06-28-2017, 01:40 AM
i'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.
i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.
She could feel her eyes heavy upon her, tracing the hardened line of muscle that lay beneath the gleaming gold of her skin – following where the bone carves out her solid, but feminine figure. She would not expect any less, and in fact, she is pleased by the observation (though she maintains her stoicism; feigning a solemnness suitable for her position). Conversation meant very little when in the thick of battle, whereas observation could be a vital means of strategic advantage – and already, she can see promise within the darkness of her gaze.
She had been birthed during war – born into the stench of death; frolicked among the rotting, bloating carcasses and their coagulated blood. She did not know it herself, but she had seen the aftermath – she had seen too many still, decomposing bodies in her youth. She had pried apart their skin with her teeth; she had peeked at their putrid, decaying tissue and the solid, though sometimes broken bone structure that lay beneath.
She knew violence, hostility, and death.
It was enough.
Soon, she and Thorunn are not alone – and her gaze focuses on Kimber – two-toned (a deep, impenetrable obsidian pouring into rich, vivid lapis lazuli) but with a bright, fiery gaze. She knew that the King knew her, and that was enough for her – Magnus had come to know and to trust Offspring, and even now in the wake of his disappearance, she is trusting of his judgment.
Kimber, she utters bitingly, and Ellyse has already found it difficult to suppress an eyeroll. Jaded but experienced. She would not hesitate to put her into her place, should she find the need, but Kimber is biting her tongue (there is more to her, she is certain of it)– and so instead, she merely averts her gaze, studying the deep scarring over Thorunn’s unfortunate wound.
”Nor have I. We should hope that none of us ever have to, but alas, the world is changing,” she muses softly, glancing towards the rumbling, roiling volcano – the King was powerful, yet temperamental – it was better to prepare for the worst than to sit idly by.
”A war general, hm?” she murmurs thoughtfully, glancing once more to Kimber, studying the terseness of her jaw and the shadow in her gaze. ”Much like you, Kimber. Perhaps we all have a thing or two we can teach one another. I am self-taught,” she pauses, glancing between them. ”but do not underestimate me. I have studied the equine form up close and personal; I will find your weakness.” (the stench of death and rot would never truly leave her memory) ”And perhaps you can find mine, and together we can improve.”
She is quiet, but only for a moment.
”Seeking what you want, Kimber, can also be a weakness. In war, you should be fighting for the greater good – for others, not only for yourself.” But she knows she already knows this, and intimately; she looked forward to picking the brain of a seasoned general at a later time.
She was under no illusion of knowing it all.
She could learn from them, and them from her.
”Tephra would be grateful for your service, and I look forward to working with you– but first, tell me – both of you. Why Tephra?”
She had been birthed during war – born into the stench of death; frolicked among the rotting, bloating carcasses and their coagulated blood. She did not know it herself, but she had seen the aftermath – she had seen too many still, decomposing bodies in her youth. She had pried apart their skin with her teeth; she had peeked at their putrid, decaying tissue and the solid, though sometimes broken bone structure that lay beneath.
She knew violence, hostility, and death.
It was enough.
Soon, she and Thorunn are not alone – and her gaze focuses on Kimber – two-toned (a deep, impenetrable obsidian pouring into rich, vivid lapis lazuli) but with a bright, fiery gaze. She knew that the King knew her, and that was enough for her – Magnus had come to know and to trust Offspring, and even now in the wake of his disappearance, she is trusting of his judgment.
Kimber, she utters bitingly, and Ellyse has already found it difficult to suppress an eyeroll. Jaded but experienced. She would not hesitate to put her into her place, should she find the need, but Kimber is biting her tongue (there is more to her, she is certain of it)– and so instead, she merely averts her gaze, studying the deep scarring over Thorunn’s unfortunate wound.
”Nor have I. We should hope that none of us ever have to, but alas, the world is changing,” she muses softly, glancing towards the rumbling, roiling volcano – the King was powerful, yet temperamental – it was better to prepare for the worst than to sit idly by.
”A war general, hm?” she murmurs thoughtfully, glancing once more to Kimber, studying the terseness of her jaw and the shadow in her gaze. ”Much like you, Kimber. Perhaps we all have a thing or two we can teach one another. I am self-taught,” she pauses, glancing between them. ”but do not underestimate me. I have studied the equine form up close and personal; I will find your weakness.” (the stench of death and rot would never truly leave her memory) ”And perhaps you can find mine, and together we can improve.”
She is quiet, but only for a moment.
”Seeking what you want, Kimber, can also be a weakness. In war, you should be fighting for the greater good – for others, not only for yourself.” But she knows she already knows this, and intimately; she looked forward to picking the brain of a seasoned general at a later time.
She was under no illusion of knowing it all.
She could learn from them, and them from her.
”Tephra would be grateful for your service, and I look forward to working with you– but first, tell me – both of you. Why Tephra?”
Ellyse