Damon always enjoyed all eyes on him. Especially when those eyes belonged to other Originals. He was no stranger to being center stage since he was a child. It was Vincent’s fault mostly.
“I think we’d have much more fun without that women. I’ve mostly found that other royals don’t know when to let loose.” He started walking toward the highest building he could spot. “Present company excluded, of course.” Damon looked over his shoulder to make sure she was following when another Original walked in between them. The move was obviously not a mistake or accidental when then turned to face Runa.
“Queen Nara,” the Original corrected, hand reaching for something tucked in their belt.
Damon wasted no time. With their back to him, he easily closed the distance between them and plucked the weapon from the holster. “Oh this looks fun,” he said inspecting the weapon as he let Runa address the now unarmed guard.
Runa had paused, having seen the possible altercation coming moments before. Listing her head to the side, she glanced at Anshar, at the weapon in his hand, and finally at the guard.
“Queens need not address each other by their title.” She said; “Nor should you forget that your Queen is a temporary placement, as your King, her father, is responsible for the genocide of multiple clans of our people and awaits his just desserts.” The venom in her voice was subtle. “We’re not here to start trouble.” Mostly. She thought towards Anshar. “But make no mistake, if you attempt in any way to hinder us and our right to be here, I’ll make you regret it.” She’d approached him slowly, openly, staring the man down. “Now get out of my way.”
For a moment she thought, hoped, that he would attempt to strike her, but he moved aside, and the others followed suit, allowing her and Anshar passage.
“Where would you like to start? The bad or the good?” She asked, moving past the small mass of people, her stride calm though her pulse thundered - mostly with rage.
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