and you came crashing - any

[traton]

That handsome stallion’s laugh shook her, and she emerged from the other side mildly indignant and a bit embarrassed, though she managed to hide those emotions with surprising efficiency. Here they were, in the middle of who-knows-where, the spotted mare bumbling like an idiot while these two strangers appeared. Had she always been so tragic? Certainly, it was an odd scenario, this handsome fellow and the burnt woman, but far be it from everyday oddities to send her spinning into the stars. “You’ll never make it out there, girl, they’ll eat you alive.” Still, there lingered a nagging thought at the back of her mind, where it didn’t make much sense for a nameless young woman to be so quickly ragdolled between competing entities. It was a little too reminiscent of that world she had run away from chosen to leave behind, complete with beautifully carved figurines of brave knights, haughty lords, and elegant queens. All entirely useless, of course, to a peasant girl, however often her dreams told her she was a princess.

Don’t tell them your real name, he’ll kn- “My apologies. Traton is my name.” The only symptom of the internal debate she underwent was a fleeting instant of discomfort that graced her features, perhaps wrought with the shackles of guilt that still left open wounds where they had bitten into her skin. Certainly, she had healed quite a bit in the journey here, but still they cracked and wept. A small part of her feared that they would never truly go away.

Perhaps, then, it was daydreams of higher politics that finally brought her attention to the odd dynamic between the pair before her. Her ears pricked with interest as the words sir king slipped the woman’s lips, artfully drenched in sarcasm in a way that Traton found rather familiar endearing. It wasn’t until the mare began to explain the concept of kingdoms that it dawned on the girl just what fortune she had discovered- dipped her toe in a mud puddle to find it cast in gold. She found instant delight in the concept that they couldn’t possibly realize what a lowly street child stood before them, feeling quite proud of her charade thus far.

While it was difficult to set aside these revelations, (though surprisingly easily to toss aside resolutions of solitude) it could be said she was a nosy lass. “So these goals- what is it that you have in mind? For Loess,” she said, eyes fixed on the stallion before sliding eagerly to meet Scorch’s transfixing fiery gaze, “… or Nerine? And what might these castes entail?” Foolish, perhaps, to assume that every recruiter knows the soul of their project- but what can we expect from the blackest lamb of the flock?

@[Arthas] no rush, just wanted to make sure you've seen it! also I just learned how to tag, woo~