elif
She had no response for his perhaps, other than a fierce flash of her green eyes and the press of her lips into a firm dark line. It was all she could do to keep her tail from twitching behind her like an irritated sand-cat, or from uncoiling the whip at her side just to run her touch along and and curl it again, like drawing a blade to remind yourself it was there.
Of course it was long past time for someone to oust Raum - the problem was how. And she was uninterested in getting into those intricacies with this oversized and overconfident stranger.
But now that Raum has been brought up, the thought of him troubles her like a burr or a horsefly; now she has that itch below her skin, that barb in her mind. It was too easy to remember standing before him, pleading for mercy for her people, and being met with a stare cold enough to burn. It was a better stare than the one from his basilisk companion, at least.
Nor did she respond to his next statement, least of all his wink. Elif had always been a bit of a prickly girl, preferring fists to kisses and winks, and she is also unaccustomed to anything that could be construed as flirting. Few had tried it with such a standard-looking tom-girl, and those that did were swiftly met with a kick or a nip and moved on to more willing pastures. Still, it didn’t feel right to talk - much less joke - of violence here. Not with a spectre of a dread king over her shoulder, and an eruption to the east.
Not until he asked about her Dawn Court news did she settle, a little, though her gaze on him was still less than soft. “Not that I’ve heard,” she said, and shrugged stiffly. “Maybe you can help.” The last was half placating peace-offering, and half wondering if he’d agree and rush away, leaving her to her thoughts and the oasis.
Unlikely.
“I’d better go,” she announced then, and swallowed against the scarlet alaja that sat snug around her throat. She didn’t really feel like flying back to the coast yet, or the heart of the court - but she was growing more prickly under each look he gave her, and didn’t care for being guessed at. “Be careful, Sol Bestiam. May Solis light your way.” The customary Solterran goodbye she added on a whim, hoping that if he thought her overtly religious he might pester her less (more proof of her ignorance regarding flirtatious men).
But she didn’t give him much of an opportunity anyway - the cool of water on her throat had grounded her enough, at least, to go back and face the potential end of the world, the threat on the horizon. And so with barely a glance back at him (and a narrow-eyed one, at that) she took a few lunging strides and pitched herself into the air again, her wings sweeping up clouds of sand and making ripples on the water, and took back to the skies.
Elif did not feel as bad as she had at the beginning for nearly landing on him, despite his apparent harmlessness. Indeed, she could probably be convinced to do it again.
@Sol Bestiam wrapping for now but they run across each other again soon! (and maybe she'll be less crabby heh)
