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[ scratch
It's dark save for a single fire, the only light source of the room. She stares at it, cloaked wrapped around herself as if it possessed the power to keep all of her enemies at bay.
scratch scratch
Enemies. They are in little supply these days, aren't they? It is not like Arthur has his army behind him, much like she does not have hers. Well, Helios' army. The very army that managed to drive the good knights out of their beloved city within hours.
scratch scratch
She would be lying if she admitted that she did not miss the warlord, his presence was always comforting to have. The man was as loyal as he was lustful, which made him easy to keep close. If he was here...
If he was here, she would not be hiding like a fox from a pack of hounds.
How she hates it.
Hiding.
What other choice does she have? Her magic has not returned, not fully. The most she can do is move a cup half an inch across a table.
scratch
Attention moves from the fire to the cup in her hand, it is bland in terms of a cup. A simple white, no other designed printed on it's surface--but in this moment it may as well be the source of all her problems, the physical manifestation of her doom. Her lips twist into a sneer, which quickly turns into fury and she throws it into the fire, the cup shattering with a loud crash.
She hates it, hates this.
All of it.
It should all burn. ]
[ scratch
It's dark save for a single fire, the only light source of the room. She stares at it, cloaked wrapped around herself as if it possessed the power to keep all of her enemies at bay.
scratch scratch
Enemies. They are in little supply these days, aren't they? It is not like Arthur has his army behind him, much like she does not have hers. Well, Helios' army. The very army that managed to drive the good knights out of their beloved city within hours.
scratch scratch
She would be lying if she admitted that she did not miss the warlord, his presence was always comforting to have. The man was as loyal as he was lustful, which made him easy to keep close. If he was here...
If he was here, she would not be hiding like a fox from a pack of hounds.
How she hates it.
Hiding.
What other choice does she have? Her magic has not returned, not fully. The most she can do is move a cup half an inch across a table.
scratch
Attention moves from the fire to the cup in her hand, it is bland in terms of a cup. A simple white, no other designed printed on it's surface--but in this moment it may as well be the source of all her problems, the physical manifestation of her doom. Her lips twist into a sneer, which quickly turns into fury and she throws it into the fire, the cup shattering with a loud crash.
She hates it, hates this.
All of it.
It should all burn. ]