[AW] DYNASTY pt. 2

[Rhoswen]

R H O S W E N      The room swells, breathes, and Rhoswen is enamoured. There existed an energy here which clamoured and roared, burning her ankles as she stood in the sunlight and by this she was gripped by pleasure in the place of pain. The heat pressed close, almost uncomfortably so but she wore it like a crown that had been destined, always, for her beautiful fervid head. But today, she was not the only wearing jewels and garlands - Maxence stood proud, his booming voice filling the room - not so loud, mind, that she did not notice Raum's late entrance. The sight of a Denoctian, one she had grown up with, in Solterra's capital made her skin crawl - her flesh overrun - and she pointedly turned her head from him, sharp-edged shoulders twisting away as though he were a sickness. Perhaps he was. Arsehole. Names of the new regime and counsel hung crisp and exciting in the air, though a distinct sense of disappointment washed over the red girl's head - invisible to any onlooker. Disappointment in herself, of course, for her absence at such an important time; one that her cost her any possible position of power. But, she thought with a determined smile, there was always time, always ways and means.