a dish for a queen. (Kat!)

[Cy]

[/b] T'ia argued, her dark eyes staring the simourv hatchlig down while her fingers continued to clasp the rejected piece of meat.

Shovaph merely closed her own eyes and lifted her green nose snootily in the air. 'A lady does not gorge herself, T'ia. And I, most certainly, am a lady.' "You are a bird," she retorted, tone proving both sincere and teasing as she tossed the scrap back into the bucket it had come from. With an upset huff, the little green shot her eyes open to glower at her winglet. 'Do not be rude.' She snapped, offended and serious. Her mood was not lightened as T'ia chose to laugh, her grin open and bright while she even tilted her head back with the sound.

However, once Shovaph's stern unamusement became clear, the former dancer had the kindness to calm her laughter and seal her lips, though there was nothing to be done for the closed-mouth smile that lingered. She bowed her head down a slight degree, as if in reverent apology, peeking up to the simourv through her lashes. She resembled a scolded child that could not take the lectures of an angry mother seriously.

'We are to be great queens someday, my T'ia. We should and will behave as such now. Neither a queen nor a lady would ridicule in such a manner.'

Her eyes dropped momentarily to the ground, as if in honest consideration of what had been said, before she was lifting them to catch those of the other. "Technically, I would imagine a queen and a lady to be the same thing." If possible, Shovaph's expression grew even darker in frustration and disapproval. With a relenting sigh, T'ia straightened in her seat as she'd been reminded to do a million times already. "I'm sorry to frustrate you, my sweet heart. I hear you and you are right," she cooed and humoured, watching with discreet pleasure as Shovaph visibly eased with the cooperation of Hers. "I would really appreciate if you ate a little more though. I know you're still hungry," she nudged, leaning forward to pluck some meat up again in order to dangle it before the young simourv.

After a pause in which Shovaph eyed her winglet bonded suspiciously, she narrowed her dull brown eyes before closing them entirely and lifted her beak snobbishly. 'Very well, she consented, waiting until T'ia had moved the meat closer before reaching out to accept it with delicate propriety. She was a lady after all, a queen to be, and she'd not stoop to snatching like some kind of heathen.[/ul]

[ XD I wasn't sure if the winglets would feed their hatchlings in the mess halls or in the feeding pens, so I took a chance and here it is. ][/size]

[Kat]

Ros’n did not know why she searched out the girl. Upon seeing Talia bond, she had been stunned, to say the least, to see the girl. Ros’n’s heart literally plummeted as she watched the girl bond to a simourv. Ros’n felt invaded, by a girl who had already stolen her place once, and the feeling was an emotional and painful blow. In fact, Ros’n could not even articulate the way she felt. The anger and disgust she felt towards her mother transferred onto this girl, as well as some general feeling of betrayal and almost a strange kind of envy which Ros’n felt towards the girl herself. Even though Ros’n had tried to distance herself from her mother as much as possible, the fact that Sundra had basically replaced Ros’n with Talia, was a point of sore contention. To say that Ros’n hated Talia was too strong of sentiment, but Ros’n did deeply resent the other woman. As she thought about the issue, the blue rider’s lips twitched into a grimace, and in response to his rider’s emotion, Wegmeph’s neck feathers lifted aggressively. He could not help it; Ros’n was too upset for him not to pick up on her emotion.
You should not think so poorly about the new winglets. You will have to interact with them eventually, and they will become a part of the Eyrie’s community. You are too emotional.

[/b][/color]
Wegmeph scolded, but Ros’n only scowled at her bonded, her face twisting into an expression of displeasure, as she turned to glare at her simourv.
I don’t think poorly of all the winglets, just one of them.
Ros’n corrected Wegmeph, her tone sharp and bitter, even within the confines of her mentality.

