![[Image: rhosmusonartsmall.png]](https://image.ibb.co/cvttvR/rhosmusonartsmall.png)
"For a while now."
Rhoswen tilted her head ever so slightly, an expression of calculated mirth glinting in the prismatic gloom of her wintry eye. She had not expected him to be so candid about his situation, and she considered him to be somewhat naive; was it wise to step into the kingdom of armoured warriors and sand snakes only to instantly reveal your vulnerability? Honourable, maybe. Foolish, maybe. Youth could gift you many qualities, but it was also a thief; it robbed you of deliberate forethought. Rhos keeps her silence, her lips a curved seal.
"I've heard all the best warriors train here... is that true?"
A laugh, now. It pours from her fine throat and drenches the air between them. He wasn't wrong, but the youthful innocence of his voice seemed to wrap Rhoswen up in amusement. She watched wryly as he shifted, attempting to ascertain some form of unspoken control over the situation - over her. The desert-woman merely cocked a hind hoof in an effortless display of confidence; she did not need to posture or ruffle her feathers to feel her slender hands around his throat. Still refusing to release a syllable into the hanging silence Rhos considered him, taller than her, larger than her, and smiled.
"Born here, train here, die here. Isn't that poetic?" A coy smile ricochets up the delicate, marble lines of her face. It mocked and welcomed him all at once. Her Pa had once called her a cyclone; a handful of wilderness; a forest fire. She wondered who this boy was? Had his father named him a hundred things too?
"And who, exactly, wants to know?"
@Saoirse smol post
Rhoswen tilted her head ever so slightly, an expression of calculated mirth glinting in the prismatic gloom of her wintry eye. She had not expected him to be so candid about his situation, and she considered him to be somewhat naive; was it wise to step into the kingdom of armoured warriors and sand snakes only to instantly reveal your vulnerability? Honourable, maybe. Foolish, maybe. Youth could gift you many qualities, but it was also a thief; it robbed you of deliberate forethought. Rhos keeps her silence, her lips a curved seal.
"I've heard all the best warriors train here... is that true?"
A laugh, now. It pours from her fine throat and drenches the air between them. He wasn't wrong, but the youthful innocence of his voice seemed to wrap Rhoswen up in amusement. She watched wryly as he shifted, attempting to ascertain some form of unspoken control over the situation - over her. The desert-woman merely cocked a hind hoof in an effortless display of confidence; she did not need to posture or ruffle her feathers to feel her slender hands around his throat. Still refusing to release a syllable into the hanging silence Rhos considered him, taller than her, larger than her, and smiled.
"Born here, train here, die here. Isn't that poetic?" A coy smile ricochets up the delicate, marble lines of her face. It mocked and welcomed him all at once. Her Pa had once called her a cyclone; a handful of wilderness; a forest fire. She wondered who this boy was? Had his father named him a hundred things too?
"And who, exactly, wants to know?"
