02-17-2018, 11:45 PM
Every morning she awakens to a sea of faces. A habit once established, hard to break. Some mornings, she sees nothing in those faces. She sees life, earthen wisdom, truth. Nothing spectacular, nothing to draw her. Once in a while, she sees a face the breaks the mold. That reminds her of why she wakes, day after day, to this monotonous routine.
His is such a face, but it is an old face. One she has seen many, many times before. It is also a face she has not seen in a long while now. A former king, cast out and homeless, disappearing into the wilds is not in and of itself terribly interesting. But they have a connection, whether he knows it or not, she is ever a curious creature.
She had sworn once to watch his son die. And though she does not think he will care one whit about such a promise, he is nevertheless a novelty. One who wields power like an extension of himself, with little forethought and even less care. They are similar, in that respect, but oh so very different in others.
For a time, she ignores his presence. He uses fear as a weapon, and she had once become acquainted with the taste of it. There is little she fears anymore, but she knows how easily consent can be ripped away in the hands of those who care so little for it (she knows because she is as equally guilty as he, only she is far more discreet). In the end however, caution gives way to curiosity.
And so she finds herself slipping through the trees, a quiet, lithe shadow with determination in her step and purpose in her stride. She makes no attempt to hide her approach, instead allowing the icy blue of her gaze to fix upon him, head tilting slightly. Expression neutral, a faintly cynical quirk to her lips, she greets the deceptive golden beast with only a wry question. “Time has not treated you kindly, has it?”
His is such a face, but it is an old face. One she has seen many, many times before. It is also a face she has not seen in a long while now. A former king, cast out and homeless, disappearing into the wilds is not in and of itself terribly interesting. But they have a connection, whether he knows it or not, she is ever a curious creature.
She had sworn once to watch his son die. And though she does not think he will care one whit about such a promise, he is nevertheless a novelty. One who wields power like an extension of himself, with little forethought and even less care. They are similar, in that respect, but oh so very different in others.
For a time, she ignores his presence. He uses fear as a weapon, and she had once become acquainted with the taste of it. There is little she fears anymore, but she knows how easily consent can be ripped away in the hands of those who care so little for it (she knows because she is as equally guilty as he, only she is far more discreet). In the end however, caution gives way to curiosity.
And so she finds herself slipping through the trees, a quiet, lithe shadow with determination in her step and purpose in her stride. She makes no attempt to hide her approach, instead allowing the icy blue of her gaze to fix upon him, head tilting slightly. Expression neutral, a faintly cynical quirk to her lips, she greets the deceptive golden beast with only a wry question. “Time has not treated you kindly, has it?”
I see your sins
Heartfire
and I want to set them free.
I'm sorry she's such a creeper :|