anyone;

[sochi]

Sochi

darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
maybe you need me or maybe you don't

Sochi is not overly practiced with kingdom politics, despite the fact that she was raised within them.

She was taught well, even traded between kingdoms in her youth, but it had been something that had never quite stuck with her. Perhaps as she had gotten older, when the predatory parts of her brain had begin to slink forward to reclaim the majority, she had lost it. Perhaps they had never dug their roots in deep enough—never bothered to truly spread in the rocky ground of her mind. Whatever the case, she finds she is ill-fitted for the role of diplomat; she has little patience for the arts and games of it.

But she has patience for him, intrigue for him, and something flares in her eyes when his mouth finds her chin. It is a dark heat that flashes across her features at the touch, the simmering knowledge of what lies beneath the surface of him. “I can help keep watch,” she says, the faint hint of rasp and husk in her voice as she studies his features. “Having healers on call will be useful in the coming days.”

When the boy approaches—and despite his years, he is still just a boy to her—her expression cools. It is neither cold nor dismissive, but politely neutral, a mask of indifference clicking into place. The names that he speaks are nothing more than names she has overheard on the wind. They are not completely unknown to her—she doubts any in Beqanna have truly escaped hearing of them—but she has no personal ties and they therefore slip off her back easily. Her mind begins to wander, only snapping back when Castile states that Lepis is his niece. Her eyes sharpen slightly, tucking away the knowledge for later times, but she remains quiet—never one for small talk. Never one to give away more than necessary.

playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf

@[Pteron] @[Castile]