An Heir Walks into the Club, No That's Not How That Goes...

The atmosphere of my home right now is ruled by an eighteen month old, she's about to start talking in more than a few words at a time here any day now and I think we all could use the distraction, you'd be doing me a favor, in actuality. And as you said, it would be enjoyable as hell to watch him squirm across the table. And I'm a willing party in this, we should be the best of friends, just to make his life hell. Of course, that could potentially make her life a living hell if her wife decided she didn't like Kaczor making fun of her brother. Ahh, but that was life, was it not? She would deal with that when and if it happened, for now though, she liked to think she was actually about to make her first friend since she had left prison.

I actually think I have a curse like that I could use. You've inspired me, Miss Salvo. Now, to make sure I do it to where it can't lead back to me and have me sleeping in Annie's bedroom for a week. Not like she wasn't almost doing that. Ella had cooled off some towards her, after the barrier fell, and she understood it. They were doing what they could to reconnect after a difficult period, and it was neither of their faults. The best they could do was to move forward together, to whatever future that was, but of one thing Kaczor was certain; she still loved her wife so much, that she would wait until Ella was ready, no matter what it was they were ready for, together.

She sniffed as she rolled her own now refilled glass along her lower lip. Tell me what he's like towards you, I know he has duty there in the Palace sometimes, but I see him when he's with my daughter, I know he's a rat bastard of a man though.. I can smell it on him. He often times smelled of blood, and her heightened senses caught it, often. Blood and Death.

And finding one's true self takes continuous acts of courage to find your way there, I know. Her fingers absently went to the ends of her hair, just now starting to touch the edge of her jaw line, feminine enough that she had stopped wearing the headscarf and such obvious makeup. She had hated getting her face used to plucking and shaving again, had hated the ingrowns and breakouts that happened until she was able to get back to waxing off all the hair, until it was fine again, not the course curls that had grown from her cheeks for over a year. Natural looking makeup now graced her gentle features, a wash of color on her lips, and kholed eyes -- little more was needed to make her look feminine enough in her own eyes, now that her hair wasn't cropped short any more. It's still good to know though, I think every woman should be equipped to protect herself from the males of our species. Nasty things, the whole lot of them. She took a drink and then set the glass down. Where did you learn your sword play?