a gleam, a flash • castile & any

[litotes]

but you’d never get hit without earning it
and i only hit you first ‘cuz i deserved my own hit too
still it comes the time to call you out
since i’m the one that you should be about

Amet dismisses Litotes curtly. A statement like your name precedes you in a tone such as his is not exactly friendly, though the cremello certainly does not mind. A little off for a diplomat from the East, he thinks, but he tends to not take offense from the quickness of strangers. Instead, his eyes follow the Primarch’s to the clouds above, the beating sound of approaching wings delicate in his ears. Castile arriving just in time.

The pale green grass bends beneath the will of the wings’ air. Lie’s eyes widen in delight as he watches them bow. The grin of his king is a bit of a reassurance, and the cremello returns it as devilishly. For the dragon’s sake (and for his own attempts at being a “good diplomat”), he does not roll his eyes at Amet’s enthusiasm; instead, his eyes crinkle to critical slits. Clearly there is history between the two - history that connect dots in the Maurader’s eyes. There is discomfort in the back of his throat though he does not show it.

Concerns are like a hurricane in his mind: a little paranoia and lack of knowledge do not make for a good mix. Though he has not spoken with Castile directly about his ideas, he has gotten the impression that the two will make a good team. Now, in the face of yet another “neutral” leader, his mind wonders. Certainly the draconic king will not want peace? There is too much chaos reverberating beneath his skin. Lie does not exactly care for war, but in his opinion the East can remain uncomfortably on the edge of their seats.

Beqanna is far too boring amongst the plague. Their plans align in leading their universe in another direction. Lie just has to sit in his discomfort and acknowledge that.

He remains silent, allows the two their reunion, analytical eyes passing between them.

Litotes

@[Amet] @[Castile]