[open] y'all ready for this; Romek, any

[Szene]

thoughtlessness, selfishness,
hopelessness, arrogant.

Szene hums because it keeps the ghosts from singing and ringing their bells in her ears—keeps her from thinking, from reminding herself about what’s gone and what isn’t coming back; Micaiah had always told her to look ahead, to look forwards to something even if what lie ahead wasn’t so pleasant. Especially then. Getting through the bad meant you were getting closer to the good, or something like that.

A voice calls out to her from beyond the wall and she stops her humming long enough to listen. It’s a male; older, perhaps, but definitely not a child and she breathes a little sigh of relief. It’s been too long since she’s talked to another living thing. “I’m fine,” Szene calls back, then she grins, adding: “Although, I make no promises. Suppose there are arses that need kicking. Whoever will pick up my slack?” She cocks her head, as if she is seriously considering a replacement for the position before slinking in.

He’s a strange one—(scarred one, her eyes linger a little too long on his old battle wounds)—there are rows of blinking lights along his back that make her do a double-take; she almost wants to reach out and touch them, poke them with her nose to see if they’ll come off or if they’re really attached to his skin. He’s slightly shorter than she is with a coat color she’s never seen before; it’s rather fancy compared to the mundane blacks and bays that she’s used to. He’s something different.

Something else.

“I’m Szene,” she offers, scanning the blindingly white kingdom with her dark gray eyes for more signs of life. There are horses in the distance and that is enough to satisfy her. “I was told Beqanna likes soldiers.”

Szene
a proper lady