But despite her dislike for Talia, Ros’n felt a strange connection to the other girl. Talia was a connection to a life Ros’n had abandoned, and a piece of Ros’n wanted to at least acknowledge the older girl. She did not have to talk with Talia, or even interact with her, but Ros’n did want to see her. When Ros’n had watched the girl bond, she had been stunned by the sight of Talia, as Ros’n felt a bit like she had witnessed the resurrection of her past, personified by a girl she so despised. Ros’n wanted to see Talia to know if she had really seen the girl earlier, or if she had imagined the resemblance solely from a need to deal with the ghosts of her past Ros’n kept carefully hidden. And so, Ros’n decided that she would go look for the winglets, search them out, and then catch a second glimpse of Talia and her new green. The first place Ros’n thought of looking was the kitchens, as the hatchlings would need to be fed. Ros’n remembered when she bonded with Wegmeph, being consumed by his hunger, and having nothing to feed him. It had been a stressful ordeal for Ros’n. She had panicked, Wegmeph’s hunger consuming her, and then she had felt as if she had no way of feeding the hatchling. The kitchens were a safe bet for a place to find a newly bonded simourv and her new rider.

Wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of tight leather pants, Ros’n stalked into the kitchens, Wegmeph following her with his head hung in small shame. He was not pleased with this endeavor. He felt his rider’s anger, her tangled mess of emotions, and he feared that she might act inappropriately in this situation. She had very little emotional control. Ros’n thought that she was not really going to find Talia here. That she was being irrational, and that she would only be going to the kitchens to pacify an unusual need of herself, without ever actually seeing the girl. But it only took a few seconds for Ros’n’s green eyes to settle on Talia’s form, and she scowled. Ros’n stormed towards Talia, pausing before she was close enough to start up a conversation with the other woman, standing maybe ten feet away, and then Ros’n crossed her arms, leaned against a table, and watched, a look of hot scorn wrapped across her usually bright and sunny visage.
[/size][/blockquote]

[Cy]

[/i] recognize Rosmarian. There was too much of Sundra in that defiant face to be oblivious.

For once, her lips were not set in a friendly smirk. It was a stiff frown of displeasure covering her surprise. Her dark eyes were widened, set on the other female as if she expected her to disappear at any moment like a cruel hallucination. Resentment steadily and inevitably began to boil in her gut like a disease, confusion fogging her brain as she slowly straightened up in her seat. Her posture was stiff as she leaned back, her hands sliding up to fold delicately in her lap. Shovaph tore her gaze away from the new woman to focus on her own, effortlessly catching on to her normally unphased winglet's sudden discomfort and ill ease. She felt lost in the middle and she didn't like that at all, her eyes darting back to focus suspiciously on the stranger.

Out of the usual, T'ia was quiet. She'd washed composure over her as best as she possibly could. Her full lips were still set in a grim frown, but her eyes were no longer open wide with shock. They were cool and even condescending as she looked back at the girl. She raised her eyebrows as if to encourage Ros, push her to speak first. Didn't her mother ever teach her not to stare? Probably not, considering how harshly she'd rejected the sweet woman.[/ul][/size]

[Kat]

Ros’n did not really want to speak. She was worried that if she spoke, then her anger might mount, and she would end up spewing not-so-nice words at the newly impressed winglet. From what Ros’n remembered of her hatching, it had been an emotionally draining activity, filled with potent horror and joy. Everything had just started happening at once, the maulings and the bondings, until Ros’n was left with her Wegmeph nuzzling her out of an afraid and confused stupor. Of course, this class of winglets had an advantage over the premiere riders of Pohono. At least they had known what to expect, but even still, Ros’n imagined that the event was stressful and wonderful, and that Talia was probably exhausted. Some sense of affection, or at least of obligation, prevented Ros’n from being immediately cruel to Talia. However, the other girl signaled that she wanted a response from Ros’n, some sort of explanation, and Ros’n was staring at Talia, sizing the dancer up with her large, green eyes, so she had to explain her interest. Ros’n bit her lip, pausing for a second, before she nodded her head.
”I have to say, I was surprised to see you at the hatching.”
Ros’n finally articulated, her gaze shifting slowly to the little green hatchling, so that she could admire Shovaph skeptically. The rider could not understand why the simourv would pick Talia, who seemed to have none of the optimal qualities of a rider, even if Talia’s skill set was awfully close to Ros’n’s own skill.

