thick skin / elastic heart - any

[Thorunn]

you won’t see me fall apart

Offspring
The name offers the slightest bit of recognition from here, a memory echoing in a past that is hers but disjointed. A black (bay?) stallion that stands near Eight, a figure in a cold Tundra. So many memories that might or might not fit the name he gives. She gives only a curt nod of affirmation - Offspring. The king. Not Eight, not anyone she might know well. It's irrelevant at this point, she's not a child anymore.

She gives a half laugh at the mention of his position - he is doing it now, is he not? It's not an unkind laugh, though things always seem unkind when coming from a face like hers. Mistaken for taunting, for cynicism (though that is an accurate shoe) for other vices on account of the silver that keeps her mouth partially open on the side and her face forever lopsided. "I appreciate the guidance," she says and tries not to sound ironic. She means it, a guide to the underworld is always welcomed.

Why war
why why why why not learn a new skill why not spread your own wings why not fake a limp or a gimp and pretend to have nothing to offer but a warm body why indeed

"It's all I know," she admitted, a bit too honest despite herself. "My father was a general, as was my mother, it was expected. He trained me before he died." She offers a shrug then, rolling shoulders, the pang of his loss no longer a sharp pain and now a dull simmer. An ache. "I doubt I'd be good at much else," she admits, referring to the lull in conversation, the awkward way she is.

THORUNN

COVET x LIBRETTE

[Warrick]

He’s completely unaware of the heavy weight that is carried when the name Offspring leaves his lips. The name has no sort of hold on him as of yet, not like those who have been in Beqanna since their births and have lived within its borders to watch their world rise and fall with new kings and queens, with war and peace. Warrick is unfamiliar with the names and characters that surrounds Beqanna’s past – all he knows is his mother, Orani, and his twin sister, Beyah; they are both his only true links to Beqanna and what used to be the Gates, but their wayward ways kept him far from his home, and once they disappeared, he returned to realize that he does not remember much from his years as a colt.

Warrick is at ease beside her (because he always is at ease when he is surrounded by others to occupy his mind), enjoying the gentle autumnal breeze that flows through Tephra. Granted, it is not as cool or dry as anywhere else in Beqanna – the humidity still clings tight to those within its borders and thickness of the air is tight with moisture and sulfur in their throats. Nevertheless, the air is a few degrees cooler and just a bit less unforgiving, the gentle sunlight filtering through bracken and branches of thick foliage above them to play golden patterns on their hide as they stand side by side. She does not correct him when he fumbles with the word sentry and he decides that maybe that was the best description for his duty after all, and would most likely continue to use it in his future interactions.

“I appreciate the guidance.”

A hint of a smile finds her (he’s not sure by looking at her, but he can almost hear it in her voice) and he responds a chuckle of his own and a regal dip of his head, almost as if he was about to bow to her, most definitely trying to be ironic. His blue lips part to reveal a grin, hoping that he is able to make her a little bit more comfortable in such a strange and foreign world to her.

Especially one where a battle is not currently raging, or the scream and sweat from mocks are not on the wind.

“Just because it’s all you know doesn’t mean it’s all you can know,” he says to her simply, accompanied by a gentle roll of his auburn shoulders. His cerulean blue eyes shift to her, a single brow rising in thought. “I’ve never fought. Not even to pretend when I was a child,” he says musingly, admitting a realization to her that he hadn’t truly thought about (he hadn’t needed to). “From your experience, is it hard to learn? The techniques, I mean.”

like the sun,

swallowed up by the earth

warrick

@[Thorunn]

[Thorunn]

you won’t see me fall apart

doesn't mean it's all you can know
is it true that she could learn something else that she could be shaped by something other than her father other than the shadow with the orange eyes other than other than other than

She doubts it very much - there is nature and there is nurture. She has both from the same beast. How do you override that? Plus the expectations laid down around her shoulders, cloaking her with the weight of what they mean. She should tread carefully over these thoughts. Father taught her to observe, to think critically - but not about everything. Some things were dogma to him. A mantra to be repeated. A flaw to enhance in others. What does she truly know of those promises? Nothing, she realizes.

"Perhaps," she admits, though she is not convinced she could learn anything else. Who would welcome something with a scar like hers? No one, she knew that, though it helps her case as a fighter. Who would turn her away, a better question.

"Probably no harder than learning to be a sentry," she says, a mild tease. Then, with a rolling shrug of her shoulders, "It is about reading others, finding their weaknesses instead of their strengths. Exploiting them. It becomes second nature after a bit."

THORUNN

COVET x LIBRETTE