He is grasping at nothing, but air and she realizes, with a bark of laughter, that he believes himself to have the upper hand. Her circling falters and she stands directly before him a look of feigned belief painted upon the curves of her face. He had mistaken her heated words for fear, but little did he know that she was incapable of feeling such things as terror. The harsh glow of her aura upon his bruised flesh disproved his feeble attempt at attacking her.
In his own words he had volunteered himself, proving her assumptions of him to be correct. However, he was an even bigger fool than she’d originally thought him to be! With words laced with desperation he took pride in the garbage he spewed forth and, yet somehow, he still believed her to be his equal. She yawned as he droned on her eyes drifting listlessly about to mark the depths of her boredom. Its only as his voice fades into oblivion and a smirk plants itself upon his lips that she returned her attention back towards him.
“What game would we be playing, Jesper?” she asked her voice even and emotionless. With a slight cock of her eyebrow she made an overly exaggerated study of his injuries thus far. “It seems clear to me that you are nothing more than a pawn encouraged to sacrifice yourself. Despite what you say, I see my father’s hand in your presence here.” She leaned in close to him and squinted her eyes ever so slightly, lowering her voice ever so slightly. “I know him a lot better than you do, Nephew.”
Backing herself away from him she clicked her tongue thoughtfully. He was a fool to believe in the falsity of his loyalty and still he continued to cling to it as though it was the very source of his life. Brennen was no more deserving of his loyalty than a slug was. He who had so carelessly took the throne from another under the guise of good intention. Was it so easy to ignore that his power grab had ultimately led to Krone’s demise?
“You disappoint me,” she admitted with a heavy exhale. “Nothing but predictability and empty words.”
Boring, is what he was. Highly esteemed to none but himself, the the poor sacrificial lamb of Ischia. Whatever game it was that he thought they were playing was one that he could not win. The evidence was marked upon him. Bruised and battered, a victim to the will of Sylva and yet his precious king remained tucked safely upon his island.
@[Jesper] Just to clarify, she literally cannot feel fear...the aura is literally the physical representation of the fear that she would normally feel. Now she's just a pit of hatred. lol