Ros’n mused over the issue, noting that she was not the most sound rider, at least based upon initial skill set alone, but ignored the feelings of self doubt which the thought caused. Wegmeph nudged Ros’n affectionately with his mind, reminding her that he never regretted his choice. She was his, and he loved her more than he loved anything else in the world, and Ros’n felt the same way about her bonded, despite his difficult demeanor.
I love you too.
Ros’n mentally conveyed to Wegmeph, until the impact of his broadcasted emotion wore off a bit, and her attention could move away from her affection for the simourv.
”I am surprised you stood, Talia, that you were chosen to stand, but also that you decided to leave.”
Ros’n continued, as her fingers slowly toyed with the bow in her hair. The bangles she wore around her wrist, three gold bangles, two glass bangles, clinked together as she moved her arm. They were a strange reminder of her past life from a woman who usually tried to avoid acknowledging her past life in any way. Ros’n liked the jewelry; she appreciated the drama of it, the small sign of individuality and excitement it added to her otherwise fairly bland wardrobe. There was more to the bangles, and the earrings and pendants she sometimes worse, than just appearance. Ros’n felt as if she would be completely dishonest not to acknowledge from where she came, despite her shame towards the issue.

Ros’n’s words were surprisingly neutral towards Talia. She did not snap or speak particularly cruelly. She did not sound kind, but she did not sound cruel either. That did not mean that the resentment Ros’n felt was not buried underneath her strained, almost-polite smirk.
”How is my mother, Talia? Still fucking around?”
Any polite, cordiality Ros’n felt was abandoned when she took the step to mention her mother. She had not expected herself to react so violently negative to the thought of Sundra, but Ros’n’s face immediately twisted into an expression of disgust. Her words dripped with malice, and her eyes blazed with aggression. Sundra—the woman was Ros’n’s biggest sin; the burden the young woman bore constantly, and tried to ignore. It was Sundra who had raised Ros’n, and Sundra who had failed Ros’n in favor of rich, older men. Ros’n could not forgive. She could not forget that Sundra had ruined her childhood and chased her away. And this girl, who so gingerly fed her simourv, a simourv she did not deserve, had replaced Ros’n, and Ros’n did not like that concept. She sneered.
Mine, you need to calm down. She did nothing to you intentionally, and if you had not left your mother, you would not have found me. She allowed you to meet me.

[/i]
Wegmeph’s calm voice and demeanor flooded Ros’n’s head. She turned to him, her eyes wide and her face still displeased. She did not respond to him. She did not know what to say, but instead, she mentally expressed her unlimited affection, devotion, and love, in a flood of passion. She was not upset with the way her life had turned out. Because she had been living on the streets, she had incentive to join the hunting party, beg and plead her way onto the hunting party, which stumbled upon the dying simourv’s nest. It had been fate, and Ros’n was glad she had ended up on that party, eternally and forever thankful, which did not prevent her from residually hating her mother. Hate was a funny emotion; it lingered where it did not belong and remained steadfast over time and good fortune. Ros’n could not ignore it.
[/blockquote][/size]

[Cy]

[/b] She questioned innocently, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, patronizing and false. “I’m sad to say I didn’t notice you.” She cooed sympathetically, not sad at all, and her slender hand danced out to stroke over the bright feathers that sat softly upon Shovaph’s head. Normally, the chick might have crooned underneath the affection, but, instead, she watched the bluepair as they spoke to Hers with silent regard. Her attentions lingered upon the stoic and masculine figure that Wegmeph presented as he hung in the background.

