It’s clear Ilma isn’t amused by my opening line, but I’m not surprised. Had I known she considered three sentences a rant, I might have carried on longer, but I’ve always been taught there is value in brevity. I roll my shoulder, fluffing out my wings before I shift my weight to lean farther closer to the granite boulder we shelter behind. It’s not much different from the rock of Loess, but winter is not quite so bitter yet in the lowlands.
She answers my question as though it had been a genuine one, and the self-amused smile on my navy mouth slips away. The lecturing tone of her voice is unmistakable. Does she think me a child? Can she genuinely believe that she - and her kingdom - are the ones in the right? Image is everything, she says. I tilt my golden head, the better to watch her with growing incredulity in my grey eyes. Image is everything?
“Hyaline does seem rather eager to shed the image of neutral sanctuary.” I reply, the words accompanied by a doubtful raise of my eyebrows despite their neutral tone. I am prettiest when I smile, my mother had always said, but I am not smiling now. The angles of my face are sharp, as intriguing as a newly minted blade and perhaps as dangerous.
I’ve never had a chance to go on the offensive before, after all. Everything in my life has been a reaction to what has been given to (or forced upon) me.
“We can talk now,” I reply flatly. “I’ve dealt with worse weather.” There is no shifting in my body when she suggests moving. There will be no getting settled. We’ll discuss this here and now, or we won’t discuss it at all.
@[Ilma]
She answers my question as though it had been a genuine one, and the self-amused smile on my navy mouth slips away. The lecturing tone of her voice is unmistakable. Does she think me a child? Can she genuinely believe that she - and her kingdom - are the ones in the right? Image is everything, she says. I tilt my golden head, the better to watch her with growing incredulity in my grey eyes. Image is everything?
“Hyaline does seem rather eager to shed the image of neutral sanctuary.” I reply, the words accompanied by a doubtful raise of my eyebrows despite their neutral tone. I am prettiest when I smile, my mother had always said, but I am not smiling now. The angles of my face are sharp, as intriguing as a newly minted blade and perhaps as dangerous.
I’ve never had a chance to go on the offensive before, after all. Everything in my life has been a reaction to what has been given to (or forced upon) me.
“We can talk now,” I reply flatly. “I’ve dealt with worse weather.” There is no shifting in my body when she suggests moving. There will be no getting settled. We’ll discuss this here and now, or we won’t discuss it at all.
@[Ilma]
