Anxiety tastes strong and bitter in the air. It controls the boy, sets his torso to shake and tremble.
But she waits, with eyes wide and so filled with worry. But she waits.
Soon he speaks, and it is of dried ink and uncurled paper. Florentine looks to the note again crumbled and wind-worn but still crisp. Indeed the paper had not softened in the heat of the swamp, drinking its moisture into its pores.
Flora considers the ink and the writing. The ink was the very one used for the notes at the festival, but the writing – she does not know it. If it was from Night, then it was not by Reichenbach’s hand. He wrote her enough letters (and her heart clenches as it thinks of the love he once poured into them) for her to know his writing by now.
“I do not think this is from Night…” Florentine says slowly. She is still considering the letter when Cyrene arrives, pouring from the citadel like wine. The words settle themselves between the trio, and for a moment the Dusk girl allows their silence to permeate.
“The notes in the swamp were from everyone, to everyone.” Her eyes trail over the menacing scrawl and it is as if she can already heart those words resonating to the sound of clashing steel. “Anyone could have left this note, but it talks of a nation…” Florentine takes a breath, “There is discord between most Courts right now, to discover which Court this has come from and to which it refers, is no small feat.”
Her gaze lifts to Cyrene. “What would you suggest?” To do nothing, was to leave someone unguarded, but to tell all would inspire worry and discord. Oh to just be able to burn the paper and be rid of such menace!
The girl draws a breath into her lungs, “It seems we have much to discuss.” Her amethyst gaze flits to Auru and she smiles gently, “Thank you again Auru. You have served us well.”
@Auru @Cyrene - well, since the raid in Solterra has already started, I am not quite sure where we should take this thread now lol!
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