Her head remained tilted at that same angle, smirk still playing coolly over her full lips, as she listened to Ros continue. She could play the part of civil audience, allowing the words to fall uninterrupted from lips she might have found to be sweet on anyone else. And she did because Sundra had the same mouth shape and she’d always found it a thrilling experience to watch that woman talk. She didn’t acknowledge that feeling here and so it simply didn’t exist. Her dark eyes drifted carefully down from the other woman’s face, but not in the typical sultry sweep that she might have otherwise offered some other feisty lass; instead, she moved her gaze to the bangles that adorned that slender arm, shiny and whimsical. They seemed so familiar, pieces that matched the bangles upon her own arm and within the jewelry box in her room, and yet so out of place at the same time. There was music in the way jewelry clicked together, and music made T’ia think of dancing – and dancing had absolutely nothing to do with Rosmarian.

With that thought, her eyes abruptly snapped back up to the younger girl’s face. “Surprised at so much, I guess you don’t really know me at all.” Her words were nonchalant, as if all of these things that had caught Ros offguard were obvious facets of her beings, but, if she were being honest, the ease with which her decision to leave Chydyn had come had surprised even herself.

Any kindness that might have been expressed between the two women by the mere absence of blatant aggression was thrown entirely out of the window as Ros took the first step, bringing Sundra to the front of their conversation and tossing out such a vulgar jab against her. And it wasn’t just a stab to the older woman that had, in a sense, raised the both of them, it was a cold lashing straight to the core of T’ia’s heart. Her smirk dropped away and the glint in her eyes hardened as she regarded the younger woman, the mere child that seemed to be walking around with boots that were surely far too big for her. Shovaph gave a quiet chirp of concern as she turned her head back to look to her beloved, watching her now, but T’ia didn’t give the small green any further. The dancer’s eyes only briefly switched to the blue simourv that hung behind the other woman, taking him in for the first time and yet dismissing him just as quickly as she returned her gaze to Ros, standing with fluid grace and defense in the stiff set of her shoulders. ”My name is T’ia now.” She announced, firming her voice in implied demand for Rosmarion’s attentions to return to her. ”And quite frankly, considering your abandonment of her, I don’t see Sundra to be any of your business, whether she’s your mother or not.” She hissed, keeping her voice as strong as the hard set of her jaw, unforgiving and cold.

'My T'ia...' Shovaph's concerned warning went ignored.[/ul][/size]

[Kat]

The truth of the matter was that Ros’n knew very little about Talia. The girl, older than Ros’n, woman, had entered Sundra’s life after Ros’n had already given up being raised by her mother. Long after Ros’n had left home, only returning for brief periods of time when she had to clean up after her mother, or do something for her mother, both situations the woman attempted to avoid. Talia had entered the picture long after Ros’n had abandoned hope on her mother’s ability to care for her. The woman and danced into Sundra’s life, and stolen the place that Ros’n had left. And even though Ros’n resented Sundra; even though Ros’n had left the position occupied and free for the taking. Ros’n had never thought anyone would take the position. Sundra was not well liked in the Chydyn community, and Ros’n could not imagine anyone assuming her mother’s lifestyle and enjoying it. The fact that Talia seemed happy to be an unattached dancer, seducing her way into the hearts and pockets of men—well, Ros’n could hardly believe it. And so Ros’n resented Talia for connecting with Sundra in a way Ros’n never could, and she resented Talia for being happy with Sundra, who was, after all, the only family Ros’n knew.
“I don’t want to know any more about you. I don’t need to—T’ia.”
Ros’n snapped, and as she spoke the girl’s name, Ros’n laced a fair amount of venom into her tone. Not only had Talia assumed Ros’n space in her life, the girl had also taken her space now, infringed on Ros’n’s territory yet again. Ros’n snarled, her lips curving into an uncharacteristically malicious grin. The cheerfulness which Ros’n used to drench her entire person in, drained from the woman’s entire demeanor. She looked cold and bitter.

