06-09-2015, 03:42 PM
They practically come out of the woodwork. There’s a collection of horses at this point. Sunday and Scorch, both of whom she’s met at this point, and some child that comes and introduces herself. Straia would say she doesn’t care, but that’s not entirely true. She cares to the extent that it is useful to know who lives in what kingdom, how many come to greet two clearly harmless diplomats. Not that she needs any clue to the power of the Amazons. That is well known, but it is a useful indication in the quieter kingdoms sometimes to see how many come flocking to the scary Chamber diplomats.
Again, not the Amazons fear the Chamber. Other kingdoms trust them less though.
She looks to Scorch first with a chuckle. “Ah, but everyone is related to royalty now. Not important at all.” She does not in any way think herself special for her bloodlines. She does, however, like to tell Erebor where she came from and spite her father by learning about the history he couldn’t be bothered to tell her. Of course, she realizes that the way she phrases things could be taken differently. It could in fact sound like she fancies herself very important. She knows this, and chooses her words as she does anyway. If that’s what they want to take from her, so be it. She simply doesn’t care.
After all, Scorch holds herself like she’s above all of them. In height, she is, though not by that much. Straia is only a hand shorter than the Khaleesi (what’s up with all these titles in languages they don’t speak, anyway?), though the rest of their company does appear to be shorter. So really, they are each allowed to have their own little quirks.
She also notes how the girl’s gaze lingers on Erebor. The black and white girl doesn’t bother with pleasant smiles of a diplomat, which Straia appreciates but can’t reciprocate in this situation. The girl, sadly, has the tattoos of an Amazon already on her though. Shame, because she might have done well in the Chamber. But clearly, she’s already cast her lot in life, and she can’t blame the girl for that either. After all, Straia has known all her life she would never leave the Chamber.
Sunday speaks up, and Straia’s ear prick in that direction. “Ah, well I suppose you can’t be blamed for that. My father never did introduce me around here. Rodrik is my father, and Kagerou my grandmother. I admit I know little more than that. He doesn’t talk of her much.” Though she knows he loves his family dearly, she had never bothered to impart any of that on Straia. He’d just made it more of a point to keep her in the dark about her mother’s family history, because of course, that was the dynasty he was trying to erase. Bad job, clearly, since she took the throne.
Again, not the Amazons fear the Chamber. Other kingdoms trust them less though.
She looks to Scorch first with a chuckle. “Ah, but everyone is related to royalty now. Not important at all.” She does not in any way think herself special for her bloodlines. She does, however, like to tell Erebor where she came from and spite her father by learning about the history he couldn’t be bothered to tell her. Of course, she realizes that the way she phrases things could be taken differently. It could in fact sound like she fancies herself very important. She knows this, and chooses her words as she does anyway. If that’s what they want to take from her, so be it. She simply doesn’t care.
After all, Scorch holds herself like she’s above all of them. In height, she is, though not by that much. Straia is only a hand shorter than the Khaleesi (what’s up with all these titles in languages they don’t speak, anyway?), though the rest of their company does appear to be shorter. So really, they are each allowed to have their own little quirks.
She also notes how the girl’s gaze lingers on Erebor. The black and white girl doesn’t bother with pleasant smiles of a diplomat, which Straia appreciates but can’t reciprocate in this situation. The girl, sadly, has the tattoos of an Amazon already on her though. Shame, because she might have done well in the Chamber. But clearly, she’s already cast her lot in life, and she can’t blame the girl for that either. After all, Straia has known all her life she would never leave the Chamber.
Sunday speaks up, and Straia’s ear prick in that direction. “Ah, well I suppose you can’t be blamed for that. My father never did introduce me around here. Rodrik is my father, and Kagerou my grandmother. I admit I know little more than that. He doesn’t talk of her much.” Though she knows he loves his family dearly, she had never bothered to impart any of that on Straia. He’d just made it more of a point to keep her in the dark about her mother’s family history, because of course, that was the dynasty he was trying to erase. Bad job, clearly, since she took the throne.
straia
queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission