STATUS: for @shadowrcith
DATE: sixth of the tenth month
TIME: post-tournament
LOCATION: throne room
She should have known that he would throw a tantrum. And what do children do when they throw tantrums? They scream and scream until they get what they want, faces red and flushed, screwed up in fury. Idly, she watches his hand shake, his rage near-impossible to contain -- and it had been amusing until she realized who he was berating. Her lips curl in fury, nothing more than a simple flash of her canines, almost unnoticeable save for the few with eyes sharp enough to recognize the subtle tell-tale signs of her scorn. She steps forward, the iron movement creaking loudly in the quiet of the throne room.
There will be no next time, your Majesty.
Why her words, out of everyone else’s, seems to cut through the bluster she is not able to say. Perhaps he hears the whispers of the Undying God weaving between the syllables of her words. She does not bother to dwell on it for long -- she had never seen someone so far removed from the Undying God’s mantle as this sorry excuse of a king. Her gaze shifts away from him to rest on the subject of his scorn. Naenia and Wraith. Naenia she knows can care for herself -- there was no reason for her to think twice about whether or not aid was necessary. It wasn’t. But Wraith...
Her fingertips twitched. They remembered the days when they used to curl into fists, nails biting into skin. Instead, she simply clasps her hands loosely behind her back, eyes flickering between Septimus and Wraith until he finally -- blessedly -- exits the throne room with a huff, as though he thinks he has accomplished something and they all follow suit. Before Wraith can slip away, she gently grabs their hand, pulling them out to one of the many balconies. Beneath the stars she is able to breathe easier. Perhaps they are able to as well.
“The blame of what happened does not fall on you,” she says after a moment of silence. Levana wonders if her voice gets caught in the current of the breeze.