Ros’n had not abandoned Sundra. Sundra had abandoned Ros’n. Sundra had abandoned Ros’n as soon as the girl had been born. Ros’n had been a mistake, a miscalculation, and the result was that the older woman had ended up with a daughter she had never wished for. And Ros’n had grown up being both a burden and a problem, and the little girl had been quite aware of the fact. The only time Sundra had acknowledge Ros’n, was when Ros’n had to help the woman out of an unfortunate situation, like picking her up off the steps of pubs, or sneaking her out of the houses of married men. Ros’n had grown up quickly, becoming the adult in her relationship with her mother, and only once she removed herself from the situation, did Ros’n allow herself to be a child again. The adult woman was childish now, because she had been so serious then. And even when she helped Sundra, the older woman never wanted Ros’n. A child ruined the mystery and allure of a seductive dancer. Ros’n never felt wanted, and so she left when she could. Of course, by the time Talia met Sundra, the older woman had cleaned up her act. Sundra had to become straighter, less wild and uncontrolled, because as she aged, she had to rely more on her talent and less on her beauty. And Ros’n could never explain to Talia about how she had grown up with no parents instead of only one, and how much she had resented her position. Talia would not listen, because she knew the new Sundra, the one who trained her and helped her, and not the one that Ros’n had left.
”Abandoned her?”
Ros’n sneered, her voice sliding from her mouth, and her eyes becoming dull and guarded.
I’m afraid you’re tragically misinformed.”
Ros’n taunted, her voice sounded combative because she could not discuss the situation and admit that she felt terribly about her relationship with her mother, both that it did not exist, and that Sundra had left her alone.

Wegmeph shrieked unhappily, clearly displeased with the thoughts of his rider. He disliked when she thought about her childhood. It made her upset, rude, and ornery, and she never behaved. And it hurt her, and he disliked when she was upset. This little greenrider was upsetting his, and Wegmeph did not appreciate it.
You should treat a higher ranking rider with more respect, Winglet T’ia.
Wegmeph stated calmly, coldly, but with a great amount of control. He was not as easily worked up as his rider. In fact, Wegmeph did not even sound upset or angry, only a bit stern. The large blue then dropped his head, so that he was eye level with the little green hatchling, his yellow eyes gazing into her visage.
Little Shovaph, I expected you to have more control over your bonded.
Wegmeph added. Ros’n appreciated his support, as Wegmeph was much more in control of himself than her, much more disciplined and strict. She needed his calm right now, because she was a mess, and she tended to handle emotional situations poorly. Ros’n reached backwards and rubbed Wegmeph’s beak affectionately. She was glad she had him. She might not have any family, but with Wegmeph connected to her, she did not need any family. He was better than family; he was a greater extension of herself.

[Cy]

[/b] she bit back, irritated further by the conclusion that her thoughts had come to. Ros was not a significant individual in any shape or form, but, as it stood, she was fighting her rather than laughing her off as she’d prove able to do with anyone else.

Her stance hardly moved at all with the shriek of the great blue behind her opponent, her gaze made of steel and locked firmly on the other woman. It wasn’t until that stern voice filled up her mind that she dared to glance away, looking to his fierce features for only an acknowledging second before she was darting her attentions right back to Rosmarion. “I’ll treat her with more respect when she deserves it,” she snipped, her spine straightening and her chin tipping up defiantly, dark eyes still narrowed harshly.

