the most dangerous woman of all is the one who refuses to rely on your sword because she carries her own
Only the quick flash of armor in the watery sunlight warned Maerys of a lurker. It was hide, steel, cloth, and nothing for camouflage. At the stranger's side was a sword, commanding regard as it jostled against the armor and its caretaker. The guest drew near, a ritornelle of mottled tempest vapors on her hide. She was not the ragged shade of tarnished silver, stained and blotched from years of development and strife, but the cast of the seas during a storm in all of its boldness and danger. Her locks were enviable, ivory in shade. Even from a distance, Maerys could discern that they had the kind of brilliance that made even the newly descended blizzard appear soiled.
The visitor appeared more developed than Maerys, conceivably double (or even triple) the girl's age. Though the recently turned two-year-old was corporally young, she believed herself experienced beyond her age. To take account of one's unfoldings is growth; to defend and shield others rather than be selfish is growth; to counter adversity with patient attention and resolute initiative is growth. She had fulfilled these pieces twice-fold, and though she would never admit it to another soul, Maerys felt herself to be more mature than most in this discernment. The remainder of ripening is mental dislocation in order to shield oneself from what cannot be corrected or embraced. No one is wired to observe their life- hopes, dreams, and aspirations- be slaughtered; no one is meant to be herded like ewe with souls brimming full of dull compliance. Maerys knew well that if the ultimate step of developing, at least mentally, was some form of dislocation that she would perpetually be underdeveloped. The girl would do a lot of things in her life, but standing idly by would never be one of them.
The stranger did not appear to be from here, though Maerys truly had no way of telling being so new to the land. The inhabitants of Dawn Court were never known to be soldiers as they admired pursuits of sagacity above those of the mass and brutality. It was truly more of the Day Court's specialty to be fighters and the mare that approached diligently sure fit the part. Though Maerys did not rule out the possibility that the stranger was, in fact, part of Delumine, her demeanor was typical of the folk in the northeast rather than here in the west. Her sinewy form and apparent aptitude for battle were suspicious here, though by no means unheard of.
The mare probed Maerys, asking undeviatingly if she is meant to be out here in solitude. "Aye," came the individual word in reply as Maerys dipped her head marginally for a moment as a swift address. "Doth thee demand something here?" Her lilt was evident as she vocalized, though she paid no mind to it as it was solely an indication that she spoke copious amounts of languages (her one exceptional gift). "I am Maerys of Dawn Court." She took a melodious tone as she spoke, no malice present in her chords and a quiet smile on her lips. Though she by no means appeared frightened, there was the sparsest indication of reserve in each statement though one would never know what exactly caused it.
