; as if he didn’t throw himself into their battles as much as any Dencotian. But that, too, had little to do with the Night Court itself, and everything to do with the gunpowder-black of his heart. His gaze swung back to her, and her silver coat made him think of Raum. He doubted this interaction was enough to put the Ghost in danger, but showing up at the Day Court might be a different matter. “The pleasure is mine, Seraphina,” he said, stepping up alongside her, and then raised a brow. “More than you know. You see, I’m supposed to ask Rhos about ideas for an upcoming party. Reichenbach has always valued her opinion, and he wants our upcoming festival to be more, ah, sophisticated than our usual.” Another shrug; he cast his glance back to the jagged-topped stone walls, catching the silhouette of a bird wheeling out of view. He couldn’t tell if it was a buzzard or an eagle. When his gaze fell to the silver mare again, it was accompanied by a soft laugh. “But if you could save me the trouble and ask Rhoswen to send Reich her thoughts, I’d be grateful. I wasn’t keen on crossing your desert to ask about decorations.” @Seraphina <3 excuse the blergh, I was writing during work