Shovaph, however, responded far more suitably to Wegmeph as the older simourv ducked his head to speak more on level with her. Her dull brown eyes widened on him with his criticism, chirping a polite acknowledgment when all she wanted to do was screech angrily at him. He was right, absolutely, but his reprimand stung with the brutal honesty and disappointed tone. She kept her composure and slid her gaze off of him, no longer willing to look upon him any more. Her downy feathers ruffled with her upset and she lifted her beak higher into the air, mildly defensive, but she turned to look to her bonded all the same. ’My T’ia, will you please take control over yourself? You are embarrassing me.” Her tone was snippy and unforgiving, drawing the winglet’s attention down to her immediately. The woman regarded the small green quietly, taken aback and uncertain now. Shovaph only stared back at her, annoyed and stubborn. Carefully, T’ia discovered that the comment had hurt.

With her lips pursed in a tight frown, the dancer finally lifted her gaze back to the other woman, chin still tilted with some sense of her chipped dignity. “Is there anything that you actually needed, Rider? Because if you don’t mind, I’d like to return to feeding my Shovaph.” There was little respect in her tone as she referred to her opponent by her formal title. Her words were clipped and angry. But they were there all the same, what little bit of reverence she could afford to force herself to give.[/ul][/size]

[Kat]

Wegmeph did not get angry. Even though he was quite possessive of his rider, he was calm and collected and appropriate. He had to be calm and collected, because Ros’n tended to be out of control, or at least, more emotive and sensational than Wegmeph would have liked. And so, even when he was angry, the blue could keep his composure. He lifted his muzzle, as if he snubbed his nose at the new winglet, his eyes narrowing bitterly. In any other circumstance, with any other girl, Ros’n would have called Wegmeph back. She did not mind difficulty; she did not like when people spoke out of place, because, well, Ros’n spoke out of place all the time. She was not the best behaved creature, herself, and for the most part, she ignored Wegmeph’s obsession with order and his place. Ros’n did not have a place. Wegmeph’s muzzle could be lifted so much higher than the chin of this obstinate winglet. The simourv moved his face near T’ia, so that he snorted air towards her, and the full scope of his size was contrasted with her tiny, human body.
She deserves more respect than you, little human. Watch your words.”
Wegmeph replied coolly, his voice almost dangerously sharp. Ros’n twitched at the sound of her simouv’s tone. It was more aggressive than she remembered Wegmeph ever being, and it made her slightly uncomfortable. Her face paled, and she shifted her position, but she did not call Wegmeph back. Under other circumstances, she would have snapped at him for being too cruel, too combative, but Ros’n knew that her fury fueled his tone. Besides, Talia deserved Wegmeph’s hostility. Ros’n just did not like that he expressed it so openly, as it was unusually harsh behavior for the simourv.

And then, Talia asked the important question, one Ros’n could not answer. Why had she come to see the pair? What good did it do her to see the other girl? If anything, seeing Talia had just made Ros’n worse off; put her in an impossibly bad mood. Ros’n’s lip twitched.
”I just wanted to ensure you were real. I was worried I was seeing ghosts.”
Ros’n spoke with complete earnestly. Her face remained cold and stern, but her voice reflected something more—the complete understanding that she was being trite and unfair, echoing in every word. And Ros’n became suddenly sad, defeated and hunched, as she sighed and turned her attention away from Talia. The younger woman was always haunted by her past, by the way she was raised and her childhood; no matter how many ways Ros’n tried to remove herself from it, she could not. And Ros’n was impulsive. Ros’n was always acting before she thought out her actions. For the most part, she managed to keep herself out of trouble and humiliation, but sometimes she overstepped and slipped up. Wegmeph kept Ros’n in line, except for currently, when he seemed to be the aggressor. At that thought, Wegmeph relaxed and dropped his head. He returned it to a position above Ros’n’s shoulder, and she reached up and stroked his beak.

