Cheers erupted among his retinue.
His left shoulder blade jolted at the playful smack from HAVOC, while his adjacent received three pats from NARCISSUS, who then wandered to a nearby settee, muttering something like ‘good man’ under his breath. The other left to join their friend.
But the words lenient and pretty boy confounded him. Lenient to friends, yes. But pretty boy? Since when? Disagreeing with the latter, he lowered his hand, thumb grazing his nose bridge twice in absent gesture. While heady from irritation, he did release a strained laugh to her bait. “Not quite, Viv. You may very well expect me to…” He let the pause stretch, then inclined his head to the duo. “...count your words, and theirs, with the tip.”
Cefin appreciated her banter. Instead of condescension, she was haste to synergize under tension, especially after their boorish behavior.
Her earlier statement about his sister… was a distressing notion. Her magic was powerful, but not of this scale. If it was then he knew her less than he thought. Still, he would not let assumptions take root before he had proof. And Vivian. Queries with her could go either way: go with a direct approach or go with a convoluted one, but this was him. He'd choose the former. To approach her as himself, foregoing blood privilege. If nothing else, she should understand that her honesty would never make her his enemy. But unlike her, he had found no amusement in the jesters’ work.
Cefin leaned over the table, reaching for the drinking glass. In his grasp, the glass was not cold, which indicated that Vivian hadn't been here for long.
“Getting back to the point — mysteries is where I draw the line, Viv.” His thumb traced the rim. “Their satire reeked of veiled threats… toward the realms. Either a casus foederis or a false flag. If they intended for the latter, I had hoped it wasn't one sent by foreign kingdoms beyond what we already contend with.”
Were they facing a declaration from new players or chauvinists? He couldn't rule out the possibility of Frigorian rebels either. Even more conundrums, another fool's errand. Letting go of the glass, his hand drifted to his sideburns, set to tuck them away before pausing mid-air.
This happened every time he had an epiphany.
“There weren't any signs of metalwork among the ashes,” he murmured, the thought settling into place. His gaze locked on hers. “How would one go about involving decay magic? Illusions and enchantments have their limits. They don't generate… tangibles.” Not the kind he was familiar with, but Vivian might have her own conclusions. Decay was her forte.
