[open] Sweet speak with a mean streak; any

[Warlight]

Warlight

 

Tensing ever so slightly, Will watches a question flicker across his handsome face; her vague response seems to hardly satisfy him. But he is generous and swallows it down, and she is grateful. The night is long and the subject may come up again, but it is far too early to speak of death when she had only just shaken it.

Of course, his statement that his name is no good for nicknames comes as a challenge, and her lips begin to move as she murmurs a handful of variations under her breath.

"Aie... Dan... Den." On the last, she smiles. "Den isn't so bad," she suggests. "A den is cozy and comfortable... but it's also dark, and can be dangerous for those who shouldn't cross it" It seemed a fitting name, and whether he agrees or not she tucks it away for future use.

His honesty on the next topic causes a chuckle to rumble across her body. Her shoulders, wet and black, lifting and falling ever so slightly, and her antlered skull does a little dip.

"Diplomacy is overrated anyway." She makes her bold statement as if she had a real knowledge of the subject - a tell that she too had grown up a bit spoiled and a bit royal. "By the time you get back home the world's been flipped upside down and your words are wind. I think, in most cases, it's better to expend energy on recruiting and greeting. Keep the kingdom healthy and let the others fight among themselves."

That he never asked for her opinion never crosses her mind, as one of a mess of siblings she had no fear of confrontation. If he counters or agrees, she would be equally happy. But another piece of information has captured her attention, causing her thoughts to transition. 

"So you are as young as you look then? You never know with all these immortals.. what are you, four? Five?" Will's appraising gaze makes its way deliberately across the visible parts of the stallion's body. 

"Tell me what it is that's kept you anchored here for all those years..." Her voice loses its know-it-all edge with this, replaced by genuine curiosity. She wonders too, with a hint of shame that never makes it to her face, if he had a mate, a family, if Tephra alone was enough to keep him here.

If it would be enough for her in the coming years. 

— soul as sweet as blood red jam —