The blue simourv watched the winglet’s expression change, her demeanor change, and he assumed that the green simourv had done her duty and taken care of the issue. He approved of the interaction even though he had not heard it. He dropped his head, once again, to the little green’s eye level, but his movements appeared softer and a bit less harsh.
Little Shovaph, unfortunately, humans must be kept in line.”
Wegmeph announced, and his voice sounded kinder, and instructing. Wegemeph knew quite a lot about dealing with unruly humans. And besides, even though Ros’n hated the other woman, Wegmeph could acknowledge that in many ways, T’ia and Ros’n were similar. Why, it was not the green’s fault that hers was so inappropriate and rude. Wegmeph would not hold that against Shovaph. Ros’n, however, did not like Wegmeph’s tone, it was too kind towards the green, and the rider glared at the blue simourv with dewy eyes.

[Cy]

[/b] She muttered barely above a whisper, stubbornly sarcastic, and she almost flinched at the sharp sense of disapproval stabbed in her direction from little Sho. A tic in her jaw appeared momentarily as she ground her teeth together, but she forced another breath in and out of her lungs before returning her attentions to the bluerider. ”Well, now that you can see I’m very much here and real, I suppose we can part ways. Again.” She dismissed as casually as she could manage, uncharacteristically rational and reserved.

As the great blue lowered his head once more to the prissy dwarf’s level, she focused on a point just above his head rather than directly at him, stiffening herself up to proper posture. He’d spoken truthfully, but his criticism still hurt her sensitive heart. And the nose-breath! Ew, it still sat so vividly in her mind. The masculine words that filtered into her head though were gentle, as calculated as just about everything he said seemed to be. Cordially, her dull brown eyes slipped down to focus on his features and her bright orange head tipped in a formal nod of acknowledgment. ’Thank you,’ she returned with soft tones of polite appreciation for his instruction and wisdom.[/ul][/size]

[Kat]

Ros’n wanted to leave. Ros’n wanted to get away from Talia as soon as possible. The woman was completely irritating. The woman was tiring Ros’n out by just existing. The more that Ros’n attempted to interact with Talia, the more aggravated and emotionally fragile she became, and the stress was exhausting. It was as if Talia’s presence zapped away Ros’n’s patience, tolerance, and affection, and left her emotionally strained, weak, and bitter. In fact, Ros’n felt very brittle, both stiff, angry, and fragile. Wegmeph lifted his head to move it over both T’ia’s head and Ros’n’s head, so that his head rested on the other side of her face, where he rubbed the side of his cheek against her face. She did not mind that the feathers bothered her eyes or her mouth, and instead, she enjoyed the silkiness of them against her body. She kissed him, lightly drawing her lips over his feathers, not to reassure him, but to reassure herself. Ros’n hated this. She hated herself for putting herself in this situation, and she hated Talia for existing.

And then, Ros’n lifted her nose, her mouth tightening into a firm line, and she almost snarled. She pivoted strongly on her back foot and wheeled around to face Wegmeph. The blue had to back out of the space, so he kept his vicious yellow eyes focused on T’ia as he moved.
”I hope I don’t have to see you any time soon, Talia. Keep to your lessons.”
Ros’n chided as she turned, focusing her gaze one final time at the other woman. The blue rider remained tense and poised as she darted from the room, moving as quickly as she could manage without appearing desperate or frantic. Inside, however, Ros’n was both. She was a mess, a frantic, crazy mess, and she wanted to get away from the girl as fast as possible. Wegmeph moved less quickly, mostly because he was large, a bulky presence in the kitchen, and so once she reached Wegmeph’s mass, Ros’n had to shuffle behind the large creature. Ros’n wanted to get away from the vile woman. She wanted to escape from Talia’s toxic influence. She wanted out.

Finally, Wegmeph burst from the kitchen, and Ros’n could scoot out after him. She moved quickly out of the door, and once she was adequately far from the exit, she paused and leaned against the wall. She needed a breath before she could continue. She breathed slowly, the air twisting in her lungs into tight, nervous lumps, before she ran her fingers through blue feathers and left her position on the wall. She had many things to do today; she needed to prepare for the feast. It would be best if she went and bathed, now, and she could wash the interaction off of her skin. Her lips twitched, and she began to move towards her Eyling.