handbaskets are prettier than this
Dromarch's angry.
No, no, that's not right. Dromarch's never angry, is what she meant to say.
So. Go again. Dromarch's never angry. Cautious, maybe, perturbed, sure, ruffled and bristly, absolutely, but...angry?
No. He's a healer Blade. He's a Water Blade. He's a cuddly little big fluffy tiger and he's never angry.
When she'd awoken him, alone in that dreadful little house outside of the Echell lands, he'd been more distant. She had, at the time, appeared taller, more reserved, more perfect than she ever has since, even though she'd already been mottled, muddled, dirtied, trashed.
(That bad? Really? To hold your sister's heart? Have some manners, have some dignity, have some goddamn respect for what she did for you.)
(.For what you did for her)
(.For what you did to her)
(.For what he did to you)
So he hadn't curled up around her all affectionate-like to ease away the worries. He'd just stood there, not panting and not pacing but giving the effect of both at once anyway, and she hadn't been able to tell if he was disapproving or just disappointed.
You know, not angry, just disappointed? Like a father would be, and despite whatever titles he'd arrayed onto himself, Lord Echell had never been the type, not for Nia. But now...
What he is now, then, Nia hasn't the composure to parse.
This isn't right.
This isn't true.
This isn't REAL.
Oh, oh, it can't be. They've been out of money and out of, well, composure so many times before, on the nick-nack edge of being caught unregistered so so so many many many times before, so what's the big deal if--
If there are Indoline soldiers around the bend, staves in hand, accusations of cannibalry on their unmoving lips beneath their helms, then how would Dromarch act?
How would Dromarch react?
He would be tense, hackles slightly raised and back slightly arched, and the panting-pacing-pestilence would be flickering again. A good man, a best beast, only has so much patience.
"Where to next, my lady?" The phrasing bites, maybe just because it's windy or maybe because...
"It's not so bad, is it? Right?" Nia doesn't believe herself, but she soldiers on anyway. No choice. "Just another...go-round...the loop..."
Her sudden hesitance, the lack of words where usually there'd be a veritable waterfall, tumbling tumbling tumbling, keep talking keep going keep running keep showing that you can do it to them before they do it to you and look at that we're out the other side already see
that wasn't that bad WAS IT--
is due to the sheer withering nature of Dromarch's rarest glare.
"Young lady...we are in hell, now. Thanks to you."