It is hardly surprising that Woolf’s arrival had drawn a small crowd. Isn’t it always the way, when a fascinating stranger invades a kingdom? Of course, perhaps in the situation, stranger is hardly the correct term.
Heartfire glances only briefly at the queen as she joins their small group. There is an exhaustion surrounding her, though that does not surprise Heartfire. Of course, given her habit, it is also unsurprising she had kept an eye on the spotted mare. A fact Breckin may not appreciate, but Heartfire is hardly one to divulge her own secrets and foibles.
Her attention shifts abruptly back to Woolf when she feels a faint… something. A brush of gentle fingers across her life force. She makes no comment, merely noting the way he wields his magic. Besides, she had made quite sure she would be around for a long time to come yet. Whatever spells he could conjure next to her would hardly change that.
Scorch’s wry comment draws her attention then, causing her lips to twist faintly in response. If I may be so bold. She nearly laughs at that. “Don’t be coy, Scorch,” she murmurs, her tone dry. When had her grandmother been anything but bold?
She falls silent then, listening to the conversation as it flows naturally from Scorch to Woolf. For the moment, she is simply an observer. A useful bystander, given the way Scorch so shamelessly uses her connection to Woolf to entice him to stay. Nevertheless, it is true. The draw of Nerine had never been it’s land. Not for Heartfire, at least. No, it had always been it’s people. It’s ideals. And quite frankly, it’s power.
She has never attempted to claim any great nobility of character.
Sharp gaze shifting to Woolf, she considers him for a long moment as he humors Scorch. He asks her opinion then, and the roan mare’s lips twitch, though her expression does not otherwise alter. After a heavy silence, she muses, “I think you will do exactly what you wish to do, and my opinions won’t sway you.” A faint humor crosses her features briefly then, before she continues. “However, while my grandson has done a great deal with Loess, I think the mercenary life would be a waste of your talents.”
After all, mercenaries are bound by their own contracts. And she does not think Woolf is suited to a life of service. Though she doesn’t say as much, she suspects he already knows. Otherwise he would not be here, asking for their opinions.
i see your sins
and i want to set them free
