129, possibly with hornet?
Am I gonna keep using my OCs? Perhaps. Thank you!!
---
“Stop looking at me like that.”
The wyrm before her blinked, like he was surprised she’d said anything at all, or perhaps that she was upset with him. Even with how much more expressive he was than her father, she couldn’t find a hint of anger or defensiveness when she scowled at him. He remained standing by the stove, watching the kettle atop it. The herbs in the mugs beside him had already left their light, brisk scent in the air, far different from the teas she’d grown up with.
“Like what?” If her father’s voice was a cold gust, then this wyrm’s was the boundary around a campfire, where you realized the air had become warm. He kept it measured all the same, though he let at least some emotion into it. Surprise. Confusion. Uncertainty. Things unbecoming of gods, in her experience.
“Like I am a creature to be pitied, and coddled for it.” She let her scowl grow deeper, her chelicerae flare a little more. She knew how much it took to even take a stab at vexing a wyrm. This one’s own sister had been as unimpressed as her sire had been, when she hissed and snarled and glared. “Stop it.”
“I promise you, my aim is not to coddle. You’re my guest. And, by the sounds of it, possibly my family. Which, in and of itself, is a revelation, considering I thought it was just me, Judge, and her kids.” The kettle began to sing, and he lifted it from the stovetop, filling the two mugs before setting it aside to them. He hummed as he stirred the mugs’ contents and, dropping the spoon in the sink, carried them over to the table. One went in front of her, the other stayed with him. “And the things you say of this wyrm who may be my brother, what he’s done... It sounds painful. And I am sorry for you to have to go through that.”
She almost wanted to say she must be wrong. That they could not be related, for how different this one, the Governor, was from the Pale King. But then again, it had been the Judge who introduced her sibling, and the only difference between her and the Pale King that Hornet could discern was how much more open she was about watching everyone like either prey or a potential threat.
That, and the Judge’s hatchlings had willingly piled on their mother’s lap and in her arms, and how she’d held them close.
“It doesn’t matter.” She wrapped her hands around the mug; night had just recently fallen, and the air wasn’t that cool yet, but she still wanted to huddle in the bit of warmth. “It’s all in the past now. My sire, your possible brother, is deceased.”
He hummed, this time a low note that made doubt itch at Hornet’s mind. Gods didn’t die so easily, did they? She knew that firsthand. “Is it, now? You’re the one who came here trying to find your way back after being kidnapped for your mother’s heritage.”
The remark stung, and she had no doubt he knew her scowl was because it struck true. “It is still no excuse to coddle.”
“Giving someone straggling on the road food and shelter is hardly coddling. Lending a hand to your family is hardly coddling. I’m not sure what you may have learned to the contrary, but I assure you-” He sipped his tea, the steam filtering from either side of his mouth. “There’s a difference between coddling and helping. You can rest here, and be safe and well-fed. That’s the most basic of care. Okay? You’re safe here.”
She held the mug up and took a long sip to hide the way her face screwed up, how tears began to prick at her eyes. She didn’t want to think how long it had been since she heard those words, and they’d been true.
