❝ Maybe you’re not the worst thing ever. ❞ — from Anastasia ^^
❝ Pray tell, ❞ Nathaniel began, but paused. Cold eyes remain steeled toward the true target of interest in this moment; broad shoulders pulled back, calloused fingers gripping the drawstring, and stance eerily still, he quieted suddenly.
Outside this small archery range, the inklings of a sleepy Keep stir—but not yet rise. Dawn was just shy before the horizon, and truth be told, he often sought this bleak hour for its solitary state. Rare was his company welcomed, and being a man raised on noblesse oblige, he would not dawdle where he was not wanted. At least, not when the numbers were so disproportionately against him. The days of his stay here were few, and considering the altercation during his subjugation, the Howe couldn’t hold their disfavor against them. Virtue was a path of consistency. So was trust. A scattering of weeks well-behaved wasn’t going to totally dismiss his father’s disgrace nor his own initial impression. That, and the one Warden’s nose he’d fractured during his capture was, in fact, still quite broken. Pity, really.
Still, in this moment, where the breeze gently lifted the few flyaways from his sharp features, he feels….almost at ease. Almost.
The resounding thud when his arrow soared through the air and struck the wooden stake ahead, puncturing through the shoddy hay figure it held up, ended the brief reverie he held then. Brow furrowed, he finally faces Anastasia, continuing.
❝ ....to what do I owe the pleasure of this most recent judgment of yours? ❞
╰┈➤ @haereticae